#oc: lestra

[sleepyfan-blog]

Mattias' Arrival (1)

Author’s Note: This is Mattias’ introduction into the Astartes’ Husbandry AU and is connected to Cedric’s current character arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  Thank you very much @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for letting me borrow her oc Petras

Tagged:@egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

Warnings: Lying, manipulation, blood, violence, Petras being Petras

Summary: Mattias goes from chatting with one of his brothers to finding himself on M3 Terra. Luckily for him, he’s immediately found by a group of older Black Templars and made a member of their Crusade. 

“So… What do you think it’s going to be like when we are deployed with our firstborn brothers?” Matias asked as he gently nudged one of his siblings.

Lestra hummed briefly before shrugging “I don’t know. Hopefully they are a bit less uptight on the rules than our Ultramarine minders have been.”

“... Can you really blame them for that, though? Their Primarch arose from near-death while Maccrage itself was being invaded by Chaos and Xenos alike. For the first time in ten-thousand years a primarch leads the Imperium. Their gene-sire walks amongst them once again.” Mattias points out, a tiny smile appearing on his face and he sighed wistfully “Imagine if you will, if Lord Dorn were found alive and willing to lead the Imperium once more…”

Lestra let out a small sound, muffled by the hand they’d pressed to their mouth, as their eyes widened “I… Oh. I get it now. Yes, you’ve made your points, and made them well. I’m… I’mgoing to need to take a moment to process that last thought you’ve given me…”

Mattias nodded, stretching and yawning a little. He found the strict training schedule that the Ultramarines kept them on to be both familiar and comforting. “It’s about to be lights out so we should head to our assigned bunk room to sleep.” He pointed out. They had four and a half hours of downtime that they were allowed to use to do any number of tasks or even… Learning a new skill outside of their assigned roles as Battle Brothers. It was amazing if mildly terrifying.

It was an unprecedented amount of free time, and Matias was eagerly learning to wield some of the other kinds of melee weapons that were available to practice sparring with in the Ultramarines’ armory. HIs favorite so far was a spear and short-sword combo that gave him all sorts of two-weapons techniques to learn and practice drills with.

“We still have over half an hour before our assigned sleep time and we’re in real-space.” Lestra pointed out “I want to look at the stars on the observatory deck. It’s so much better to be able to see them, rather than trying to memorize star charts that the Mechanicum gave us to memorize during basic training.” Lestra pointed out, green-blue eyes shining hopefully at his Brother as he asked.

Mattias heaved a sigh. Some of their more wary fellow Primaris brothers had quietly insisted that if Primaris marines were to wander around different parts of the ship and away from where larger groups of them were, to at least stay in pairs, for their own safety. While the Ultramarines had been accommodating and pleasant hopes, some of their more tightly wound fellow Primaris marines were convinced their kindness was some sort of test, and that the usual misery would fall upon them all at one point. Mattias was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen - if the Ultramarines were going to be cruel to them, why pretend to be nice at all? But he dutifully stuck to the request. “Alright. We’ll go to the observatory deck… Again.”

Lestras sulked a little “Yes, again! The star charts that we were given to memorize have so far not been entirely accurate! Some of them were wildly inaccurate. I suspect that the reason why the star charts are incorrect is because of the time it takes to survey a given star system and get it sent back to Mars means that the drift and motion of the planets and star or stars in the system have already shifted out of alignment… Or because one or more of the planets have been destroyed for one reason or another. But I find it really fascinating to compare the information we were given to what is actually tr-”

Mattias held up a hand, pausing his sibling’s rant, the amused grin on his face dropping a little “I’d be happy to accompany you to the observation deck. I know how strongly you feel about this… But you know to question the veracity of certain things is heresy! Please be careful with your words, dearest sibling of mine. I know that you are loyal and true, but our hosts don’t know you as I do and the walls have ears and eyes everywhere.” He kept his voice light and calm, trying to shake off the ominous worry gnawing at his hearts.

Lestras huffed and grumbled “It’s just… It’s possible to travel through time as well as in space in the Warp, both backwards and forwards relative to one’s starting point. There have been several documented cases of that happening on a massive time-scale. If we ever do end up in the past, the differences in how the star charts we memorized are, versus what we see before us is one way to have a relatively accurate guess as to when in time we are. That is all I meant by it.” Lestras grumbled, though they nodded slightly in understanding.

“Mmm-hmm. Do you want to tell me more about it?” Mattias asked, even though he had heard this particular rant from Lestras more than once. It was a favored topic of theirs, and he enjoyed the passion and joy in which they took in talking about stars and astral-navigation. Mattias found their enthusiasm to be very charming and hoped to find a similar passion one day.

The Ultramarines encouraged their attempts at varied learning, which was a breath of fresh air. Compared to the rigid training of the Mechanicum. Especially as they did not like questions beyond the acceptable ones, and punished incorrect questions and lines of thinking with heavy mecha-dendrites…. Unless one’s questions were unfortunate enough to get The Creator’s personal attention. While he seemed to enjoy indulging others’ curiosity when in a mood… Those brothers were often taken away and never seen again.

Mattias managed to pull himself free of his mauldin musings when he and Lestras arrived at the Observation deck. His sibling was too focused on the stunning spectacle of stars and planets to notice the lurking Ultramarine Captain standing near one of the armored windows. They rushed in, dragging Mattias along with them and pressed their hands against the toughened glass, looking at the planet that the ship was in geo-stationary orbit around.

Mattias couldn’t remember if he had been told the name of this world… But this was where the Primaris Lamenterts, along with their assigned ships and supplies were being dropped off at, to be led by Brother Sargeant Hagiel of the Lamenter’s third company. “Woah, hey, Lestras!” He called out as the other dragged him across the floor, glancing briefly at the Older Cousin who was watching them, a small smirk appearing on his face as he watched them. 

“What? It’s such a beautiful sight, and it’s not as if anyone comes into the observatory! It’s one of the least-used parts of the ship… Which I do understand, while we are in the warp, as it is quite dangerous to observe the warp, even through the gellar fields, madness and worse lies for the fool who does that… But in real space the view can be-” Lestras rambled, unaware of the Firstborn watching him. 

