Archive of Our Own

It was late, when Hostilia walked into the main chapel on the Sights Unseen, and so the large space was practically empty, save for the few young Brothers and Sisters of the Ecclesiarchy completing their duties, and her Missionary, standing at altar and clearly practising her next sermon. It seemed the masses of her crew had finished their prayers for the day, and were enjoying the celebrations that she had afforded them.

While the junior members of the church graciously bowed their heads and gave space as Hostilia walked through the room, the sound of her boots echoing in the grand vaulted ceilings, Illumina paid her no mind until Hostilia was practically in front of her, grinning impishly as she leaned her arms on the top of the altar.

“Are we working you to the bone?” Hostilia asked, looking again at the late hour. “How many services have you done today, and you’re already preparing more?”

Illumina laughed, soft and sweet, showing no signs of being anything other than in her element. “Three – so that all of the shifts would be able to make it to one. And of course I am, after all the celebrating the underdecks are doing tonight, they are surely going to need some reminding of the gravity of the holiday we are celebrating, that this is not just a time for merriment but of solemn remembrance of the emperor’s grace, and his son’s duty to – Tilly stop giggling.”

Hostilia’s eyes widened innocently, even as her jaw clamped shut to keep even the hint of a giggle from escaping. “My apologies, Deaconess Hamid,” she told her, catching the slight roll of Illumina’s eyes as she reverted back to proper titles, payback for the nickname Hostilia only tolerated from her, “I was simply enjoying the memories of how we used to celebrate The Week of the Primarchs as Novitiates.”

Illumina scoffed at her. “I don’t know why that could be so funny,” she said innocently, even as her dark cheeks took on a lovely rose tinge, “the Sororitas have perfectly appropriate celebrations, and we as novitiates were nothing if not pure -”

“There were yearly militant snowball fights as part of our celebrations, Illumina,” Hostilia reminded her, to which Illumina just huffed.

“Is that what you came down here for?” She asked, shuffling her papers absentmindedly. “To reminisce about snowball fights?”

Hostilia sighed gently, rolling her shoulders. “I – well – not quite. I had been thinking about my time on Novite, and everyone I’ve left behind to take up this position, and -” suddenly her throat felt tight, “I thought... I thought it might be nice to light a candle. For everyone I can no longer celebrate with. I was hoping you would do it with me.”

Illumina’s gaze softened, and she reached out to touch Hostilia’s hand. “Of course I would,” she whispered, squeezing gently. “Come with me.”

They stepped away from the altar, and despite the fact that she knew Illumina was acting in official capacity as the Deaconess of the ship and her Missionary, she could not shake the instinct to intertwine their arms like they so often would as young girls in the convent. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back, taking great care not to accidentally step on Illumina’s robes as she led her to the votive, where a great number of the candles set out were already lit. It seemed her crew had been out in droves, and it did warm her heart a little to see the strength of holy devotion amongst the many decks – it gave her a little more security as they travelled through the warp.

She reached into the box of matches, taking one for herself and passing one to Illumina, before letting her eyes roam until she finally settled on one of the few unlit candles currently left on the table. “Remind me to restock and perhaps up your candle budget,” she murmured, glancing to Illumina out of the corner of her eye.

“I already had it on the notes to speak to you and the Seneschal about,” Illumina told her, sounding incredibly satisfied as she let a burning candle light her own match. Hostilia followed suit, taking a moment to watch the flickering of the light at the end of the candle, before turning her thoughts to the subject of her prayers.

“Steadfast Emperor, Grant eternal rest to those who are no longer with us,” she whispered, picturing the all the girls who had stepped onto the Eurydice with her, and all who had not made it home. “Shine your perpetual light over their souls as they rise to You.” She tipped the match down, letting it’s flame catch the wick of the unlit candle. “Welcome them into Your radiant presence, where they will rest in eternal peace. Thank You for hearing my humble prayer and remembering the soul of my deceased sisters. Amen.” Very carefully, she blew out the match, setting it aside in a small but very full container of used ones.

It wasn’t until Illumina reached out to gently touch her arm that she realized she’d begun to cry. Turning her face away, she swiped at her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve, wishing to rid herself of them. It was not becoming of a Rogue Trader.

