#oc: Melinth

[sleepyfan-blog]

Autopsy

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  A big thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OC Anrir, and with helping me make sure I wrote Anrir well. 

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: autopsy (mention), poor coping skills, physical violence, grief, 

Summary: Cedric and two other Apothecaries in training are putting medical supplies away near where Malachai’s and Lestras’ bodies are being studied. This is fine. He’s fine.

"What... Why would they place that organ there? It makes no sense whatsoever." One of the visiting apothecaries muttered.

"I was told that the mechanicus were in charge of the creation of the Primaris Marines. In the ensuing ten-thousand years after the Heresy, this is what they have come up with." Melinth stated, his voice steady if lilting a little with amusement.

Cedric couldn't quite tell, as their voices were muffled by the wall that separated himself and the two other apothecaries in training from where Lestra’s and Malachai’s bodies were being autopsied. But their voices felt full of mockery and derision to him. He gritted his teeth, continuing to perform the task he had been assigned.

"These organs placements are shit." A third Apothecary spotted "I may still be a traitor in M42, but this... This is utter shit. I can see a glimmer of advancement in the organs themselves... But oh..." He laughed, cruel and vicious.

"Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Anrir?" The first Apothecary prompted, sounding curious.

Cedric willed his hearts to stop pounding in his ears as he tried to breathe out the fury coiling in his chest, ready to strike. He was furious at the fact that one of those callous bastards were laughing at his brothers' bodies.

"It's just... If I informed the Emperor of the advancements that the Mechanicum believes they made to his Astartes' design... His reaction would be hilarious!" Anrir chortled.

Cedric could not take the callous disrespect and mockery that these firstborn bastards were making of his dead brothers. The sound of that fucker’s laughter rang in his head, reminding him of - 

No. He would not allow his mind to wallow in miserable memories that would only make him even more upset. Cedric and two other apprentice Apothecaries had been tasked with restocking this medical supply room as a group. In the past few months, more supplies have been mysteriously vanishing, and one way to try and decrease the possible vanishing supplies problems. He hisses a soft “Bastard!” In response to the continued laughter.

The restless Night Lord Apothecary turned toward him, having clearly heard his words “What was that? I’m pretty sure that box of gauze isn’t an Ork in need of strangling. You can just put it down like a normal person.”

Cedric glared at the Night Lord, a low growl in his voice “Shut up. I can hear them talking about the Brothers they are dissecting.”

The other apothecary in training - a Renegade Space Wolf spoke up “I can hear them too. It sucks that they won’t let any of us even see the bodies to learn the differences between us normal marines and Primaris, but that’s life. ‘Sides, I’ve figured out one difference between Primaris marines and normal marines already.”

“Oh? And what difference would that be?” The Night Lord asked curiously, head titling a little.

“They die like little bitches. LIke, there are what a dozen Primaris marines on ancient terra? And between the two found near this base and the six found dead across Ancient Terra in the past year or so, it doesn’t speak to how well they’re able to survive. Like. It’s really fucking hard to die on Ancient Terra unless you’re doing something stupid.”

… Six other dead Primaris marines? This was the first that Cedric had heard of more dead Primaris marines. Then the rest of the drivel that the Space Wolf had said registered in the Black Templar’s mind. The fury that he’d been struggling to contain boiled over and a red haze filled his vision. 

Cedric blinked once, finding that he’d moved positions from one moment to the next. He had pinned Algret to the floor, his knees on the bastard’s chest, his hands wrapped around the other’s neck as his mouth screamed into the other;s bloodied face and broken nose. Cedric felt his chest heave with the effort of pinning and choking this miserable bastard as his mouth screamed ‘- FUCKING CALLOUS, KIN-KILLING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU SNEER AND LOOK DOWN ON US! USE US AS CANNON FODDER WHILE SPITTING ON OUR EFFORTS AND CALLING US ABOMINATIONS!” He managed to wrest control of his vocal chords from whatever was screaming through him. His voice was much quieter now but no less furious “See how you like it when you are the one being beaten and tormented over and over again.”

“He-ghk!” Algret called out, struggling futilely beneath him.

Cedric did not see the Night Lord Apothecary, but they were all cowardly ambush predators who fled before a more powerful opponent. His breathing was harsh and fast. HIs hands were still squeezing Algret’s neck hard enough to make breathing difficult for the mouthy bastard. “... You’re not worth the paperwork they’d bury me under to kill you.” With tremendous effort he forced his hands away from the Space Wolf’s neck. He got off of the Space Wolf as well, taking a couple of steps back.

Algret growled back as he heaved himself back up onto his feet, settling into a defensive stance “You want to fight, you unstable piece of shite? You’re on! You’re not going to overcome me nearly so easily, now that I’m aware you’re going to attack me.”

Cedric growled wordlessly, shifting into a defensive stance of his own, about to accept the challenge issued to him.

"And just what do you two think you are doing?" A low and deeply unimpressed voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the brewing fight.

Cedric swallowed hard, before he turned and saw -

Fuck.

One of the Apothecaries who had been brought in to cut into his dead Brothers, to study the differences between Primaris Marines and Firstborn. He was a Terran-born Night Lord, from the pattern and coloration of his armor.

"I was talking about the dead Primaris Marines, and that it sucked I couldn't get hands-on study of either one of them when this lunatic  attacked me!" Algret whined, glaring at Cedric as he spoke. "He also was screaming about how much he hates firstborn Marines. Whatever the fuck those are."

“... I see.” The Night Lord Apothecary answered, a neutral expression on his face, though it may be a mask. “If firstborn Marines are bad… Surely I am something much worse. After all, I am Terran Born, among part of the first successfully created batches.” He stalked into the room with predatory grace.

Cedric could see the younger Night Lord Apothecary hovering in the hallway outside, but most of his focus was on the laughing bastard in front of him. His phone chirped, and he kept one eye on the advancing Night Lord, as he read through the text that Ramiel sent him. A small, vicious smirk appeared on his face. The other older apothecaries were also in the hallway and could clearly hear him. He rolled his shoulders back and stated “As the highest ranking Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this base, I am formally revoking your to do anything with the dead bodies of the two Black Templars currently on the surgery tables of this base. I revoke everyone’s privilege to do so, not just yours, Apothecary Anrir.” Cedric paused for a moment, letting this edict sink in before continuing “If any non-Black Templar Apothecary does anything other than stitch their bodies up, it will be a severe violation of the treaty for each of you, with each cut of the scalpel, or adjustment of the retractors. This decision is effective as of now, and will not be overturned. Stitch up their bodies and hand them over to me.”

“YOu gave permission to allow us to autopsy them earlier.” Melinth countered “Additionally, you are merely an Apothecary in training and do not have the ability to order such things to us.”

“I am the highest ranking Black Templar apothecary you can contact easily. If you want to escalate this issue, I will inform the highest ranking Black Templar in residence and you can talk it out with him. The Emperor’s Champion. I will inform him that you are refusing to follow some of the mandates of treaty that has been set forth. I will also inform him that your refusal to release the bodies of both Black Templars, one of whom had been a patient of yours in critical condition, and that he died while in your care.” Cedric growled, stalking towards Melinth. He was keenly aware of what he was unsubtly accusing the other of in public, but he did not care. It was completely within character of Firstborn Marines of M42 to pull shit like this on purpose. Why would they not do the same in M3 if they thought they could get away with it?  “Care that you did not allow me or another Black Templar to monitor while a brother was in such a fragile and vulnerable state. That after you pronounced him dead, while his body was still warm, you demanded I give you permission to cut him apart to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Are you accusing me of allowing a patient under my care to die to satisfy my own scientific inquisitiveness about how his body worked?” Melinth demanded, actually sounding and looking mildly upset now.

Cedric figured that Melinth was upset most by the potential hit to his reputation Cedric’s accusations may cause, considering the fact that the six visiting Apothecaries were from differing factions and had some influence amongst their chapters/legions. “You’ve said before that you wished that you could take a Primaris Marine’s body apart, to see what the differences are for yourself. It would not surprise me if you… Arranged for that to happen, as you were handed an opportunity to ensure a Primaris Body landed in your morgue.”

“Oh… So the abuse that the both of them suffered is a common thing amongst loyalists in M-42, then. You wouldn’t be accusing another Apothecary of such a crime with such certainty and conviction if you haven’t seen that happen in M42 personally.” Anrir called out, an inscrutable expression on the Night Lord’s face.

His words halted Cedric in his tracks. The emotional impact of his words hit him with the force of an out of control Thunderhawk slamming into the side of a mountain. His gaze switched from Melinth - who was more visibly emotional now (What those emotions might be, Cedric couldn’t begin to guess. Nor was he going to spend the effort to try) - to Anrir. His eyes were burning fiercely and he hated the way he echoed “A… Abuse?” back at the older apothecary. A yawning abyss of horror had opened up within Cedric and had swallowed all of the righteous wrath that had been searing it’s way through his veins.

“Yes. Abuse. The Emperor would be furious about the utter misery that the Mechanicus put you Primaris marines through. You’re some of the most traumatized young marines I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with Lamenters before. Get over here.” Anrir ordered, his voice going gravelly and commanding - but not in a distressing way, somehow?

Cedric’s idiot, treacherous body obeyed before his mind could halt himself, as he came over to the Night Lord’s side. He stares down at the shorter marine, just barely able to resist the temptation to shuffle backwards and cross his arms defensively over his chest. “What do you want?” Cedric snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to hug you now. Do not resist, you need one.” Anrir answered, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping his arms around Cedric, holding him in a moderately restraining embrace. 

Half of Cedric wanted to melt into the embrace and start bawling. The rest of him protested very loudly at such a show of weakness in front of strange firstborn marines, so an angry response it was. He hisses down at the older marine, leaning away from him “How dare you just grab me like this?! Let me go at once you… You-” now was not the time to lose his words, but here he was. Unable to come up with something to say.

Also, Cedric could feel his body start to shake and tremble at the continued gentle touch. His eyes were stinging more fiercely now and he needed to escape if he was to not be seen or heard crying by these fuckwits. He blinked rapidly before the first treacherous tear started to fall, followed by more. SInce the stupid bastard wasn’t letting go, Cedric hid his face in one of the other’s shoulders, his body’s shaking getting worse.

Anrir heaved a dramatic sigh as he hugged Cedric closer, one hand coming up to gently pat his head “Honestly! You’re just as bad as Claude is. I wasn’t laughing at your dead brothers, by the way. I was laughing at the fury that the Emperor would unleash on those machine-worshippers if he learned of what he’s done to all of you. The organ placement within the two Primaris Marines would very likely have shortened their life-spans significantly, had the physical abuse that killed them not taken them then.”

There was one piece of information that was most important to Cedric. The lifespans thing wasn’t something he could deal with, but - “You… You know Claude? You’ve… You’ve seen him cry?” If Claude felt safe enough to cry around Apothecary Anrir… Then Cedric would choose to trust that his brother-cousin was willing to trust Anrir.

The Night Lord sighed again, patting his head once more, still giving him a one-armed hug “Yes, I know Claude.”

“Oh… You must be one of the older brothers he trusts, then.” Claude was one of the most emotionally reserved of all of them for reasons that Cedric was not going to think about right now, as he was trying to calm down. He wiped the tears in his eyes and tried that breathing trick that Miss Angela taught him… Which was startlingly effective. He lets go of the Night Lord, shame burning through him as he took a step away from the other. “I… Thank you, for helping me calm down.”

Anrir hummed a little in response “You scouts have been deeply traumatized. Emotional dysregulation is very common.” He turned and  glared at his fellow experienced Apothecaries “Is there a particular reason why you are gawking? The Scout told you he doesn’t want us messing about in the insides of his dead brothers, which I feel is more than reasonable.”

The other apothecaries grumbled, but all of them left the hallway, except for Melinth, who stared at Cedric for several long seconds before slowly turning and leaving.

Anrir left a moment or two after Melinth did, and called out to the others “Between the seven of us, and what we were able to study, we have plenty of notes. Besides, you all saw the muscle cording. The mechanicus succeeded in making the Primaris marines physically stronger. The young one was gracious enough to allow us some time to study a couple of his dead brothers. He could have refused us entirely.”

Melinth groused back “You weren’t the one who got accused of letting a patient die on your table on purpose, Anrir.”

“I suspect that is the grief doing the speaking for him, rather than good sense. Besides, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious, were your position and his reversed? Especially as it is abundantly clear - at least to me - that none of the Primaris Marines have been treated very well by their older brothers in M-42. His wariness and caution is understandable if likely unneeded in this time. Such behaviors are difficult to unlearn.” Anrir countered. 

Cedric pointedly did not look at either of the two firstborn Apothecaries in training as he completed the task that he had been assigned. He did pause part way through putting away the medical supplies to send Ramiel a message, asking him to start gathering what he needed to properly send off Malachai and Lestra… He also planned on speaking with a certain Word Bearer to see if he was willing to let them borrow a hallowed space for the funerals.

… He should also probably talk to Arnualt and Roland as well to see if they wanted to attend the funerals as well. A sigh left Cedric as he placed the vinyl box of gauze on its assigned shelf before leaving the medical stockroom, locking the door behind him as both Belek and Algrets had already left the room. 

[sleepyfan-blog]

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts. 

[sleepyfan-blog]

Malachai In the Snow

Author’s Note: This is the fourth part of a mini-arc in which Cedric will be (trying) to patch up injured Primaris Black Templars as they appear on Ancient and Holy Terra! For other adventures click here. First. Previous. Next. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel! And thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for allowing me to borrow Pyrus!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: blood, injuries, character death, ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it/it bothers you

Summary: Jophiel comes to Cedric, with a prophecy of a dying brother on his lips. 

“Cedric… Cedric I need you to wake up!” Jophiel called out as he shook his Brother-Cousin awake.

The young Black Templar grumbled a little wordlessly as he yawned and stared blearily at Jophiel “What is it? It’s really late…” He checked the clock, which read just past one in the morning. The Blood Angel was sniffling a little and shaking. Cedric frowned and pulled him in, hugging him tightly “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I… Sort of. Not really, because it’s a vision! One of the clearest I’ve had in a while.” Jophiel answered, shaking his head a little before burying his face in one of Cedric’s shoulders. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, feeling safe in the Apothecary’s embrace.

“... Do you want to talk to me about it? Or should I get one of the older librarians, to help you try and figure out what the vision meant? From what you’ve told me, not all of the visions you have are straight forward, nor easily understood.” Cedric asked, reaching up and starting to run a hand through Jophi’s long blonde hair.

“That wasn’t the case for this one. I’m… I’m pretty sure I know what this one means.” Jophiel murmured, leaning more into Cedric. “Another Primaris Black Templar is going to be coming to Holy Terra soon. Snow was falling on his body, and his blood was staining the white. He was all alone as he died, beside a lake that had a view of a mountain, and there were trees everywhere.”

There were thousands of lakes across Holy Terra at this point in time, many of them having forests and mountains nearby, with snowfall being possible. “I… I see. Do you have any idea where on Ancient Terra he might show up? Or when specifically?” 

“Remember that lake we found last week, while we were hiking through the woods? I… I’m pretty sure it’s that one, and I did check before waking you up. It gets cold enough in the winters here to snow on the valley floor.” Jophiel answered, voice shaking a little “But I know that I should probably report this vision to the older Librarians. They’ll be able to help me figure out better when and where this incoming brother is likely to land… And they have the pull to ensure that he’ll be found before he dies.”

Cedric’s first reaction is to try and convince Jophiel to stay quiet. That between the six of them they should be able to find whoever was near the edge of life and death before he died… But Terra was a large planet, and if their silence on this matter killed this Brother… His death would be on Cedric’s hands. “... If there are older librarians who you feel that you can trust with this vision… I trust you to spread this warning to those who need to know.”

Jophiel nods, frowning a little “I… There are a couple. And since, in my vision, he’s not got his full armor, it’s not like I need to tell them that this nearly-dead Brother is a Primaris Marine, necessarily. I.. I should be able to keep that part to myself. I think.”

Cedric nodded, leaning into Jophiel a little more “Alright. Do you feel the vision is urgent enough to wake them now?”

“Unless a freak snowstorm rolls in tomorrow, I don’t think so. It’s still early autumn, after all…” Jophiel murmured, yawning a little “It’s too far to get to my room… M’sleeeepy Ced!”

Cedric smiled a little, chuckling a little “Do you want to finish sleeping with me, then?” He knew how much visions took it out of Jophiel, especially on Ancient Terra, where the Warp was much more difficult to reach and use.

“Yes please…” Jophiel yawned, closing his eyes and promptly falling asleep. 

Cedric smiled again, making sure that both of them could sleep relatively comfortably before falling himself to sleep as well.

~

Weeks later found Cedric as part of a patrol of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, as the group made their way to the lake mentioned in Jophiel’s vision. The weather forecast was predicting heavy snowfall, and it was apparently very cold to those who were warm-adapted. Cedric found the cooler temperatures invigorating and refreshing. There was a light breeze that rustled the ever-green pine and fir trees that they were walking between, and the late afternoon sun was being swallowed by dark clouds that promised heavy precipitation.

Pyrus was walking alongside next to Cedric, as his warband was visiting the base and nudged him a little “So, any ideas as to which time period this injured Brother might be coming from? Or chapter and/or legion?”

Cedric could answer those questions, from what Jophiel had told him. But should he? Jophiel had been as vague on the specifics of the marine in question apart from the dire state of his injuries and how under-equipped he was for the cold and snowy weather. “Jophie said that the armor he had left was a dark color, nearly black, where it wasn’t bloody or covered in snow.”

Pyrus hummed, nodding thoughtfully “Ah… That doesn’t narrow it down. Lots of chapters have darkly colored armor. Hopefully he reacts well to us, if he’s awake enough to realize we’re there. If he’s a Black Legionnaire we’re gonna have to use the tranq gun on him so he won’t try to murder us while mostly dead. Stubborn bastards.”

Snow began to fall from the sky, the whispery quality of the snowflakes falling on the ground and the tree branches were distracting. Watching the ground quickly become covered in snow where the trees did not provide shelter, or where the wind blew the frozen water. Cedric silently wished he could enjoy watching the snowfall, but he had a Brother to try and save. He hummed noncommittally. Part of him really did want to tell Pyrus what he knew of the injured Primaris marine who they were hopefully going to find in time, but doing so would reveal that Jophiel had deliberately withheld information and Cedric wasn’t about to throw him under the bus. Especially when he was the one to ask Jophiel to withhold that information. “Hopefully they will react well, or at least neutrally to our presence.”

“... Are you alright, Cedric? You seem a bit… Distracted?” Pyrus asked, squinting at him, concerned. 

The young apothecary successfully suppressed his desire to fidget with his hands - which was a dead-giveaway for the uncertainty and worry running through his body and making his hearts race “I’m concerned for whoever we may find today. We marines are pretty tough, it takes a lot to-”

The direction of the winds shifted as Cedric was speaking, cutting him off as it brought with it the sharp, metallic scent of fresh blood. 

All six of the marines on patrol stopped in their tracks, including Cedric himself, turning towards the source of the smell.

Cedric was the first to start moving, running as fast as the dense underbrush and trees would allow him, dodging around  large patches of underbrush and jumping over and across the occasional fallen log or half-rotted tree stump.

It took both an eternity and no time at all for Cedric to find the badly injured Primaris marine. The other was leaning against the base of a tree, gold-flecked blue eyes focused on the partially frozen lake. He looked in Cedric’s direction as the apothecary reached over.

He smiled a little and rasped out “Good… Evening? Cedric. Is this the peaceful embrace of the Emperor? It’s… Beautiful.” Malachai asked, before turning partially and coughing, splattering the snow with his blood, vivid and dark against the white substance, even as the heat of his blood began to melt it. “Wish I hurt less, though.”

“Malachai, you aren’t dead,  not yet. Where we are is a… Complicated situation. But stay still, I have a first aid kit, which will help me stabilize you. Then, with help, I can get you to a place where you can be properly treated.” Cedric answered, dropping down onto his knees next to his badly beaten brother, opening the kit and starting to clean and bandage his wounds.

Malachai chuckled and then coughed violently, his whole body spasming a little before he reached up with broken fingers to try and push Cedric away with what little remained of his strength “You shouldn’t. The fucker beat me with the intention of making me one of his grisly reminders for the rest of us.”

“He has no power here. Not really.” Cedric half-lied. While it was true that Petras wasn’t in control of Ancient Terra, he held a distressing amount of sway amongst certain Crusades of Black Templars, and he really didn’t want to find out what his reaction would be, should he discover that several of the marines he’d killed were on Ancient Terra, alive and aware of the depths of the chaplain’s cruelty.

“... Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Cedric.” Malachai gently scolded him, reaching up and squeezing one of Cedric’s shoulders, leaving bloody fingerprints on his jacket. “More astartes are coming. I don’t want you to be punished for trying to help me.”

“Those are a patrolf of Salamanders and Imperial Fists. They won’t punish me for trying to help you. The entire reason why I’m in this forest is to find and try and save you, Malachai. Stop resisting and let me help you!” Cedric hissed, hating the way that his eyes stung badly enough to blur his vision as tears streamed down his face. He continued to do his best to patch up the stubborn bastard wheezing at him “Things are different here. I haven’t been ordered to watch you die this time. So I’m not going to, if I can at all help it.” 