The Ultramarine’s shoulders were shaking a little, and he put his red and white crested helmet on, presumably to prevent the laughter that was clearly shaking his body to be heard by either of them. 

“Yes yes I know all that. But see, we-” Mattias started, before falling silent as the firsborn Marine raised an armored finger to his face plate, over where his lips would be, as a shushing motion before he slowly started to leave the observatory, moving soundlessly as he did so “-should be fine! Sorry, I thought I saw something. Now what do you think of the system?”

“The planets and other major bod-” Lestra started to say, before a blinding flash of white washed through the room, causing Mattias to cry out in alarm, throwing an arm over his face to try and preserve his vision, the other trying to grab blindly for his sibling.

~

Mattias could not say how long it took him to blink the blinding white out of his eyes. He knew for certain that he wasn’t suddenly teleported somewhere - teleporters had a different color and he both would have been forewarned about being teleported, or activated a teleporter beacon if he was high enough ranked to merit such an artifact… Mattias found himself at the bottom of some kind of ravine or canyon. The orange-brown stone walls stretched several hundred feet above, carved over time by the river that he could see. The water was a stunning shade of blue-green and shone in the bright light of the single star he could see in the sky. It was a cloudless day and he could feel a light breeze on his face. 

He fumbled with his helmet, which had been clipped to his belt, before placing it on his head, hearing it click into place before he activated the vox-caster in his helmet, broadcasting on all Black Templar frequencies first “Hello? Is anyone nearby? Do you know where we are? I don’t know how I got here, I was in orbit around a habitable planet moments ago. This is Brother Mattias of the Black Templars, can anyone read me?”

There was a deafening silence that lasted for what felt like an eternity before there was an answering voice on the vox “This is Brother Cazzard of the Sprechembriech Crusade of the Black Templars. From the confusion in your voice, I’m guessing that you’ve just landed on Ancient Terra. Send me your coordinates and I’ll come get you… What’s your rank? I am a veteran battle brother.”

“Uhm… It’s a little complicated?” Mattias answered as he dutifully sent his exact location to the Brother he was speaking to “I’m a Primaris marine, sir. I am… I was with the Indomitus Fleet, along with the rest of the Primaris Black Templars, heading to where the Black Templar fleet was being assembled to swear fealty to the Imperial Regent, who is leading the Indomitus Fleet.”

“Ah so you don’t technically have a specific rank within the Black Templars because you haven’t met your older brothers, yet. Given what I’ve heard about Primaris Marines, you’d be considered an Aspirant, until one of us takes you on as an Apprentice. Who’s the Imperial Regent, by the way?” Brother Cazzard asked “Got your location ping… I’m close to the top of the canyon you’ve found yourself in. There’s a footpath that you can use to get to the top of the canyon. This place is a pretty popular attraction to the local mortal populace. I’ll bring you to the sarge and he’ll explain the hows and whys of where we are, Mattias.”

Foot path?... Hmm… Oh! He could see small groups of mortals, some of them riding four-legged animals, walking down the path. They were across the river from where he was standing. “I see the path. I’lll need to cross the river to get there. Is the water safe to move through?”

“It is. Are you in armor?” Cazzard asked. “And is it void-ready?”

“Yes sir, on both counts.” Mattias answered promptly.

“Good lad. Just walk across. There shouldn’t be enough pressure in the water of the river to cause you issues, and the water doesn’t run fast enough to cause you problems when crossing. See you soon, little brother.” Cazzard rumbled. 

Mattias pouted a little as he did as he was ordered to, as he could hear the amusement in his voice.

~

Two months passed without Mattias noticing the time. The realization that he was on Holy Terra was a huge shock to the young Black Templar, who had never had the honor to step foot on those sacred grounds, despite having been trained ever since he could remember within the halls of the priesthood of Mars. He had briefly interacted with other wandering Crusades of older brothers, but mostly kept respectfully quiet and to the back of the group, observing how his older brothers interacted with one another.

There were groups of Firsborn Cousins who preferred to stay in one place and dig in, fortifying whatever town or region that they lived in. It was in one of these forts where he had briefly met a couple of his fellow Primaris Marines - an incredibly anxious Judiciar and a tightly wound Apothecary in training.

Both of them had been nice enough, but they had also been really weird and borderline hostile towards his older Brothers - who while strict, had taught him much. They also interacted with traitors on purpose and without the due venom and wariness that warranted, so Mattias avoided interacting with Ramiel and Cedric more than absolutely necessary. 

Captain Deitrich - a venerable Dreadnaught who serves as the leader of their warband - called out to Mattias. He had been speaking with the leader of the other Templar Warband who were in the area, a Chaplain Captain. “Mattias, come here, lad.”

“Yes sir.” Mattias answered obediently, standing up from where he had been sitting on the ground, making minor repairs to one of his boots, sliding his foot inside of it before walking over to where his Crusade Leader was standing. “Did you require something of me, sirs?”

The Chaplain Captain looked him over critically before humming “You are indeed a Primaris Marine. Of the handful or so I’ve heard of being on Ancient Terra, you’re the only one I know of who is part of a proper Crusade… Which I find strange, given that there are at least two, possibly as many as a half-dozen Primaris Black Templars within the nearby mortal city. Not that the Cousins who run the base will allow us to meet any of them.”

Mattias blinked in confusion “Are… Are you talking about Judiciar Ramiel, and Apothecary in training Cedric? I’ve met them once or twice… They were a little strange, but nothing that some time around Older Brothers wouldn’t fix.”

“Care to explain that comment, apprentice?” The Chaplain asked, his steely blue gaze sharpening a little as Mattias spoke. 

“Both of them were tightly wound and very anxious. I imagine being surrounded by strangers and forced to be polite to filthy traitors and corrupted heretics is awful.” Mattias answered, shuddering a little at the very thought. He couldn’t imagine staying in one place all the time. Being unable to wander and explore, on top of all of the nonsense that they had to deal with. He was perfectly happy to stay with his older brothers. 

