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“Mama! Mama, look!” Athena toddled up to the railing on her tiptoes, slapping her tiny hands against the snow-covered stone. She could hear her mother rushing after here, the woman quickly sweeping the toddler up into her arms.
“Athena,” she said with an indulgent sigh. “It’s-
-too cold to be out here this late,” Orestes said from behind her. Athena could hear the grin on his no doubt chapped lips, and couldn’t help a smile of her own, pushing her hips back slightly in a teasing gesture as she leaned against the rail.
“Love,” she said. “It’s our first vacation in years, and I can’t indulge a little? You know how I love wintertime.”
Orestes approached from behind, slinging an arm around her shoulders.
“Not everyone has-
-as much tolerance for cold,” her mother finished with a sigh, pulling her woolen scarf over Athena. The little girl nuzzled her head into the crook of the woman’s neck, giggling.
“But it’s so pretty, mum,” Athena said, keeping her voice down. “All the snowflakes and the stars are so pretty! And the city is so pretty, too, I wanna look!”
“You know your father wouldn’t let you come out in the cold without a coat,” her mother chided. “He’s coming back to visit soon, so-
-you think we could get away with a few extra days off?” Orestes asked. Athena shook her head, straightening up.
“The Council would never let us,” she said. “They need all of us around to run smoothly, and the High Lords would pitch a fit if we were gone for too long.”
Orestes rolled his eyes.
“I’ve always been saying we should get rid of them,” he said. “Our Council already runs things, and we actually know the Imperium. What can a bunch of old men do that we can’t? I-
-get to see Papa soon?” Athena was nearly vibrating with excitement in her mother’s arms, her little legs kicking against the woman’s hip. “When?”
“In just a day or two, little one,” her mother said with a chuckle. “He’s been hard at work on your grandfather’s Crusade for a while, so you can’t be too rambunctious, okay?”
Athena’s little face scrunched up in thought. “What does ram-bunc-tious even mean?” She had to sound the word out carefully.
“Loud and uncontrollable,” her mother answered. “So make sure to be-
-quiet here,” Athena said, watching as a few lights in the city blinked out. A few decorations from the Winter Festival could still be seen in the streets, ribbons and plants and strings of lights slowly covered with snow. Orestes was silent, only humming a noise of agreement.
“It’s peaceful,” she continued after a moment. “So much more than Terra ever is.”
“Those damned Emperor-botherers are half the problem,” Orestes grumbled. “They’d burn half of us at the stake if they could, all for what our fathers did.”
The silence stretched on after he spoke, punctuated only by snowflakes drifting down. Athena could see them bunch up on Orestes’ long eyelashes, melting in his white-blond hair. He met her eyes, and his expression softened.
“Do you-
-miss him so much!” Athena said, giggling. “I can’t wait to show him my new trick thingy I learned, too!”
Athena saw her mother clench her jaw, the older woman grimacing slightly.
“You need to remember to be careful with that, little one,” she admonished. “It’s a wondrous gift, but-“
“-it can help as much as hurt,” Athena finished. She yawned, rubbing her eyes; she could see the snowflakes in her eyelashes and blinked them out, getting an idea. “Mum, let me-
-down sometimes,” Athena said. A part of her ached to say it, but it was true. “He was a good dad, but he had some problems. I think- I think they all did, really.”
It wasn’t the usual joking, the ribbing she’d make about the Primarchs with her cousins (if you could count them as that; truthfully, she preferred not to) and their lack of fatherly capabilities. It was… deeper, almost. Orestes inched a bit closer to Athena, his arm moving down around her hips.
“Even the Angel gave Miriam her own set of daddy issues,” he said, his tone forcibly light. “Sometimes I think they never should have had kids. Any of the Primarchs, I mean. There’s no way to make a half-human like one of us and raise it to be stable, especially not as a Primarch.”
Athena snorted. “Only you can make your self loathing sound-
-so pretty!” Athena was jumping up and down with excitement, holding the snow in her hands; the powder had been shaped into an icy flower, one she held up to her mother with a grin nearly splitting her face. Athena’s mother crouched down to her level, the edges of her coat brushing in the snow, and Athena tucked the flower behind her hair. Even with the little shiver, she could still see her mother’s smile, the woman perking up a bit as she got an idea.
