The party was in full swing. There was music above the cacophony of laughter, the smell of perfume and food hung heavy in the air. Lita clung to the wall to the best of her ability, feeling out of place and out of sorts the moment she was thrown into this dress.
Granted, it was a very pretty dress. With soft folded fabrics and muted, dark colors. Even the gloves were smooth to the touch, but they did not cover the scars on her shoulders. Or her neck. Or even the ones across her back.
She was exposed for all to see and the very thought made Lita uncomfortable. But this was her debute as the confidant and ear to Primarch Konrad Curze. Hers was an important and coveted position, and she needed to make the best impression possible. Or so said the Primarch of the Emperor’s Children. She felt like a bystander as she watched Fulgrim dress her like a doll.
Lita fiddled with the fabric of her dress, and silently prayed that she could just disappear. This was all so much, and much too new for her to take in at once. It felt like only yesterday that her King had come back for her after they had spent so long apart. And now she was supposed to attend parties, in the presence of people and Primarchs she hardly knew?
If she had had time to prepare, or given free reign in her choice of dress, then perhaps she wouldn’t feel like a raw nerve. They stared. They always stared. She could see the burning questions in their eyes, the pity. She didn’t want their pity. She just wanted to be left alone.
Even her Primarch, whom she almost always clung to, was on the other side of the room. Whisked away to mingle and socialize, despite the clear disdain written all over his face. It was clear enough that he was even making the poor mortal dignitaries nervous. Lita chuckled, even after all these years her King was still the same.
So she put on a smile. After all, she had to do her best for both their sake. And she did her best to ignore their pitying gazes and their silent questions.
“You!” Lita paused mid conversation and turne her gaze up to a Primarch she never met. His skin was the color of a blazing sun, much like the mane of his hair. A single eye gazed down at her with an intense curiosity.
“Yes, you, little one. I’ve finally found you!”
He was a Primarch, that much was clear, but as to who she couldn’t tell. She had only ever met Fulgrim.
“I see that the Remembrancers of the Eighth speak true, to a degree. I must admit that my curiosity was piqued when I heard that my brother had taken a confidant aboard his flagship.”
Lita bristled at his words, just what were those Remembrancers saying about her? The Primarch laughed at her obvious distaste,
“Relax, little one, I did not mean to offend. Apologies if my words came across as such. I am Magnus, the Red. Primarch of the Fifteenth Legion, The Thousand Sons.”
Lita curtsied politely as he dipped his head, “There is little need for apologies, Lord Magnus, I fear I find myself in an unfamiliar setting and that it has put me on edge.”
Magnus nodded sagely, “You come from Nostromo, such sights and sounds must be offputting. Well, worry not. I shall keep you company! Should deter the worst of these nosey dignitaries, hmmm?”
Lita chuckled at his playful wink, but nodded all the same. She followed him as they paced the perimeter of the ballroom, their peaceful exchange quite refreshing. She learned much of Magnus and his Legion, and of his homeworld of Prospero. She couldn’t wrap her mind around such a sight, this planet that took pride and stock in learning. It was admirable, and much different than that of Nostromo. Just what could have they achieved if the Barons had been different? If they had concentrated more on their constituents than themselves?
Lita shook her head free of those thoughts, they would do her little good now.
The pair nearly finished their second circuit when one of Magnus’ sons approached and bowed.
“My apologies Lord Magnus, we have need of you.”
“Of course, if you’ll excuse me Lady Lita. It was quite the honor to meet you. I look forward to seeing your work with the Eighth.”
Lita nodded, “Of course, my Lord.”
She watched him navigate the crowd and disappear through the large doors. Once again alone, she scanned the crowd and found her Primarch still in Fulgrim’s clutches. She couldn’t help but smile in amusement, he looked absolutely livid. The nobles were shaking in their boots while his brother chattered away obliviously. She thought to join him, if only to distract him enough that the others could escape. Horrified gasps drew her attention elsewhere and she turned to another of her Primarchs approaching brothers.
This one was different. Covered in warpaint and battered battle armor, unlike the glittering gowns of the people around him. He lumbered through the crowd, pushing aside anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. Lita tried to scramble out of his path just like the rest, but tripped on the hem of her dress.
This unknown Primarch shot his gaze down the moment she hit the ground. A murderous look in his eye shot a chill down her spine. Then everything seemed to happen at once. A black mass flew out of her peripheral and slammed the pair of them into the opposite wall and floor. People were screaming as they tried to escape just as Lita was yanked off the floor.