“... I see. Walk with me, if you please, Matthias. I think I may know this Ramiel, from Before, and I’d like to discuss what you know of him in greater detail, privately.” Captain Petras murmured, his voice quiet and thoughtful as one of the other’s hands lightly pressed against the middle of Mattias’ back.

Toroz looked up from where he was leaning against a nearby tree and tending to his chainblade “If you wanna talk about the other primaris marines, why not in front of us? They’re our little brothers too, same as Mattie here.”

There was a flash of emotion that crossed the Chaplain’s face, but it faded as quickly as it came. HIs voice was clipped and curt “Ramiel may be my apprentice, from Before. He…” There was a tremor in his voice and he looked away from the two groups “He was killed, in M42. I was unable to avenge his death, before being brought here by the whim of whatever brings us here.”

“... Oh.” Toroz responded, a guilty look appearing on his face as he took a half step back, looking away from the chaplain captain. 

“I’ll tell you know about Judiciar Ramiel, but truth be told sir, I don’t know much about him.” Mattias answered earnestly, dutifully walking alongside the older Black Templar, mentally going over what he did know of the other Primaris marine.

~

“You know, you very nearly had me fooled for a moment or two.” Chaplain Petras murmured his voice light, and almost pleasant, if not for the strangely intense expression on his face. 

“What do you believe that I’ve fooled you about, sir? To my knowledge, I have done or said nothing that would present myself or anything that I know of in a false manner, sir.” Mattias asked, a genuinely confused expression appearing on his face as he looked at the older templar.

There was a very strange and disconcerting look on Petras’ face as he stalked closer to where he had ordered the younger Astartes to sit. “That you didn’t recognize me. That you didn’t remember our last encounter. It did take me a few moments to place which of the abominations whom I had culled in M42 you were. But then I remembered your timid, babbling Brother. The one who rambled uselessly about star charts.”

Mattias felt his hearts lodge themselves into the back of his throat, and his eyes widened in utter confusion and distress. Cedric and Ramiel had both warned him that not all Firstborn Brothers had reacted well to the Primaris Rollout, particularly within their own chapter. “Are… Are you referring to Brother Lestras, sir?” He asked, voice cracking in grief and anger at the thought of his sibling being killed for existing. There was nothing wrong with them!

Petras sneered down at him, raising a power-claw clad fist and attempting to strike him across the face “Did I tell you that you could speak, abomination? But yes. Lestras was that waste of resources name, I remember now. I found him here, you know. On Ancient terra. His wounds were grave, but survivable. I knew that those soft-hearted fools would be coming by soon so I could not kill him fully, but I ensured that his wounds would kill him.”

Mattias had been so startled by the reveal that, had he not been trained since he could begin to move combat maneuvers, he would have allowed the blow to hit him. As it had been long-engrained inside of him, Mattias rolled backwards off of the rock he’d been sitting on, evading the strike. “You… You killed them here? On Ancient Terra? Why?!” Mattias snarled, now up on his feet, fury boiling in his hearts. How dare this bastard do this?

“You Primaris Marines are wasteful abominations of flesh and gene-seed. You should not exist, and it is my duty to cull you miserable wastes of sentience wherever I find you. The God-Emperor himself has granted me this second chance to continue the culling. Why else would I have been brought here, after I was struck down by that fool, otherwise?” Petras revealed, the utterly terrifying look on his face intensifying “I did not say you were allowed to move, abomination. You will kneel before me and take your punishment for existing and for daring to endear yourself to proper marines. To true Black Templars.”

Oh like fuck he was! Mattias hissed “The fuck I will! You just admitted to murder and you’re calling me the abomination? That’s fucked. You want to hurt me? Just try it old man!” With that he charged the chaplain at full speed, pulling out his blade and trying to slash at the other with an overhead, two-handed strike.

It felt as if time had slowed down to a near stop, as Mattias tried to continue his charge.

Petras laughed, one hand on some kind of device, the other hand curling into a fist as the electricity crackled in the power-fist before slamming his fist into Mattias’s rib cage. “You poor, foolish idiot. Do you think that you’re the first abomination to try and lash out?”

Mattias let out a pained whimper as he felt his ribs crack and the electricity set fire to his nerves, still stuck in some strange sort of temporal slowing unable to dodge or attack back. “You… Bastard!” He slowly, agonizingly slowly, staggered towards his helmet, intending on calling out for help. 

In between one moment and the next Petras had somehow snatched up Mattias’ helmet and threw it out of his immediate grabbing distance and struck him with impossible speed, this time striking his back with another electrified punch from the depths of the warp itself “Oh no. I will not let you -”

Mattias heard something snap in his back and he felt the feelings in his legs go numb. His hearts were pounding away so loudly and so swiftly in his ears, his breath rapid and shallow, and yet… His body was so slow to respond. “Bastard!” he hisses, interrupting the other’s rant. There had to be something he could do? They weren’t too far from the rest of the group, so if he yelled loudly enough… They should hear him. Mattias took in as deep of a breath as he could manage and screamed “HELP! HELP ME PLEASE! HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!”

The sound of his voice seemed to echo strangely off of the trees and bushes and Petras laughed, dark and amused “You poor, naive fool. Do you really think that I would have been so careless as to make sure that they could hear you? I am quite familiar with how far Primaris Marines’ voices can carry. How loud they can be, when they are desperate, sniveling and hoping for a rescue that will not c-”

The sound of several sets of armored footsteps echoed reassuringly back and hope blossomed in his chest, even as Mattias could not stop himself from falling to the ground. He used his hands to catch himself so that he didn’t smash face-first into the ground. “Please… Help!” Mattias called out, forcibly rolling himself so he was face up, yanking his limp legs to help in the movement with his hands. 

Pain continued to blossom around him as Petras continued to hiss and strike at him until Toroz came charging into the clearing, staggering to a halt at the sight before him. “What… What are you doing?” He demanded.

Petras looked over and stated “I am punishing this insolent whelp. He has been incredibly rude to me while out of sight and hearing of you and his other superiors he actually listens to so I am administering the punishment he deserves.”

