Parchments and Bolters

The following article is a /tg/ related story or fanfic. Should you continue, expect to find tl;dr and an occasional amount of awesome.

Parchment and Bolter is the latest piece of /tg/ writefaggotry about adept #5552, a perpetual who soon finds herself as the mother figure of the entire Imperium, being the mother the Adeptus Custodes, Sisters of Silence, and Primarchs desperately need.

Beginning on June 29, 2020, it is still in its early stages. Please be patient for more content.

First thread can be found here: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/73461308/ And the second one here: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/73558282/

Story

Introduction

All Empires rise and fall, she witnessed that countless times.

The floor above was filled with muffled sounds of various activities. Be it Space Marines, Imperial Guards, Governors, there was always something going on above. Below the Imperial Palace the adepts of the Administratum roamed about like moles scurrying through the intricate tunnels, serving the Emperor one insignificant task at a time. There, Adept #5552 carried a box of supplies to be delivered to an officer in the docks. If 5552 was forced to tell the truth, she hated the floor levels of the palace. The sheer brightness made her eyes ache, the offices were too far apart, and the labyrinth of a palace was always difficult to navigate. As 5552 descended a long staircase something pushed her off balance.

5552 didn’t remember the tumble she took, but as she opened her eyes she saw her unnaturally bent limbs stitched itself back as if time was rewinding. 5552 quickly looked around the area, making sure that no one saw what had happened. She would have released a sigh of relief, if not for the fact that she saw someone on top of the stairs. A Space Marine, bearing the mark of the Thousand Sons, watching.

5552 grabbed whatever supply that survived the fall then fled the area. She didn’t question why the Space Marine didn’t follow her, only watched. 5552 arrived to the dock, she covered her nose as she entered the office filled with pungent smoke of some fancy pipe.

“My lord, this is the supply that you requested for.” 5552 said.

“Carry that box to the Departmento Munitorum.” The officer ordered, he didn’t even bother checking.

5552 exited the office with another supply to deliver, meaning she has to stay longer in this bright incessant place. Her mind ran with all manners of panic beneath her indifferent demeanor. She was discovered, and in a time like this she thought she would be able to live peacefully. 5552 set the box of supplies then went to the opposite direction of the Dempartmento Munitorum. She needed to escape, fast. 5552 looked for the nearest exit, before she could enter a heavy metallic footstep followed, reminding her of the Men of Iron. It was the same Space Marine, at least she thought, they all looked and acted the same.

“Shit…” 5552 muttered.

The hulking giant of iron walked up to her, a single glowing green eye staring down at her. 5552 heard of the Thousand Sons, it was said that they were capable of other wordly powers, basically space wizards in her own terms. There were no words spoken, instead, 5552 felt her arm twist like wet cloth being wrung. 5552 screamed in pain as her bone popped out of her arm. Her cry of pain didn’t echo, but sounded as if she screamed inside a cramped room. It was not long after that her arm healed as if nothing happened.

“What are you?” The cold voice asked. “You appear and act human yet you are not.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re asking about… master astartes. Just let me go please.”

The Space Marine’s hand glowed in ominous purple. 5552 tried to run to the other direction, only to run into an invisible wall. The Space Marine approached closer, glowing brighter than before, he grabbed 5552’s recently healed arm.

“Let go of me, I haven’t done anything wrong! PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU!” 5552 begged.

The Space Marine dragged her to an arbites that escorted her to a small cell, smaller than her tiny room that barely fit the bedroll. 5552 looked up to the cracked ceiling, lying on the cold floor to find a silver lining in her situation.

“At least I don’t have to see that stupid gold castle for a while…”

Imprisonment

She forgot how many times she had died of hunger and thirst, the only sensation that she felt was the creeping sensation of someone, or something watching her. The piece of stale bread and water did little to no sustenance. 5552 reflected on her life, or whatever fragments that was left in her deep void that she called it “memories”. 5552 forgot how many days it had been, she opened her eyes when she heard two distinct footsteps. There was no energy to stand, even to move her eyes. Whatever they spoke of went on to be mumbled.

“Are you certain she’s human?” A voice asked.

“There is no doubt.”Another voice answered.