“Little one,” she said. “I bet your father would-
-love us,” Orestes said with a shrug. “Even if they weren’t good dads, they all loved us in their own ways. Even Mortarion.”
Athena had rarely ever seen the Death Guard’s Primarch before the Heresy. All she remembered from her childhood was a tall, pale-haired and gaunt man, hovering over the few gatherings she’d gone to like a ghost. Her father had never spoken to him when she was around, unless it was for formal business.
“I bet Mortarion never tried to plan out your entire life,” she said with a snort. “My old man didn’t try to force anything, but I swear, the weight of his expectations is half of my back pain, even now.”
Orestes’ eyes flickered downward, and the smile that twitched across his lips made a giggle slip from her own. Athena slapped him lightly on the shoulder, laughing.
“You insatiable hound.” There was no heat in her words, just amusement. “I already know what you’re going to-
-say when he finds out?” Athena asked. “I hope he’s not scared or anything, mum.”
Athena’s mother chuckled.
“Dear,” she said, putting a hand on Athena’s shoulder. “Your papa isn’t scared of anything. Roboute’s a Primarch, a little bit of magic isn’t scary. Besides, he might even let you train with your uncle Magnus!”
Athena’s eyes lit up. “I could train with Uncle Magnus? I could see Prospero?”
She’d always wanted to go to another planet. Terra didn’t count, and neither did other worlds in Ultramar, no matter what her papa said — Terra was just for family gatherings, and Ultramar’s other worlds were still home. Anywhere was home, truly, with her-
-family, but since we aren’t, I can say it, ‘thena,” Orestes joked. Athena rolled her eyes.
“Only you get to say it, Ori,” she said. “And that’s only because I love you, even when you’re a fool.”
“And I’m only a fool for you,” he said back. The two’s attention was torn away from each other as the doors to the balcony creaked open. A young messenger boy, wrapped up in thick, woolen robes, carried a data-slate in his arms.
“Lady Guilliman,” the boy greeted, bowing to her before hurrying over and shoving the data-slate into her arms. After a moment, the boy jolted slightly, about to bow to Orestes before the man shook his head.
“I’m no lord, lad,” he said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Just-
-tell me what you two little ladies are doing out here this late?” Both Athena and her mother’s attention shifted to the balcony doors, identical looks of surprise on their faces at the sight of Tarasha Euten. Athena smiled again after a moment, though, running on her little legs to the old woman and getting swooped up into her arms. Her mother took another moment to stand, approaching slower; yes, Tarasha was a kindly old woman, but the fear of a mother-in-law was universal, especially when said mother-in-law had raised a Primarch.
“Athena had gotten out here after her bedtime,” her mother said. “One of the servants told me, so I came out to get her back to bed.”
Tarasha sighed indulgently, poking Athena in the belly and making the girl giggle.
“Little scamp,” Tarasha chided affectionately. “Just like your father, you know that? Always some new-
-problem to deal with,” Athena sighed, looking down at the data-slate. She dismissed the messenger, tucking the slate into her pajama pocket and turning to Orestes.
“We can get away with spending the night here, can’t we?” she asked, a hesitant hope in her voice. “I was hoping to sleep in my own bed for one more night, at least.”
“I think we have time,” Orestes said. “Khonsu never said it was urgent, and you know if he needed us there immediately, it’d be more than just a data slate. We can-
-get to bed early tonight,” Tarasha said to them both. “Mara, your husband’s going to be back tomorrow, and I know for certain he’s missed you and little Athena. You’ll need to be well-rested for tomorrow when he gets back, especially with the feast later.”
“A feast?” Athena groaned. “I hate feasts! They’re so long, and I have to wear the dumby dumb dresses with the poofy skirts, and Papa’s always talking to officials and other people.”
“It won’t be just your papa, little one,” Tarasha said. “Your uncle Corvus is coming to visit, and he’s bringing his family, too. His wife Ramona is even pregnant with a new baby.”
That drove any sort of complaint from Athena, the girl letting out an excited squee at the idea of a new baby cousin. As Tarasha set her down, she hurried herself back to her bedroom; she knew the Fortress well enough, and nobody would-
-dare to disturb Athena and Orestes as they raced each other back to her chambers, peals of laughter bouncing off the stone walls.