“Then why was he screaming that you were trying to kill him? Stop hurting him! You know the consensus - if an underling from a different crusade needs punishing, you need to go to their highest ranking Brother, not administer the punishment yourself. Not without permission.” Toroz snapped back, rushing over to Mattias side, blocking Petras’ next strike by grabbing the other’s hand. 

“You have no right to -” Petras hissed, visibly incensed.

“I have every right to intervene. He’s already bleeding and I think you damaged his spine.” Toroz hisses, cutting off Petras mid-rant. “This isn’t the first time that your punishments have clearly gotten out of hand. I’m going to ask the captain to pull the council together to fucking censure your ass. I swear to-”

Petras yanked his hand out of Toroz’ grip and slapped him with the other, growling “You have no right to threaten me! I will have you punished for your cheek. Besides, Brother Sargeant Toroz has been dead for ten years. I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re certainly not him.”

Toroz growled and kicked Petras square in the chest, sending the other flying through the clearing and through a tree, his black and white armor turning to teal and silver. “Get fucked, you stupid bastard. To hell with this assignment, I’m not letting an aspirant get mauled to death by a lunatic in front of me. Come on, hatchling, let’s get you treated.”

“You… You’re teal?” Mattias whimpered, eyes going wide as the older marine walked over, bent down and scooped him up.

“Sure am. Don’t struggle, I am trying to help you. Alpharius’ tits, he’s done a number on you.” Toroz or whatever his name was swore, putting Mattias on his back and sprinting off “Keep talking to me. Yell at me about how much of a low-life I am. Come on, where’s that fiery temper your chapter is so well known for?”

Mattias whimpered again, the jolting pain from the other’s movements causing him increasingly difficulty to breathe “Oww… He said. He said I was an… ‘bomination… Why was he so mean to me? I didn’t do anything wrong? I didn’t not do stuff I was supposed to… Why does he got to be so mean?”

“I don’t know. There’s something deeply wrong with that fucker. But don’t worry I’ll not let him hurt you anymore, hatchling. You just focus on staying awake and keeping breathing.” Toroz ordered him.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Lestra's Arrival

Author’s Note: This is the second part of the mini-arc involving new Primaris Black Templars arriving in the husbandry AU. FIrst. Next. Other Cedric fics here and here. Thank you to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow Hura and Zariel

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

Warnings: graphic description of wounds, blood, character death, 

Summary: A badly injured Lestra is found by a renegade warband and brought to the clinic for treatment.

The scent of blood was thick and heavy in the air as the wind changed directions. A small frown appeared on Tallis’ face and he signaled to one of the Cousins he was currently traveling with, as he was on point before speaking “Something… Someone is bleeding heavily nearby. Smells like an Astartes. I’m going to go check it out.”

“Careful, sorcerer. The Warp is much harder to reach in this time period.” The Raven Guard Sargeant who was the leader of the little warband that Tallis had been found and semi-adopted by, warned. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I know. I’ll be careful. First sign of trouble, and I’ll vox for help.” The Thousand Son hummed in acknowledgement as he carefully made his way over to where the scent of fresh blood was strongest.

~

It did not take long for Tallis to find the other Space Marine, who was leaning heavily against a tree. The other was naked from the waist up and badly wounded. There were bright red, raised lacerations covering every inch of skin on his back from the neck down. On top of those wounds were fist-sized bruises every four to five inches apart, too regularly placed to be randomly placed. Worse than that, however, was the wounds on his chest, as Tallis carefully turned him over.

Tallis couldn’t tell what color the other marine’s short hair was originally, as it was matted and discolored with blood. Both of his eyes had been scratched out by what looked like lightning claws. He swallowed hard as whoever had used the lightning claws on this poor marine’s eyes had liberally used them on his chest and abdomen as well, having carved words into his chest in a language that he did not recognize, though that might be in part from the amount of blood oozing from his wounds.

“I NEED AN APOTHECARY AT THESE COORDINATES IMMEDIATELY!” Tallis yelled  over vox, making sure that he was using the broadest and longest-range frequency he could as horror settled in his stomach, a heavy leaden weight.

The other marine was breathing, but his chest was rising and falling unevenly, and was more gasping than breathing regularly. He reacted to Tallis’ yelling by curling defensively, a pained whimper leaving him.

Tallis knelt down in front of the other marine, his voice quieter as he aimed for soothing, and landing on frantic “Hey… Hey. Easy. I mean you no harm, oh throne, you have no studs. You’re a scout. Who the kriff did this to a scout? Keep breathing and stay awake as best as you can. I’ve called for an apothecary. I do have some first aid training, and I do have some supplies on me, so I’m going to start treating you as best as I can, alright? Please don’t startle when I touch you. Can you tell me your name, scout?”

The scout whimpered and turned his face towards him, opening his mouth and revealing -

Oh. 

This poor bastard had his tongue ripped out too, did he? Tallis silently wondered if he’d been found and overpowered by a group of Drukhari before being translocated to M3 Terra. “Okay, no talking, for you. That’s okay. I can talk enough for the both of us. So, right now I’m grabbing the wound cleanser I have in my bag and I’m gonna spritz those claw-marks with it. Its’ gonna sting a little, but I know that you can handle it. Here. I’m gonna move one of your hands so that you’re touching my knee, so that you know that I’m here and I’m real.” 

He heard Sargeant Malish crash through the underbrush in his direction at the sound of his shout, the rest of the warband on his heels. But all Tallis could do was to focus on the poor, unfortunate scout in front of him, to try and reassure the lad that he wasn’t alone in a strange place, left to die slowly. 

“Enki, Rao, make us a stretcher. There’s a hospital a ten-minute sprint from here that treats Astartes, and he’s going to need a lot more than whatever first aid we can give him in the middle of this forest. Tallis, you stay with the kid until it’s time to move him. Do you see any signs of neck or spinal damage?” Malish asked, looking the injured marine over critically.

The scout who had black painted leg and boot armor whimpered and flinched at the sound of the sargent’s yelling, his shaking getting worse.