The quaking footsteps followed after, growing closer and closer. She wasn’t sure if it was the same Space Marine, they all looked and sounded the same. The giant knelt, green cyclops eyes peering her closer. The creeping feeling came again but the sensation focused on her head.

“You have seen the growth of humanity.” The Space Marine said with a hint of astonishment. “Release her.”

“Are you sure Ahriman?”

“Yes, perhaps our Primarch will have a better understanding than us.”

5552 slowly came to, somehow feeling less tired and much more rejuvenated. There was a musty smell of parchments and ink, like the Administratum. Yet, there was that same creeping feeling but it led to this one giant ball of that sensation. 5552 looked up to follow that said sensation, there was a man in what she could call a throne with piles and piles of books surrounding it. Amongst many Primarchs in the Imperium none could be more obvious as Magnus the Red, given the color of his skin. There was something that she innately feared, the unsettling instinct of being overwhelmed in sheer power.

“So, you’re the child that Ahriman told me of. Tell me, what are you?”

“I'm just a human, my lord.” She Answered.

“No human merely stands up from injuries, child, and no human lives on for millenia.”

5552 wanted to scoff at the very words, if not for the fact that despite many years of her life living on Earth she hasn’t matured at all. She would live life to life, usually leaving one country to another every five years or so. Any wisdom she had would have was a speck of dust compared to them.

“Tell me then.” He leaned, resting his chin on his hand. “Why should I release you?”

I hope you will enjoy. Thanks to everyone that's kind to me. I read stories from /tg/ and wanted to contribute a story of my own. I hope you guys can enjoy it.

The questioned surprised 5552. Release her? What would be the point of locking her up? 5552 turned toward the giant double door only to see it shut with an audible thuum. Any windows or opening was too high and too narrow. She was trapped. It wasn’t death she feared, she died more times than she ate. It was the consequence.

“Why would you contain me in the first place?” 5552 asked.

“You are an anomaly. If it wasn’t for you unable to resist my sons of your custody you would’ve been killed immediately.The only reason you are standing unshackled is because I willed it.” The Primarch spoke with an air of superiority. “So, what is your answer, abnormal child?”

5552’s eyebrow twitched in slight annoyance. 5552 thought of a thousand answers. In her life she never met royalties before. She has seen them but never came face to face and certainly not with psycher powers.

“How do you want me to prove it?”

The crimson Primarch pondered, then answered with a small grin. “Tell me the earliest memory you have.”

Emotions are an anchor. The most sorrowful day she witnessed was the death of Jesus. She’s seen death, she didn’t remember any but assumed of it. Death by torture was the first. A man who wanted to do nothing but help was unjustly killed. For what reason? Because of faith? Differences? Someone that dies while begging for forgiveness for others even while being tortured. A man of true kindness, a son of God. Ever since Jesus Christ promised to return, she’s been waiting since. She still waited for him. The last hopeful day being his resurrection.

“So you have witnessed the folly of religion as my father has then, if he was truly the son of God he would’ve been saved. It is absurd to worship what is not real.” The Primarch said. “For your sake you better discard such thoughts.”

“Not anymore, but I do not believe religion is the root of all problems, it is ambition my lord.” 5552 said. “History has proved it and I have seen it.”

“Do you deny the Imperial Truth?” The Primarch’s voice slightly rose.

“I do not deny it, but it is not the whole truth. I am just a human, but I have walked with history. I am not here as a threat and only wish to live a peaceful life, if you will permit it.”

Magnus the Red did not react but merely listened. Eventually, 5552 was released with no words of what her future will be.

Reassignment

“Can I ask why my lord?” 5552 asked.

The Administratum Master looked up lazily, barely paying any attention to 5552’s surprised face. 5552 looked at her new transference parchment. She would be exclusively working with the Adeptus Astartes. She didn't mention which legion she would be working with but it still didn’t make sense. Only a Prefect of higher would attain the honor (or the dread) of working with one. It didn’t make sense to her, unless that Primarch had to do something with it. She didn’t remember any serfs working exclusively with the Space Marines.

“No, you may not know because even I don’t know. But I do not question, I follow.” The Prefect said lazily. “Dismissed.”