Pyrus came barrelling into the clearing, followed closely by the rest of the mixed squad of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, their armor patterns showing that they were from multiple different time periods of the Imperium. The Salamander knelt down on the other side of Malachai and asked “What should I do to help?”

“Keep him still for me, please? He’s resisting treatment because of when he was brought to Holy Terra from.” Cedric instructed Pyrus.

“We… We’re on Terra? How is that… How is that possible?” Malachai wheezed, a stunned expression on his face.

“Short answer? Warp shenanigans. If you want the long answer, such as we’ve figured out, you’ve got to live to learn it.” Pyrus answered with an attempt at a reassuring smile on his face. “Are you a Black Templar, like Cedric?”

“Yes, I am.” Malachai rasped out. He nodded a little, before a whimper of pain left him. “I can’t. Feel my legs. The worst injury I got was on my back.” He paused for several seconds, closing his eyes and taking in several steadying breaths before continuing  “Just above where the armor I was allowed to keep… I heard the snap of bone and a lot of pain before… Before everything went dark and I woke up here. I’ve tried moving my legs and… Couldn’t manage it.”

“... Fuck that’s right. I remember now. He’d snapped your spinal cord in three places. I’m… I’m surprised that you’re breathing as well as you are, given the locations of the breaks.” Cedric murmured before he could stop himself “We’re going to need to immobilize his neck and spine as much as we can, to avoid further damage. Would two of you please set up the stretcher, while everyone else helps me move Malachai? Once the stretcher is ready will need to be careful to move him at the same time, so I will provide a count down from three to one. When I say now after, we move him at the same time. Any questions?”

“Me, I have one. Why are you bothering? The bastard has decided that my mouthy bastard ways mean that I have to die. Why refuse him? I hurt sooo much where I’m not numb.” Malachai huffed, squinting up at Cedric.

“Mal, I mean this with all the love and care in my hearts, shut up. You’re being rescued and treated whether you like it or not. The one who did this to you has no power in the base we’re bringing to you, and it’s my job to keep you alive and as intact as I can.” Cedric growled at the other, eyes flashing in irritation and worry.

Malachai laughed until he started coughing, his body spasming with each cough. “Yeah, yeah. I know. M’ sorry, though. I don’t think I can… Hold on much longer. S’ cold and breathing hurts.”

“Why does it look like someone kicked his ribs with armored boots until they broke?” Pyrus asked, a frown on his face. “Among other things?”

“Because he was kicked by someone’s ceramite-clad boots until his bones broke. Now is really not the time for these sorts of questions Pyrus. Help me put this splint around his chest so that when we move him it doesn’t fuck up his back or lungs with the wandering bone shards more than they already have.” Cedric answered, having done his best to shut down his emotions and clinically look at the situation. “Ignis, Ralos, Sven, Pyrus I need you to lift his torso up several inches so I can get this splint under him on the count of three. Is everyone in position?”

“Ready.” Called out Ralos, the Imperial Fist sounded calm through his vox communicator.

“Ready.” Calls out Sven and Ignis, though both seemed concerned.

“Alright, alright. I’m in position, and ready for the count off.” Pyrus grumbled, moving so that he was in a useful spot.

“Three, two, one, up!” Cedric called out. The four marines were able to easily lift the injured Primaris at the same time and the apothecary applied the splint as quickly as he could. 

Olik and Char were ready with the stretcher, so Cedric directed the four marines who were holding onto Malachai to pivot slightly as the stretcher was maneuvered so it was directly underneath the badly injured Primaris Marine and he was lowered back onto the stretcher. 

Cedric aided in carrying Malachai to the nearby field surgery tent that had been set up, as the Librarians had divined that Malachi would die, if he were to be taken all the way back to the nearest hospital, even in one of the emergency flying vehicles. Cedric very much wanted to be part of the team who worked on trying to put Malachai back together but his hands were shaking too much from the adrenaline and guilt running through him.

~

It had not taken long for them to get to the field surgery tent. Cedric helped heave Malachai onto the surgical table. 

The other Primaris marine shifted uncomfortably as several Imperial Fist Apothecaries approached him. “Cedric… What’s going on?”

“These Apothecaries are going to put you back together. I’m-” Cedric started before being cut off by Apothecary Melinth.

“You are going to be waiting outside of the tent, Cedric. You are too close to this patient to be working on them during such a delicate and risky procedures. Besides, I can see the way that your hands are shaking. Do you wish to risk his life?” The Imperial Fist asked bluntly.

Cedric swallowed hard and flinched back, eyes downward cast “No sir, I don’t.”

“Good lad. Leave the immediate area, while we sterilize the field and get to work. You’ve done well. We’ll do what we can for him.” Melinth ordered.

Malachai made a pained sound, one hand reaching out for Cedric “Wait… Please sir…”

Cedric hesitated before grabbing Malachai’s hand, gently squeezing it with both of his “Do what they tell you, alright? I’ll be right outside, waiting for you, once you’re out of surgery.”

“... You better be.” Malachai grumbled, managing to send a half-smile up at his brother.

“I will.” Cedric promised before letting go of Malachai’s hand, gently setting it back on the table and leaving the tent, his whole body shaking at the intensity of emotions running through him. He sat down heavily on a fallen log less than twenty-feet from the entrance of the surgical tent, listening to the shallow breathing and uneven stutter of Malachai’s hearts beating.

“Hey… Cedric… I couldn’t help but notice that you knew exactly how your fellow Black Templar had gotten injured. While I was running over, I caught something about a punishment… Do you… Do you want to talk to me about it?” Pyrus asked as he sat down next to Cedric, having appeared out of nowhere.

Cedric lost concentration on listening to Malachai’s. “... I’d really rather not.” The temptation to curl into a ball of self-loathing and recrimination was strong, but he was already being eyeballed by several firstborn marines as it was.

Pyrus, instead of taking the unsubtle hint to leave the topic alone, scooted closer to Cedric. The Salamander was pressed against Cedric’s side. “Was he on a penitent crusade, which is why he didn’t have his full armor?”

“... No, he hadn’t been sent on a penitent crusade. That would imply a measure of honor that he wasn’t afforded by the one who… Who did that to him. I really don’t want to talk about this right now. The last time I saw Malachai like that, he died in M42. I… I’m hoping that with more skilled apothecaries, his fate will be changed.” Cedric murmured, his shoulders hunching a little as he buried his face in his hands.

“... Aren’t Black Templars who taken on an Apprentice, like, super protective of them? And swear righteous vengeance against who or whatever killed their apprentice?” Pyrus asked, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“That is how it’s supposed to work. It doesn’t always.” Cedric admitted quietly. It felt almost as if he was betraying his chapter by admitting that much… But his hearts hurt and part of him was very tired of keeping the secrets that he was. Maybe… Maybe he should ask Arnault and Roland to have a quiet but serious conversation about certain matters. Maybe it would help?

Pyrus started to speak, but several crucial, subtle sounds that Cedric’d been straining to hear, even over the sounds of his conversation with the Salamander scout had stopped. The world narrowed unpleasantly and something was shaking him.

Wait.

Someone.

“Cedric. Cedric! Easy. I promise I won’t ask any more questions. You back with me, buddy?” Pyrus asked, a frown of concern on his face, his bright orange-red eyes seemingly peering directly into Cedric’s soul.

“I can’t. I can’t hear Malachai breathing. Or his hearts. They’ve. They’ve stopped. I can’t hear them anymore. I… I need to… I need to help them get him back.” Cedric heard himself say, as the many intense emotions screaming through his hearts nearly overwhelmed his mind. He was trying to stand, but something was keeping him sitting down.

Pyrus was still holding onto him. “Cedric, you need to calm down. I get that that’s probably one of the three things you want to hear least right now, but running into that surgical tent covered in forest germs and dirt isn’t going to do your Brother any good whatsoever, and you bursting in on them suddenly might startle one of the other apothecaries into making an unfortunate mistake.”

Cedric could feel the growl in his chest, and the desire to fight and claw his way over to his Brother as his body coiled and tensed… But his good sense kicked in, and the young Black Templar sighed unhappily and went limp in the other’s firm grip. “You’re right. Much as I hate to admit it. You’re right. I-”

Any other words or thoughts he’d been trying to say or think died abruptly as Apothecary Melinth walked out of the tent and headed towards him, a grim expression on his face. 

“Apothecary Taniel, I am here to inform you that your chapter brother, Malachai has died. His injuries were too extensive for us to treat. Do you feel up to assisting us in harvesting the organs that can be utilized as well as his gene-seed, if it is still viable? You are allowed to refuse, if you feel you are not up to the task. Losing a Brother you’re close to is difficult.” Melinth informed him, no emotion showing on his face or in his voice. The other’s icy blue eyes staring down at him dispassionately.

Several ugly and likely untrue accusations lingered on the tip of Cedric’s tongue as he stared up at the firstborn Marine. Cedric had no proof that Melinth and the others didn’t try their utmost in order to try and save his life. The fact that he had died meant that they had access to more Primaris organs and geneseed to study and use as they saw fit. How… Convenient for them, to be able to have a second dead primaris marine to study to their hearts’ content. But he wasn’t going to say any of that, as it was an awful thing to accuse someone of baselessly. “MY hands are still shaky. However, once you’ve removed everything you think is of use and value out of him, please stitch up my dead brother and allow me to take the remains to Ramiel, so he can get his final rites.” He really hoped that his voice was as bereft of emotion as he had been aiming for, rather than the seething fury and implication he could hear within his own voice.

Melinth stared down at him for several seconds before answering with a flat and emotionless “That will be done, Apothecary Taniel.” And then the other left, turning on his heel.

Cedric was briefly tempted to lash out at the older Apothecary. To hurt him in a fraction of the ways that he and his Brothers had been hurt by at best uncaring and apathetic firstborn brothers. But the urge for violence passed when Melinth was out of his sightline.

“Hey… Cedric…Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s still snowing, and the forest is really beautiful right now. And some movement might help with sorting your emotions, yeah?” Pyrus gently prodded.

He shook his head “I want to be here when they are done usi-... Done with Malachai’s body, so I need to be here.”

“... Alright. Do you mind if I wait with you?” Pyrus asked, still holding onto Cedric. 

Cedric was grateful for the half-restraint, half-hug. It was helping ground him “If you wish to stay with me, I have no complaints. I do like you, Pyrus… And the snow is lovely.” He watched the snowfall with Pyrus as he waited the seeming eternity it took for them to be done harvesting from his dead brother.

They were even kind enough to have sent a message to Ramiel, ten minutes before they were done, so that the young Chaplain in training could prepare everything and gather the others before Cedric arrived on base with the body.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Talking to Older Brothers

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  Thank you very much to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her ocs Roland and Arnault and @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OC Ramiel

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: mentions of petras, death threats, if there is anything else I need to tag, please tell me!

Summary: After leaving the base, Cedric goes to talk to Roland, then later Arnault.

Cedric only enters the bakery once he’s certain that he isn’t being followed. There is, as he’s expected, a long line of eager mortals inspecting the delicious foods for sale. He deliberately takes in a deep breath through his nose, the mouth-wateringly delicious scents of the lovingly hand-crafted pastries and other baked goods a welcome distraction from the ugly feelings still eating away at his hearts like the most wicked of poisons. He lets out the breath he’d taken slowly, through his mouth, before inhaling through his nose again.

He does this several times, eyes closed as he lets the chatter of mortals wash over him. He’s not listening to any one conversation in particular, but allowing the sounds to help ground him. Cedric opens his eyes as he hears the careful, distinctive footsteps of Roland walking up to him. He’s not surprised that the mortal shop-helper already went off to go get Roland, as he is an Astartes, though a familiar face in this particular bakery. 

“Are you here for baked goods, Cedric? Or have you come to talk to me about something?” Roland asks, looking him over carefully, a considering frown on his face.

“... I need to speak with you, privately. But I did bring money to buy some of the delicious bread.” Cedric answered earnestly. Pallas and Olivar were healed to the point where they were being slowly introduced to baseline foods. There were few things better than the baked goods made by Roland’s Bonded in Cedric’s opinion, and he hoped to get them both a treat…

If he survives the punishment for attacking Chief Apothecary Melinth, he hopes to give them the bread himself. Otherwise, he’s sure that Ramiel will share the bread with them for him. Cedric’s superiors in the base have been distressingly lenient with him so far, but he’s quite certain that has come to an end. But that was a problem for Later Cedric to deal with. 

“Follow me, then, to the back. Do you mind helping me knead the dough? I had to run an errand this morning and we are a bit behind on some of the larger orders that came in while I was away.” Roland asked, gesturing for Cedric to follow him into the back of the bakery. 

“I’d be happy to help.” Cedric answered earnestly. He smiles cheerfully as he sees you working diligently on some kind of fruit filling for the carefully arranged trays of tart-shells, waiting to be filled and finished cooking. “Hallo!” He calls out to you.

“Good afternoon, Cedric. It’s good to see you again. You’ve been pretty busy these past couple of months. New apothecary training?” You ask, giving him a small smile.

Cedric stills for a moment, face solemn “I wish it were something like that. I do apologize for being so absent recently. Things have been… Tumultuous, as of late. It’s what I wanted to talk to Roland about… Arnault as well, though I plan on talking to him later today.”  He goes over to the sink, washing his hand properly before heading over to the kneading table, grabbing one of the balls of dough and starting to work it in his hands. 

Roland washes his hands as well, and joins him in kneading the bread. He asks “What has been going on up at the base?”

Cedric focused on the way the bread dough felt in his hands as he pushed, pulled and folded it for a couple of seconds before answering, making sure not to put too much strength into manipulating the dough, or else it would tear. The repetitive motions and the care with which he needed to manipulate the bread, while also using some of his strength to get the dough to cooperate properly helped him stay calm as he explained, briefly glancing at you before switching over to Gothic “Over the past couple of months, there have been four new arrivals from M42. All four of them have been Primaris Black Templars. All of them badly injured. Two of them died, despite every effort to get them to a point of stability.” 

Cedric felt the bread tear in his hands and his eyes stung. The young apothecary huffed in frustration, shaking his head as he kneaded the dough back together, suppressing a growl of frustration, willing himself to find the calm that he’d very nearly achieved. 

“It’s unusual for an Astartes to die on Terra.” Roland remarked, also in Gothic, so as to not worry you. “Do you know what they plan on doing with the bodies?”

Cedric scowled “It does not matter what they want to do with the bodies up at the base - and I know what the chief apothecary wants to do with them. But since they are Black Templars and I am the highest ranking Apothecary of their chapter that any of them can get ahold of, I get to decide what happens to them. The organs that were salvageable have already been taken-” Damn it, he tore the bread dough again. A frustrated grunt leaves him as he mashes the torn pieces of dough back together, scowling fiercely “-and I intend on having Malachai and Lestras cremated. I will be speaking with local mortals who have facilities to properly burn their bodies, and intend on having their remains burned by the end of the week. Ramiel is getting the necessary supplies for the Rites of Remembrance, and I do have a holy place in mind for the Rites to be performed.”

Cedric put down the thoroughly kneaded dough ball into a loaf-pan, so that it could prove again and then be cooked. He reached for a second dough ball, his hands squeezing into the soft, giving substance. 

“Is this holy place off-base?” Roland asked perceptively as he set the dough ball he’d been working on in its own tin and grabbed another.

“Ja. There is a beautiful baseline church nearby, with stained-glass windows and a bell that rings beautifully when it is rung. One of the Sisters who tends to the spiritual needs of the mortals is bonded to an Astartes.” Cedric explained. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that he should be fully truthful about this particular Cousin, to avoid any potential… Problems “A pre-heresy Word Bearer Chaplain by the name of Lykus. We’ve spoken a couple of times.”

“And here I thought you tried to avoid every chaplain who wasn’t Ramiel for mysterious reasons.” Roland murmured, a teasing smile on his face “I have seen him around, occasionally. He seems a decent sort, and from well before the Fall of his legion.”

“Ramiel and I plan on holding the Rites of Remembrance in that church as soon as he has everything he needs. The two other Primaris Black Templars would be attending as well, though they’ll need assistance to get to the church, as their wounds are extensive and some of them limit their mobility. I was… We were wondering if you wished to attend.” Cedric explained, this new ball of dough tearing in his hands as he asked. The young apothecary wordlessly grumbles in frustration, rolling the two halves back together between his hands before going back to kneading the dough. He can’t quite look at Roland as he waits for the other’s answer.

“I would be honored to attend the Rites of Remembrance, and to meet the newly arrived Brothers as well.” Roland murmured, his voice warm.

Cedric risked peeking over at Roland. Stilling for a moment as he saw the gentle smile on the older Templar’s face. He swallowed hard, grateful beyond words for his response. “I… Thank you. If… If you wished for your bonded to attend, should she wish to, she would be… She would be welcome.”

Roland’s eyes softened a little and he set down the dough ball he’d been kneading, turning to fully face Cedric. He reached out slowly and pulled Cedric in close, hugging him tightly. “I would be honored to attend, and if you would be more comfortable with this event being Astartes only mein bakerin would understand.”

Some of the poisonous wrath in his hearts faded, as his older Brother hugged him. Cedric was careful to put down the dough in his hands so he didn’t accidentally mash it into Roland’s back as he hugged the other back. If he hid his face in the other’s shoulder for a moment or two as even more tears fell from his treacherous eyes…

Well, Roland was kind enough not to mention it, only hugging him tighter still. “Losing brothers is never easy, and grieving for them isn’t a sin, nor is it a sign of weakness.”

“... There is much to do, before I can grieve them. But I will, once they are resting, and my injured Brothers are healed.” Cedric answered quietly, slowly letting go of Roland and turning back to the ask of kneading dough. 

“... Grief does not wait patiently for one to have the time for it.” Roland warned Cedric “If you try to ignore your grief, it will try und consume you from the inside out. Terra is… Terra is a safer place to process these kinds of emotions, difficult though it is.”

“I will keep that in mind, Bruder Roland.” Cedric half-grumbled, though he did accept the older Templar’s word of warning for what it was. “... I need to tell Arnault of the upcoming Rites of Remembrance as well. I sought you out first as the bakery is closer to the base.”

Roland hummed in acknowledgement before asking “Is there anything else that you want to tell me?”

Cedric hesitated for a moment before shaking his head “Not right now, but thank you for listening.” He slowly let go of one of his older brother and started kneading a dough ball, letting out his frustrations on the soon-to-be loaves of bread.

Roland watched him for a long moment before returning to kneading as well “Alright. But if there is something that weighs on your hearts, or you are struggling with something ,you know you can always come to me, and I will help as best as I can.”

Cedric nodded, shifting a little from foot to foot “I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Roland.”

“All is well.” The older Templar responded with a small smile.

Cedric kneaded bread until he felt somewhere close to calm, before washing his hands and saying goodbye to both Roland and his bonded. He was fairly sure that Arnault and his bonded were at home, at this time of day, and planned on stopping by, to see if they’d talk. 

~

The young apothecary made his way over to where Arnault and Angela lived, pausing for a moment when his astartes-sized phone began ringing in his pocket. He paused, stepping to one side of the sidewalk so as to not block foot traffic before pulling the device out of his pocket. The name and number identified the caller as Captain Ash’val.

Cedric silently weighed the pros and cons of answering this phone call as it continued to ring in his hands. On one hand, this could be important, he might being recalled to base because a medical emergency was either happening or inbound and they needed all hands on deck. One of his injured brothers could be reacting poorly to being tended to by firstborn Apothecaries, or had taken a turn for the worse. On the other hand he had snapped at the other in anger, and he had a physical altercation with the chief apothecary of the base… The consequences of that, he knew he was going to be facing shortly after returning to said base. 

Cedric continued to stare at the phone in his hand, paralyzed by indecision. Should he put the phone back into his pocket, pretend that it was on silent, or that he just hadn’t heard it, distracted by the sights and sounds of Gannet Point? Should he face whatever trial this was sure to be now? What should he d-

“Cedric?” Miss Angela called out from behind him, causing the young Black Templar to startle and fumble with his phone. Despite his best efforts, it fell to the ground with a deafening and decidedly bad sounding smack as it  landed screen-first onto the edge of the sidewalk near the road. 

“I.. Uhm. Hello miss Angela!” Cedric managed out, attempting to smile down at the meek baseline human before he quickly knelt and scooped up his now broken phone. Dorn damn it all, today was not at all going the way he’d hoped it would. “I was hoping to speak to you and Arnault, if you are not busy…”

Some of the tension that Miss Angela had been keeping in her shoulders relaxed a little and she responded with “Of course I’d be happy to talk to you. Arnault as well. He got a call from Captain Ash’val not too long ago, actually. He said that something happened at the base and you stormed off, and that no one’s been able to get into contact with you for several hours, since. Arnault, love, Cedric’s over here!” That last sentence she half-shouted.

Arnault materialized out of nowhere, clearly having somehow acquired a teleportation array and the ability to use it effectively. “There you are! Come, we will talk in our home. I’ve heard what Ash’val and Melinth said what happened. I want to hear your side of it. Where have you been?”

Cedric fidgeted feeling guilty for worrying the older Black Templar “I left the base and knew I was being followed, so I shook off the person tailing me and went to the bakery that Roland and his bonded run together and talked to Roland for a while while kneading bread, to help calm down. It… it worked more or less.”