“I… No? I don’t think so, but we should be careful in how we move him, anyways. He’s in really rough shape, and I think at least one of his lungs have been ruptured, front he way he’s breathing. Easy… Easy, scout. No one’s yelling at you. You’re doing a great job staying awake.” Tallis murmured, gently patting one of the other’s shoulders, trying to get the poor scout to calm down a little. 

The scout whimpered wordlessly, but he seemed to relax a little, which was progress.. It did not take long for Rao and Enki to build a make-shift stretcher that would hold the kid’s weight. “Alright, we’re going to put you up in the stretcher, now. On the count of three, we’re going to lift you up and put you on it. One… Two… Three!” Tallis counted, helping to heave the surprisingly heavy scout up and onto the stretcher. Tallis ran ahead of the four carrying the injured scout, guiding them to the astartes-friendly clinic-hospital.

~

Despite the stench of blood, the slow, agonal gasps of the brother on the operating table, and the chemical scent of cleanser in his nostrils, Part of Cedric silently wondered if htis was a nightmare of some kind.

Lestra was on the operating table, again. Cedric was part of the medical team trying to save his life. Again.

Hopefully Chaplain Petras and Sargeant Brenthom would not come bursting into the roo, half-way through the procedure, with the former bellowing at them to stop all but the most necessary procedures to keep him from dying, as these wounds had been inflicted due to punishments that Lestra had somehow earned.

Quiet, obedient, dutiful Lestra. 

Lestra, who had some of the best scores of any of them when it came to marksmanship and tech-repair outside of the snipers and tech-marines.

Lestra, who murmured the prayers to Him on Terra most fervently, who delighted in aiding the Chaplains in any duties they asked of them, no matter how menial the task.

Lestra, who never questioned orders. Who tended to their weapons and armor with a patient reverence that bordered on nearly obsessive.

Lestra who, despite every effort that Cedric and the other Apothecaries were making, was once again dying, drowning in their own blood, as it filled their lungs faster than could be siphoned away. Whose blood loss was causing a cascade of effects that was shutting down their body. Lestra, whose body was rejecting the blood and fluids that they were trying to pump into them.

Lestra, who coughed wetly and grabbed Cedric with desperate, waning strength,pressingtheir forehead to his for several seconds before going limp, their hearts stopping.

Lestra, whose blood coated Cedric’s hands, arms and chest. Even after it had been washed away by an older Apothecary, when it had become clear that Cedric had locked up, unable to move.

“I failed them… Again.” Cedric muttered as he stared down at Lestra’s still warm body. Two of the Imperial Fist Apothecaries were preparing to open them up, to carve out the necessary organs that could be saved and reused. 

“Sometimes patients die, lad. Even though we do what we can to help them. They were in a bad way, lad. It was unlikely that they were going to survive. Do you know which chapter they belonged to?” One of the Imperial Fists asked, reaching out to try and touch Cedric.

Cedric flinched, stepping a half-step back not-trusting the touch to be painless. “Lestra, Primaris. Black Templars. They were… They were one of the first I -” found badly hurt. Before he… Before he knew what was going on. Before he knew which of his Firstborn brothers was beating them to the point of death. Not that he was fool enough to say that out loud where other firstborns could hear that. “The Bellasarian engine will explode if you try to remove it from their body, causing considerable damage, so leave it in place.”

“Ah… They were one of the first patients you lost? That’s always rough. Come on, lad. You can leave the grisly work of organ harvesting to the others.” Of all people, Captain Ash’val murmured.

Where had the salamander scout captain come from? He was no apothecary.

“But I… They need…” Cedric tried to find the words, his hearts bleeding and lungs seizing up. 

“The others will handle the organ removal. After that, Ramiel can guide their final rights, and you and the others can give them a final goodbye. Losing a patient is rough… Especially you’re first one, and I can’t imagine what losing your first patient twice must feel like.” Ash’val murmured, wrapping one arm around Cedric’s shoulders and steering him out of the operating room.

“But… But I was able to save Olivar… Why wasn’t I able to save Lestra? It’s not… It’s not fair!” Cedric managed out, trembling violently, though he did not resist Ash’val’s touch, nor his orders.

“Olivar’s wounds were less severe, and he was closer to treatment than LEstra. These things happen. You did your best, lad. That’s all we can ask of you.”

Cedric crumbled into Ash’val’s steady body, weeping until he passed out.

~

“Did you discover anything during the Autopsy, Zariel?” Ash’val, asked, his voice quiet, so as to not wake up the distraught young apothecary passed out in his arms, hours later.

“The lash-markings on Lestra’s body are consistent with the ones found on Ramiel and Olivar, when they were first brought in for treatment. As is the lichtenberg scarring and the way that the lightning claw wounds were on Ramiel’s and Lestra’s bodies. It’s likely that whoever went after our two surviving Primaris Black Templars was the one who killed Lestra.” Zariel dutifully reported to the Salamander.

Hura offered “Cedric was equally unsurprised to see the wounds upon Lestra, as he was on Olivar and Ramiel as well, which means he was likely one of the apothecaries who tended to the three of them in M42 before he and they were all brought here to Ancient Terra.” He was frowning as he watched the young apothecary in training sleep. “When I brought young Ramiel to view Lestra’s body, he was understandably distraught, but not surprised that they died, despite all efforts to save them.”

“You know… For as bad as they are at lying, they sure do seem to be keeping dark secrets and deep sorrows hidden in the deepest corners of their hearts.” Zariel murmured with a small frown.

“They correctly guessed the colors of your armor within weeks of living here. A feat most of the rest of the base has yet to discern.” Ash’val pointed out. “They may be young, but they are clever.”

Zariel huffed at that, looking away. “Point taken.”

“We should go, before Cedric awakens. Our presence will only confuse and worry him, given his recent trial.” Hura remarked, standing up a moment later and dragging Zariel out of his chair.

“Hey! I can walk on my own. Let me go, you giant bastard.” Zariel grumbled reluctantly allowing the Death Guard to manhandle him. 