However, it didn’t matter what she thought. Her room was occupied by another adept, and wasn’t even given the chance to retrieve her personal items. She hoped her pet rock would give solace to the new resident. 5552 looked at the map to her new quarters, now in the upper level of the Palace. She read the transference parchment as she traveled the palace.

“To do whatever menial task is asked of, not attached to specific legions as of yet…” 5552 sighed. “That doesn’t sound good.”

5552 rested on the staircase that seemed to go on and on. The map may seem short but the direction did not explain how far she needed to walk. 5552 leaned her body on the staircase. Her legs and ankles ached. She looked up to see the stairs that she had to climb more, at this rate she would arrive in maybe a few hours to days. 5552 groaned as she stood up then began climbing the stairs once more. Whoever made the order her new position was a sadistic man for sure. 5552 trudged along the golden stairs, time stopped being time but a stagnant sensation. Eventually, reached the top where it seemed like the land of giants. 5552 felt accomplished, as she climbed the final step of the stairs she failed to see an astartes turning around the corner. As 5552 lost her balance she could only mutter one sentence.

“Not this shit again.”

Falling down the stairs was a new motif to 5552. She was no longer on the golden stairs but inside a large room on a soft bed, certainly larger than her previous room that is. It was rather simple, set up with the most basic utility items like a small apartment. It was not long until she realized a sticky note on her forehead. She squinted her eyes, the last time she used High Gothic was such long time ago. Being a normal usually meant using Low Gothic. 5552 read the note.

When you are awake, come outside of your room.

5552 stepped outside of her room. Only to see a giant woman clad in gold and bald or so she thought for a moment, she noticed the strange hairstyle that reminded her of a plumage on helmets.

Sorry for the late update, I wanted to treat you guys to a good art. 5552 looked up at the silent woman, clad in golden armor that merely looked at her. Her head began to hurt, with a feeling of uneasiness that she couldn’t help but be unable to ignore. The woman leaned down then reached out her hand. 5552 stood there confused, then slowly reached her hand out to grasp hers. With hands together and an understanding nod she led the way. The custodians and women of similar appearance merely glanced at 5552 before returning to their duty. The room she was led inside exploded in gaudy gold and other expensive looking furnitures. The woman gestured at the opulent couch. Then she gestured once more before leaving, though 5552 wasn’t sure what that meant this time. It’s been a few minutes inside the room that stank of decadence, she tried to open the door but only to discover it to be locked.

She wasn’t sure when but the door eventually opened, an old hooded man entered, carrying an eagle staff.

The hooded man was unlike the tall astartes that she was familiar with. Yet, he carried an aura like none other. His wrinkled face creased as he squinted his eyes at 5552, he rubbed his chin as he inspected her. He reached out his hand to touch her cheeks, turning her head one side to another with a low “hm” as he inspected further. 5552 didn’t bother resisting, she just knew doing so meant a worse fate than currently she was in.

“As humanity crawled out of its cradle you have walked alongside with it in the shadows.” The old man said. “You have seen much have you not?”

“I have, my lord. That is why I prefer to remain in the shadows.” 5552 answered.

The old man nodded, eyes scowling but his expression was calm. “You prefer to cower in the dark for self-preservation.”

“I am not a coward. I merely sought solace.” 5552 said.

“No matter what words you layer it, the truth is the same.” The old man said bitterly.

“Is self-preservation a crime? An ill sin that is to be glowered upon and to be ashamed of?” 5552 questioned, her soft eyes hardened. “The only thing humanity is capable of is death and destruction and I wanted no parts of it! So yes, I chose to hide in fear and spite! Does admittance finally satisfy you?”

“No, you are an immortal, you wasted your life in fear. Do you not wish to do more?”

“No. I tried and I won’t try again. Did you come here to tell me what I already know?”

The old man did not reply but simply left the room. 5552 was escorted back to her room, she preferred to call it a jail more than anything. 5552 lied on her bed, closing her eyes and the memories flooded back in. Fragments of memories crawled out of their graves in her moment of vulnerability.

She remembered the Crusade, a war that spilled blood like how the bishops would spill his wine in a drunken stupor.

She remembered Agincourt, and the cry of a girl as she was raped in front of the corpse that was her father.

She remembered Bastille, and all the heads that rolled after.

She remembered the Somme, and the young boy promised a life of happiness, a promise that went unfulfilled.