Arnault heaved a sigh at that, shaking his head a little “I am glad that you decided to find a safe way to vent your fury though why did you feel the need to shake off whoever was trying to catch u to you from the base?”

“Because I knew whoever was following me wasn’t one of my fellow Primaris Brothers and I… Don’t know how well I would have reacted to interacting with a fairborn marine who wasn’t a Black Templar in the fury I was in.”

Arnault hummed, nodding a little in understanding “Ja, I get that.”

“The door’s open, love! Once you two are ready to come inside.” Angela called out from the front door of her home before entering.

“Inside, now.” Arnault ordered Cedric, pointing at the door, a stern expression on his face.

“Yes sir.” Cedric responded, obediently doing as he was told as the older Black Templar followed closely behind him.

~

“Do either of you want something to drink?” Angela asked from the kitchen as Cedric and Arnault entered the cozy home. 

“Uhm… Some tea would be nice, if you don’t mind, Miss Angela.” Cedric answered after Arnault stared at him silently for several seconds.

“I’ll have a cup of tea as well, mein Engel.” Arnault called out with a small smile on his face. It faded and he addressed Cedric tersely “You, sit. Couch.”

Cedric barely managed to suppress the instinctual flinch the flat tones and sharp orders from an older brother instinctually provoked. “Yes sir.” he carefully took off his shoes first, putting them in the shoe bin before heading to the aforementioned couch, sitting on the edge of it, anxious. He couldn’t even look at Arnault at all, much less in the eye as he waited for the other to do or say something.

A short but very audible sigh left Arnault as the Emperor’s Champion made his way over to where Cedric was sitting, joining him on the couch. “What I was told by Chief Apothecary Melinth was that he asked you about irregularities that he found in the geneseeds implanted in Malachai and Lestras. In the ensuing argument, you escalated things violently before storming out of the base. Care to explain what happened?”

“Did… Did Apothecary Melinth say why I became violent?” Cedric asked, doing his best to keep his temper in check. Apparently the bread kneading hadn’t been as effective as he’d hoped it would be, as the fury was once more surging to the surface. 

“He did not deign to go into specifics, and I was more focused on finding you before you picked a fight with some renegades or chaos bastards, or were found by them and they needled you into causing a much messier problem. What happened?” Arnault asked. He sounded… Worried? And non-judgmental.

Cedric risked looking directly at Arnault, trying to gauge the other’s emotional state. He looked mildly worried, but otherwise calm.  “He accused me of lying about my origins, and the origins of the other Primaris Marines. That instead of being created by the Mechanicum, we are a group of Bile’s abominations in the shape of Space Marines, meant to infiltrate loyal chapters and weaken them from within.”

“He what?” Arnault growled, a thunderous frown appearing on his face. 

Before the older Templar could say anything else, Angela walked into the living room, carrying three mugs of tea and a couple of plates of fruit and crackers. “Here you go, love, Cedric. I also grabbed a little snack, in case either of you were hungry. Do you want me to stay for this conversation? Or is this something private between brothers?” 

Cedric looked over at Arnault, unsure what the other’s decision about that was going to be. Much of this conversation probably wouldn’t make sense to her, even if they did speak in one of the local languages that she did know, rather than in rapid-fire Gothic. 

Arnault sighed “This conversation is going to be one that won’t make much sense to those who are not Astartes, mein Engel, and there are some things that have been verboten to explain, even to our bonded. I adore having you near me whenever possible, but this is an astartes-only conversation.  I hope you understand.”

“I don’t understand the subject matter, but I will let you talk to your younger brother privately. I’ll be in my sewing room, if you need or want my help or presence.” Angela murmured, a small smile on her face as she walked over and gave Arnault a kiss on the lips before walking off.

“I will always want you near me, unless there is something dangerous going on. Then I will want you to be as safe as possible. Danke schon for understanding, liebling.” Arnault murmured, kissing her back, a loving and affectionate smile on his face. 

Angela nodded and left the room, with Arnault’s gaze lingering on her as she left. Once the sounds of her quiet footsteps could not longer be easily heard, the older Black Templar refocused on the conversation “Is that when you got violent? The presumption that he made that you und your Primaris Brothers were not who you said you were, but infiltrators and saboteurs?”

“No, though I will admit to yelling at him for how incorrect an assumption that was. I became physically violent after he repeatedly crowded into my physical space and attempted to grab me while I was trapped against one of the walls of his office.” Cedric paused for a moment, a slight shiver running down his back at the sheer panic and fury that had been running through him at the time. He continued to confess to Arnault “He tried to either grab or strike me and I responded by ducking his hands and kicking his bad knee out from under him. After that the physical fight continued until I could get to the door to his office and leave. I almost physically bumped into captain Ash’val as I fled the base… And I think I snapped at him, and my words to him were uncalled for and rude. After that I made sure to lose whoever was tracking me from the base and went to go speak to Roland… Though I didn’t tell him about the fight I got into.”

“What did you talk to Roland about?” Arnault prompted, his voice measured and calm.

“There have been four more Primaris who’ve arrived in the past couple of months, all of them fellow Black Templars… And all four of them were badly injured. Two of them are in the medical ward, recovering and going through physical therapy for some of their injuries. The other two…” His voice cracked and broke for a couple of moments. Cedric allowed himself a moment to get his words back before answering, voice quieter and shaking “The other two died. The last one we had a bit of forewarning about his condition and where he was going to appear, because of a vision Jophiel received. Despite all of Chief Apothecary Melinth’s skills, he was unable to save Malachai. Less than twenty-four hours later, both Malachai and Lestras were on surgical tables again, this time led by Melinth and six other high to mid ranking apothecaries of Loyalist, Renegade and Chaos leanings, to study the differences between Firstborn and Primaris Marines.”

Cedric paused for a moment “The newly dead brothers, in addition to the new living ones were what I spoke to Roland about. Along with the fact that Ramiel and I intend to have their Rites of Remembrance held soon, ideally by the end of the week. There is a church in town with beautiful stained-glass windows we intend on holding the Rites there. I have spoken to the Astartes who works there. He’s.” Cedric pauses for a moment, looking over at Arnault “A pre-heresy World Bearer Chaplain, with a bonded who is a Sister. Is… Is that going to be a problem?”

“... Do you know if he is corrupted at all?” Arnault asked, a small frown appearing on his face.

“I’ve talked to him a couple of times and he earnestly believes in the divinity of the god emperor. The fall of his legion distresses him greatly, from what little he’s spoken to me about it.” Cedric reported earnestly. “He shows no signs of corruption, to my knowledge.” Cedric also dutifully informs Arnault the name of the church and it’s address, in case the other wants to look at the church and speak to the chaplain himself first. “Oh! One last thing, if you wish and if she wishes, you may bring your bonded to the Rites of Remembrance.”

“You mentioned that all four of these new Bruders were found injured - Ramiel was also badly injured, upon being found here on Holy Terra as well. Do you know how they got those injuries?” Arnault asked, leaning a little towards Cedric as he asked, a very focused look on his face.

Cedric stilled. How much of the truth should he tell in this moment, without asking his brothers first? And he only had suspicions about who inflicted the wounds on Malachai and Lestras, as he hadn’t been able to ask them before they died. But Pallius and Olivar had both confirmed that they’d been badly beaten by Petras in M42 before awakening in M3 on Holy Terra. “As far as I know, they were injured in M42 and were brought by whatever force is behind this to holy Terra, in this time.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Cedric. Do you know how they got so badly injured?” Arnault reiterated, his eyes narrowing a little as he spoke.

“I can’t say for sure how Malachai and Lestras ended up with injuries that they had.” though he had his suspicions, especially with Malachai’s injuries. They were, unfortunately, very familiar to Cedric. “But I do know that they’d gotten those injuries during the course of their service to the god emperor.” 

Arnault’s eyes narrowed a little further “Cedric… Ash’val showed me pictures of some of the wounds that were inflicted on your brothers - including Ramiel. I know what it looks like when someone has been attacked by Lightning Claws. All of them were attacked by an Astartes. None of them had defensive wounds, which means they did not fight back and you knew where all their injuries were, including internal ones.”

Fuck! What should he do? Cedric… Cedric did trust Arnault, he really did. But this wasn’t just his decision to make… Though, technically as the only Black Templar Apothecary tending to the injured Black Templars in the base it kind of was, in a legal sense. “... They were punished. The sins they allegedly committed vary by Brother, but the one that had them ultimately killed was one that they could not change, nor help.”

“Explain. Now.” Arnault ordered, his face a twisted into a thunderous scowl.

“I told you earlier that the Primaris rollout nearly broke the Chapter. Part of the reason why is because some Black Templars were killing Primaris Marines. A percentage of these murdered Primaris marines were the chosen apprentices of other Firstborn Marines who did not take kindly to their proteges being murdered. It was very nearly a full-on civil war within the chapter, and it…” Cedric swallowed hard, unable to look at Arnault directly as he continued to explain. He had a desire to curl up into as small of a ball as his large frame would allow, but managed to  It only stopped after the High Marshal gathered the full fleet together for a meeting and informed everyone that we Primaris marines were here to stay, and that we were not heretical abominations. If anyone wished to disagree with that, they could fight him for leadership over the chapter. None of his challengers survived the ritual duels, including the marine who was responsible for the deaths of all five of my fellow Primaris Black Templars.”

“Are any of the Black Templars who killed younger brothers currently here on Ancient Terra?” Arnault asked, his voice hard and growly. 

Fuck!

“We… We don’t know for certain.” Cedric answered truthfully… Sort of. Petras was on Holy Terra, but none of them had managed to work up the courage to confront the Chaplain directly, to find out when exactly the chaplain was from. Petras was well over four hundred years old, when he had been felled by High Marshal Helbreicht after all, and had spent well over two hundred years as an honorable and well-regarded chaplain of the Black Templars. 

“Explain to me, what you mean by that. In detail, Cedric.” Arnault growled, still scowling at Cedric.

The younger Black Templar tried very hard not to start obviously panicking. Cedric wasn’t sure how to explain in a way that wouldn’t potentially cause Arnault to fly into a rage. “I… Uhm.. Ah…” He grabbed the cool mug of tea that had been created for him and took a sip from it very slowly, trying desperately to figure out how to word things. Before he could come up with something to tell Roland, there was a strong knock on the door. “You should probably answer the door, Brother Roland.” Cedric timidly suggested, hiding behind the mug of tea as best as he could manage. 

Arnault grumbled under his breath as he stomped over to the front door. “Ja, what do you -oh Hello Roland. Bitte, come in. Cedric and I are having a chat, and you are welcome to join.”

“Danke, I’d be happy to chat with my bruders. Hallo Cedric!” Roland calls out, sounding relatively cheerful.

Oh no. Cedric is starting to feel a little cornered. He surreptitiously pulls out his phone - the screen is indeed shattered, but it does light up when he presses the correct button and checks his text messages. He’s got several missed phone calls from Captain Ash’val. The two of them are walking back to the living room he’s sitting in. Come on, escape from this conversation! His phone began ringing, it was Ramiel. God emperor bless you!i “Hey Rami, what’s going on?”

“Mattias is being brought to the clinic for treatment by his warband. He’s been  badly beaten and half-stripped out of his armor. He’s alive for now, but he’s in bad shape. I really think that it would help if you were at there to help him stay calm while he gets patched up.” Ramiel informed him, voice low and worried.

“Fuck! But he-he was fine when he arrived on Ancient Terra a couple of months ago. He-he didn’t somehow go back to M42 and come back again, did he?” Cedric asked, alarm shooting through him as he got up to his feet. “He was… He was brought to Holy Terra before he… Before he was…”

“I know that he was uninjured when he first came to Ancient Terra. According to the Crusade leader, they were meeting with a different crusade, this one lead by a chaplain captain. The chaplain wanted to talk to him privately. After their conversation he left with his crusade and Mattias didn’t. It took them an hour to find him, and he’s badly hurt.”

“That bastard’s doing it again. Fuck!” Cedric swore “I’ll be at the clinic as soon as I can. Stay safe, and be smart Rami.”

“You too, Cedric!’ Ramiel answered before ending the call. 

Unfortunately for Cedric, before he could try and leave Arnault’s house, he had to get through both Arnault and Roland, who were staring at him with intensity. 

“Hey, so I need to go. I hate to cut this conversation short, but -” Cedric started.

“We overheard your little talk with Ramiel. You will explain to us right now who this bastard harming Primaris Marines is. We have been patient, waiting for you to talk to us. We aren’t waiting anymore.” Arnault growled, lunging forward and grabbing Cedric by the back of the neck.

“Roland… Help!” Cedric called out plaintively, trying to wiggle his way to freedom.

“Nein, you will answer our questions. Who is causing this harm? Now is not to be silent, like mortal martyrs. Let us help you.” Roland answered, staring at Cedric impassively.

“I don’t know for certain which chaplain it was!” Cedric protested, wriggling more, trying to escape.

“You have your suspicions. Talk, little brother. Now!” Arnault half-snarled at him.

“Chaplain Mephisteil Petras! He was the one who killed at least a dozen primaris marines, including his own Apprentice, Ramiel! He’s here on Holy Terra. We don’t know for sure if he’s from the time he was running around beating Primaris Marines to death, but he’s beaten firstborn Marines to the point that their crusade leaders have sent them to the clinic for treatment twice to my knowledge.” Cedric blurted out, a scowl on his face “Will you let me go now? I need to help keep another brother from dying to firstborn machinations and tempers.”

"I am going to kill him." Arnault responded. His voice was steady and calm, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"We. We are going to kill him." Roland corrected Arnault, shaking his head a little.

"Uhm... We don't know for certain that it was Petras who beat up Mattias..." Cedric pointed out, anxiously.

"True, but this sort of behavior is not something that just goes away." Arnault rumbled "And he was the one who organized the exile of myself and Roland because of our bonds." And because of his writing sins, but Arnault wasn't going to go into that.

“Danke, for finally telling us, Cedric. We will accompany you to the clinic.” Roland murmured as Arnault set him down on his feet. 

“Ja. Let’s go.” The Emperor’s Champion rumbled, a deep-set scowl on his face as the three of them sprinted out of the cozy home and off to the Astartes-run clinic.

[bleedingichorhearts]

Let this man breathe for a moment! Boi needs it! I’m glad he mostly kept his composure though! I’m am unsure what to feel, but pity could be one of them and reasonable anger too.

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts. 

[bleedingichorhearts]

I like it was a Night Lord giving him a hug, usually one wouldn’t think a Night Lord would do such a thing. Big boi needed a hug and badly too. He really doesn’t have anyone near him at the moment to do so. Let the boi breathe out his grief for a moment.

Autopsy

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  A big thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OC Anrir, and with helping me make sure I wrote Anrir well. 

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: autopsy (mention), poor coping skills, physical violence, grief, 

Summary: Cedric and two other Apothecaries in training are putting medical supplies away near where Malachai’s and Lestras’ bodies are being studied. This is fine. He’s fine.

"What... Why would they place that organ there? It makes no sense whatsoever." One of the visiting apothecaries muttered.

"I was told that the mechanicus were in charge of the creation of the Primaris Marines. In the ensuing ten-thousand years after the Heresy, this is what they have come up with." Melinth stated, his voice steady if lilting a little with amusement.

Cedric couldn't quite tell, as their voices were muffled by the wall that separated himself and the two other apothecaries in training from where Lestra’s and Malachai’s bodies were being autopsied. But their voices felt full of mockery and derision to him. He gritted his teeth, continuing to perform the task he had been assigned.

"These organs placements are shit." A third Apothecary spotted "I may still be a traitor in M42, but this... This is utter shit. I can see a glimmer of advancement in the organs themselves... But oh..." He laughed, cruel and vicious.

"Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Anrir?" The first Apothecary prompted, sounding curious.

Cedric willed his hearts to stop pounding in his ears as he tried to breathe out the fury coiling in his chest, ready to strike. He was furious at the fact that one of those callous bastards were laughing at his brothers' bodies.

"It's just... If I informed the Emperor of the advancements that the Mechanicum believes they made to his Astartes' design... His reaction would be hilarious!" Anrir chortled.

Cedric could not take the callous disrespect and mockery that these firstborn bastards were making of his dead brothers. The sound of that fucker’s laughter rang in his head, reminding him of - 

No. He would not allow his mind to wallow in miserable memories that would only make him even more upset. Cedric and two other apprentice Apothecaries had been tasked with restocking this medical supply room as a group. In the past few months, more supplies have been mysteriously vanishing, and one way to try and decrease the possible vanishing supplies problems. He hisses a soft “Bastard!” In response to the continued laughter.

The restless Night Lord Apothecary turned toward him, having clearly heard his words “What was that? I’m pretty sure that box of gauze isn’t an Ork in need of strangling. You can just put it down like a normal person.”

Cedric glared at the Night Lord, a low growl in his voice “Shut up. I can hear them talking about the Brothers they are dissecting.”

The other apothecary in training - a Renegade Space Wolf spoke up “I can hear them too. It sucks that they won’t let any of us even see the bodies to learn the differences between us normal marines and Primaris, but that’s life. ‘Sides, I’ve figured out one difference between Primaris marines and normal marines already.”

“Oh? And what difference would that be?” The Night Lord asked curiously, head titling a little.

“They die like little bitches. LIke, there are what a dozen Primaris marines on ancient terra? And between the two found near this base and the six found dead across Ancient Terra in the past year or so, it doesn’t speak to how well they’re able to survive. Like. It’s really fucking hard to die on Ancient Terra unless you’re doing something stupid.”

… Six other dead Primaris marines? This was the first that Cedric had heard of more dead Primaris marines. Then the rest of the drivel that the Space Wolf had said registered in the Black Templar’s mind. The fury that he’d been struggling to contain boiled over and a red haze filled his vision. 

Cedric blinked once, finding that he’d moved positions from one moment to the next. He had pinned Algret to the floor, his knees on the bastard’s chest, his hands wrapped around the other’s neck as his mouth screamed into the other;s bloodied face and broken nose. Cedric felt his chest heave with the effort of pinning and choking this miserable bastard as his mouth screamed ‘- FUCKING CALLOUS, KIN-KILLING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU SNEER AND LOOK DOWN ON US! USE US AS CANNON FODDER WHILE SPITTING ON OUR EFFORTS AND CALLING US ABOMINATIONS!” He managed to wrest control of his vocal chords from whatever was screaming through him. His voice was much quieter now but no less furious “See how you like it when you are the one being beaten and tormented over and over again.”

“He-ghk!” Algret called out, struggling futilely beneath him.

Cedric did not see the Night Lord Apothecary, but they were all cowardly ambush predators who fled before a more powerful opponent. His breathing was harsh and fast. HIs hands were still squeezing Algret’s neck hard enough to make breathing difficult for the mouthy bastard. “... You’re not worth the paperwork they’d bury me under to kill you.” With tremendous effort he forced his hands away from the Space Wolf’s neck. He got off of the Space Wolf as well, taking a couple of steps back.

Algret growled back as he heaved himself back up onto his feet, settling into a defensive stance “You want to fight, you unstable piece of shite? You’re on! You’re not going to overcome me nearly so easily, now that I’m aware you’re going to attack me.”

Cedric growled wordlessly, shifting into a defensive stance of his own, about to accept the challenge issued to him.

"And just what do you two think you are doing?" A low and deeply unimpressed voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the brewing fight.

Cedric swallowed hard, before he turned and saw -

Fuck.

One of the Apothecaries who had been brought in to cut into his dead Brothers, to study the differences between Primaris Marines and Firstborn. He was a Terran-born Night Lord, from the pattern and coloration of his armor.

"I was talking about the dead Primaris Marines, and that it sucked I couldn't get hands-on study of either one of them when this lunatic  attacked me!" Algret whined, glaring at Cedric as he spoke. "He also was screaming about how much he hates firstborn Marines. Whatever the fuck those are."

“... I see.” The Night Lord Apothecary answered, a neutral expression on his face, though it may be a mask. “If firstborn Marines are bad… Surely I am something much worse. After all, I am Terran Born, among part of the first successfully created batches.” He stalked into the room with predatory grace.

Cedric could see the younger Night Lord Apothecary hovering in the hallway outside, but most of his focus was on the laughing bastard in front of him. His phone chirped, and he kept one eye on the advancing Night Lord, as he read through the text that Ramiel sent him. A small, vicious smirk appeared on his face. The other older apothecaries were also in the hallway and could clearly hear him. He rolled his shoulders back and stated “As the highest ranking Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this base, I am formally revoking your to do anything with the dead bodies of the two Black Templars currently on the surgery tables of this base. I revoke everyone’s privilege to do so, not just yours, Apothecary Anrir.” Cedric paused for a moment, letting this edict sink in before continuing “If any non-Black Templar Apothecary does anything other than stitch their bodies up, it will be a severe violation of the treaty for each of you, with each cut of the scalpel, or adjustment of the retractors. This decision is effective as of now, and will not be overturned. Stitch up their bodies and hand them over to me.”

“YOu gave permission to allow us to autopsy them earlier.” Melinth countered “Additionally, you are merely an Apothecary in training and do not have the ability to order such things to us.”

