What do you fight for?
As they hurtled through space, the Emperor filled Aionos in on his long-lost brothers, the other Primarchs. Aionos only had fuzzy memories from back when they were all sucked into that crazy warp portal as babies. He remembered flashes of these Demigod's – one real psychic powerhouse, another who could charm the pants off a daemon, and this giant rage-aholic. That was basically it, thanks to that whole abduction thing.
The Emperor, though, went into way more detail. He briefed him on all their victories, defeats, backstabbing, and bromances. Aionos soaked it all in, his head spinning. Part of him was curious to meet these legendary figures, the other part was like, 'uh oh, hope they're not jerks.'
Space travel wasn't just about staring out the window anymore. It was a chance for Aionos to figure himself out. He wasn't just some killing machine anymore, he was a son coming home to a messed up family. A stranger with a messed up past and a maybe-kinda hopeful future.
The endless stars mirrored the endless stuff he had to deal with – finding his place in this new world, getting along with his brothers (hopefully), and keeping the memory of Eldengard alive. Basically, a whole lot of pressure in a very big spaceship.
As Terra, the golden heart of the Imperium, loomed ever larger on the viewport, Aionos felt a surge of nerves. He sought out the Emperor, a figure radiating power even amidst the grandeur of the starship. This wasn't just his leader anymore; a tentative hope flickered - could this be a father?
Aionos poured out his story. He described Akros in its pristine beauty upon arrival, the city of Eldengard a beacon of hope. He relived the battles, the desperate struggle against the Tyranid swarm, the surge of pride as he became Eldengard's hero. But the joy turned to ash in his mouth as he spoke of the city's fall, the weight of his failure heavy on his tongue. He confessed the helplessness, the rage that choked him, the despair that threatened to consume him.
The Emperor listened intently, a flicker of sadness in his eyes that mirrored Aionos' own pain. Though Aionos might not have seen him as a father, the Emperor held onto that title fiercely. This wasn't just about a Primarch, a weapon honed for war. This was about a son returning, lost and hurting, and the Emperor, despite the burden of an entire Imperium, savored this moment. A time for connection, for understanding, a human moment precious to every father, even one who held the fate of humanity in his hands.
A hint of a smile played on the Emperor's lips as Aionos finished. "You fought valiantly, my son," he rumbled, his voice deep and comforting. "The fall of Eldengard is a tragedy, but it does not diminish your courage. You are a survivor, a warrior forged in the crucible of war. And now, you are home."
Aionos didn't know what "home" meant anymore, but in the Emperor's gaze, he saw a flicker of something he craved – acceptance, perhaps even understanding. The road ahead was uncertain, fraught with the complexities of a new world and the ghosts of his past. Yet, for the first time in a millennia, Aionos felt a sliver of hope, a hope nurtured by the hesitant bond with the father he never knew.
They continued to talk, rekindling a bond of father and son that was lost, millennium ago. But then the Emperor asked Aionos a question.
The Emperor's question hung heavy in the air. "What do you fight for, Aionos?"
Aionos, for the first time in a millennia, truly considered the question. Was it vengeance, a flickering ember of rage against the capricious Chaos Gods who had killed him? No, that fire had burned itself out in the desolate wastes of Akros.
Akros itself? The planet held a deep significance, a lost paradise he yearned to restore, but it wasn't the sole purpose that drove his immense strength. The eradication of the Tyranids? Perhaps. The unending hunger of that hive mind still rankled him, but it felt hollow as a singular goal.
He closed his eyes, the vast emptiness of space mirroring the hollowness he'd felt on Akros. Then, a spark ignited within him, a warmth that spread through his being. He opened his eyes, a genuine smile gracing his lips for the first time in what felt like forever.
His voice surprisingly steady for someone who'd spent millennia consumed by war, "I fight because I want to love everything with all my power."
The Emperor's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, perhaps a flicker of something akin to pride in their depths.
Aionos may not have been the weapon the Emperor had envisioned, but perhaps he was something more. Perhaps, in the ashes of destruction, a new kind of hero could rise – one who wielded his strength not just to conquer, but to protect, to rebuild, to love. The future remained uncertain, but in Aionos' declaration, a seed of hope bloomed, a promise for a future where his immense power wouldn't just defend humanity, but nurture it.
"Love, huh?" The Emperor's wry smile held a hint of amusement, a rare sight on his usually stoic face. Yet, as he gazed at Aionos, the amusement softened into genuine warmth. "An interesting answer, my son. Perhaps… unexpected." He paused, considering his words carefully. "But then again, the galaxy is a vast and ever-surprising place. Love, in its many forms, can be a powerful force indeed."
Aionos, unused to such open discussion with the Emperor, felt a flicker of curiosity. "Who is Vulkan?" he asked, the name stirring a faint echo in his memory.
The Emperor's smile widened, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. "Ah, Vulkan," he rumbled. "He is another of your brothers, Aionos. A being of immense strength, a master of fire and forge, but also… a being with a heart as warm as the flames he wields. A warrior, yes, but also a healer, a protector of the innocent. I believe the two of you would find much in common."
A spark of interest ignited within Aionos. The idea of a brother, especially one who valued compassion alongside strength, was a novel concept. Perhaps, he mused, this reunion wouldn't be entirely filled with the ghosts of the past. Perhaps, there was a chance for camaraderie, for connection, even in this war-torn galaxy. "I look forward to meeting him, father," he said, the word unfamiliar yet strangely comforting on his tongue.
The Emperor's eyes held a hint of sadness, a fleeting glimpse of a burden carried for millennia. "There will be time for that, my son," he promised. "There will be time for reunions, for forging new bonds. But for now, there is much you must learn about the Imperium, about the challenges we face. And perhaps, you can teach us a thing or two about the power of love in the face of darkness."
———[Chapter End]———
A/N: Man, I really enjoyed making this chapter. I always thought to myself, what if the Emperor had an actual heart to heart moment with one of the Primarchs. Because he's often portrayed as a shit father, so I tried to make a change for a bit.
Anyway, what do you guys think my next course of action should be? Because as things now my plans are:
1. For the Primarchs to meet up, which should be next chapter.
2. The Great Crusade
3. Calm before the storm.
4. The good ol' Heresy.
5. Fall of Cadia.
Only a few plans but I think they are solid. After all I have a few ideas cooked up for those aforementioned plans. But I still want to ask you guys, what should I do next?