She remembered Pearl Harbor, and the sound of the fighter planes roaring in the air.

She remembered the wanton cruelty of humanity is capable of and acted upon.

She remembered why she gave up.

She remembered.

5552 swam in her memory. Humanity wasn’t worth it, or was she just too pessimistic enough to forget about the good times she had? She wasn’t like the Emperor with a grand idea of unifying humanity. She was human, that happened to be immune to fatal wounds and injuries. The door opened once again, this time two custodians entered. Same with the woman they silently beckoned her to follow. She was in what it seemed to be a large dressing room. The custodians left and the silent women entered after. In their hands were sets of clothing that only a High Lady would wear. No, a High Lady would wish to wear. 5552 didn’t resist as they stripped her clothes then helped her wear the new golden dress, bearing the aquila. She only wanted to know what was going on. Of course, her questions went unanswered.

After an ungodly hour of being dressed she was then ushered into the giant gold gate she saw before. She moved rather awkwardly due to the heavy weights of the dress and the hefty gold decoration dangling on her clothes. She walked awkwardly as the women behind her accompanied her behind. 5552 waited and waited until they arrived. The Emperor of Mankind and another man in power armor just as intricate as the Emperor’s. A rush of elation ran through her, any negative emotion gone. Sadly, it only lasted for a few minutes. 5552 squinted at the lights that shone out of the Emperor and didn’t bother to question how on Earth that would even work. The Emperor’s voice thoomed like an echo of a rung bell, yet his mouth did not move. His voice echoed inside her head.

Meeting with the Emperor

“I have not expected to see another.” The Emperor said, voice soothing yet authoritative. “Welcome.”

5552 with her knee on the floor. “I give you the most sincere greetings, my Emperor. It is an honor to be in your presence.”

“Stand.”

5552 did as she was told, almost stumbling thanks to the new weight of the dress. Her eyes briefly met with the man next to the Emperor, a charismatic man with a wolf pelt hung over his power armor, he simply nodded slightly then returned his attention to the Emperor.

“Malcador has informed me that you prefer to be inconspicuous rather than lead.”

“I do. That is where I belong.”

“I have witnessed what you have as well. Do you not see the potential of humanity?”

“I do not. Do you not remember when the Men of Iron attacked? And the disgusting barbarism that followed after?”

“He dares question father?” A voice said from the above

5552 looked up, seeing more uniquely armored giants.

There was a brief but volatile argument. One that filled with threats laid against 5552. She quickly averted eyes toward the top, then back to the Emperor. The arguments ceased immediately as the Emperor raised his hand with a slight glance toward the top as well. It was an amazing thing to see, like watching highly trained soldiers following orders to the very letter of the instruction. The Emperor’s attention returned to 5552.

“I understand your pain. I am here now and I will lead humanity to its rightful place. An individual that has seen humanity as long as I have is knowledge that humanity needs.” The Emperor declared as if 5552 already joined.

“I cannot not help you.”

“For what reason?” The Emperor asked calmly. “Do you not see what this Imperium can achieve?”

“All empires rise and fall.” 5552 answered. “You have witnessed it too.”

“I am here to take humanity at its helm to a new era.” The Emperor declared once more.

“Every conqueror has thought that my Emperor.” 5552 reminded. “While spilling blood across the fields like you are. You are a conqueror like many before you.”

5552 heard another argument but much more quiet, hushed in sharp whispers. At this point she couldn’t care much. It wasn’t her first time if she was to be imprisoned, she actually liked it since it made her feel one with the prison cell. Time was but an eternal shackle for her.

“I may be, but I am to unify humanity to a new light, not for my own greed.” The Emperor replied. “I cannot force you, I implore you to do so.”

The light surrounding the Emperor shone brighter. For some reason, 5552 believed it. That there was no malice or deception in the golden Emperor. 5552 wanted to believe him, that maybe this is what she was meant to do. Her cynicism and hope clashed. 5552 closed her eyes then looked up back to the Emperor.

“I will join you.”

There was a quick upward curve on the Emperor’s lips, something that could be registered as a stiff smile. 5552 watched the Emperor stand from his throne, the women behind her knelt, 5552 followed their movement but not before peeking up. The quick glance showed the Primarchs intensely focusing on their father, eagerly waiting but with stalwart vigilance. The room was silent, she no longer felt alone in the psychic conversation as she felt more presence surrounding her. She waited for whatever judgment that would be followed.