“I am the highest ranking Black Templar apothecary you can contact easily. If you want to escalate this issue, I will inform the highest ranking Black Templar in residence and you can talk it out with him. The Emperor’s Champion. I will inform him that you are refusing to follow some of the mandates of treaty that has been set forth. I will also inform him that your refusal to release the bodies of both Black Templars, one of whom had been a patient of yours in critical condition, and that he died while in your care.” Cedric growled, stalking towards Melinth. He was keenly aware of what he was unsubtly accusing the other of in public, but he did not care. It was completely within character of Firstborn Marines of M42 to pull shit like this on purpose. Why would they not do the same in M3 if they thought they could get away with it?  “Care that you did not allow me or another Black Templar to monitor while a brother was in such a fragile and vulnerable state. That after you pronounced him dead, while his body was still warm, you demanded I give you permission to cut him apart to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Are you accusing me of allowing a patient under my care to die to satisfy my own scientific inquisitiveness about how his body worked?” Melinth demanded, actually sounding and looking mildly upset now.

Cedric figured that Melinth was upset most by the potential hit to his reputation Cedric’s accusations may cause, considering the fact that the six visiting Apothecaries were from differing factions and had some influence amongst their chapters/legions. “You’ve said before that you wished that you could take a Primaris Marine’s body apart, to see what the differences are for yourself. It would not surprise me if you… Arranged for that to happen, as you were handed an opportunity to ensure a Primaris Body landed in your morgue.”

“Oh… So the abuse that the both of them suffered is a common thing amongst loyalists in M-42, then. You wouldn’t be accusing another Apothecary of such a crime with such certainty and conviction if you haven’t seen that happen in M42 personally.” Anrir called out, an inscrutable expression on the Night Lord’s face.

His words halted Cedric in his tracks. The emotional impact of his words hit him with the force of an out of control Thunderhawk slamming into the side of a mountain. His gaze switched from Melinth - who was more visibly emotional now (What those emotions might be, Cedric couldn’t begin to guess. Nor was he going to spend the effort to try) - to Anrir. His eyes were burning fiercely and he hated the way he echoed “A… Abuse?” back at the older apothecary. A yawning abyss of horror had opened up within Cedric and had swallowed all of the righteous wrath that had been searing it’s way through his veins.

“Yes. Abuse. The Emperor would be furious about the utter misery that the Mechanicus put you Primaris marines through. You’re some of the most traumatized young marines I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with Lamenters before. Get over here.” Anrir ordered, his voice going gravelly and commanding - but not in a distressing way, somehow?

Cedric’s idiot, treacherous body obeyed before his mind could halt himself, as he came over to the Night Lord’s side. He stares down at the shorter marine, just barely able to resist the temptation to shuffle backwards and cross his arms defensively over his chest. “What do you want?” Cedric snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to hug you now. Do not resist, you need one.” Anrir answered, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping his arms around Cedric, holding him in a moderately restraining embrace. 

Half of Cedric wanted to melt into the embrace and start bawling. The rest of him protested very loudly at such a show of weakness in front of strange firstborn marines, so an angry response it was. He hisses down at the older marine, leaning away from him “How dare you just grab me like this?! Let me go at once you… You-” now was not the time to lose his words, but here he was. Unable to come up with something to say.

Also, Cedric could feel his body start to shake and tremble at the continued gentle touch. His eyes were stinging more fiercely now and he needed to escape if he was to not be seen or heard crying by these fuckwits. He blinked rapidly before the first treacherous tear started to fall, followed by more. SInce the stupid bastard wasn’t letting go, Cedric hid his face in one of the other’s shoulders, his body’s shaking getting worse.

Anrir heaved a dramatic sigh as he hugged Cedric closer, one hand coming up to gently pat his head “Honestly! You’re just as bad as Claude is. I wasn’t laughing at your dead brothers, by the way. I was laughing at the fury that the Emperor would unleash on those machine-worshippers if he learned of what he’s done to all of you. The organ placement within the two Primaris Marines would very likely have shortened their life-spans significantly, had the physical abuse that killed them not taken them then.”

There was one piece of information that was most important to Cedric. The lifespans thing wasn’t something he could deal with, but - “You… You know Claude? You’ve… You’ve seen him cry?” If Claude felt safe enough to cry around Apothecary Anrir… Then Cedric would choose to trust that his brother-cousin was willing to trust Anrir.

The Night Lord sighed again, patting his head once more, still giving him a one-armed hug “Yes, I know Claude.”

“Oh… You must be one of the older brothers he trusts, then.” Claude was one of the most emotionally reserved of all of them for reasons that Cedric was not going to think about right now, as he was trying to calm down. He wiped the tears in his eyes and tried that breathing trick that Miss Angela taught him… Which was startlingly effective. He lets go of the Night Lord, shame burning through him as he took a step away from the other. “I… Thank you, for helping me calm down.”

Anrir hummed a little in response “You scouts have been deeply traumatized. Emotional dysregulation is very common.” He turned and  glared at his fellow experienced Apothecaries “Is there a particular reason why you are gawking? The Scout told you he doesn’t want us messing about in the insides of his dead brothers, which I feel is more than reasonable.”

The other apothecaries grumbled, but all of them left the hallway, except for Melinth, who stared at Cedric for several long seconds before slowly turning and leaving.

Anrir left a moment or two after Melinth did, and called out to the others “Between the seven of us, and what we were able to study, we have plenty of notes. Besides, you all saw the muscle cording. The mechanicus succeeded in making the Primaris marines physically stronger. The young one was gracious enough to allow us some time to study a couple of his dead brothers. He could have refused us entirely.”

Melinth groused back “You weren’t the one who got accused of letting a patient die on your table on purpose, Anrir.”

“I suspect that is the grief doing the speaking for him, rather than good sense. Besides, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious, were your position and his reversed? Especially as it is abundantly clear - at least to me - that none of the Primaris Marines have been treated very well by their older brothers in M-42. His wariness and caution is understandable if likely unneeded in this time. Such behaviors are difficult to unlearn.” Anrir countered. 

Cedric pointedly did not look at either of the two firstborn Apothecaries in training as he completed the task that he had been assigned. He did pause part way through putting away the medical supplies to send Ramiel a message, asking him to start gathering what he needed to properly send off Malachai and Lestra… He also planned on speaking with a certain Word Bearer to see if he was willing to let them borrow a hallowed space for the funerals.

… He should also probably talk to Arnualt and Roland as well to see if they wanted to attend the funerals as well. A sigh left Cedric as he placed the vinyl box of gauze on its assigned shelf before leaving the medical stockroom, locking the door behind him as both Belek and Algrets had already left the room. 

[bleedingichorhearts]

I wouldn’t put it above Cedric that he would lash out, he’s basically going back through his brothers deaths, replaying them. His exterior may be… innocent, but things break eventually. Perhaps he should go talk to another about it? Release some of that… tension.

Malachai In the Snow

Author’s Note: This is the fourth part of a mini-arc in which Cedric will be (trying) to patch up injured Primaris Black Templars as they appear on Ancient and Holy Terra! For other adventures click here and

here.

First.

Previous.

Next. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel! And thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for allowing me to borrow Pyrus!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: blood, injuries, character death, ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it/it bothers you

Summary: Jophiel comes to Cedric, with a prophecy of a dying brother on his lips. 

“Cedric… Cedric I need you to wake up!” Jophiel called out as he shook his Brother-Cousin awake.

The young Black Templar grumbled a little wordlessly as he yawned and stared blearily at Jophiel “What is it? It’s really late…” He checked the clock, which read just past one in the morning. The Blood Angel was sniffling a little and shaking. Cedric frowned and pulled him in, hugging him tightly “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I… Sort of. Not really, because it’s a vision! One of the clearest I’ve had in a while.” Jophiel answered, shaking his head a little before burying his face in one of Cedric’s shoulders. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, feeling safe in the Apothecary’s embrace.

“... Do you want to talk to me about it? Or should I get one of the older librarians, to help you try and figure out what the vision meant? From what you’ve told me, not all of the visions you have are straight forward, nor easily understood.” Cedric asked, reaching up and starting to run a hand through Jophi’s long blonde hair.

“That wasn’t the case for this one. I’m… I’m pretty sure I know what this one means.” Jophiel murmured, leaning more into Cedric. “Another Primaris Black Templar is going to be coming to Holy Terra soon. Snow was falling on his body, and his blood was staining the white. He was all alone as he died, beside a lake that had a view of a mountain, and there were trees everywhere.”

There were thousands of lakes across Holy Terra at this point in time, many of them having forests and mountains nearby, with snowfall being possible. “I… I see. Do you have any idea where on Ancient Terra he might show up? Or when specifically?” 

“Remember that lake we found last week, while we were hiking through the woods? I… I’m pretty sure it’s that one, and I did check before waking you up. It gets cold enough in the winters here to snow on the valley floor.” Jophiel answered, voice shaking a little “But I know that I should probably report this vision to the older Librarians. They’ll be able to help me figure out better when and where this incoming brother is likely to land… And they have the pull to ensure that he’ll be found before he dies.”

Cedric’s first reaction is to try and convince Jophiel to stay quiet. That between the six of them they should be able to find whoever was near the edge of life and death before he died… But Terra was a large planet, and if their silence on this matter killed this Brother… His death would be on Cedric’s hands. “... If there are older librarians who you feel that you can trust with this vision… I trust you to spread this warning to those who need to know.”

Jophiel nods, frowning a little “I… There are a couple. And since, in my vision, he’s not got his full armor, it’s not like I need to tell them that this nearly-dead Brother is a Primaris Marine, necessarily. I.. I should be able to keep that part to myself. I think.”

Cedric nodded, leaning into Jophiel a little more “Alright. Do you feel the vision is urgent enough to wake them now?”

“Unless a freak snowstorm rolls in tomorrow, I don’t think so. It’s still early autumn, after all…” Jophiel murmured, yawning a little “It’s too far to get to my room… M’sleeeepy Ced!”

Cedric smiled a little, chuckling a little “Do you want to finish sleeping with me, then?” He knew how much visions took it out of Jophiel, especially on Ancient Terra, where the Warp was much more difficult to reach and use.

“Yes please…” Jophiel yawned, closing his eyes and promptly falling asleep. 

Cedric smiled again, making sure that both of them could sleep relatively comfortably before falling himself to sleep as well.

~

Weeks later found Cedric as part of a patrol of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, as the group made their way to the lake mentioned in Jophiel’s vision. The weather forecast was predicting heavy snowfall, and it was apparently very cold to those who were warm-adapted. Cedric found the cooler temperatures invigorating and refreshing. There was a light breeze that rustled the ever-green pine and fir trees that they were walking between, and the late afternoon sun was being swallowed by dark clouds that promised heavy precipitation.

Pyrus was walking alongside next to Cedric, as his warband was visiting the base and nudged him a little “So, any ideas as to which time period this injured Brother might be coming from? Or chapter and/or legion?”

Cedric could answer those questions, from what Jophiel had told him. But should he? Jophiel had been as vague on the specifics of the marine in question apart from the dire state of his injuries and how under-equipped he was for the cold and snowy weather. “Jophie said that the armor he had left was a dark color, nearly black, where it wasn’t bloody or covered in snow.”

Pyrus hummed, nodding thoughtfully “Ah… That doesn’t narrow it down. Lots of chapters have darkly colored armor. Hopefully he reacts well to us, if he’s awake enough to realize we’re there. If he’s a Black Legionnaire we’re gonna have to use the tranq gun on him so he won’t try to murder us while mostly dead. Stubborn bastards.”

Snow began to fall from the sky, the whispery quality of the snowflakes falling on the ground and the tree branches were distracting. Watching the ground quickly become covered in snow where the trees did not provide shelter, or where the wind blew the frozen water. Cedric silently wished he could enjoy watching the snowfall, but he had a Brother to try and save. He hummed noncommittally. Part of him really did want to tell Pyrus what he knew of the injured Primaris marine who they were hopefully going to find in time, but doing so would reveal that Jophiel had deliberately withheld information and Cedric wasn’t about to throw him under the bus. Especially when he was the one to ask Jophiel to withhold that information. “Hopefully they will react well, or at least neutrally to our presence.”

“... Are you alright, Cedric? You seem a bit… Distracted?” Pyrus asked, squinting at him, concerned. 

The young apothecary successfully suppressed his desire to fidget with his hands - which was a dead-giveaway for the uncertainty and worry running through his body and making his hearts race “I’m concerned for whoever we may find today. We marines are pretty tough, it takes a lot to-”

The direction of the winds shifted as Cedric was speaking, cutting him off as it brought with it the sharp, metallic scent of fresh blood. 

All six of the marines on patrol stopped in their tracks, including Cedric himself, turning towards the source of the smell.

Cedric was the first to start moving, running as fast as the dense underbrush and trees would allow him, dodging around  large patches of underbrush and jumping over and across the occasional fallen log or half-rotted tree stump.

It took both an eternity and no time at all for Cedric to find the badly injured Primaris marine. The other was leaning against the base of a tree, gold-flecked blue eyes focused on the partially frozen lake. He looked in Cedric’s direction as the apothecary reached over.

He smiled a little and rasped out “Good… Evening? Cedric. Is this the peaceful embrace of the Emperor? It’s… Beautiful.” Malachai asked, before turning partially and coughing, splattering the snow with his blood, vivid and dark against the white substance, even as the heat of his blood began to melt it. “Wish I hurt less, though.”

“Malachai, you aren’t dead,  not yet. Where we are is a… Complicated situation. But stay still, I have a first aid kit, which will help me stabilize you. Then, with help, I can get you to a place where you can be properly treated.” Cedric answered, dropping down onto his knees next to his badly beaten brother, opening the kit and starting to clean and bandage his wounds.

Malachai chuckled and then coughed violently, his whole body spasming a little before he reached up with broken fingers to try and push Cedric away with what little remained of his strength “You shouldn’t. The fucker beat me with the intention of making me one of his grisly reminders for the rest of us.”

“He has no power here. Not really.” Cedric half-lied. While it was true that Petras wasn’t in control of Ancient Terra, he held a distressing amount of sway amongst certain Crusades of Black Templars, and he really didn’t want to find out what his reaction would be, should he discover that several of the marines he’d killed were on Ancient Terra, alive and aware of the depths of the chaplain’s cruelty.

“... Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Cedric.” Malachai gently scolded him, reaching up and squeezing one of Cedric’s shoulders, leaving bloody fingerprints on his jacket. “More astartes are coming. I don’t want you to be punished for trying to help me.”

“Those are a patrolf of Salamanders and Imperial Fists. They won’t punish me for trying to help you. The entire reason why I’m in this forest is to find and try and save you, Malachai. Stop resisting and let me help you!” Cedric hissed, hating the way that his eyes stung badly enough to blur his vision as tears streamed down his face. He continued to do his best to patch up the stubborn bastard wheezing at him “Things are different here. I haven’t been ordered to watch you die this time. So I’m not going to, if I can at all help it.” 

Pyrus came barrelling into the clearing, followed closely by the rest of the mixed squad of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, their armor patterns showing that they were from multiple different time periods of the Imperium. The Salamander knelt down on the other side of Malachai and asked “What should I do to help?”

“Keep him still for me, please? He’s resisting treatment because of when he was brought to Holy Terra from.” Cedric instructed Pyrus.

“We… We’re on Terra? How is that… How is that possible?” Malachai wheezed, a stunned expression on his face.

“Short answer? Warp shenanigans. If you want the long answer, such as we’ve figured out, you’ve got to live to learn it.” Pyrus answered with an attempt at a reassuring smile on his face. “Are you a Black Templar, like Cedric?”

“Yes, I am.” Malachai rasped out. He nodded a little, before a whimper of pain left him. “I can’t. Feel my legs. The worst injury I got was on my back.” He paused for several seconds, closing his eyes and taking in several steadying breaths before continuing  “Just above where the armor I was allowed to keep… I heard the snap of bone and a lot of pain before… Before everything went dark and I woke up here. I’ve tried moving my legs and… Couldn’t manage it.”

“... Fuck that’s right. I remember now. He’d snapped your spinal cord in three places. I’m… I’m surprised that you’re breathing as well as you are, given the locations of the breaks.” Cedric murmured before he could stop himself “We’re going to need to immobilize his neck and spine as much as we can, to avoid further damage. Would two of you please set up the stretcher, while everyone else helps me move Malachai? Once the stretcher is ready will need to be careful to move him at the same time, so I will provide a count down from three to one. When I say now after, we move him at the same time. Any questions?”

“Me, I have one. Why are you bothering? The bastard has decided that my mouthy bastard ways mean that I have to die. Why refuse him? I hurt sooo much where I’m not numb.” Malachai huffed, squinting up at Cedric.

“Mal, I mean this with all the love and care in my hearts, shut up. You’re being rescued and treated whether you like it or not. The one who did this to you has no power in the base we’re bringing to you, and it’s my job to keep you alive and as intact as I can.” Cedric growled at the other, eyes flashing in irritation and worry.

Malachai laughed until he started coughing, his body spasming with each cough. “Yeah, yeah. I know. M’ sorry, though. I don’t think I can… Hold on much longer. S’ cold and breathing hurts.”

“Why does it look like someone kicked his ribs with armored boots until they broke?” Pyrus asked, a frown on his face. “Among other things?”

“Because he was kicked by someone’s ceramite-clad boots until his bones broke. Now is really not the time for these sorts of questions Pyrus. Help me put this splint around his chest so that when we move him it doesn’t fuck up his back or lungs with the wandering bone shards more than they already have.” Cedric answered, having done his best to shut down his emotions and clinically look at the situation. “Ignis, Ralos, Sven, Pyrus I need you to lift his torso up several inches so I can get this splint under him on the count of three. Is everyone in position?”

“Ready.” Called out Ralos, the Imperial Fist sounded calm through his vox communicator.

“Ready.” Calls out Sven and Ignis, though both seemed concerned.

“Alright, alright. I’m in position, and ready for the count off.” Pyrus grumbled, moving so that he was in a useful spot.

“Three, two, one, up!” Cedric called out. The four marines were able to easily lift the injured Primaris at the same time and the apothecary applied the splint as quickly as he could. 

Olik and Char were ready with the stretcher, so Cedric directed the four marines who were holding onto Malachai to pivot slightly as the stretcher was maneuvered so it was directly underneath the badly injured Primaris Marine and he was lowered back onto the stretcher. 

Cedric aided in carrying Malachai to the nearby field surgery tent that had been set up, as the Librarians had divined that Malachi would die, if he were to be taken all the way back to the nearest hospital, even in one of the emergency flying vehicles. Cedric very much wanted to be part of the team who worked on trying to put Malachai back together but his hands were shaking too much from the adrenaline and guilt running through him.

~

It had not taken long for them to get to the field surgery tent. Cedric helped heave Malachai onto the surgical table. 

The other Primaris marine shifted uncomfortably as several Imperial Fist Apothecaries approached him. “Cedric… What’s going on?”

“These Apothecaries are going to put you back together. I’m-” Cedric started before being cut off by Apothecary Melinth.

“You are going to be waiting outside of the tent, Cedric. You are too close to this patient to be working on them during such a delicate and risky procedures. Besides, I can see the way that your hands are shaking. Do you wish to risk his life?” The Imperial Fist asked bluntly.

Cedric swallowed hard and flinched back, eyes downward cast “No sir, I don’t.”

“Good lad. Leave the immediate area, while we sterilize the field and get to work. You’ve done well. We’ll do what we can for him.” Melinth ordered.

Malachai made a pained sound, one hand reaching out for Cedric “Wait… Please sir…”

Cedric hesitated before grabbing Malachai’s hand, gently squeezing it with both of his “Do what they tell you, alright? I’ll be right outside, waiting for you, once you’re out of surgery.”

“... You better be.” Malachai grumbled, managing to send a half-smile up at his brother.

“I will.” Cedric promised before letting go of Malachai’s hand, gently setting it back on the table and leaving the tent, his whole body shaking at the intensity of emotions running through him. He sat down heavily on a fallen log less than twenty-feet from the entrance of the surgical tent, listening to the shallow breathing and uneven stutter of Malachai’s hearts beating.

“Hey… Cedric… I couldn’t help but notice that you knew exactly how your fellow Black Templar had gotten injured. While I was running over, I caught something about a punishment… Do you… Do you want to talk to me about it?” Pyrus asked as he sat down next to Cedric, having appeared out of nowhere.

Cedric lost concentration on listening to Malachai’s. “... I’d really rather not.” The temptation to curl into a ball of self-loathing and recrimination was strong, but he was already being eyeballed by several firstborn marines as it was.

Pyrus, instead of taking the unsubtle hint to leave the topic alone, scooted closer to Cedric. The Salamander was pressed against Cedric’s side. “Was he on a penitent crusade, which is why he didn’t have his full armor?”

“... No, he hadn’t been sent on a penitent crusade. That would imply a measure of honor that he wasn’t afforded by the one who… Who did that to him. I really don’t want to talk about this right now. The last time I saw Malachai like that, he died in M42. I… I’m hoping that with more skilled apothecaries, his fate will be changed.” Cedric murmured, his shoulders hunching a little as he buried his face in his hands.