[sleepyfan-blog]

Five + One

Author’s Note: This is set before Cedric was brought to Ancient Terra! I hope that you enjoy this. Masterlist of BT shenanigans here. Thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for allowing me to borrow her OC Jerahmiel!

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

Warnings: blood, violence, murder, medical terminology, medical practices, please ask me to tag something if I missed it/something bothers you 

Summary: Five times Cedric was able to save injured Brothers and one time he didn’t. 

Ansen limped into the med-tent that Cedric as working in and leaning heavily on Malachai, who had helped him get back to the temporary encampment where injured marines and other Imperial Forces could be tended to. The system they were fighting in was embroiled in a huge border war between The IMperium and the duplicitous forces of a new but irritatingly persistent xeno race.

Cedric looks him over, a small frown appearing on his face as he instructed the pair “Please sit on the exam table, Ansen. Are you injured as well, Mal?”

Malachai shook his head “Not really/ I brought Ansen over due to his fucked up leg. My right hand is damaged, but nothing that an hour or so of letting it heal on it’s own won’t fix. My sqord broke and I need to get a new weapon while this one is being reforged.”

“Alright then. Be sure to stop by the food tent before you leave.” Cedric responded, already starting to look Ansen over.

“Heard. See you both later.” Malachai answered with a cheerful wave as he headed off.

“How’d you get injured? Whatever injured your leg it doesn’t seemed to have cut through your armor at all, somehow. Perhaps some kind of phasing technology? How much feeling do you have in this leg?” Cedric asked as he swiftly removed the other’s leg armor and began to clean, suture and bandage his wounds “These stitches are absorbable, so you need not come back to have them removed. If you notice signs of infection or if one or more of your wounds opens up again, please return for treatment.”

“.. One of the xenos cowards managed to sneak up behind me in the bushes while I was taking a piss. Malachai decapitated the motherless bastard while I put my armor back on. It was only after that I realized the blue fuck had managed to stab me several times before it’d been killed.” Ansen huffed. His helmet was on, but Cedric knew the other was blushing.

“That is some shit luck, brother. Keep your weight off of that leg for an hour or so and you’ll be combat ready again… So long as you don’t get stabbed while pissing.” Cedric consoled his brother, just barely able to keep a straight face. He was not going to laugh. Stealthy, cowardly xenos attacks could happen to anyone. “Any other injuries?”

“Other than my pride and reputation? No, not really.” Ansen grumbled.

Cedric patted his fellow Primaris on the shoulder. “Go forth and slay the alien scum in an hour, brother dearest. You’ll be able to reclaim lost honor that way.” 

“... Thanks Cedric.” Ansen sighed as he got up and hobbled out of the med tent.

~

It did not take long before another Brother was brought to Cedric in need of patching up.

Lieutenant Aldenbrech was rushed onto the surgical table by his squadmates. Cedric immediately started an IV drop as the amount of blood gushing out of the nasty wound  along the firstborn’s abdomen and the ashen tint to his skin spoke of a concerning amount of blood loss, even for an Astartes. The second thing he did was swiftly clean the wound and stitch up the major artery that had been pierced, his hands stone-steady.

Cedric then had to suction the blood that had pooled in the lieutenant’s abdominal cavity, battling the other’s own high healing factor to do so thoroughly enough to ensure that no blood remained where it shouldn’t be to cause trouble later.

“Are you certain that you only want mild local anesthetics? This is going to take some time and it won’t be pleasant in the least, sir.” Cedric asked, a medium-high dose of morpha held in one hand, as he continued to tend to the other’s injuries.

“I want to get back into the fight as soon as possible. A large dose of a heavy anesthetic like that will take me out of the fight for longer than I’m willing to wait and recuperate. I must get back onto the battlefield as soon as possible.” Lieutenant Aldenbrech grumbled, shifting just a little on the surgical table.

“Sir you will need to take the next twenty four hours to recover… Ideally, you should take forty-eight hours to recover, but I am well aware of the fact that the xenos scum are showing no signs of stopping the invasion of this world.” Cedric warned the other marine.

“Are my guts back in place?” The lieutenant demanded a heavy scowl on his face as he looked up at Cedric.

“Yes, the wound wasn’t wide enough to spill organs, nor intestines sir. Bit-” Cedric answered, sighing internally at how stubborn the older marine was being.

Aldenbrech interrupted him “Then pull the IV needle out of my arm. I need to be out there now!”  He shifted, as if to get off of the table. He sat up quickly and nearly fell back against the table, his skin going an ashen color “I told you none of the heavy medications!”

“And I obeyed your orders, sir. But you need to wait until the IV has finished at least. You’ve lost several listers of blood on your way to treatment and all that blood needs replacing, or you won’t have the strength to stand, much less fight.” Cedric pointed out, suppressing the annoyed sigh that threatened to escape him. 

“You don’t understand! My apprentice Dylies… He was… He was cut down by one of the xenos commanders. He took a blow meant for me, and I must avenge him!” The lieutenant hisses, eyes flashing with determination and desperation.

“I can increase how much it infuses into you at one time by a certain amount, but you must wait. You can’t avenge Dylies if you’re about to go into the Emperor’s Embrace yourself, sir.  Dylies would want you to take care of yourself before avenging him” Cedric quietly reminded the firstborn marine. He was pushing aside his own grief at the loss of a Primaris Brother. It was likely that more would fall before the xenos threat were driven from this system. His job was to tend to the living.

Lieutenant Aldenbrecht huffed but nodded, still disgruntled but he said “... YOu have a point. How long must I wait?”

“Three hours sir. However the window of time where you need to be monitored by an Apothecary for possible allergic or other negative reactions has passed. SO long as you keep the IV pole with you and allow the infusion to continue as it is currently set, you may walk about the base camp and tend to light duties as you feel capable of doing them, sir.” Cedric  responded, aware that the officer was likely to be needed in the ongoing tactical planning and execution meetings.

“Good. I’ll come back if I start feeling worse, or more likely, when it’s done infusing.” the lieutenant rumbled, nodding as he heaved himself up onto his feet and slowly shuffled out of the tent, followed by his squadmates.