“Adept 5552. You are an immortal. Walked with humanity as much as I have. I have finally found another that has witnessed as much as I have. For that I am elated.”

“The honor is all mine, my Emperor. To hear your words is an immense honor I will ever achieve in my life.” 5552 answered mechanically.

“Your long life left you with nothing but hopelessness, despair, regret, wrath and sorrow. However, I also see jubilation, hope, passion, and love.” The Emperor said warmly. “You will guide my sons, not in the ways Malcador or I do. No, you will teach my sons what it truly means to be humans. Not as their mentors, but as their mother. From now on, they will be your sons, as will the rest of the Imperium of Man shall be."

There was a varied reaction from above once again. She heard a chastisement to a one named Lorgar. A smooth velvety voice laughing after predicting what his father will take next. Then another being named Fulgrim told to stay quiet once more after his insult to her appearance. There was a chatter again, different voices giving their opinions from the top. Their gaze rested on 5552, waiting for a response. She closed her eyes, then opened it again.

“I will accept my position. From now on, sons and daughters that fall under the Aquila shall be my sons and daughters.”

5552, hoped- no, she prayed. She prayed that history won’t repeat again.

Meeting the Primarchs: Rogal Dorn

Soon as 5552 was dismissed she returned to her new room, if she can call it a room. It was a grand penthouse. However, the gold she hated so much was now everywhere she went. She wouldn’t be safe from the yellow menace. Her existence wouldn’t be made known in the Imperium yet, for reasons she didn’t much care for. What she did care was that none of her sons arrived to meet her, for months on end she simply wandered around the palace in her new clothes which she didn’t care for at all. Sometimes a Custodian or a Sister of Silence that would enter a room and merely sit here or lay their head on her lap sometimes. She wasn’t against it, comforting was a mother’s job after all.

5552 sat in her bed, losing herself in the fragment of her memories. The giant double door of her room opened, a man with white hair and golden armor entered the room. She already knew who that was, already memorized her son's appearance, names, and other miscellaneous information. Rogal Dorn, the Primarchs of the seventh legion walked then knelt to her mother.

“Mother.” Rogal said stiffly. “I am here to greet you as your son.”

“There is no need for your kneeling, stand so I can see you better.” 5552 smiled warmly with a smile. “I am happy to meet you, my son.”

Rogal did not stand, his head was still staring at the ground. “I cannot. I have failed to greet because I did not wish to meet you without a reason as to not frivolously waste your time.”

“You do not need a reason to see your mother Rogal.” 5552 said. “Please, stand so I can see you better. I will always welcome you, with or without a reason. ”

Rogal stood up, he now looked down to his small mother. “That is why I have brought a gift for you.”

“Oh?”

The door opened once more, four astartes entered with a transparent crystal in its raw beautiful form.

“This crystal is from Inwit, the planet I was raised in. It is my gift to you mother.” Rogal said stiffly. “I will leave now.”

Rogal turned around to leave.

“Before you leave, how about some tea?

Rogal was already near to his door, when he turned 5552 already had a pot of tea and six cups already poured and ready wearing a gold weaved apron..

“You wouldn’t want your mother to drink this all by herself would you?” 5552 questioned weakly. “Your sons can join as well.”

Rogal turned to his sons, thanks to their helmet he could not gage the reaction of his men. 5552 watched Rogal close his eyes in resignation.

“I will join you, mother. So shall my sons.”

Meeting the Primarchs: Konrad Curze

(so my plan is to give at least one interaction with each primarch while slightly advancing the story. I’m rolling a d20 for which primarchs to do on)

It took a long time for Malcador and the Emperor on how to introduce her as the “Empress”, 5552 was eased in and was given no power to appease the lords. Though that didn’t stop other lords from assassinating her, First was poisoning, which led to having astartes escorting chefs. Second being wanton "accidents". Then the assassin themselves infiltrated the palace but never passed the vigilant guardians. Under the dark azure sky 5552 bathed in the moonlight among the flowers of the Imperial Garden. She hummed, smelling the flowers idly. A dark figure appeared behind her, a somber man with skin pale as the moonlight itself.