“... Aren’t Black Templars who taken on an Apprentice, like, super protective of them? And swear righteous vengeance against who or whatever killed their apprentice?” Pyrus asked, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“That is how it’s supposed to work. It doesn’t always.” Cedric admitted quietly. It felt almost as if he was betraying his chapter by admitting that much… But his hearts hurt and part of him was very tired of keeping the secrets that he was. Maybe… Maybe he should ask Arnault and Roland to have a quiet but serious conversation about certain matters. Maybe it would help?

Pyrus started to speak, but several crucial, subtle sounds that Cedric’d been straining to hear, even over the sounds of his conversation with the Salamander scout had stopped. The world narrowed unpleasantly and something was shaking him.

Wait.

Someone.

“Cedric. Cedric! Easy. I promise I won’t ask any more questions. You back with me, buddy?” Pyrus asked, a frown of concern on his face, his bright orange-red eyes seemingly peering directly into Cedric’s soul.

“I can’t. I can’t hear Malachai breathing. Or his hearts. They’ve. They’ve stopped. I can’t hear them anymore. I… I need to… I need to help them get him back.” Cedric heard himself say, as the many intense emotions screaming through his hearts nearly overwhelmed his mind. He was trying to stand, but something was keeping him sitting down.

Pyrus was still holding onto him. “Cedric, you need to calm down. I get that that’s probably one of the three things you want to hear least right now, but running into that surgical tent covered in forest germs and dirt isn’t going to do your Brother any good whatsoever, and you bursting in on them suddenly might startle one of the other apothecaries into making an unfortunate mistake.”

Cedric could feel the growl in his chest, and the desire to fight and claw his way over to his Brother as his body coiled and tensed… But his good sense kicked in, and the young Black Templar sighed unhappily and went limp in the other’s firm grip. “You’re right. Much as I hate to admit it. You’re right. I-”

Any other words or thoughts he’d been trying to say or think died abruptly as Apothecary Melinth walked out of the tent and headed towards him, a grim expression on his face. 

“Apothecary Taniel, I am here to inform you that your chapter brother, Malachai has died. His injuries were too extensive for us to treat. Do you feel up to assisting us in harvesting the organs that can be utilized as well as his gene-seed, if it is still viable? You are allowed to refuse, if you feel you are not up to the task. Losing a Brother you’re close to is difficult.” Melinth informed him, no emotion showing on his face or in his voice. The other’s icy blue eyes staring down at him dispassionately.

Several ugly and likely untrue accusations lingered on the tip of Cedric’s tongue as he stared up at the firstborn Marine. Cedric had no proof that Melinth and the others didn’t try their utmost in order to try and save his life. The fact that he had died meant that they had access to more Primaris organs and geneseed to study and use as they saw fit. How… Convenient for them, to be able to have a second dead primaris marine to study to their hearts’ content. But he wasn’t going to say any of that, as it was an awful thing to accuse someone of baselessly. “MY hands are still shaky. However, once you’ve removed everything you think is of use and value out of him, please stitch up my dead brother and allow me to take the remains to Ramiel, so he can get his final rites.” He really hoped that his voice was as bereft of emotion as he had been aiming for, rather than the seething fury and implication he could hear within his own voice.

Melinth stared down at him for several seconds before answering with a flat and emotionless “That will be done, Apothecary Taniel.” And then the other left, turning on his heel.

Cedric was briefly tempted to lash out at the older Apothecary. To hurt him in a fraction of the ways that he and his Brothers had been hurt by at best uncaring and apathetic firstborn brothers. But the urge for violence passed when Melinth was out of his sightline.

“Hey… Cedric…Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s still snowing, and the forest is really beautiful right now. And some movement might help with sorting your emotions, yeah?” Pyrus gently prodded.

He shook his head “I want to be here when they are done usi-... Done with Malachai’s body, so I need to be here.”

“... Alright. Do you mind if I wait with you?” Pyrus asked, still holding onto Cedric. 

Cedric was grateful for the half-restraint, half-hug. It was helping ground him “If you wish to stay with me, I have no complaints. I do like you, Pyrus… And the snow is lovely.” He watched the snowfall with Pyrus as he waited the seeming eternity it took for them to be done harvesting from his dead brother.

They were even kind enough to have sent a message to Ramiel, ten minutes before they were done, so that the young Chaplain in training could prepare everything and gather the others before Cedric arrived on base with the body.

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Oh wow....I didn't realize it was possible to be (Almost) as despisable as Petras in only one fic but fuck damn looks like that Space Bitch (hah dog pun) managed it.

Welcome to the talk shit, do shit, get hit club Puppy Boy! You'll be getting another member shortly so just sit tight and Spin on it (Seriously fuuuuuuuuck yoooooou)

Anrir, gotta admit I thought I was gonna have to chastise you for lack of tact but hot Damn you turned that right around! You're actually a really good father figure. Cedric is up to like....5 now??

And he's so...perceptive! The moment the Space Bitch lied about the context of Cedric Putting him in his place, and Anrir responded with his line about being a Terran Nightlord I Almost choked.

But then he brought it back. He perceived the trauma and holy fuck Ced needed that. And the misunderstanding was well written.

Of course Anrir would be disgusted with crafting marines in a manner that would equate to giving them disabling birth (is birth the right word??) Defects.

And Big Fuckin Upsssss! To Cedric standing his Fucking ground and saying you Do Not disrespect My Dead in My House!

Melinth...gotta admit I feel, a little pity for you. But you also needed to recognize the baggage these boys have been carrying. I think you needed that 'Wow I didn't realize I've been tactless but shit I fucked up.' Wake up call. Though its never nice to be accused of intentionally offing a patient.

And that one other Nightlord just.. I'm here and I don't want to be. Like bro couldn't and wouldn't argue, Space Bitch was asking for the smoke and he got it. Not the Nightlords fault if the stupid dog man couldn't keep himself from barking.

Autopsy

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  A big thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OC Anrir, and with helping me make sure I wrote Anrir well. 

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: autopsy (mention), poor coping skills, physical violence, grief, 

Summary: Cedric and two other Apothecaries in training are putting medical supplies away near where Malachai’s and Lestras’ bodies are being studied. This is fine. He’s fine.

"What... Why would they place that organ there? It makes no sense whatsoever." One of the visiting apothecaries muttered.

"I was told that the mechanicus were in charge of the creation of the Primaris Marines. In the ensuing ten-thousand years after the Heresy, this is what they have come up with." Melinth stated, his voice steady if lilting a little with amusement.

Cedric couldn't quite tell, as their voices were muffled by the wall that separated himself and the two other apothecaries in training from where Lestra’s and Malachai’s bodies were being autopsied. But their voices felt full of mockery and derision to him. He gritted his teeth, continuing to perform the task he had been assigned.

"These organs placements are shit." A third Apothecary spotted "I may still be a traitor in M42, but this... This is utter shit. I can see a glimmer of advancement in the organs themselves... But oh..." He laughed, cruel and vicious.

"Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Anrir?" The first Apothecary prompted, sounding curious.

Cedric willed his hearts to stop pounding in his ears as he tried to breathe out the fury coiling in his chest, ready to strike. He was furious at the fact that one of those callous bastards were laughing at his brothers' bodies.

"It's just... If I informed the Emperor of the advancements that the Mechanicum believes they made to his Astartes' design... His reaction would be hilarious!" Anrir chortled.

Cedric could not take the callous disrespect and mockery that these firstborn bastards were making of his dead brothers. The sound of that fucker’s laughter rang in his head, reminding him of - 

No. He would not allow his mind to wallow in miserable memories that would only make him even more upset. Cedric and two other apprentice Apothecaries had been tasked with restocking this medical supply room as a group. In the past few months, more supplies have been mysteriously vanishing, and one way to try and decrease the possible vanishing supplies problems. He hisses a soft “Bastard!” In response to the continued laughter.

The restless Night Lord Apothecary turned toward him, having clearly heard his words “What was that? I’m pretty sure that box of gauze isn’t an Ork in need of strangling. You can just put it down like a normal person.”

Cedric glared at the Night Lord, a low growl in his voice “Shut up. I can hear them talking about the Brothers they are dissecting.”

The other apothecary in training - a Renegade Space Wolf spoke up “I can hear them too. It sucks that they won’t let any of us even see the bodies to learn the differences between us normal marines and Primaris, but that’s life. ‘Sides, I’ve figured out one difference between Primaris marines and normal marines already.”

“Oh? And what difference would that be?” The Night Lord asked curiously, head titling a little.

“They die like little bitches. LIke, there are what a dozen Primaris marines on ancient terra? And between the two found near this base and the six found dead across Ancient Terra in the past year or so, it doesn’t speak to how well they’re able to survive. Like. It’s really fucking hard to die on Ancient Terra unless you’re doing something stupid.”

… Six other dead Primaris marines? This was the first that Cedric had heard of more dead Primaris marines. Then the rest of the drivel that the Space Wolf had said registered in the Black Templar’s mind. The fury that he’d been struggling to contain boiled over and a red haze filled his vision. 

Cedric blinked once, finding that he’d moved positions from one moment to the next. He had pinned Algret to the floor, his knees on the bastard’s chest, his hands wrapped around the other’s neck as his mouth screamed into the other;s bloodied face and broken nose. Cedric felt his chest heave with the effort of pinning and choking this miserable bastard as his mouth screamed ‘- FUCKING CALLOUS, KIN-KILLING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU SNEER AND LOOK DOWN ON US! USE US AS CANNON FODDER WHILE SPITTING ON OUR EFFORTS AND CALLING US ABOMINATIONS!” He managed to wrest control of his vocal chords from whatever was screaming through him. His voice was much quieter now but no less furious “See how you like it when you are the one being beaten and tormented over and over again.”

“He-ghk!” Algret called out, struggling futilely beneath him.

Cedric did not see the Night Lord Apothecary, but they were all cowardly ambush predators who fled before a more powerful opponent. His breathing was harsh and fast. HIs hands were still squeezing Algret’s neck hard enough to make breathing difficult for the mouthy bastard. “... You’re not worth the paperwork they’d bury me under to kill you.” With tremendous effort he forced his hands away from the Space Wolf’s neck. He got off of the Space Wolf as well, taking a couple of steps back.

Algret growled back as he heaved himself back up onto his feet, settling into a defensive stance “You want to fight, you unstable piece of shite? You’re on! You’re not going to overcome me nearly so easily, now that I’m aware you’re going to attack me.”

Cedric growled wordlessly, shifting into a defensive stance of his own, about to accept the challenge issued to him.

"And just what do you two think you are doing?" A low and deeply unimpressed voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the brewing fight.

Cedric swallowed hard, before he turned and saw -

Fuck.

One of the Apothecaries who had been brought in to cut into his dead Brothers, to study the differences between Primaris Marines and Firstborn. He was a Terran-born Night Lord, from the pattern and coloration of his armor.

"I was talking about the dead Primaris Marines, and that it sucked I couldn't get hands-on study of either one of them when this lunatic  attacked me!" Algret whined, glaring at Cedric as he spoke. "He also was screaming about how much he hates firstborn Marines. Whatever the fuck those are."

“... I see.” The Night Lord Apothecary answered, a neutral expression on his face, though it may be a mask. “If firstborn Marines are bad… Surely I am something much worse. After all, I am Terran Born, among part of the first successfully created batches.” He stalked into the room with predatory grace.

Cedric could see the younger Night Lord Apothecary hovering in the hallway outside, but most of his focus was on the laughing bastard in front of him. His phone chirped, and he kept one eye on the advancing Night Lord, as he read through the text that Ramiel sent him. A small, vicious smirk appeared on his face. The other older apothecaries were also in the hallway and could clearly hear him. He rolled his shoulders back and stated “As the highest ranking Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this base, I am formally revoking your to do anything with the dead bodies of the two Black Templars currently on the surgery tables of this base. I revoke everyone’s privilege to do so, not just yours, Apothecary Anrir.” Cedric paused for a moment, letting this edict sink in before continuing “If any non-Black Templar Apothecary does anything other than stitch their bodies up, it will be a severe violation of the treaty for each of you, with each cut of the scalpel, or adjustment of the retractors. This decision is effective as of now, and will not be overturned. Stitch up their bodies and hand them over to me.”

“YOu gave permission to allow us to autopsy them earlier.” Melinth countered “Additionally, you are merely an Apothecary in training and do not have the ability to order such things to us.”

“I am the highest ranking Black Templar apothecary you can contact easily. If you want to escalate this issue, I will inform the highest ranking Black Templar in residence and you can talk it out with him. The Emperor’s Champion. I will inform him that you are refusing to follow some of the mandates of treaty that has been set forth. I will also inform him that your refusal to release the bodies of both Black Templars, one of whom had been a patient of yours in critical condition, and that he died while in your care.” Cedric growled, stalking towards Melinth. He was keenly aware of what he was unsubtly accusing the other of in public, but he did not care. It was completely within character of Firstborn Marines of M42 to pull shit like this on purpose. Why would they not do the same in M3 if they thought they could get away with it?  “Care that you did not allow me or another Black Templar to monitor while a brother was in such a fragile and vulnerable state. That after you pronounced him dead, while his body was still warm, you demanded I give you permission to cut him apart to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Are you accusing me of allowing a patient under my care to die to satisfy my own scientific inquisitiveness about how his body worked?” Melinth demanded, actually sounding and looking mildly upset now.

Cedric figured that Melinth was upset most by the potential hit to his reputation Cedric’s accusations may cause, considering the fact that the six visiting Apothecaries were from differing factions and had some influence amongst their chapters/legions. “You’ve said before that you wished that you could take a Primaris Marine’s body apart, to see what the differences are for yourself. It would not surprise me if you… Arranged for that to happen, as you were handed an opportunity to ensure a Primaris Body landed in your morgue.”

“Oh… So the abuse that the both of them suffered is a common thing amongst loyalists in M-42, then. You wouldn’t be accusing another Apothecary of such a crime with such certainty and conviction if you haven’t seen that happen in M42 personally.” Anrir called out, an inscrutable expression on the Night Lord’s face.

His words halted Cedric in his tracks. The emotional impact of his words hit him with the force of an out of control Thunderhawk slamming into the side of a mountain. His gaze switched from Melinth - who was more visibly emotional now (What those emotions might be, Cedric couldn’t begin to guess. Nor was he going to spend the effort to try) - to Anrir. His eyes were burning fiercely and he hated the way he echoed “A… Abuse?” back at the older apothecary. A yawning abyss of horror had opened up within Cedric and had swallowed all of the righteous wrath that had been searing it’s way through his veins.

“Yes. Abuse. The Emperor would be furious about the utter misery that the Mechanicus put you Primaris marines through. You’re some of the most traumatized young marines I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with Lamenters before. Get over here.” Anrir ordered, his voice going gravelly and commanding - but not in a distressing way, somehow?

Cedric’s idiot, treacherous body obeyed before his mind could halt himself, as he came over to the Night Lord’s side. He stares down at the shorter marine, just barely able to resist the temptation to shuffle backwards and cross his arms defensively over his chest. “What do you want?” Cedric snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to hug you now. Do not resist, you need one.” Anrir answered, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping his arms around Cedric, holding him in a moderately restraining embrace. 

Half of Cedric wanted to melt into the embrace and start bawling. The rest of him protested very loudly at such a show of weakness in front of strange firstborn marines, so an angry response it was. He hisses down at the older marine, leaning away from him “How dare you just grab me like this?! Let me go at once you… You-” now was not the time to lose his words, but here he was. Unable to come up with something to say.

Also, Cedric could feel his body start to shake and tremble at the continued gentle touch. His eyes were stinging more fiercely now and he needed to escape if he was to not be seen or heard crying by these fuckwits. He blinked rapidly before the first treacherous tear started to fall, followed by more. SInce the stupid bastard wasn’t letting go, Cedric hid his face in one of the other’s shoulders, his body’s shaking getting worse.

Anrir heaved a dramatic sigh as he hugged Cedric closer, one hand coming up to gently pat his head “Honestly! You’re just as bad as Claude is. I wasn’t laughing at your dead brothers, by the way. I was laughing at the fury that the Emperor would unleash on those machine-worshippers if he learned of what he’s done to all of you. The organ placement within the two Primaris Marines would very likely have shortened their life-spans significantly, had the physical abuse that killed them not taken them then.”

There was one piece of information that was most important to Cedric. The lifespans thing wasn’t something he could deal with, but - “You… You know Claude? You’ve… You’ve seen him cry?” If Claude felt safe enough to cry around Apothecary Anrir… Then Cedric would choose to trust that his brother-cousin was willing to trust Anrir.

The Night Lord sighed again, patting his head once more, still giving him a one-armed hug “Yes, I know Claude.”

“Oh… You must be one of the older brothers he trusts, then.” Claude was one of the most emotionally reserved of all of them for reasons that Cedric was not going to think about right now, as he was trying to calm down. He wiped the tears in his eyes and tried that breathing trick that Miss Angela taught him… Which was startlingly effective. He lets go of the Night Lord, shame burning through him as he took a step away from the other. “I… Thank you, for helping me calm down.”

Anrir hummed a little in response “You scouts have been deeply traumatized. Emotional dysregulation is very common.” He turned and  glared at his fellow experienced Apothecaries “Is there a particular reason why you are gawking? The Scout told you he doesn’t want us messing about in the insides of his dead brothers, which I feel is more than reasonable.”

The other apothecaries grumbled, but all of them left the hallway, except for Melinth, who stared at Cedric for several long seconds before slowly turning and leaving.

Anrir left a moment or two after Melinth did, and called out to the others “Between the seven of us, and what we were able to study, we have plenty of notes. Besides, you all saw the muscle cording. The mechanicus succeeded in making the Primaris marines physically stronger. The young one was gracious enough to allow us some time to study a couple of his dead brothers. He could have refused us entirely.”

Melinth groused back “You weren’t the one who got accused of letting a patient die on your table on purpose, Anrir.”

“I suspect that is the grief doing the speaking for him, rather than good sense. Besides, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious, were your position and his reversed? Especially as it is abundantly clear - at least to me - that none of the Primaris Marines have been treated very well by their older brothers in M-42. His wariness and caution is understandable if likely unneeded in this time. Such behaviors are difficult to unlearn.” Anrir countered. 

Cedric pointedly did not look at either of the two firstborn Apothecaries in training as he completed the task that he had been assigned. He did pause part way through putting away the medical supplies to send Ramiel a message, asking him to start gathering what he needed to properly send off Malachai and Lestra… He also planned on speaking with a certain Word Bearer to see if he was willing to let them borrow a hallowed space for the funerals.

… He should also probably talk to Arnualt and Roland as well to see if they wanted to attend the funerals as well. A sigh left Cedric as he placed the vinyl box of gauze on its assigned shelf before leaving the medical stockroom, locking the door behind him as both Belek and Algrets had already left the room. 

[egrets-not-regrets]

Oh poor Cedric! That is heartbreaking, losing one brother after another. Poor Malachai. I’m sure the Imperial Fist apothecaries did their best to save him, but Cedric’s experiences with the firstborn marines colours his opinion of them. Also, it doesn’t help that the way they interact with Cedric is cold and clinical. I’m glad that Pyrus is there, Cedric could really use a friend right now.

Also, Petras must be stopped!

Malachai In the Snow

Author’s Note: This is the fourth part of a mini-arc in which Cedric will be (trying) to patch up injured Primaris Black Templars as they appear on Ancient and Holy Terra! For other adventures click here and

here.

First.

Previous.

Next. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel! And thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for allowing me to borrow Pyrus!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: blood, injuries, character death, ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it/it bothers you

Summary: Jophiel comes to Cedric, with a prophecy of a dying brother on his lips. 

“Cedric… Cedric I need you to wake up!” Jophiel called out as he shook his Brother-Cousin awake.

The young Black Templar grumbled a little wordlessly as he yawned and stared blearily at Jophiel “What is it? It’s really late…” He checked the clock, which read just past one in the morning. The Blood Angel was sniffling a little and shaking. Cedric frowned and pulled him in, hugging him tightly “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I… Sort of. Not really, because it’s a vision! One of the clearest I’ve had in a while.” Jophiel answered, shaking his head a little before burying his face in one of Cedric’s shoulders. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, feeling safe in the Apothecary’s embrace.

“... Do you want to talk to me about it? Or should I get one of the older librarians, to help you try and figure out what the vision meant? From what you’ve told me, not all of the visions you have are straight forward, nor easily understood.” Cedric asked, reaching up and starting to run a hand through Jophi’s long blonde hair.

“That wasn’t the case for this one. I’m… I’m pretty sure I know what this one means.” Jophiel murmured, leaning more into Cedric. “Another Primaris Black Templar is going to be coming to Holy Terra soon. Snow was falling on his body, and his blood was staining the white. He was all alone as he died, beside a lake that had a view of a mountain, and there were trees everywhere.”

There were thousands of lakes across Holy Terra at this point in time, many of them having forests and mountains nearby, with snowfall being possible. “I… I see. Do you have any idea where on Ancient Terra he might show up? Or when specifically?” 

“Remember that lake we found last week, while we were hiking through the woods? I… I’m pretty sure it’s that one, and I did check before waking you up. It gets cold enough in the winters here to snow on the valley floor.” Jophiel answered, voice shaking a little “But I know that I should probably report this vision to the older Librarians. They’ll be able to help me figure out better when and where this incoming brother is likely to land… And they have the pull to ensure that he’ll be found before he dies.”