“I assume we don’t have a place to leave donations for candles, since their line item on the budget is the largest donation you might need?” Hostilia asked as she turned back, going for humour and determined to ignore any lingering thickness in her voice.

Thankfully, Illumina humoured her, even if she did clearly have a handkerchief in hand just in case. “You would be correct,” she murmured. “While it might be good for the crews to spend a little money on something holy once in a while, you provide all the help for candles we need.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Now,” Hostilia said, rolling back her shoulders and trying to shake off her melancholy, and return to the fun loving Lord Captain they all knew and loved. “I am certain that your next sermon needs no more practice tonight. Come and join the festivities Mina? Please?”

Illumina looked at her for a long moment, searching her face for something, before sighing and relenting. “Alright. I suppose, since I already know this one like the back of my hand, I can spare a little time for celebrating. Even if it won’t be a snowball fight.”

Hostilia laughed, and this time did intertwine Illumina’s arm with hers as she lead her to the festivities of the upperdecks, feeling more at peace now that she’d allowed herself a moment of reflection.

Hostilia had noticed the church as she and her retinue had explored the hive-city hours before, but in the midst of becoming familiar with the planet that would be hosting their celebrations she hadn’t wanted to stop everything for her minor curiosity. So instead, hours later, after everyone had tired and returned to whatever pleased them in their off hours, Hostilia had dressed herself down enough to not be obviously the visiting Rogue Trader, and slipped away, returning to the streets and retracing her steps until she once again found herself standing in front of a building that seemed to have tucked itself away into the city growing around it.

It was clearly old, and despite the fact that it was nearly the holiest day on the calendar and parishioners should be out in droves, the building was quiet, and so dark she couldn’t help wondering if there was even a single person there.

She was unaccustomed to seeing a church so unloved. Even those built on difficult planets, ones almost barren or with the harsh climates that tried to decimate any structure, were generally more loved than this one, buried in the heart of the hive-city it served. On the grand scale, this was a tragedy. In the moment, it meant it was perfect for Hostilia’s outing.

Gently, she pushed open the door, and was unsurprised by the soft creak announcing her presence to anyone left inside. She kept one hand on the gun at her hip, in case she was about to discover this abandoned holy site had become a den for heretics or the general criminals always looking for somewhere safe to hide.

Instead, she found the room empty except for one old woman in robes Hostilia immediately recognized as those of the Adepta Sororitas, who was dutifully going through the church’s evening duties as she had likely been doing for decades, no matter how many or few people attended.

The woman glanced at her for a moment as she lit the candles for an evening mass that would likely never appear, and then sharply turned back as she realized what she had seen. As she made her way over, Hostilia lowered the hood of her cloak, looking around and appreciating how soothing the low light of the church was on her eyes.

“Welcome, young lady. What has brought you to our humble doorstep?” The old woman’s voice creaked worse than the door Hostilia had stepped through, and yet it soothed her soul immediately.

“I was curious. This is such a beautiful old church, I would have assumed that it would be full of patrons this time of the year.” Hostilia was removing her gloves as she spoke, tucking them into her pocket.

The old sister sighed.

“Perhaps, ages ago. But now there are newer, brighter churches, more lively and fitting for the flocks of this hive city.” As she spoke, she began to move, and Hostilia followed her to a suit of benches where the old woman sat down, clearly deciding that if she was going to pause her duties, she might as well rest her feet as well.

“And yet you persist,” Hostilia pointed out, looking at the wall lamps the woman had been lighting when she arrived.

“That we do. The Emperor provides for his faithful, no matter how alone in their faith they may be.”

“Praise the emperor,” Hostilia murmured, and the elderly nun echoed her.

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, watching the lamp light flicker on the old stone walls. It was a blissful quiet, when compared to the noise of the city outside the walls.

“My Abbess used to say that there was nothing more comforting than the quiet of a church in the evening,” Hostilia murmured, taking a deep breath. “Even thought I still think she was mostly trying to chide us for novitiate giddiness and song, I do see what she meant.”

The old woman looked at her in surprise again, and then peered at her, squinting slightly. “I mean no offence in this child, but I would not have taken you for a member of the Ecclesiarchy. You do not look the part.”