~

Olivar carried Lestras into Cedric’s medical tent, skidding to a halt from the dead sprint that he had galloped into the space with. Lestras had been carried in on Olivar’s back, and their breathing was fast and shallow.

Some of their wounds were immediately apparent to the young Apothecary as he grabbed the wound cleanser and burn ointment “What happened?” cedric asked as his rock-steady hands swiftly took off the rest of Lestras’ ruined chest plate and greaves before he started to clean the other’s extensive and bubbling burn and laceration wounds.

“Xenos bastards implanted bombs in some of the mortal civilians they were tormenting and that our squad had been tasked with rescuing.” Olivar answered bluntly, a slight shudder running through the other Primaris Marine “Lestras spotted the surgical markings on the affected civilians and separated them from the rest of the group… He’d managed to get most of them away from the untainted civilians when the bombs were triggered.”

Lestras looked up at Cedric from where they lay on the table, eyes glassy with shock and pain “Oww…” He mumbles “Everything hurts.”

Cedric’s eyes softened a little as he injected them with a moderate dose of morpha. They were going to need it, as cleaning burn wounds felt truly awful for the patient in question. “Tell me when the pain killer kicks in. You will be able to tell with how much I gave you.”

Lestras let out an agonized laugh through cracked and bleeding lips “That bad, Cedric? We’ve been taught that pain and suffering is good for the body and soul.”

“But excess of anything attracts the attention of the foul despoilers. Burn wound treatment is going to be miserable, even with morpha helping you with the pain. There’s no need to go looking for more Les.” Cedric reminded them kindly.

Lestras nodded, closing their eyes for a couple of moments. Their body relaxed and a soft sigh left them “Ohh… You gave me some of the really good stuff… Big ouch impending then?”

“Yes. There is a lot of wound debridement in your immediate future.” Cedric warned his brother. WIth how fast Primaris Marines healed, for Lestras’ health and safety, ,the first few layers of burned flesh needed to be debrided off in order to encourage even, healthy growth of the other’s injured tissues. Cedric looked over to Olivar “Unless you are injured as well, I would suggest that you head out, Olivar. This is going to be a very unpleasant process.” 

Olivar nodded “I’m going to get something to eat, then find an outgoing squad to keep up the fight. May the god emperor guide and protect you both,”

“Oww…” Lestras sighed as he internally braced himself for the agony that he wos about to endure.

“Tell me when the morpha starts to wear off. This process is going to take hours.” Cedric warned his sibling.

“Okay Cedric, I promise. Give me a few moments to get into a meditative state and I’ll be ready for this trial.” Lestras murmured.

Cedric nodded, watching his sibling and started once they had achieved that internal state.

~

Brother Felixald was brought into Cedric’s medical tent on a stretcher, carried there by his squadmates. All five of the firstborn marines were in varying states of injury, but Felixald was unconscious and barely breathing.

One of his legs was gone from the knee down with a makeshift tourniquet in place to keep him from bleeding out. Cedric immediately began assessing the five older marines, suggesting ”You two should seek immediate help. THose puncture wounds look like they need  immediate assistance… I think you’ve been poisoned, from the way those wounds look and smell.” Cedric was already getting the cauterization tool ready as he assessed the bloody and raw leg stump, in case he needed to cut off more to ensure that the older marine would heal properly.

The two firstborns he suggested to leave did so immediately. The other two marines sat down heavily on the far side of the tent. One of them asked “Do you want us to recount how we got the injuries, or would you rather we stayed quiet while you take care of Feli, and get report when it’s our turn?” Brother Nulik asked.

“His most obvious injury shouldn’t take me long. Sir, I am going to administer a dose of morpha, as cauterization hurts like hell. Injecting now.” Cedric answered, speaking mostly to his barely conscious patient.

“Have… Ontel. Need to share.” Brother Felixald managed out, his grey-brown eyes flittering open as he stared up desperately into Cedric’s face “No morpha! Need a clear… Fuck! I do feel better. The xenos! They.. They are camouflaging themselves. It’s how I got this way.”

“The intel will be shared immediately. What are they pretending to be?” Cedric soothed his patient as he carefully cleaned and sanitized the older marine’s recently exploded or pehrpss cut off leg stump before he applied the cauterization tool. The sizzle of heat against wet and teh unpleasant smell of burning flesh was an eye-watering stench that Cedric had long become used to. He makes a quick note in the other’s file flagging him for an immediate prosthetic fitting.

“Some of them look like Astartes from an unknown chapter… Others took the colors of the ULtramarines. Their duplicity was revealed when the fuckers tried to kill us. God-Emperor damn them!” Brother Felixald growled, his exhaustion and the morpha causing him to slur his words together a little.

Cedric dutifully sent that urgent bit of intel off to his mentor to handle as he continued to batch up the badly injured marine and his two remaining squadmates. “I have informed Apothecary Xonfried, who will ensure that this information is disseminated quickly. Is there anything that you or your squadmates would like to report?”

Nulik and Bekith both shook their heads “No, Apothecary. That’s the relevant part of what happened, other than the numbers of foul xenos we murdered.”

“Alright. You two are free to go, and they’ve got the food-tent up and running.. Brother Felixald, you’ll need to stay for a bit as you’ve lost a significant portion of blood, and I’m going to start you on an infusion to get your volume back up to what it should be.” Cedric murmured.

“Aye, I can tell by how the world spins unpleasantly beneath me.” Felixald answered, laying back on the table and letting Cedric care for him properly as his squadmates headed off to get something to eat.

~

Cedric was carefully re-sanitizing his workspace when he heard the tell-tale sounds of running astartes headed in his direction. The young Apothecary swiftly finished cleaning, the coppery tang of blood and the chemical-bitter scent of stressed Marine hitting Cedric. 

A half-dozen Astartes rushed into his medical tent, carrying Brother-sergeant Jerahmiel between them on a stretcher. The firstborn Marine was very badly hurt, with dozens of armor-piercing wounds inflicted all over his body. To make things worse, the sargent appeared to have lost his helmet during battle, given the extensive new burns all over his head and face.