Cedric’s first reaction is to try and convince Jophiel to stay quiet. That between the six of them they should be able to find whoever was near the edge of life and death before he died… But Terra was a large planet, and if their silence on this matter killed this Brother… His death would be on Cedric’s hands. “... If there are older librarians who you feel that you can trust with this vision… I trust you to spread this warning to those who need to know.”

Jophiel nods, frowning a little “I… There are a couple. And since, in my vision, he’s not got his full armor, it’s not like I need to tell them that this nearly-dead Brother is a Primaris Marine, necessarily. I.. I should be able to keep that part to myself. I think.”

Cedric nodded, leaning into Jophiel a little more “Alright. Do you feel the vision is urgent enough to wake them now?”

“Unless a freak snowstorm rolls in tomorrow, I don’t think so. It’s still early autumn, after all…” Jophiel murmured, yawning a little “It’s too far to get to my room… M’sleeeepy Ced!”

Cedric smiled a little, chuckling a little “Do you want to finish sleeping with me, then?” He knew how much visions took it out of Jophiel, especially on Ancient Terra, where the Warp was much more difficult to reach and use.

“Yes please…” Jophiel yawned, closing his eyes and promptly falling asleep. 

Cedric smiled again, making sure that both of them could sleep relatively comfortably before falling himself to sleep as well.

~

Weeks later found Cedric as part of a patrol of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, as the group made their way to the lake mentioned in Jophiel’s vision. The weather forecast was predicting heavy snowfall, and it was apparently very cold to those who were warm-adapted. Cedric found the cooler temperatures invigorating and refreshing. There was a light breeze that rustled the ever-green pine and fir trees that they were walking between, and the late afternoon sun was being swallowed by dark clouds that promised heavy precipitation.

Pyrus was walking alongside next to Cedric, as his warband was visiting the base and nudged him a little “So, any ideas as to which time period this injured Brother might be coming from? Or chapter and/or legion?”

Cedric could answer those questions, from what Jophiel had told him. But should he? Jophiel had been as vague on the specifics of the marine in question apart from the dire state of his injuries and how under-equipped he was for the cold and snowy weather. “Jophie said that the armor he had left was a dark color, nearly black, where it wasn’t bloody or covered in snow.”

Pyrus hummed, nodding thoughtfully “Ah… That doesn’t narrow it down. Lots of chapters have darkly colored armor. Hopefully he reacts well to us, if he’s awake enough to realize we’re there. If he’s a Black Legionnaire we’re gonna have to use the tranq gun on him so he won’t try to murder us while mostly dead. Stubborn bastards.”

Snow began to fall from the sky, the whispery quality of the snowflakes falling on the ground and the tree branches were distracting. Watching the ground quickly become covered in snow where the trees did not provide shelter, or where the wind blew the frozen water. Cedric silently wished he could enjoy watching the snowfall, but he had a Brother to try and save. He hummed noncommittally. Part of him really did want to tell Pyrus what he knew of the injured Primaris marine who they were hopefully going to find in time, but doing so would reveal that Jophiel had deliberately withheld information and Cedric wasn’t about to throw him under the bus. Especially when he was the one to ask Jophiel to withhold that information. “Hopefully they will react well, or at least neutrally to our presence.”

“... Are you alright, Cedric? You seem a bit… Distracted?” Pyrus asked, squinting at him, concerned. 

The young apothecary successfully suppressed his desire to fidget with his hands - which was a dead-giveaway for the uncertainty and worry running through his body and making his hearts race “I’m concerned for whoever we may find today. We marines are pretty tough, it takes a lot to-”

The direction of the winds shifted as Cedric was speaking, cutting him off as it brought with it the sharp, metallic scent of fresh blood. 

All six of the marines on patrol stopped in their tracks, including Cedric himself, turning towards the source of the smell.

Cedric was the first to start moving, running as fast as the dense underbrush and trees would allow him, dodging around  large patches of underbrush and jumping over and across the occasional fallen log or half-rotted tree stump.

It took both an eternity and no time at all for Cedric to find the badly injured Primaris marine. The other was leaning against the base of a tree, gold-flecked blue eyes focused on the partially frozen lake. He looked in Cedric’s direction as the apothecary reached over.

He smiled a little and rasped out “Good… Evening? Cedric. Is this the peaceful embrace of the Emperor? It’s… Beautiful.” Malachai asked, before turning partially and coughing, splattering the snow with his blood, vivid and dark against the white substance, even as the heat of his blood began to melt it. “Wish I hurt less, though.”

“Malachai, you aren’t dead,  not yet. Where we are is a… Complicated situation. But stay still, I have a first aid kit, which will help me stabilize you. Then, with help, I can get you to a place where you can be properly treated.” Cedric answered, dropping down onto his knees next to his badly beaten brother, opening the kit and starting to clean and bandage his wounds.

Malachai chuckled and then coughed violently, his whole body spasming a little before he reached up with broken fingers to try and push Cedric away with what little remained of his strength “You shouldn’t. The fucker beat me with the intention of making me one of his grisly reminders for the rest of us.”

“He has no power here. Not really.” Cedric half-lied. While it was true that Petras wasn’t in control of Ancient Terra, he held a distressing amount of sway amongst certain Crusades of Black Templars, and he really didn’t want to find out what his reaction would be, should he discover that several of the marines he’d killed were on Ancient Terra, alive and aware of the depths of the chaplain’s cruelty.

“... Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Cedric.” Malachai gently scolded him, reaching up and squeezing one of Cedric’s shoulders, leaving bloody fingerprints on his jacket. “More astartes are coming. I don’t want you to be punished for trying to help me.”

“Those are a patrolf of Salamanders and Imperial Fists. They won’t punish me for trying to help you. The entire reason why I’m in this forest is to find and try and save you, Malachai. Stop resisting and let me help you!” Cedric hissed, hating the way that his eyes stung badly enough to blur his vision as tears streamed down his face. He continued to do his best to patch up the stubborn bastard wheezing at him “Things are different here. I haven’t been ordered to watch you die this time. So I’m not going to, if I can at all help it.” 

Pyrus came barrelling into the clearing, followed closely by the rest of the mixed squad of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, their armor patterns showing that they were from multiple different time periods of the Imperium. The Salamander knelt down on the other side of Malachai and asked “What should I do to help?”

“Keep him still for me, please? He’s resisting treatment because of when he was brought to Holy Terra from.” Cedric instructed Pyrus.

“We… We’re on Terra? How is that… How is that possible?” Malachai wheezed, a stunned expression on his face.

“Short answer? Warp shenanigans. If you want the long answer, such as we’ve figured out, you’ve got to live to learn it.” Pyrus answered with an attempt at a reassuring smile on his face. “Are you a Black Templar, like Cedric?”

“Yes, I am.” Malachai rasped out. He nodded a little, before a whimper of pain left him. “I can’t. Feel my legs. The worst injury I got was on my back.” He paused for several seconds, closing his eyes and taking in several steadying breaths before continuing  “Just above where the armor I was allowed to keep… I heard the snap of bone and a lot of pain before… Before everything went dark and I woke up here. I’ve tried moving my legs and… Couldn’t manage it.”

“... Fuck that’s right. I remember now. He’d snapped your spinal cord in three places. I’m… I’m surprised that you’re breathing as well as you are, given the locations of the breaks.” Cedric murmured before he could stop himself “We’re going to need to immobilize his neck and spine as much as we can, to avoid further damage. Would two of you please set up the stretcher, while everyone else helps me move Malachai? Once the stretcher is ready will need to be careful to move him at the same time, so I will provide a count down from three to one. When I say now after, we move him at the same time. Any questions?”

“Me, I have one. Why are you bothering? The bastard has decided that my mouthy bastard ways mean that I have to die. Why refuse him? I hurt sooo much where I’m not numb.” Malachai huffed, squinting up at Cedric.

“Mal, I mean this with all the love and care in my hearts, shut up. You’re being rescued and treated whether you like it or not. The one who did this to you has no power in the base we’re bringing to you, and it’s my job to keep you alive and as intact as I can.” Cedric growled at the other, eyes flashing in irritation and worry.

Malachai laughed until he started coughing, his body spasming with each cough. “Yeah, yeah. I know. M’ sorry, though. I don’t think I can… Hold on much longer. S’ cold and breathing hurts.”

“Why does it look like someone kicked his ribs with armored boots until they broke?” Pyrus asked, a frown on his face. “Among other things?”

“Because he was kicked by someone’s ceramite-clad boots until his bones broke. Now is really not the time for these sorts of questions Pyrus. Help me put this splint around his chest so that when we move him it doesn’t fuck up his back or lungs with the wandering bone shards more than they already have.” Cedric answered, having done his best to shut down his emotions and clinically look at the situation. “Ignis, Ralos, Sven, Pyrus I need you to lift his torso up several inches so I can get this splint under him on the count of three. Is everyone in position?”

“Ready.” Called out Ralos, the Imperial Fist sounded calm through his vox communicator.

“Ready.” Calls out Sven and Ignis, though both seemed concerned.

“Alright, alright. I’m in position, and ready for the count off.” Pyrus grumbled, moving so that he was in a useful spot.

“Three, two, one, up!” Cedric called out. The four marines were able to easily lift the injured Primaris at the same time and the apothecary applied the splint as quickly as he could. 

Olik and Char were ready with the stretcher, so Cedric directed the four marines who were holding onto Malachai to pivot slightly as the stretcher was maneuvered so it was directly underneath the badly injured Primaris Marine and he was lowered back onto the stretcher. 

Cedric aided in carrying Malachai to the nearby field surgery tent that had been set up, as the Librarians had divined that Malachi would die, if he were to be taken all the way back to the nearest hospital, even in one of the emergency flying vehicles. Cedric very much wanted to be part of the team who worked on trying to put Malachai back together but his hands were shaking too much from the adrenaline and guilt running through him.

~

It had not taken long for them to get to the field surgery tent. Cedric helped heave Malachai onto the surgical table. 

The other Primaris marine shifted uncomfortably as several Imperial Fist Apothecaries approached him. “Cedric… What’s going on?”

“These Apothecaries are going to put you back together. I’m-” Cedric started before being cut off by Apothecary Melinth.

“You are going to be waiting outside of the tent, Cedric. You are too close to this patient to be working on them during such a delicate and risky procedures. Besides, I can see the way that your hands are shaking. Do you wish to risk his life?” The Imperial Fist asked bluntly.

Cedric swallowed hard and flinched back, eyes downward cast “No sir, I don’t.”

“Good lad. Leave the immediate area, while we sterilize the field and get to work. You’ve done well. We’ll do what we can for him.” Melinth ordered.

Malachai made a pained sound, one hand reaching out for Cedric “Wait… Please sir…”

Cedric hesitated before grabbing Malachai’s hand, gently squeezing it with both of his “Do what they tell you, alright? I’ll be right outside, waiting for you, once you’re out of surgery.”

“... You better be.” Malachai grumbled, managing to send a half-smile up at his brother.

“I will.” Cedric promised before letting go of Malachai’s hand, gently setting it back on the table and leaving the tent, his whole body shaking at the intensity of emotions running through him. He sat down heavily on a fallen log less than twenty-feet from the entrance of the surgical tent, listening to the shallow breathing and uneven stutter of Malachai’s hearts beating.

“Hey… Cedric… I couldn’t help but notice that you knew exactly how your fellow Black Templar had gotten injured. While I was running over, I caught something about a punishment… Do you… Do you want to talk to me about it?” Pyrus asked as he sat down next to Cedric, having appeared out of nowhere.

Cedric lost concentration on listening to Malachai’s. “... I’d really rather not.” The temptation to curl into a ball of self-loathing and recrimination was strong, but he was already being eyeballed by several firstborn marines as it was.

Pyrus, instead of taking the unsubtle hint to leave the topic alone, scooted closer to Cedric. The Salamander was pressed against Cedric’s side. “Was he on a penitent crusade, which is why he didn’t have his full armor?”

“... No, he hadn’t been sent on a penitent crusade. That would imply a measure of honor that he wasn’t afforded by the one who… Who did that to him. I really don’t want to talk about this right now. The last time I saw Malachai like that, he died in M42. I… I’m hoping that with more skilled apothecaries, his fate will be changed.” Cedric murmured, his shoulders hunching a little as he buried his face in his hands.

“... Aren’t Black Templars who taken on an Apprentice, like, super protective of them? And swear righteous vengeance against who or whatever killed their apprentice?” Pyrus asked, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“That is how it’s supposed to work. It doesn’t always.” Cedric admitted quietly. It felt almost as if he was betraying his chapter by admitting that much… But his hearts hurt and part of him was very tired of keeping the secrets that he was. Maybe… Maybe he should ask Arnault and Roland to have a quiet but serious conversation about certain matters. Maybe it would help?

Pyrus started to speak, but several crucial, subtle sounds that Cedric’d been straining to hear, even over the sounds of his conversation with the Salamander scout had stopped. The world narrowed unpleasantly and something was shaking him.

Wait.

Someone.

“Cedric. Cedric! Easy. I promise I won’t ask any more questions. You back with me, buddy?” Pyrus asked, a frown of concern on his face, his bright orange-red eyes seemingly peering directly into Cedric’s soul.

“I can’t. I can’t hear Malachai breathing. Or his hearts. They’ve. They’ve stopped. I can’t hear them anymore. I… I need to… I need to help them get him back.” Cedric heard himself say, as the many intense emotions screaming through his hearts nearly overwhelmed his mind. He was trying to stand, but something was keeping him sitting down.

Pyrus was still holding onto him. “Cedric, you need to calm down. I get that that’s probably one of the three things you want to hear least right now, but running into that surgical tent covered in forest germs and dirt isn’t going to do your Brother any good whatsoever, and you bursting in on them suddenly might startle one of the other apothecaries into making an unfortunate mistake.”

Cedric could feel the growl in his chest, and the desire to fight and claw his way over to his Brother as his body coiled and tensed… But his good sense kicked in, and the young Black Templar sighed unhappily and went limp in the other’s firm grip. “You’re right. Much as I hate to admit it. You’re right. I-”

Any other words or thoughts he’d been trying to say or think died abruptly as Apothecary Melinth walked out of the tent and headed towards him, a grim expression on his face. 

“Apothecary Taniel, I am here to inform you that your chapter brother, Malachai has died. His injuries were too extensive for us to treat. Do you feel up to assisting us in harvesting the organs that can be utilized as well as his gene-seed, if it is still viable? You are allowed to refuse, if you feel you are not up to the task. Losing a Brother you’re close to is difficult.” Melinth informed him, no emotion showing on his face or in his voice. The other’s icy blue eyes staring down at him dispassionately.

Several ugly and likely untrue accusations lingered on the tip of Cedric’s tongue as he stared up at the firstborn Marine. Cedric had no proof that Melinth and the others didn’t try their utmost in order to try and save his life. The fact that he had died meant that they had access to more Primaris organs and geneseed to study and use as they saw fit. How… Convenient for them, to be able to have a second dead primaris marine to study to their hearts’ content. But he wasn’t going to say any of that, as it was an awful thing to accuse someone of baselessly. “MY hands are still shaky. However, once you’ve removed everything you think is of use and value out of him, please stitch up my dead brother and allow me to take the remains to Ramiel, so he can get his final rites.” He really hoped that his voice was as bereft of emotion as he had been aiming for, rather than the seething fury and implication he could hear within his own voice.

Melinth stared down at him for several seconds before answering with a flat and emotionless “That will be done, Apothecary Taniel.” And then the other left, turning on his heel.

Cedric was briefly tempted to lash out at the older Apothecary. To hurt him in a fraction of the ways that he and his Brothers had been hurt by at best uncaring and apathetic firstborn brothers. But the urge for violence passed when Melinth was out of his sightline.

“Hey… Cedric…Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s still snowing, and the forest is really beautiful right now. And some movement might help with sorting your emotions, yeah?” Pyrus gently prodded.

He shook his head “I want to be here when they are done usi-... Done with Malachai’s body, so I need to be here.”

“... Alright. Do you mind if I wait with you?” Pyrus asked, still holding onto Cedric. 

Cedric was grateful for the half-restraint, half-hug. It was helping ground him “If you wish to stay with me, I have no complaints. I do like you, Pyrus… And the snow is lovely.” He watched the snowfall with Pyrus as he waited the seeming eternity it took for them to be done harvesting from his dead brother.

They were even kind enough to have sent a message to Ramiel, ten minutes before they were done, so that the young Chaplain in training could prepare everything and gather the others before Cedric arrived on base with the body.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Finally Cedric lets it out. Took a Space Wolf insulting his brothers to do it. Funny how the Night Lord is more convincing than the Imperial Fists. Then again I suppose Night Lords specialize in using psychological methods and manipulation to control the populace, so That’s probably why Anrir is so good at calming Cedric down. Melinth really needs to work on his bedside manner.

Autopsy

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  A big thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OC Anrir, and with helping me make sure I wrote Anrir well. 

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: autopsy (mention), poor coping skills, physical violence, grief, 

Summary: Cedric and two other Apothecaries in training are putting medical supplies away near where Malachai’s and Lestras’ bodies are being studied. This is fine. He’s fine.

"What... Why would they place that organ there? It makes no sense whatsoever." One of the visiting apothecaries muttered.

"I was told that the mechanicus were in charge of the creation of the Primaris Marines. In the ensuing ten-thousand years after the Heresy, this is what they have come up with." Melinth stated, his voice steady if lilting a little with amusement.

Cedric couldn't quite tell, as their voices were muffled by the wall that separated himself and the two other apothecaries in training from where Lestra’s and Malachai’s bodies were being autopsied. But their voices felt full of mockery and derision to him. He gritted his teeth, continuing to perform the task he had been assigned.

"These organs placements are shit." A third Apothecary spotted "I may still be a traitor in M42, but this... This is utter shit. I can see a glimmer of advancement in the organs themselves... But oh..." He laughed, cruel and vicious.

"Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Anrir?" The first Apothecary prompted, sounding curious.

Cedric willed his hearts to stop pounding in his ears as he tried to breathe out the fury coiling in his chest, ready to strike. He was furious at the fact that one of those callous bastards were laughing at his brothers' bodies.

"It's just... If I informed the Emperor of the advancements that the Mechanicum believes they made to his Astartes' design... His reaction would be hilarious!" Anrir chortled.

Cedric could not take the callous disrespect and mockery that these firstborn bastards were making of his dead brothers. The sound of that fucker’s laughter rang in his head, reminding him of - 

No. He would not allow his mind to wallow in miserable memories that would only make him even more upset. Cedric and two other apprentice Apothecaries had been tasked with restocking this medical supply room as a group. In the past few months, more supplies have been mysteriously vanishing, and one way to try and decrease the possible vanishing supplies problems. He hisses a soft “Bastard!” In response to the continued laughter.

The restless Night Lord Apothecary turned toward him, having clearly heard his words “What was that? I’m pretty sure that box of gauze isn’t an Ork in need of strangling. You can just put it down like a normal person.”

Cedric glared at the Night Lord, a low growl in his voice “Shut up. I can hear them talking about the Brothers they are dissecting.”

The other apothecary in training - a Renegade Space Wolf spoke up “I can hear them too. It sucks that they won’t let any of us even see the bodies to learn the differences between us normal marines and Primaris, but that’s life. ‘Sides, I’ve figured out one difference between Primaris marines and normal marines already.”

“Oh? And what difference would that be?” The Night Lord asked curiously, head titling a little.

“They die like little bitches. LIke, there are what a dozen Primaris marines on ancient terra? And between the two found near this base and the six found dead across Ancient Terra in the past year or so, it doesn’t speak to how well they’re able to survive. Like. It’s really fucking hard to die on Ancient Terra unless you’re doing something stupid.”

… Six other dead Primaris marines? This was the first that Cedric had heard of more dead Primaris marines. Then the rest of the drivel that the Space Wolf had said registered in the Black Templar’s mind. The fury that he’d been struggling to contain boiled over and a red haze filled his vision. 

Cedric blinked once, finding that he’d moved positions from one moment to the next. He had pinned Algret to the floor, his knees on the bastard’s chest, his hands wrapped around the other’s neck as his mouth screamed into the other;s bloodied face and broken nose. Cedric felt his chest heave with the effort of pinning and choking this miserable bastard as his mouth screamed ‘- FUCKING CALLOUS, KIN-KILLING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU SNEER AND LOOK DOWN ON US! USE US AS CANNON FODDER WHILE SPITTING ON OUR EFFORTS AND CALLING US ABOMINATIONS!” He managed to wrest control of his vocal chords from whatever was screaming through him. His voice was much quieter now but no less furious “See how you like it when you are the one being beaten and tormented over and over again.”

“He-ghk!” Algret called out, struggling futilely beneath him.

Cedric did not see the Night Lord Apothecary, but they were all cowardly ambush predators who fled before a more powerful opponent. His breathing was harsh and fast. HIs hands were still squeezing Algret’s neck hard enough to make breathing difficult for the mouthy bastard. “... You’re not worth the paperwork they’d bury me under to kill you.” With tremendous effort he forced his hands away from the Space Wolf’s neck. He got off of the Space Wolf as well, taking a couple of steps back.

Algret growled back as he heaved himself back up onto his feet, settling into a defensive stance “You want to fight, you unstable piece of shite? You’re on! You’re not going to overcome me nearly so easily, now that I’m aware you’re going to attack me.”

