Chapter Text
Perturabo Redemption
Prologue
“So this is it” Asked the Khan, eyes like a hawk staring at the Emperor of mankind, once a mighty conqueror and tyrant that the Khan respected bedruginly, now a rotting corpse sat upon a throne sustained by countless sacrifices.
“Yes” The Emperor, a carcass barely kept together by forgotten technology communicated using his psychic might, looking with his with sight at the 8 loyalist Primarchs each as bright and powerful as a constellation that were still alive after the horus heresy, now reunited in the throne room on a table meant to host 22 seats or all the members of the imperial family including Malcador.
Now only 8 of them were there the lords of the I, V, VI, VII, XIII, XVIII, XIX, XX and the lord of silver assisted the reunion
“Why should we not kill them then, they are traitors to our dream” Said this time Lionel El-Jhonson eager to accomplish his duty, eager to slay his fallen brothers the same way he slayed the beasts of Caliban.
“Despite the fact they have erred, VIII and IV may yet be redeemed, they're death may mean another pawn to the great enemy, the only enemy that counts, given how many we lost, it isn’t wise to kill them as their souls could reach to the four for salvation, Primarch souls are after all a powerful thing” The Emperor responded or rather made his more coherent line of thoughts public to the rest of the assistants, treating his spawn by number as in its current state, to obscure the truth was nigh impossible in the current state of the anathema, there was nothing to hide anymore, just regret and consequences, they were just tools.
“If at any given moment you could have cured them of their faults, why didn’t you do it before the whole heresy happened?” Asked Vulcan, his voice denoting a primordial hiss of anger not dissimilar to one made by a reptile at the master of a million worlds that remained unfazed, what was a constellation compared to the sun?
“Because that was our fat,” Malcador responded calmly, much to the surprise of all the presents except the Emperor.
“During your creation, the Emperor made a deal with the chaos gods that half of you shall fall to their machinations and the other shall remain steadfast, might as well let the monsters and the broken fall” He said with a shrug, as if someone just asked him the hour at which a pitcast would be transmitted.
“So what now?” Asked leman russ, regret and shame tainting his voice at the actions he and his legions did during the heresy, staring at the floor like a dog that had wronged its master.
“Now, we have a species to save” Responded the Emperor with something anyone but Malcador had ever seen, a genuine smile.