“So you’re Konrad.” 5552 said. “I wondered when I was going to meet you. Your brothers are quite shy much like you.”

Konrad remained stoic, as many other Primarchs were. “Where are your guards?”

5552 pointed at the custodes in the entrance of the garden, while . “They’re over there.”

“They should be accompanying you.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Death is not a concern of mine.” 5552 said in a selfishly confident tone. “And I know you and your sons will protect me. Don’t think I haven’t seen you my son. I’m happy what you have come to meet me.”

5552 approached closer, Konrad took a step back.

“Let me see you closer.” 5552 took another step. She quickly grabbed Konrad’s hand, a portion of his glove that is. “Are you afraid of your own mother?”

Konrad remained silent, unmoving as she guided Konrad’s hand to her cheeks. The menacing claw only gained with a quick, indifferent glance. The skulls however needed a talking too, then again that would apply to all of her sons. She hoped they did not have that kind of inclinations.

“I know you’re not the cold monster that they see you of. It takes a noble and strong heart to wield cruelty without succumbing to madness. Remember this.”

“I… I will try, mother.” Konrad replied.

“You need no reason to see me, as I need no reason to see you.” 5552 pulled his hand. “Come, the flowers are beautiful at this time.”

Meeting the Primarchs: Vulkan

5552 rested in her room as always. It was a boring life. Roaming around the palace has lost it’s appeal after exploring most of the palace interior. Now, she was inside her room either sleeping, eating or… There was a soft knock. The door slightly creaked open, revealing a Sister of Silence peeking out of the door. 5552 beckoned her to enter as she sat on her bed. The sister first knelt, then with 5552’s gesture to rise the Sister would lie on her bed, resting her head on the Empress’s lap. Due to a Sister’s usual disposition 5552 could not tell when a Sister would fall asleep. Nevertheless, 5552 happily lent her lap to any sister, astartes, or a custodes. A mother’s genteel would never be spared for any children of the Imperium.

The land of Nocturne was a deathworld. There was nothing pretty about the planet or any resource the planet had. Only death awaited any that would be foolish enough to invade the planet. However, there was one bright aspect of the planet. The one source that made the planet Nocturne equal to an agri-world or even above them. The people. Their wrath was fierce as the beasts that lurked the planet. Their hearts, burning brighter than the lava of Mount Deathfire, would never dim. Yet, the people were also capable of levity and love unlike other planets. Just like the Salamanders’ brotherhood the value of family was instilled deep in the fiery deathworld. Vulkan was no exception, he was the embodiment of the spirit of Nocturne.

There were no grand marvels or bright jewels, the only jewels she saw were the bright ruby eyes of the people of Nocturne. 5552 wrapped her arm on Vulkan’s hand thanks to her height. Vulkan pointed to humble buildings. 5552 discovered that the reason why she has yet to meet all her sons was rather a petty reason. First impressions mattered and they were set on being the favored son. 5552 laughed as Vulkan explained.

“No wonder they refuse to see me.” 5552 said as she laughed. “A mother has no favorite, I love all my sons equally. Just like you love your people equally.”

“Mother, if I may ask. Were there other sons before us?” Vulkan asked carefully.

Vulkan saw a smile that he had never seen before. A smile of regret, happiness, and sorrow.

“No.” 5552 answered.

“No?”

“If you have lived as long as I have, you fear many things Vulkan. Losing loved ones is more fatal than any wounds.” 5552 said. “I know that you must fight, but do not throw your life frivolously Vulkan.”

“I will accompany you as long as I can mother. That is a promise.”

She smiled. “I will hold on to your promise. Let me see you closer, my son.”

Vulkan knelt, closing his eyes as his mother kissed his forehead.

“Lord Vulkan!”

The people called out. 5552 nodded understandingly. The child giggled as Vulkan lifted him, smiles all around wherever Vulkan would be. There was no need to teach Vulkan of humanity, for he already possessed it more than any of his brothers. Just as he can forge mighty weapons, she hoped he would forge indomitable bonds with his brothers that would last an eternity.