Cedric growled wordlessly, shifting into a defensive stance of his own, about to accept the challenge issued to him.

"And just what do you two think you are doing?" A low and deeply unimpressed voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the brewing fight.

Cedric swallowed hard, before he turned and saw -

Fuck.

One of the Apothecaries who had been brought in to cut into his dead Brothers, to study the differences between Primaris Marines and Firstborn. He was a Terran-born Night Lord, from the pattern and coloration of his armor.

"I was talking about the dead Primaris Marines, and that it sucked I couldn't get hands-on study of either one of them when this lunatic  attacked me!" Algret whined, glaring at Cedric as he spoke. "He also was screaming about how much he hates firstborn Marines. Whatever the fuck those are."

“... I see.” The Night Lord Apothecary answered, a neutral expression on his face, though it may be a mask. “If firstborn Marines are bad… Surely I am something much worse. After all, I am Terran Born, among part of the first successfully created batches.” He stalked into the room with predatory grace.

Cedric could see the younger Night Lord Apothecary hovering in the hallway outside, but most of his focus was on the laughing bastard in front of him. His phone chirped, and he kept one eye on the advancing Night Lord, as he read through the text that Ramiel sent him. A small, vicious smirk appeared on his face. The other older apothecaries were also in the hallway and could clearly hear him. He rolled his shoulders back and stated “As the highest ranking Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this base, I am formally revoking your to do anything with the dead bodies of the two Black Templars currently on the surgery tables of this base. I revoke everyone’s privilege to do so, not just yours, Apothecary Anrir.” Cedric paused for a moment, letting this edict sink in before continuing “If any non-Black Templar Apothecary does anything other than stitch their bodies up, it will be a severe violation of the treaty for each of you, with each cut of the scalpel, or adjustment of the retractors. This decision is effective as of now, and will not be overturned. Stitch up their bodies and hand them over to me.”

“YOu gave permission to allow us to autopsy them earlier.” Melinth countered “Additionally, you are merely an Apothecary in training and do not have the ability to order such things to us.”

“I am the highest ranking Black Templar apothecary you can contact easily. If you want to escalate this issue, I will inform the highest ranking Black Templar in residence and you can talk it out with him. The Emperor’s Champion. I will inform him that you are refusing to follow some of the mandates of treaty that has been set forth. I will also inform him that your refusal to release the bodies of both Black Templars, one of whom had been a patient of yours in critical condition, and that he died while in your care.” Cedric growled, stalking towards Melinth. He was keenly aware of what he was unsubtly accusing the other of in public, but he did not care. It was completely within character of Firstborn Marines of M42 to pull shit like this on purpose. Why would they not do the same in M3 if they thought they could get away with it?  “Care that you did not allow me or another Black Templar to monitor while a brother was in such a fragile and vulnerable state. That after you pronounced him dead, while his body was still warm, you demanded I give you permission to cut him apart to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Are you accusing me of allowing a patient under my care to die to satisfy my own scientific inquisitiveness about how his body worked?” Melinth demanded, actually sounding and looking mildly upset now.

Cedric figured that Melinth was upset most by the potential hit to his reputation Cedric’s accusations may cause, considering the fact that the six visiting Apothecaries were from differing factions and had some influence amongst their chapters/legions. “You’ve said before that you wished that you could take a Primaris Marine’s body apart, to see what the differences are for yourself. It would not surprise me if you… Arranged for that to happen, as you were handed an opportunity to ensure a Primaris Body landed in your morgue.”

“Oh… So the abuse that the both of them suffered is a common thing amongst loyalists in M-42, then. You wouldn’t be accusing another Apothecary of such a crime with such certainty and conviction if you haven’t seen that happen in M42 personally.” Anrir called out, an inscrutable expression on the Night Lord’s face.

His words halted Cedric in his tracks. The emotional impact of his words hit him with the force of an out of control Thunderhawk slamming into the side of a mountain. His gaze switched from Melinth - who was more visibly emotional now (What those emotions might be, Cedric couldn’t begin to guess. Nor was he going to spend the effort to try) - to Anrir. His eyes were burning fiercely and he hated the way he echoed “A… Abuse?” back at the older apothecary. A yawning abyss of horror had opened up within Cedric and had swallowed all of the righteous wrath that had been searing it’s way through his veins.

“Yes. Abuse. The Emperor would be furious about the utter misery that the Mechanicus put you Primaris marines through. You’re some of the most traumatized young marines I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with Lamenters before. Get over here.” Anrir ordered, his voice going gravelly and commanding - but not in a distressing way, somehow?

Cedric’s idiot, treacherous body obeyed before his mind could halt himself, as he came over to the Night Lord’s side. He stares down at the shorter marine, just barely able to resist the temptation to shuffle backwards and cross his arms defensively over his chest. “What do you want?” Cedric snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to hug you now. Do not resist, you need one.” Anrir answered, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping his arms around Cedric, holding him in a moderately restraining embrace. 

Half of Cedric wanted to melt into the embrace and start bawling. The rest of him protested very loudly at such a show of weakness in front of strange firstborn marines, so an angry response it was. He hisses down at the older marine, leaning away from him “How dare you just grab me like this?! Let me go at once you… You-” now was not the time to lose his words, but here he was. Unable to come up with something to say.

Also, Cedric could feel his body start to shake and tremble at the continued gentle touch. His eyes were stinging more fiercely now and he needed to escape if he was to not be seen or heard crying by these fuckwits. He blinked rapidly before the first treacherous tear started to fall, followed by more. SInce the stupid bastard wasn’t letting go, Cedric hid his face in one of the other’s shoulders, his body’s shaking getting worse.

Anrir heaved a dramatic sigh as he hugged Cedric closer, one hand coming up to gently pat his head “Honestly! You’re just as bad as Claude is. I wasn’t laughing at your dead brothers, by the way. I was laughing at the fury that the Emperor would unleash on those machine-worshippers if he learned of what he’s done to all of you. The organ placement within the two Primaris Marines would very likely have shortened their life-spans significantly, had the physical abuse that killed them not taken them then.”

There was one piece of information that was most important to Cedric. The lifespans thing wasn’t something he could deal with, but - “You… You know Claude? You’ve… You’ve seen him cry?” If Claude felt safe enough to cry around Apothecary Anrir… Then Cedric would choose to trust that his brother-cousin was willing to trust Anrir.

The Night Lord sighed again, patting his head once more, still giving him a one-armed hug “Yes, I know Claude.”

“Oh… You must be one of the older brothers he trusts, then.” Claude was one of the most emotionally reserved of all of them for reasons that Cedric was not going to think about right now, as he was trying to calm down. He wiped the tears in his eyes and tried that breathing trick that Miss Angela taught him… Which was startlingly effective. He lets go of the Night Lord, shame burning through him as he took a step away from the other. “I… Thank you, for helping me calm down.”

Anrir hummed a little in response “You scouts have been deeply traumatized. Emotional dysregulation is very common.” He turned and  glared at his fellow experienced Apothecaries “Is there a particular reason why you are gawking? The Scout told you he doesn’t want us messing about in the insides of his dead brothers, which I feel is more than reasonable.”

The other apothecaries grumbled, but all of them left the hallway, except for Melinth, who stared at Cedric for several long seconds before slowly turning and leaving.

Anrir left a moment or two after Melinth did, and called out to the others “Between the seven of us, and what we were able to study, we have plenty of notes. Besides, you all saw the muscle cording. The mechanicus succeeded in making the Primaris marines physically stronger. The young one was gracious enough to allow us some time to study a couple of his dead brothers. He could have refused us entirely.”

Melinth groused back “You weren’t the one who got accused of letting a patient die on your table on purpose, Anrir.”

“I suspect that is the grief doing the speaking for him, rather than good sense. Besides, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious, were your position and his reversed? Especially as it is abundantly clear - at least to me - that none of the Primaris Marines have been treated very well by their older brothers in M-42. His wariness and caution is understandable if likely unneeded in this time. Such behaviors are difficult to unlearn.” Anrir countered. 

Cedric pointedly did not look at either of the two firstborn Apothecaries in training as he completed the task that he had been assigned. He did pause part way through putting away the medical supplies to send Ramiel a message, asking him to start gathering what he needed to properly send off Malachai and Lestra… He also planned on speaking with a certain Word Bearer to see if he was willing to let them borrow a hallowed space for the funerals.

… He should also probably talk to Arnualt and Roland as well to see if they wanted to attend the funerals as well. A sigh left Cedric as he placed the vinyl box of gauze on its assigned shelf before leaving the medical stockroom, locking the door behind him as both Belek and Algrets had already left the room. 

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Dammit! I liked Malachai too (I know we'll get more of him in flashback but Still) Cedric really needs that hug like...yesterday.

Brief detour for lighthearted. Jophiel being too tired to go back to his room and snuggling up with Cedric is very adorable.

And it's frightening to think Petras injured these boys so badly that the only reason one of them pulled through was because he was lucky enough to meet his bonded right as he was dying.

Wouldn't be surprised if the bond acted as a metaphysical life support. Something Lestra and Malachai didn't get to have.

Pyrus is written wonderfully as usual! I appreciate him being kind, but prone to push a little too much when trying to help. Its a good dichotomy between strength and flaw.

I'm glad Pyrus gets to be Cedric's friend. I hope Cedric feels comfortable talking to him about his secrets soon.

Cedric needs somebody he can talk to. Otherwise he's gonna snap.

Malachai In the Snow

Author’s Note: This is the fourth part of a mini-arc in which Cedric will be (trying) to patch up injured Primaris Black Templars as they appear on Ancient and Holy Terra! For other adventures click here and

here.

First.

Previous.

Next. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel! And thank you to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for allowing me to borrow Pyrus!

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: blood, injuries, character death, ask me to tag something if I’ve missed it/it bothers you

Summary: Jophiel comes to Cedric, with a prophecy of a dying brother on his lips. 

“Cedric… Cedric I need you to wake up!” Jophiel called out as he shook his Brother-Cousin awake.

The young Black Templar grumbled a little wordlessly as he yawned and stared blearily at Jophiel “What is it? It’s really late…” He checked the clock, which read just past one in the morning. The Blood Angel was sniffling a little and shaking. Cedric frowned and pulled him in, hugging him tightly “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I… Sort of. Not really, because it’s a vision! One of the clearest I’ve had in a while.” Jophiel answered, shaking his head a little before burying his face in one of Cedric’s shoulders. He allowed himself a moment to compose himself, feeling safe in the Apothecary’s embrace.

“... Do you want to talk to me about it? Or should I get one of the older librarians, to help you try and figure out what the vision meant? From what you’ve told me, not all of the visions you have are straight forward, nor easily understood.” Cedric asked, reaching up and starting to run a hand through Jophi’s long blonde hair.

“That wasn’t the case for this one. I’m… I’m pretty sure I know what this one means.” Jophiel murmured, leaning more into Cedric. “Another Primaris Black Templar is going to be coming to Holy Terra soon. Snow was falling on his body, and his blood was staining the white. He was all alone as he died, beside a lake that had a view of a mountain, and there were trees everywhere.”

There were thousands of lakes across Holy Terra at this point in time, many of them having forests and mountains nearby, with snowfall being possible. “I… I see. Do you have any idea where on Ancient Terra he might show up? Or when specifically?” 

“Remember that lake we found last week, while we were hiking through the woods? I… I’m pretty sure it’s that one, and I did check before waking you up. It gets cold enough in the winters here to snow on the valley floor.” Jophiel answered, voice shaking a little “But I know that I should probably report this vision to the older Librarians. They’ll be able to help me figure out better when and where this incoming brother is likely to land… And they have the pull to ensure that he’ll be found before he dies.”

Cedric’s first reaction is to try and convince Jophiel to stay quiet. That between the six of them they should be able to find whoever was near the edge of life and death before he died… But Terra was a large planet, and if their silence on this matter killed this Brother… His death would be on Cedric’s hands. “... If there are older librarians who you feel that you can trust with this vision… I trust you to spread this warning to those who need to know.”

Jophiel nods, frowning a little “I… There are a couple. And since, in my vision, he’s not got his full armor, it’s not like I need to tell them that this nearly-dead Brother is a Primaris Marine, necessarily. I.. I should be able to keep that part to myself. I think.”

Cedric nodded, leaning into Jophiel a little more “Alright. Do you feel the vision is urgent enough to wake them now?”

“Unless a freak snowstorm rolls in tomorrow, I don’t think so. It’s still early autumn, after all…” Jophiel murmured, yawning a little “It’s too far to get to my room… M’sleeeepy Ced!”

Cedric smiled a little, chuckling a little “Do you want to finish sleeping with me, then?” He knew how much visions took it out of Jophiel, especially on Ancient Terra, where the Warp was much more difficult to reach and use.

“Yes please…” Jophiel yawned, closing his eyes and promptly falling asleep. 

Cedric smiled again, making sure that both of them could sleep relatively comfortably before falling himself to sleep as well.

~

Weeks later found Cedric as part of a patrol of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, as the group made their way to the lake mentioned in Jophiel’s vision. The weather forecast was predicting heavy snowfall, and it was apparently very cold to those who were warm-adapted. Cedric found the cooler temperatures invigorating and refreshing. There was a light breeze that rustled the ever-green pine and fir trees that they were walking between, and the late afternoon sun was being swallowed by dark clouds that promised heavy precipitation.

Pyrus was walking alongside next to Cedric, as his warband was visiting the base and nudged him a little “So, any ideas as to which time period this injured Brother might be coming from? Or chapter and/or legion?”

Cedric could answer those questions, from what Jophiel had told him. But should he? Jophiel had been as vague on the specifics of the marine in question apart from the dire state of his injuries and how under-equipped he was for the cold and snowy weather. “Jophie said that the armor he had left was a dark color, nearly black, where it wasn’t bloody or covered in snow.”

Pyrus hummed, nodding thoughtfully “Ah… That doesn’t narrow it down. Lots of chapters have darkly colored armor. Hopefully he reacts well to us, if he’s awake enough to realize we’re there. If he’s a Black Legionnaire we’re gonna have to use the tranq gun on him so he won’t try to murder us while mostly dead. Stubborn bastards.”

Snow began to fall from the sky, the whispery quality of the snowflakes falling on the ground and the tree branches were distracting. Watching the ground quickly become covered in snow where the trees did not provide shelter, or where the wind blew the frozen water. Cedric silently wished he could enjoy watching the snowfall, but he had a Brother to try and save. He hummed noncommittally. Part of him really did want to tell Pyrus what he knew of the injured Primaris marine who they were hopefully going to find in time, but doing so would reveal that Jophiel had deliberately withheld information and Cedric wasn’t about to throw him under the bus. Especially when he was the one to ask Jophiel to withhold that information. “Hopefully they will react well, or at least neutrally to our presence.”

“... Are you alright, Cedric? You seem a bit… Distracted?” Pyrus asked, squinting at him, concerned. 

The young apothecary successfully suppressed his desire to fidget with his hands - which was a dead-giveaway for the uncertainty and worry running through his body and making his hearts race “I’m concerned for whoever we may find today. We marines are pretty tough, it takes a lot to-”

The direction of the winds shifted as Cedric was speaking, cutting him off as it brought with it the sharp, metallic scent of fresh blood. 

All six of the marines on patrol stopped in their tracks, including Cedric himself, turning towards the source of the smell.

Cedric was the first to start moving, running as fast as the dense underbrush and trees would allow him, dodging around  large patches of underbrush and jumping over and across the occasional fallen log or half-rotted tree stump.

It took both an eternity and no time at all for Cedric to find the badly injured Primaris marine. The other was leaning against the base of a tree, gold-flecked blue eyes focused on the partially frozen lake. He looked in Cedric’s direction as the apothecary reached over.

He smiled a little and rasped out “Good… Evening? Cedric. Is this the peaceful embrace of the Emperor? It’s… Beautiful.” Malachai asked, before turning partially and coughing, splattering the snow with his blood, vivid and dark against the white substance, even as the heat of his blood began to melt it. “Wish I hurt less, though.”

“Malachai, you aren’t dead,  not yet. Where we are is a… Complicated situation. But stay still, I have a first aid kit, which will help me stabilize you. Then, with help, I can get you to a place where you can be properly treated.” Cedric answered, dropping down onto his knees next to his badly beaten brother, opening the kit and starting to clean and bandage his wounds.

Malachai chuckled and then coughed violently, his whole body spasming a little before he reached up with broken fingers to try and push Cedric away with what little remained of his strength “You shouldn’t. The fucker beat me with the intention of making me one of his grisly reminders for the rest of us.”

“He has no power here. Not really.” Cedric half-lied. While it was true that Petras wasn’t in control of Ancient Terra, he held a distressing amount of sway amongst certain Crusades of Black Templars, and he really didn’t want to find out what his reaction would be, should he discover that several of the marines he’d killed were on Ancient Terra, alive and aware of the depths of the chaplain’s cruelty.

“... Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Cedric.” Malachai gently scolded him, reaching up and squeezing one of Cedric’s shoulders, leaving bloody fingerprints on his jacket. “More astartes are coming. I don’t want you to be punished for trying to help me.”

“Those are a patrolf of Salamanders and Imperial Fists. They won’t punish me for trying to help you. The entire reason why I’m in this forest is to find and try and save you, Malachai. Stop resisting and let me help you!” Cedric hissed, hating the way that his eyes stung badly enough to blur his vision as tears streamed down his face. He continued to do his best to patch up the stubborn bastard wheezing at him “Things are different here. I haven’t been ordered to watch you die this time. So I’m not going to, if I can at all help it.” 

Pyrus came barrelling into the clearing, followed closely by the rest of the mixed squad of Imperial Fists and Salamanders, their armor patterns showing that they were from multiple different time periods of the Imperium. The Salamander knelt down on the other side of Malachai and asked “What should I do to help?”

“Keep him still for me, please? He’s resisting treatment because of when he was brought to Holy Terra from.” Cedric instructed Pyrus.

“We… We’re on Terra? How is that… How is that possible?” Malachai wheezed, a stunned expression on his face.

“Short answer? Warp shenanigans. If you want the long answer, such as we’ve figured out, you’ve got to live to learn it.” Pyrus answered with an attempt at a reassuring smile on his face. “Are you a Black Templar, like Cedric?”

“Yes, I am.” Malachai rasped out. He nodded a little, before a whimper of pain left him. “I can’t. Feel my legs. The worst injury I got was on my back.” He paused for several seconds, closing his eyes and taking in several steadying breaths before continuing  “Just above where the armor I was allowed to keep… I heard the snap of bone and a lot of pain before… Before everything went dark and I woke up here. I’ve tried moving my legs and… Couldn’t manage it.”

“... Fuck that’s right. I remember now. He’d snapped your spinal cord in three places. I’m… I’m surprised that you’re breathing as well as you are, given the locations of the breaks.” Cedric murmured before he could stop himself “We’re going to need to immobilize his neck and spine as much as we can, to avoid further damage. Would two of you please set up the stretcher, while everyone else helps me move Malachai? Once the stretcher is ready will need to be careful to move him at the same time, so I will provide a count down from three to one. When I say now after, we move him at the same time. Any questions?”

“Me, I have one. Why are you bothering? The bastard has decided that my mouthy bastard ways mean that I have to die. Why refuse him? I hurt sooo much where I’m not numb.” Malachai huffed, squinting up at Cedric.

“Mal, I mean this with all the love and care in my hearts, shut up. You’re being rescued and treated whether you like it or not. The one who did this to you has no power in the base we’re bringing to you, and it’s my job to keep you alive and as intact as I can.” Cedric growled at the other, eyes flashing in irritation and worry.

Malachai laughed until he started coughing, his body spasming with each cough. “Yeah, yeah. I know. M’ sorry, though. I don’t think I can… Hold on much longer. S’ cold and breathing hurts.”

“Why does it look like someone kicked his ribs with armored boots until they broke?” Pyrus asked, a frown on his face. “Among other things?”

“Because he was kicked by someone’s ceramite-clad boots until his bones broke. Now is really not the time for these sorts of questions Pyrus. Help me put this splint around his chest so that when we move him it doesn’t fuck up his back or lungs with the wandering bone shards more than they already have.” Cedric answered, having done his best to shut down his emotions and clinically look at the situation. “Ignis, Ralos, Sven, Pyrus I need you to lift his torso up several inches so I can get this splint under him on the count of three. Is everyone in position?”

“Ready.” Called out Ralos, the Imperial Fist sounded calm through his vox communicator.

“Ready.” Calls out Sven and Ignis, though both seemed concerned.

“Alright, alright. I’m in position, and ready for the count off.” Pyrus grumbled, moving so that he was in a useful spot.

“Three, two, one, up!” Cedric called out. The four marines were able to easily lift the injured Primaris at the same time and the apothecary applied the splint as quickly as he could. 

Olik and Char were ready with the stretcher, so Cedric directed the four marines who were holding onto Malachai to pivot slightly as the stretcher was maneuvered so it was directly underneath the badly injured Primaris Marine and he was lowered back onto the stretcher. 