It did seem as if the older marine’s eyes were still fully functional, despite the awful state they were in, from the way they narrowed at Cedric's approach, a low hiss leaving the sergeant’s ruined lips and broken teeth.

“Honorable Older Brothers.” Cedric began, just loud enough to cover the wordless sounds of protest from the injured marine now on his surgical table, doing his best to protect a sense of concern and urgency “Each of you are also badly injured and I can only tend to one Brother at at im. I urge each of you to seek treatment immediately. I will do what I can to save the honorable brother sergeant.” He did not allow himself to feel anything but concern and determination in this moment.

It worked! The other battered and bleeding first born brothers quickly left to get their own wounds treated without so much as a backwards glance. Aware that if they stayed, Cedric would need to triage all seven of them, and would be forced to leave the brother-sargeant to be treated last, due to his all too tenuous grasp on life at the moment.

Cedric’s hands were steady and his face a mask of calm as he worked to clean, treat and bandage Jerahmiel  wounds, listening to the sounds around the two of them. He also double checked to make sure that the sergeant’s armor was, as he methodically checked over the other’s injuries.

If his hands slipped a little occasionally, pressing too hard ,causing more pain than was necessary… Well that was due to his inexperience and exhaustion. Cedric had been diligently tending to his injured Brothers for weeks with minimal sleep or rest and food. Cedric had yet to administer any pain relievers because he needed to conserve supplies. Suffering was good for the body and soul, after all “Stop struggling. You are under my care nd you will take what I give you, BRothe.” Cedric commented.

THe twitchy, badly injured firstborn marine stilled compeltely as he said those words, his half-ruined yes locking onto Cedric’ss. Dread perfumed the air as the sergeant rasped out with ruined vocal cords, barely able to speak “Wh-what did you just say?” He was clearly familiar with the phrase.

Cedric smiled benignly down at the Brother-Sargeant and answered with “I need you restrained. You are resisting the inevitable and what is necessary. Resistance is not just futile, but heretical.”

The dread intensified and the badly injured bastard attempted to stand up and escape Cedric.

Hah

The firstborn Marine had barely managed to sit up when Cedric raised up one hand and lightly shoved Jerahmiel back down onto the surgical table, pressing against the other’s fractured ribs. It truly was remarkable how badly injured the fucker was. A pity he didn’t qualify for dreadnought entombment. He did not possess the skill and experience to save this astares’ life “If you are free of sin, the god-Emperor will ensure that you survive this trial, Brother.”

“How… Why… Why are you saying that? How do you know what I had told that mouthy abomination I culled under the orders of Chaplain Petras?” THe sergeant wheezed, fear and confusion clear on his face, along with a tremendous amount of pain.

“His armor recorded his last moments, and the proceeding conversation… Sir. Unlike yours, his armor was fully functional at the time of his death. I found the recording of you beating him to death for no good reason.” Cedric answered placidly “He was beaten to death because he was going to report your… Indiscretion with that civilian woman that he witnessed. DId you really think he would’ve confronted you about it without ensuring that should something have happened to him, that you would escape justice? The Emperor’s light shines upon us all equally. As does his judgment.”

“Are you..What are you … You… Agk!” Jerahmiel sputtered, clearly trying to make sense of Cedric’s words, and failing, from his clear confusion.

“The honored Primarch decreed Primaris Marines to be made. He sent us out to help our firstborn Brothers in protecting the Imperium. The high marshal has declared that we are not heretical. So what right do you have to brand us as such, for merely existing? Do you believe yourself more righteous than one of the loyal sons of the Emperor?” Cedrc purred, leaning more of his weight onto the badly injured bastard, helpless before him.

Renewed pain bloomed across the sergeant’s face, along with understanding and a primarl fury “You… Fucker! He hissed, spitting up at him, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips. Hisbreathing labored and uneven. Jerahmiel’s hearts were beating rapidly Cedric could feel them under his hands.

Cedric had injected the other with a paralytic which kept him helpless on the surgical table. The much younger marine grinned boyishly as he avoided the flying and bloody spittle “It’s suchc a shame you were too badly injured for me to save you with the resources I have available, sir. I’m sure your loss will be felt by the Crusade… But the relief that your loss by those who were inflicted by your temper and tyranny far outweigh the sorrow caused by your death.” He keeps increasing the pressure on the other’s broken ribs, feeling them shift.

The jagged, broken bone-shards dig into the bastard’s lungs deeper and deeper. 

Jerahmiel’ glare was scorching.

Cedric was wholly unthreatened by him. He had the upper hand here, not this firstborn bastard.

Cedric laughed, breathing and victorious as he felt the other’s rib bones slide up into the fucker’s hearts. He kept pressing and shoving until the sergeant’s hearts had stopped beating and his body went limp.

Cedric then removed the other’s geneseed, placing it carefully in the appropriate container for viability testing. After that, Cedric removed all viable useful organts, implants and prosthetics. He had the other stripped of his rumor armor and weapons. Everything of value was sent off to their proper places.

After that, Cedric carried the bastard’s cooling body over to the promethium-fueled flaming body pit and tossed the sergeant’s corpse into it. As his body caught fire, Cedric dutifully logged Jerahmiel ‘s injuries and that he was KIA.

The young apothecary returned to his assigned medical tent, carefully cleaning all of his tools and the table, his hearts light and his conscience clear. 

As an Apothecary, two of his jobs were harm reduction and threat nullification. Brother-sargeant Jerahmiel had killed a half-dozen primaris marines with no good cause, and his kills had begun to become more frequent and starting to cluster together. As were the excessive beatings and other acts of cruelty the fucker had visited upon living primaris marines. Cedric took pride in every aspect of being an Apothecary, and would neutralize other threats as the opportunity to do so came up. So long as his curtailing of cruelty did not cause more suffering amongst his fellow Primaris marines, of course.

Cedric hears more running footsteps and greets his next injured Brother-patient with a gentle and concerned smile on his face.

[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.