Meeting the Primarchs: Perturabo

The meeting with Perturabo was uneventful, he entered and spoke using the word “mother” sparingly. Perturabo asked what she saw in her long life, specifically of architecture, arts and philosophies. She spoke about great cities like Alexandria, Rome, and Constantinople that she once lived in. Perturabo absorbed all of her stories with intense fascination, especially her interactions with Socrates, Plato, Diogenes, Epicurus, and Bertrand Russell.

Two days after Perturabo visited again. He brought his mother to a bountiful agri-world that was closest to the old Terra she was familiar with.

“Behold, my gift to you.” Perturabo announced.

It was a wondrous sight. In the middle of a sea of wheat fields a building was erected in the style of the ancient civilizations 5552 talked about. There was a tall statue of 5552 at the entrance, sculpted by Perturabo. Inside the building, 5552 was stunned at what she saw. Artworks of ancient Terra were displayed in its full glory. There was an old portrait of a friend she once knew, a man named Vincent Van Gogh. Even works from Leonardo Da Vinci, an ambitious man that gifted her a hidden blade once. 5552 wiped a single tear from her eyes, she didn’t know how long it had been since she cried in joy.

“Does this satisfy you?”

“I love it.” 5552 said breathlessly. “It’s beautiful Perturabo.”

Perturabo awkwardly shifted as he saw his mother cry. He had seen death, wrath, and lamentation, but never tears of happiness.

“You can visit whenever you want, mother. There will be an escort frigate always prepared should you want to visit.” Perturabo turned to the exit. “I will leave you to enjoy it in peace.”

“Have I told you the story of my friend Vincent and Leonardo?” 5552 asked as she pointed at the portrait.

“No, you have not.” Perturabo answered.

“Then come, I will tell you.” 5552 extended her hand to her son. “You like these stories don’t you?”

They walked hand in hand as she colorfully retold of each artwork and her involvement in it. Perturabo did not speak but only listened, his fixed frown eased as he listened to his mother’s soothing voice. 5552 grabbed her son’s hand.

“No matter what manners of mud, grimes, dirt, and blood cover you. They will never snuff out the bright light that is you. Remember that Perturabo, my son, my Great Artificer of Terra.”

Meeting the Primarchs: Ferrus Manus

(this story is set after she had met most of her sons. Hope you’re all enjoying the story so far. I’ve read some comments and I’m happy to see it. This got longer than I expected. I'll reply after I'm done.)

5552 met most of his sons by now. Only a few were left, Mortarion, Corvus, Ferrus, and Angron were left for her to meet. 5552 laid in her bed in her personal quarters inside Battleship now named “Our Revered Golden Mother.” She wasn’t particularly fond of the name and actually preferred the old name “Stalwart Fist”. It was the Admiral’s decision when he discovered 5552 would be the highly prioritized escort.

After a tour of a planet that was recently conquered into the Imperium she was informed of an emergency vox message. The Primarch of the 10th Legion was wounded. A wound wasn’t to be worried but to wound a Primarch would be considered a deadly force. There was no hesitation on 5552’s decision. She ordered the battleship to intercept the Grand Cruiser Ferrrus was in. 5552 rushed into the bridge connecting her ship to Ferrus’s, her long mermaid gown weaved in gold fluttered. She briefly conversed with the Forrix, the 1st Captain of the Iron Hands.

“I apologize. My Empress. My father does not wish to be seen.”

5552 hesitated. “I see. He has ordered you to prevent me from seeing him?”

Forrix nodded regretfully. 5552 turned to her Admiral.

“Amiral Ludwig, are there any tasks that need your immediate attention?”

“No, my Empress.”

“Then give yourself and your men some time off. I will remain here.”

The Admiral saluted, then left to his ship. Forrix raised his eyebrow as he saw the Empress sitting on the floor.

“My Empress?”

“If Ferrus will not wish to see him. I will wait until he does. He hasn’t ordered you to prevent me from that, has he?”

“No, my Empress. Should I bring some food and water?”

5552 smiled. “A blanket would be nice as well dear.”

5552 peeked her eyes open. For hours now she waited for the Space Marines to leave her alone while she pretended to be asleep. It was then she heard door door open with a heavy footstep. She was lifted up then brought to a softer surface yet still hard as a floor. 5552 pretended to sleep, she waited for Ferrus to sleep.