Cedric aided in carrying Malachai to the nearby field surgery tent that had been set up, as the Librarians had divined that Malachi would die, if he were to be taken all the way back to the nearest hospital, even in one of the emergency flying vehicles. Cedric very much wanted to be part of the team who worked on trying to put Malachai back together but his hands were shaking too much from the adrenaline and guilt running through him.

~

It had not taken long for them to get to the field surgery tent. Cedric helped heave Malachai onto the surgical table. 

The other Primaris marine shifted uncomfortably as several Imperial Fist Apothecaries approached him. “Cedric… What’s going on?”

“These Apothecaries are going to put you back together. I’m-” Cedric started before being cut off by Apothecary Melinth.

“You are going to be waiting outside of the tent, Cedric. You are too close to this patient to be working on them during such a delicate and risky procedures. Besides, I can see the way that your hands are shaking. Do you wish to risk his life?” The Imperial Fist asked bluntly.

Cedric swallowed hard and flinched back, eyes downward cast “No sir, I don’t.”

“Good lad. Leave the immediate area, while we sterilize the field and get to work. You’ve done well. We’ll do what we can for him.” Melinth ordered.

Malachai made a pained sound, one hand reaching out for Cedric “Wait… Please sir…”

Cedric hesitated before grabbing Malachai’s hand, gently squeezing it with both of his “Do what they tell you, alright? I’ll be right outside, waiting for you, once you’re out of surgery.”

“... You better be.” Malachai grumbled, managing to send a half-smile up at his brother.

“I will.” Cedric promised before letting go of Malachai’s hand, gently setting it back on the table and leaving the tent, his whole body shaking at the intensity of emotions running through him. He sat down heavily on a fallen log less than twenty-feet from the entrance of the surgical tent, listening to the shallow breathing and uneven stutter of Malachai’s hearts beating.

“Hey… Cedric… I couldn’t help but notice that you knew exactly how your fellow Black Templar had gotten injured. While I was running over, I caught something about a punishment… Do you… Do you want to talk to me about it?” Pyrus asked as he sat down next to Cedric, having appeared out of nowhere.

Cedric lost concentration on listening to Malachai’s. “... I’d really rather not.” The temptation to curl into a ball of self-loathing and recrimination was strong, but he was already being eyeballed by several firstborn marines as it was.

Pyrus, instead of taking the unsubtle hint to leave the topic alone, scooted closer to Cedric. The Salamander was pressed against Cedric’s side. “Was he on a penitent crusade, which is why he didn’t have his full armor?”

“... No, he hadn’t been sent on a penitent crusade. That would imply a measure of honor that he wasn’t afforded by the one who… Who did that to him. I really don’t want to talk about this right now. The last time I saw Malachai like that, he died in M42. I… I’m hoping that with more skilled apothecaries, his fate will be changed.” Cedric murmured, his shoulders hunching a little as he buried his face in his hands.

“... Aren’t Black Templars who taken on an Apprentice, like, super protective of them? And swear righteous vengeance against who or whatever killed their apprentice?” Pyrus asked, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“That is how it’s supposed to work. It doesn’t always.” Cedric admitted quietly. It felt almost as if he was betraying his chapter by admitting that much… But his hearts hurt and part of him was very tired of keeping the secrets that he was. Maybe… Maybe he should ask Arnault and Roland to have a quiet but serious conversation about certain matters. Maybe it would help?

Pyrus started to speak, but several crucial, subtle sounds that Cedric’d been straining to hear, even over the sounds of his conversation with the Salamander scout had stopped. The world narrowed unpleasantly and something was shaking him.

Wait.

Someone.

“Cedric. Cedric! Easy. I promise I won’t ask any more questions. You back with me, buddy?” Pyrus asked, a frown of concern on his face, his bright orange-red eyes seemingly peering directly into Cedric’s soul.

“I can’t. I can’t hear Malachai breathing. Or his hearts. They’ve. They’ve stopped. I can’t hear them anymore. I… I need to… I need to help them get him back.” Cedric heard himself say, as the many intense emotions screaming through his hearts nearly overwhelmed his mind. He was trying to stand, but something was keeping him sitting down.

Pyrus was still holding onto him. “Cedric, you need to calm down. I get that that’s probably one of the three things you want to hear least right now, but running into that surgical tent covered in forest germs and dirt isn’t going to do your Brother any good whatsoever, and you bursting in on them suddenly might startle one of the other apothecaries into making an unfortunate mistake.”

Cedric could feel the growl in his chest, and the desire to fight and claw his way over to his Brother as his body coiled and tensed… But his good sense kicked in, and the young Black Templar sighed unhappily and went limp in the other’s firm grip. “You’re right. Much as I hate to admit it. You’re right. I-”

Any other words or thoughts he’d been trying to say or think died abruptly as Apothecary Melinth walked out of the tent and headed towards him, a grim expression on his face. 

“Apothecary Taniel, I am here to inform you that your chapter brother, Malachai has died. His injuries were too extensive for us to treat. Do you feel up to assisting us in harvesting the organs that can be utilized as well as his gene-seed, if it is still viable? You are allowed to refuse, if you feel you are not up to the task. Losing a Brother you’re close to is difficult.” Melinth informed him, no emotion showing on his face or in his voice. The other’s icy blue eyes staring down at him dispassionately.

Several ugly and likely untrue accusations lingered on the tip of Cedric’s tongue as he stared up at the firstborn Marine. Cedric had no proof that Melinth and the others didn’t try their utmost in order to try and save his life. The fact that he had died meant that they had access to more Primaris organs and geneseed to study and use as they saw fit. How… Convenient for them, to be able to have a second dead primaris marine to study to their hearts’ content. But he wasn’t going to say any of that, as it was an awful thing to accuse someone of baselessly. “MY hands are still shaky. However, once you’ve removed everything you think is of use and value out of him, please stitch up my dead brother and allow me to take the remains to Ramiel, so he can get his final rites.” He really hoped that his voice was as bereft of emotion as he had been aiming for, rather than the seething fury and implication he could hear within his own voice.

Melinth stared down at him for several seconds before answering with a flat and emotionless “That will be done, Apothecary Taniel.” And then the other left, turning on his heel.

Cedric was briefly tempted to lash out at the older Apothecary. To hurt him in a fraction of the ways that he and his Brothers had been hurt by at best uncaring and apathetic firstborn brothers. But the urge for violence passed when Melinth was out of his sightline.

“Hey… Cedric…Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s still snowing, and the forest is really beautiful right now. And some movement might help with sorting your emotions, yeah?” Pyrus gently prodded.

He shook his head “I want to be here when they are done usi-... Done with Malachai’s body, so I need to be here.”

“... Alright. Do you mind if I wait with you?” Pyrus asked, still holding onto Cedric. 

Cedric was grateful for the half-restraint, half-hug. It was helping ground him “If you wish to stay with me, I have no complaints. I do like you, Pyrus… And the snow is lovely.” He watched the snowfall with Pyrus as he waited the seeming eternity it took for them to be done harvesting from his dead brother.

They were even kind enough to have sent a message to Ramiel, ten minutes before they were done, so that the young Chaplain in training could prepare everything and gather the others before Cedric arrived on base with the body.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Melinth you you… *shakes fist at him*… could you learn to stuff a fucking sock in your mouth before you open it?! Christ on a cracker! Holy cheese! Great! You just undone almost everything that Ash’val, Zariel, Hura, and other firstborns work so hard and long for in order to gain the trust of these traumatized Primaris boys!

Cedric, go pound out some bread or spar Brother Roland to work some of the angry energy out. Oh my poor baby boy. 😭

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts. 

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Oooh boy. That. Owie. Cedric just snapped big time. Poor baby :(

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts. 

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

This is painfully good and I love it a lot.

Autopsy

Author’s Note: This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  A big thank you to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her OC Anrir, and with helping me make sure I wrote Anrir well. 

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: autopsy (mention), poor coping skills, physical violence, grief, 

Summary: Cedric and two other Apothecaries in training are putting medical supplies away near where Malachai’s and Lestras’ bodies are being studied. This is fine. He’s fine.

"What... Why would they place that organ there? It makes no sense whatsoever." One of the visiting apothecaries muttered.

"I was told that the mechanicus were in charge of the creation of the Primaris Marines. In the ensuing ten-thousand years after the Heresy, this is what they have come up with." Melinth stated, his voice steady if lilting a little with amusement.

Cedric couldn't quite tell, as their voices were muffled by the wall that separated himself and the two other apothecaries in training from where Lestra’s and Malachai’s bodies were being autopsied. But their voices felt full of mockery and derision to him. He gritted his teeth, continuing to perform the task he had been assigned.

"These organs placements are shit." A third Apothecary spotted "I may still be a traitor in M42, but this... This is utter shit. I can see a glimmer of advancement in the organs themselves... But oh..." He laughed, cruel and vicious.

"Care to share the joke with the rest of us, Anrir?" The first Apothecary prompted, sounding curious.

Cedric willed his hearts to stop pounding in his ears as he tried to breathe out the fury coiling in his chest, ready to strike. He was furious at the fact that one of those callous bastards were laughing at his brothers' bodies.

"It's just... If I informed the Emperor of the advancements that the Mechanicum believes they made to his Astartes' design... His reaction would be hilarious!" Anrir chortled.

Cedric could not take the callous disrespect and mockery that these firstborn bastards were making of his dead brothers. The sound of that fucker’s laughter rang in his head, reminding him of - 

No. He would not allow his mind to wallow in miserable memories that would only make him even more upset. Cedric and two other apprentice Apothecaries had been tasked with restocking this medical supply room as a group. In the past few months, more supplies have been mysteriously vanishing, and one way to try and decrease the possible vanishing supplies problems. He hisses a soft “Bastard!” In response to the continued laughter.

The restless Night Lord Apothecary turned toward him, having clearly heard his words “What was that? I’m pretty sure that box of gauze isn’t an Ork in need of strangling. You can just put it down like a normal person.”

Cedric glared at the Night Lord, a low growl in his voice “Shut up. I can hear them talking about the Brothers they are dissecting.”

The other apothecary in training - a Renegade Space Wolf spoke up “I can hear them too. It sucks that they won’t let any of us even see the bodies to learn the differences between us normal marines and Primaris, but that’s life. ‘Sides, I’ve figured out one difference between Primaris marines and normal marines already.”

“Oh? And what difference would that be?” The Night Lord asked curiously, head titling a little.

“They die like little bitches. LIke, there are what a dozen Primaris marines on ancient terra? And between the two found near this base and the six found dead across Ancient Terra in the past year or so, it doesn’t speak to how well they’re able to survive. Like. It’s really fucking hard to die on Ancient Terra unless you’re doing something stupid.”

… Six other dead Primaris marines? This was the first that Cedric had heard of more dead Primaris marines. Then the rest of the drivel that the Space Wolf had said registered in the Black Templar’s mind. The fury that he’d been struggling to contain boiled over and a red haze filled his vision. 

Cedric blinked once, finding that he’d moved positions from one moment to the next. He had pinned Algret to the floor, his knees on the bastard’s chest, his hands wrapped around the other’s neck as his mouth screamed into the other;s bloodied face and broken nose. Cedric felt his chest heave with the effort of pinning and choking this miserable bastard as his mouth screamed ‘- FUCKING CALLOUS, KIN-KILLING BASTARDS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU! YOU SNEER AND LOOK DOWN ON US! USE US AS CANNON FODDER WHILE SPITTING ON OUR EFFORTS AND CALLING US ABOMINATIONS!” He managed to wrest control of his vocal chords from whatever was screaming through him. His voice was much quieter now but no less furious “See how you like it when you are the one being beaten and tormented over and over again.”

“He-ghk!” Algret called out, struggling futilely beneath him.

Cedric did not see the Night Lord Apothecary, but they were all cowardly ambush predators who fled before a more powerful opponent. His breathing was harsh and fast. HIs hands were still squeezing Algret’s neck hard enough to make breathing difficult for the mouthy bastard. “... You’re not worth the paperwork they’d bury me under to kill you.” With tremendous effort he forced his hands away from the Space Wolf’s neck. He got off of the Space Wolf as well, taking a couple of steps back.

Algret growled back as he heaved himself back up onto his feet, settling into a defensive stance “You want to fight, you unstable piece of shite? You’re on! You’re not going to overcome me nearly so easily, now that I’m aware you’re going to attack me.”

Cedric growled wordlessly, shifting into a defensive stance of his own, about to accept the challenge issued to him.

"And just what do you two think you are doing?" A low and deeply unimpressed voice demanded from the doorway, interrupting the brewing fight.

Cedric swallowed hard, before he turned and saw -

Fuck.

One of the Apothecaries who had been brought in to cut into his dead Brothers, to study the differences between Primaris Marines and Firstborn. He was a Terran-born Night Lord, from the pattern and coloration of his armor.

"I was talking about the dead Primaris Marines, and that it sucked I couldn't get hands-on study of either one of them when this lunatic  attacked me!" Algret whined, glaring at Cedric as he spoke. "He also was screaming about how much he hates firstborn Marines. Whatever the fuck those are."

“... I see.” The Night Lord Apothecary answered, a neutral expression on his face, though it may be a mask. “If firstborn Marines are bad… Surely I am something much worse. After all, I am Terran Born, among part of the first successfully created batches.” He stalked into the room with predatory grace.

Cedric could see the younger Night Lord Apothecary hovering in the hallway outside, but most of his focus was on the laughing bastard in front of him. His phone chirped, and he kept one eye on the advancing Night Lord, as he read through the text that Ramiel sent him. A small, vicious smirk appeared on his face. The other older apothecaries were also in the hallway and could clearly hear him. He rolled his shoulders back and stated “As the highest ranking Black Templar Apothecary within a hundred miles of this base, I am formally revoking your to do anything with the dead bodies of the two Black Templars currently on the surgery tables of this base. I revoke everyone’s privilege to do so, not just yours, Apothecary Anrir.” Cedric paused for a moment, letting this edict sink in before continuing “If any non-Black Templar Apothecary does anything other than stitch their bodies up, it will be a severe violation of the treaty for each of you, with each cut of the scalpel, or adjustment of the retractors. This decision is effective as of now, and will not be overturned. Stitch up their bodies and hand them over to me.”

“YOu gave permission to allow us to autopsy them earlier.” Melinth countered “Additionally, you are merely an Apothecary in training and do not have the ability to order such things to us.”

“I am the highest ranking Black Templar apothecary you can contact easily. If you want to escalate this issue, I will inform the highest ranking Black Templar in residence and you can talk it out with him. The Emperor’s Champion. I will inform him that you are refusing to follow some of the mandates of treaty that has been set forth. I will also inform him that your refusal to release the bodies of both Black Templars, one of whom had been a patient of yours in critical condition, and that he died while in your care.” Cedric growled, stalking towards Melinth. He was keenly aware of what he was unsubtly accusing the other of in public, but he did not care. It was completely within character of Firstborn Marines of M42 to pull shit like this on purpose. Why would they not do the same in M3 if they thought they could get away with it?  “Care that you did not allow me or another Black Templar to monitor while a brother was in such a fragile and vulnerable state. That after you pronounced him dead, while his body was still warm, you demanded I give you permission to cut him apart to satisfy your own curiosity.”

“Are you accusing me of allowing a patient under my care to die to satisfy my own scientific inquisitiveness about how his body worked?” Melinth demanded, actually sounding and looking mildly upset now.

Cedric figured that Melinth was upset most by the potential hit to his reputation Cedric’s accusations may cause, considering the fact that the six visiting Apothecaries were from differing factions and had some influence amongst their chapters/legions. “You’ve said before that you wished that you could take a Primaris Marine’s body apart, to see what the differences are for yourself. It would not surprise me if you… Arranged for that to happen, as you were handed an opportunity to ensure a Primaris Body landed in your morgue.”

“Oh… So the abuse that the both of them suffered is a common thing amongst loyalists in M-42, then. You wouldn’t be accusing another Apothecary of such a crime with such certainty and conviction if you haven’t seen that happen in M42 personally.” Anrir called out, an inscrutable expression on the Night Lord’s face.

His words halted Cedric in his tracks. The emotional impact of his words hit him with the force of an out of control Thunderhawk slamming into the side of a mountain. His gaze switched from Melinth - who was more visibly emotional now (What those emotions might be, Cedric couldn’t begin to guess. Nor was he going to spend the effort to try) - to Anrir. His eyes were burning fiercely and he hated the way he echoed “A… Abuse?” back at the older apothecary. A yawning abyss of horror had opened up within Cedric and had swallowed all of the righteous wrath that had been searing it’s way through his veins.

“Yes. Abuse. The Emperor would be furious about the utter misery that the Mechanicus put you Primaris marines through. You’re some of the most traumatized young marines I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with Lamenters before. Get over here.” Anrir ordered, his voice going gravelly and commanding - but not in a distressing way, somehow?

Cedric’s idiot, treacherous body obeyed before his mind could halt himself, as he came over to the Night Lord’s side. He stares down at the shorter marine, just barely able to resist the temptation to shuffle backwards and cross his arms defensively over his chest. “What do you want?” Cedric snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I’m going to hug you now. Do not resist, you need one.” Anrir answered, closing the distance between the two of them and wrapping his arms around Cedric, holding him in a moderately restraining embrace. 

Half of Cedric wanted to melt into the embrace and start bawling. The rest of him protested very loudly at such a show of weakness in front of strange firstborn marines, so an angry response it was. He hisses down at the older marine, leaning away from him “How dare you just grab me like this?! Let me go at once you… You-” now was not the time to lose his words, but here he was. Unable to come up with something to say.

Also, Cedric could feel his body start to shake and tremble at the continued gentle touch. His eyes were stinging more fiercely now and he needed to escape if he was to not be seen or heard crying by these fuckwits. He blinked rapidly before the first treacherous tear started to fall, followed by more. SInce the stupid bastard wasn’t letting go, Cedric hid his face in one of the other’s shoulders, his body’s shaking getting worse.

Anrir heaved a dramatic sigh as he hugged Cedric closer, one hand coming up to gently pat his head “Honestly! You’re just as bad as Claude is. I wasn’t laughing at your dead brothers, by the way. I was laughing at the fury that the Emperor would unleash on those machine-worshippers if he learned of what he’s done to all of you. The organ placement within the two Primaris Marines would very likely have shortened their life-spans significantly, had the physical abuse that killed them not taken them then.”

There was one piece of information that was most important to Cedric. The lifespans thing wasn’t something he could deal with, but - “You… You know Claude? You’ve… You’ve seen him cry?” If Claude felt safe enough to cry around Apothecary Anrir… Then Cedric would choose to trust that his brother-cousin was willing to trust Anrir.

The Night Lord sighed again, patting his head once more, still giving him a one-armed hug “Yes, I know Claude.”

“Oh… You must be one of the older brothers he trusts, then.” Claude was one of the most emotionally reserved of all of them for reasons that Cedric was not going to think about right now, as he was trying to calm down. He wiped the tears in his eyes and tried that breathing trick that Miss Angela taught him… Which was startlingly effective. He lets go of the Night Lord, shame burning through him as he took a step away from the other. “I… Thank you, for helping me calm down.”

Anrir hummed a little in response “You scouts have been deeply traumatized. Emotional dysregulation is very common.” He turned and  glared at his fellow experienced Apothecaries “Is there a particular reason why you are gawking? The Scout told you he doesn’t want us messing about in the insides of his dead brothers, which I feel is more than reasonable.”

The other apothecaries grumbled, but all of them left the hallway, except for Melinth, who stared at Cedric for several long seconds before slowly turning and leaving.

Anrir left a moment or two after Melinth did, and called out to the others “Between the seven of us, and what we were able to study, we have plenty of notes. Besides, you all saw the muscle cording. The mechanicus succeeded in making the Primaris marines physically stronger. The young one was gracious enough to allow us some time to study a couple of his dead brothers. He could have refused us entirely.”

Melinth groused back “You weren’t the one who got accused of letting a patient die on your table on purpose, Anrir.”

“I suspect that is the grief doing the speaking for him, rather than good sense. Besides, wouldn’t you be a little suspicious, were your position and his reversed? Especially as it is abundantly clear - at least to me - that none of the Primaris Marines have been treated very well by their older brothers in M-42. His wariness and caution is understandable if likely unneeded in this time. Such behaviors are difficult to unlearn.” Anrir countered. 

Cedric pointedly did not look at either of the two firstborn Apothecaries in training as he completed the task that he had been assigned. He did pause part way through putting away the medical supplies to send Ramiel a message, asking him to start gathering what he needed to properly send off Malachai and Lestra… He also planned on speaking with a certain Word Bearer to see if he was willing to let them borrow a hallowed space for the funerals.

… He should also probably talk to Arnualt and Roland as well to see if they wanted to attend the funerals as well. A sigh left Cedric as he placed the vinyl box of gauze on its assigned shelf before leaving the medical stockroom, locking the door behind him as both Belek and Algrets had already left the room. 

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

Melinth...sweetie.

WHAT

THE

FUCK

WAS

THAT!?

Also I'm curious as to who was following Cedric at the end there before he slipped away.

Yeah things be reaching a boiling point. Poor Ash'val. He's probably So confused.

Also Babe. Sweetie. Don't talk down Hura and Zariel like that. You Know they're in your corner and using them as "proof" you and your brother's weren't appreciated seems like a its deriding them.

But I do understand Cedric is Angry, and he has every right to be.

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts.