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beckyninja · 17 days ago

Text

The Maiden

Pairing: Salamander OC x FemReader

Warnings: None, just angst

Description: The survivor Nev'ran saved from a Drukhari raid grows closer to her rescuer... even though she shouldn't.

I'm back! And, just like I promised, here's a sequel to my first Salamander OC fic, The Dragon. I just had to write more for this character. (Feel free to check out the other fics on my Masterlist, as well.)

Warm.

Your dazed mind conjured images of hot springs and steam-filled caverns. Your parents’ tired but smiling faces. Home. Were you home?

No.

Home was far, far away. They’d taken you, forced you into a mold not of your choosing. Quiet. Aloof.

Cold.

You’d been cold for so very long.

“Miss?”

The voice rumbled like the rockslides in your family’s mines. Yet, you felt no fear. You tried to focus on it, but your mind felt like gelatin.

“Can you hear me, little diamond?”

That wasn’t your name. But you liked the way the voice said it.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

It felt like weights had been placed on your eyelids. Slowly, so slowly, they lifted. Soft, flickering light streamed into your skull and you heard yourself gasp.

“There you are.”

Red eyes in a dark face. You shied back, fear flickering in the pit of your stomach.

The face smiled. “Do not be afraid, little diamond. You are safe.”

That voice…!

You felt your lips curve around a single word. “Dragon….”

***

Three Days Later

“The Lord Apothecary thinks it best you not be left alone.” The medica motioned you through the door. “So you will be quartering with me, for the time being.”

You stepped into the little room. It could have been any serf’s quarters. But the soft rugs covering the metal flooring and pillows stacked upon the cot surprised you.

“Such comfort for a-,” you caught yourself.

“For a mere serf?” The woman, Matia, pursed her lips. “Yet I know it must pale in comparison to what you’re accustomed to, my lady.”

You looked away. She knew nothing of what you were accustomed to.

“It will do.”

Matia gestured to a simple dress laid out on the cot. “This is the best our tailors could do on such short notice.”

No itchy frills. No laces so tight they cut your skin.

“It is adequate.”

“I will leave you to change.” Matia turned her back. “Get settled. In an hour’s time, I will return to guide you to the refectory. Unless,” she sent a cool glance back over her shoulder, “you would prefer to take your meals alone.”

You imagined sitting alone in the flickering candlelight. Alone with your thoughts.

“I will go to the refectory.”

“Very well…my lady.”

The door slid shut behind her.

You lowered yourself onto the cot, yet could not force your muscles to relax.

The Apothecary said you’d been delirious for the past few days, tossing back and forth on the medical bed, mumbling nonsense. You remembered nightmares. Screams coming through locked doors…inhuman eyes leering down at you…vicious laughter….

“No!” You pressed your hands over your face.

Don’t think. Don’t feel!

Another memory calmed the rising panic. His voice.

All the tales you’d ever been told had painted the Emperor’s Angels as fearsome, unknowable beings. But he… he spoke to you. He smiled at you. His gaze melted through the ice in your soul.

“Nev’ran.” My Dragon.

***

As soon as you stepped into the refectory, you wished you’d decided to remain in Matia’s quarters. Conversation ceased in the middle of a word. Dozens of hooded heads turned to regard you.

Matia gestured to the steaming containers of food. “It’s probably not as fine as you’re used to, my lady.”

Your mouth watered. Stomach overriding your shyness, you quickly filled a tray with hearty stew and an odd, flat bread. Again, the comforts these serfs enjoyed astounded you.

When you turned around, the medica had already taken a seat with another group of women.

Maybe she didn’t mean for you to hear what she said to them.

“...never even asked the fate of the rest of her crew…never cried...dead, cold eyes.”

You took a seat at an empty table in the far corner of the room, appetite gone.

Booming footsteps made you jolt upright. Your heart raced as two of the Emperor’s Angels strode into the refectory. Far from the silent giants you’d seen carved into the walls of your family’s chapel, these warriors jostled each other, laughed, and called out greetings to the serfs.