“There’s no need for you to pretend. I can hear your breathing.” Ferrus said. “This is not how I wanted to meet you.”

“Oh.” 5552 said awkwardly, she sat up on Ferrus’s bed, seeing the bandages on his stomach and head. “Are you hurt?”

“You are wasting your time. Leave.” Ferrus said with a growl, he winced when he moved his arm.

“No.” 5552 said frankly. “Your bandaging needs changing. Stay there Ferrus.”

“What? I will not be-” Ferrus questioned

5552 leaned close to his son, locked in an intense staring contest. “Stay. There.”

5552 took the grudging silence as his compliance. After receiving more bandages she began to replace it. There was a tense silence shared between the mother and son.

“I didn’t want to see you like this.” Ferrus admitted.

“Like what?” 5552 asked,

“Like a weakling, a dog licking his wounds.”

She tightened the bandages more than the necessary strength. Ferrus winced lightly as a pressure stung his stomach.

“Don’t be drunk in your dangerous ambition then.” 5552 chastsized sharply. “You try too hard to compare yourself to your brothers when there is no need to.”

“How did you-”

“I am your mother Ferrus. You may not have noticed me but I do keep an eye on all of you. And don’t think I haven’t seen you training on your own every time you visited Terra.” 5552 cupped her hand on Ferrus’s cheeks. “Now listen to me. Each one of you are born with each special talent. Something your brothers all forget too many times.” Ferrus remained his stoic silence. 5552 finished her bandaging, she sat on the bed next to Ferrus.

“You are strong and ambitious Ferrus. You strive yourself to increase your limits every day and believe it or not your brothers follow your example, even Horus.” 5552 patted Ferrus’s arm. “Without you there will only be stagnation amongst your brothers. That’s why you can’t throw yourself to danger haphazardly, do you understand?”

“I do.” Ferrus replied.

“Good.”

5552 exited the room then returned with a large bowl of soup fit for a Primarch.

“What is this.”

“Chikinus Noodlus Souppette or Chicken Noodle Soup, I don’t know why it has such a complicated name now... “ 5552 scooped a good helping of chicken and noodle in the large spoon then blowed on it. “Now say ’ah’.”

“Mother, I can-”

“Do you dare defy your mother, Ferrus Manus?”

For a second, Ferrus swore he saw a flash of hidden wrath behind her peaceful eyes. A collection of bottled fury that shouldn’t be unleashed.

“N-no... “ Ferrus answered.

“Then say ‘ah’ sweetheart.”

“Ah…”

Personal Log of Sergeant Urose

+++Personal Entry+++

++1539801.M33++

+Sergeant Urose+

+[REDACTED] Company, [REDACTED] Regiment.

+Personal Log Entry+

+Auto Scribe No.52165135161+

When I heard when The Emperor took in a wife I expected someone just as mighty and majestic as him. I would’ve slapped my past self if I could, I’ve judged her appearance only. She was beautiful in her regal majesty, there was no doubt in that. What I didn’t expect was how… motherly she actually was.

The title “Mother of Imperium” is what I assumed to be a figure of speech, a symbolic representation. It was the usual. Parade, speech, inspection, then the tour of the base. No one could find her, not even the Custodians that guarded her. I merely assumed her to be with the Generals, until I saw the Custodian guarding the entrance to the mess hall. It couldn’t be, I thought. Yet there she was, serving every guardsmen with a simple ladle in her hand and a simple, colorless apron

This “Chicken Noodle Soup” and “Chicken Tenders” was not only filling but warm, simple, and charmingly rustic. like my mother’s cooking back home. The most confounding part was she knew the names of EVERY. SINGLE. Guardsmen. All 522,269 of them. From the lowest Privates to the highest officers, she knew of their home and life. She asked me how my sister did in her university and the flu I was getting over. Her stiff formality was gone and replaced with what you’d expect from a… well a mother. She called me “sweetheart” and referred to other guardsmen and officers as “Sweetie” “Dear” and “Sugar”.

Easy to say, the morale was at its highest after her visit. Though a pilot received non-judicial punishment due to painting our Empress on their bombers in a lewd manner. I should call my mother... see how she’s doing.

+++END OF LOG+++

To be continued/images to be inserted Soon™