She was taken away, tucked safely beneath the arm of the Phoenician as the sound of god awful fighting rang in her ears. Like two wild animals yowling and screaming. It followed her out the ballroom as they fled while the rest of the Primarchs ran to break up the fight.
A side room was found and she was gently deposited on an empty chair. She struggled to find her breath, her anxiety rose. She was not a fool, Konrad had attacked his brother. As to why, she did not know.
“Are you hurt?” Fulgrim knelt down, his hands hovering over her in hesitation. Lita shook her head, unable to find her words. “Just relax, you’re safe here. Do you know what happened?”
“No,” Lita swallowed down the lump in her throat, “Lord Magnus had just left my company when one of your other brothers approached.”
“Angron.” Fulgrim nodded.
“He seemed to be in a bad mood and I just wanted to get out of his way, but I tripped. After that…”
She felt as if she didn’t need to explain any further. Fulgrim stood to pace, and the passing minutes seemed to span a lifetime. Lita found herself playing with the hem of her dress, cursing that she’d even been dragged out to begin with.
“Did he seem strange,” Lita asked, “Just before the incident?”
The Primarch gazed thoughtfully at the nearby bookshelf for a moment, “I’m unsure. I suppose that it must be easy to gauge his mood for you, after all you’ve known him the longest. However, I did notice that he became uneasy and still just before he turned and attacked our brother.”
One of his visions then. Lita looked down at her lap. She could only guess at to what he had seen, but easily assumed it had much to do with her. She sighed, and cursed all this wretched waiting this time.
After what felt like hours the door finally opened. Another one of Fulgrim’s brothers entered, clad in dark clothes and a rebreather.
“Is it over?”
The stranger nodded, “Guilliman and Horus broke up the fight fairly easily once they were done trying to kill each other.”
His voice was low, hissing. His tone as nuetral as the bored expression she could see in his eyes.
“How bad?”
“What’s left of them certianly isn’t pretty.” Fulgrim cursed, and Lita clutched at her dress tighter. This unknown brother resolutely ignored her, “They’re being taken to the Medicae Ward a few floors down, we’ve already sent word to their First Captains.”
Awkwardly, the silence stretched until Fulgrim’s brother saw fit to leave.
“What a mess…” The Phoenician pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as the door shut. He turned to give Lita a pained smile, “Come, let’s get you back to the Nightfall.”
“No,” Lita pushed herself from the oversized chair and hit the ground with a sharp thud. “Take me to him. Please.”
He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but Lita stood her ground. She leveled him with the best of her glares, back straight and head held high. He could just as easily pick her up and carry her off, but for whatever reason he relented to her demand.
The Medicae wards were cold, but then again she was still in her dress. The darkened hallways were silent as she was lead through what felt like a maze. Serfs eyed the pair of them, but scurried off all the same when shooed away by her disapproving companion. One door, at the farthest end of this seemingly endless palace, buzzed with activity.
The technicians and doctors parted as the pair of them entered, the room dark save for the flickering of machine lights. A large glass tube stood center in the room, filled with clear liquid with her Primarch suspended inside. Tears slipped down her cheek at the sight and she found herself at his side in mere moments.
He looked beaten and bruised to hell and back. Obvious broken bones and teeth marks across his skin. Her knees felt weak and she collapsed in quiet sobs.
“We heal quickly,” Fulgrim whispered, “He’ll be well soon enough, he just needs a little extra help is all.”
Lita nodded, wiped away her tears and resolutely stayed by his side. Even long after Fulgrim left, and despite the curious and cold gazes of the people around her. She was his confidant, his ear. It would not do well to leave him when she was needed most.
Okay the Khagan is my favorite boy but Our Own Walking Nightmare is an easy second.
One of two goth sons in the family, only this one actually shanked someone at the mall, more than once.
Lil Haunter is a hard guy to find, and I don’t mean just while islandhopping, no. Even once he’s moved onto the motherland you’ll struggle to locate him - and when you do find him he’ll be standing in one of those impossible spots on your island.
Alpharius and Magnus sell NFTs. Konrad eats people who own NFTs. Roboute and Rogal are trying to pass legislation to outlaw NFTs. Leman, Mortarion and Perturabo buy NFTs.