The younger-looking of the two made a beeline for the medica and laid a massive hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him.

The other turned toward you.

Nev’ran.

You jerked your head away and stared down at your lap. Heavy footsteps approached.

“Diamond.”

“M-my Lord.”

The bench creaked as he settled his bulk across from you. “How are you feeling today?”

“I am well, my lord. Thank you.”

“You are not eating? Is the food not to your liking?”

In a panic, you reached for the bowl of stew, only to realize you’d forgotten utensils. “I…I don’t…”

He chuckled. And yet, it didn’t sound mocking.

“I will show you how it is done upon my homeworld.”

You raised your eyes enough to watch his massive, scarred hands tear his own flat bread and dip it into the stew. You followed suit.

“Brace yourself. Our spices can be-”

Heat exploded across your tongue. You dropped the bread as coughs wracked your body.

“Throne!” A warm hand covered your entire back, patting gently. “Forgive me, I should have warned you sooner.” His voice rose. “Hur’reth! Bring water!”

“I am,” you gasped, “I am all right.”

The heat faded, leaving a delightful aftertaste. You reached for another piece of bread and scooped again. By the time the younger Angel placed a cup of water at your elbow, you’d already scraped the last bits from your bowl.

“Would you look at that, Hur’reth? She eats like a Nocturnean!” Your Dragon’s rumbling laugh sent a flicker of heat through your body. “Continue like this, Diamond, and you will have your strength back.”

Finally, you scraped together the courage to raise your eyes to his.

He smiled down at you. “Would you mind this old drake’s company?”

Another flicker. Your rational mind hissed a warning.

Don’t feel. Stay cold.

But you couldn’t resist the tiniest of smiles. “I would not, my lord.”

***

The Apothecarion fast became your favorite place on the ship.

As the weeks passed, Nev’ran still insisted on daily examinations. He grumbled about the thinness of your form, the pallor of your skin. You found yourself lingering longer and longer afterwards.

He didn’t seem to mind your silence, telling you stories of Nocturne, the Salamanders, and the Primarch Vulkan as you perched on the edge of the examination table. You loved the sound of his voice.

You craved his warmth even more.

It will end soon. And then where will you be? Better to be numb.

“What brings such a sour expression to your face, Diamond?”

You blinked. “My Lord?”

“That is not my name.”

Heat flooded your cheeks and you looked at the floor. A thick finger tilted your chin back up.

When had he gotten so close?

“Say my name, Diamond.”

Another flicker of heat, like a sputtering candle at your core. “Nev’ran.”

Somehow, his eyes seemed to burn brighter. His hand moved to cup your cheek.

“So fragile,” he seemed to say to himself, “and yet, I sense fire within.”

The blissful warmth of his skin against yours caused your eyelids to droop closed. A rich, heady smokiness overwhelmed the medicinal tang of the Apothecarion. Breath not your own brushed across your lips.

“Nev’ran….”

The door to the chamber hissed open.

Your eyes snapped wide and you flung yourself from the examination table. Pain lanced through your feet as you dropped nearly six feet to the hard floor.

The Apothecary’s hand on your shoulder steadied you. “Easy, there. What-?”

You pulled away, heart pounding.

“F-forgive me, my lord. I-I am in need of rest.” You bowed hurriedly and limped toward the door.

The younger Apothecary stood there, staring down at you. The look in his narrowed eyes churned your stomach. With another bow, you slipped past him and into the corridor.

You pressed yourself against the wall and brought your hands to your face.

Stop feeling. Stop!

But the flickering candle within refused to go out.

***

You did not return the next day. Or the next. And after your third polite excuse, Nev’ran stopped sending requests. He said he would respect your wishes.

Your nights passed in fitful spurts as the nightmares returned with a vengeance. Less and less did they return to you the Drukhari attack, instead filling your mind with terror for the future. Matia often did not return to her quarters during the sleep cycle, so you found yourself facing the horrors alone, shivering with a chill no amount of blankets could remedy.