Hostilia laughed before she could stop herself. “I take none, sister, I understand. I believe the phrase my Mother Superior used to describe it was ‘Honorarily Retired’. A polite way to say that after a tragedy, I was being called home. Familial duties.” She could still remember the way that woman’s office had smelled of Lho, and the feeling of the telegraph in her hands as she discovered her whole life was changing.

The old Sororitas nodded. “A rare thing, for one of us to have family able to call us back.”

“That is part of why she listened, I think. How could I refuse a call so many of my sisters would have been – perhaps not overjoyed to receive, but overjoyed to have the family to send it.” And also the political need to continue to make nice with the family in charge of the sector’s promethium trade, she thought but did not say. That would not be fair.

“What order were you in, if you will indulge an old sister’s curiosity?”

It was funny to Hostilia, in a way she could not talk about, to know that she was so much older than this woman and yet be treated as so much younger.

“I was a Hospitaller in the Order of the Illuminated Heart,” she told her, shoulders straightening with pride as she said it. No matter how long she had been away or how far she was from Novite, in her heart there was a piece of her that would always be part of her order.

“I am afraid I am not familiar with that order,” Hostilia’s new friend told her, but she just shook her head.

“I would not expect you to be sister,” she said gently. “The Illuminated Heart is a minor order from a sub-sector in another segmentum of the Imperium. I am just very far from home.”

“Most of us are,” the old woman murmured, reaching out and giving a gentle squeeze to Hostilia’s hand.

After a moment, Hostilia cleared her throat. “Sister, would it be possible for me to light a candle at the altar? I have people I would like to ask the Emperor to look after.”

The request was met with an immediate smile. “Of course, we would be delighted to see the candles lit in prayer again.”

The old woman pushed herself up from her spot on the pew, and guided Hostilia to a small altar table off to the side. Hostilia politely ignored the dust that had gathered there as she took a match from the box, lighting it on one of the very few candles that was still burning.

“We ask for the strength to do what must be done, to find those who are lost,” she murmured, carrying the lit match to an untouched candle, “though the way may be hard and the thanks be little. Before us the road is dark and the night is long, and we place the path at your feet and ask for your guidance.” She focused her mind on her ship, on the Sights Unseen and it’s crew, on all of her friends who she had to believe she could still save. “Grant us protection from those wishing to stray us from our goal, give us the strength to steady our hand in the face of evil, and deliver us from darkness into The Emperor’s light, for He alone protects us.”

She gently blew out the match, watching that little flame flicker alone on the bench.

“That is not a prayer I have ever heard before,” the old woman remarked, and Hostilia just nodded.

“A prayer to the Saint of my Order, who I still carry with me to this today.” She murmured, gently removing her gloves from her pocket. “This has been a wonderful visit, sister, but I am afraid I must away, my retinue is likely to wonder where I have wandered off to.”

“I understand dear. Thank you for bringing a little light back to this old place.”

The old woman walked her to the door, where Hostilia paused for a moment. “Sister, I’ve realized I did not get your name, how rude of me.”

“Sister Illumina, they call me – dear why the face?”

Hostilia hadn’t even realized her face had shifted from the smile she’d been wearing a moment ago, and quickly rearranged her face back to it. “It – you share a name with someone I miss very much. Have a good night, Sister,” she said, leaving the door of the church much quicker than she had originally meant to.

Back out in the cold streets of the Hive City, Hostilia took a few steps away to let the ache in her heart subside before turning again to look at the old church, slipping her comm bead back in her ear.

“Abelard? Are you there?”

After a moment, her Senechal’s voice crackled to life. “Of course, Lord Captain. What can I do for you?”

“What would it take for me to become the benefactor of a church?”

“Sanguinala got you in the religious mood I see? Well as long as the church is amenable, I can get started on the paperwork after we’ve finished with the festivities. Will they be? Amenable I mean.”

“I believe so,” she murmured, imagining the old church lit up once again. “It’s decided then. After the festivities, of course.”

“Of course, Lord Captain.”

Hostilia turned the comm bead off, and felt lighter as she raised her hood and turned away from the church, now with plans in place.