In these moments of weakness, you turned to other things for comfort.

A soft smile, so incongruous in that broad, scarred face.

No, don’t.

A rumbling chuckle, making you smile in spite of yourself.

This is madness!

An impossibly deep voice that meant safety.

Better not to feel.

Fiery eyes that saw you, the you you’d thought safely locked away.

Be cold, you little fool. It’s the only way to survive what is to come-

“No!” You flung away the blankets and sat upright.

I want this. Even if only for a moment, even if it hurts.

The mad rush to the Apthecarion was a blur in your mind. When you finally stood in front of its door, you thanked the Emperor you’d passed no one on your way. What would they think of you? Feet bare, in nothing but a sleeping robe.

All thoughts of embarrassment faded away as you reached for the access panel…

… only to pause at the boom of raised voices within.

“Are you mad, Nev’ran?!”

You knew that voice. The younger Apothecary who never seemed too far from Matia.

“This does not concern you, boy.”

“This concerns the whole chapter! She is not one of us!”

“Hur’reth-”

“No. Listen to reason, Master. If not for yourself, then for her sake. She is frail. She would never survive life among Astartes.”

“She survived the Drukhari.”

“By the blood of her guards, only. And do you not see how it broke her? Throne, from what Matia tells me, she is little more than a walking corpse-”

“Hold your tongue!” You jumped at the rage in Nev’ran’s voice. “There is fire in her, Hur’reth. I have seen it!”

Warmth flickered through you.

“Perhaps you only see what you wish to see.”

“What?”

“I should have waited to tell you of my mate. I see now it opened old wounds.”

A deep, low growl.

“She is not Ruby, Master.”

A thunderous bang and the door bulged outward. You gasped and shied away, though not far enough to not hear your Dragon’s roar.

“YOU THINK I DO NOT KNOW THAT!”

A long pause.

“Either way, Master, it matters not.” You froze. “She belongs to another.”

The candle within you sputtered out.

***

“We have informed the Planetary Governor of your arrival, my lady. He is sending a transport.”

The words came automatically. “I thank you for your courtesy, Lord Captain. I hope I did not inconvenience you.”

Captain Xavus nodded, a kind look on his face. “This planet was not far out of our way, thank the Emperor.”

You bowed. “The Emperor protects.”

“Indeed.” With another nod, he returned to his command station.

Through the viewports, you watched the planet spin slowly below. Even from orbit you imagined you could feel a chill from the dead, white expanse. Ice. Ice as far as the eye could see.

How appropriate.

You ran your fingers over the bodice of your dress, the same heavy gown you’d been wearing when the xenos attacked your original ship. The memory no longer sent terror clawing through you.

You felt nothing.

The medica, Matia, escorted you to the hangar bay. You caught her sending concerned glances your way and almost laughed. She’d described you as a walking corpse before. What must you look like to her now that you were truly dead inside?

Good girl. It’s better this way.

“Wait.”

You jerked to a halt, but kept staring straight ahead.

“Leave us, Matia.”

You heard the medica retreat, felt the massive presence at your back. “My Lord, you need not have troubled yourself to see me off.”

“Stop.” The strain in his deep voice made your stomach quiver. “Diamond, look at me.”

“That is not my name, my lord.”

Great, armored gauntlets turned you to face him with an irresistible strength. You kept your eyes on the floor.

“You do not want this.”

Was it heretical to hear desperation in his voice?

“One woman’s desires are irrelevant in the face of dynastic politics, my lord.”

“Would you rather stay?” Hands, warm even through the armor, cupped your face. “Answer me!”

At the snarl, your eyes finally met his. The look within them shattered you.

“Nev’ran, it’s no use.” For the first time, you touched him, fingers playing over the scars on his cheek. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me. I wish….”

He turned his face, pressing rough lips to your palm. You allowed your Dragon’s warmth to wash over you one last time.

Then you turned toward the frost-covered transport.

Cold.

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