Chapter 45 Horus is Horus
The Emperor sensed something was wrong with his eldest son.
Horus had always possessed intensity — a warrior's focus, a commander's drive — but recently that intensity had curdled into distraction. He drifted during briefings, stared too long at star charts, and lost himself in thought even during their daily chess matches.
The Emperor, who could perceive the movements of fleets across light-years and feel disturbances in the warp like ripples on water, found himself confronted with a mystery:
He did not know what troubled his son.
After consulting the small book Yuki had forced upon him, he decided — reluctantly — to ask directly.
The Chessboard
During their daily game, the Emperor defeated Horus with embarrassing ease. Horus barely reacted when his last piece fell.
"My son," the Emperor said calmly, "you are not present. What troubles you?"
Horus blinked, returning from wherever his thoughts had wandered.
He knew his recent performance had been poor.
Two matters weighed upon him.
The first was Mordecai Threxion's return. Horus rejoiced at his brother's brilliance — truly, he did — yet he could not ignore the pressure of Mordecai's meteoric achievements. A commander measured by victory could not remain indifferent when another rose so swiftly.
The second was Yuki.
Horus was not jealous of his brothers' affection for her. In his heart, he believed his extraordinary sister deserved the admiration of them all.
What unsettled him was something quieter.
More frightening.
He might no longer be the most special person in her heart.
Thirty Years
Horus carried a small, stubborn pride.
For thirty years, he had stood beside Father and Sister.
No other brother shared those years.
He had been the first returned son.
The most trusted.
The most seen.
He believed that even when his brothers returned one by one, he would remain uniquely precious to them.
Yet now…
Perhaps Father remained distant with the others — Horus had not seen him grow close to them.
But Yuki seemed to move naturally among them.
Laughing.
Guiding.
Cooking for them.
Horus was not hurt by missing that meal.
He was frightened by what it meant.
Was he no different from the others?
And if he was not different…
should he be?
He knew the thought was selfish.
But the voice inside him whispered:
I want to be the most special.
The Question
Horus lifted his eyes carefully.
"Father… what kind of son would you choose as Warmaster?"
The Emperor nearly sighed.
Had I not made this obvious enough?
He had given Horus the golden ring. His words then had nearly been a declaration.
But he could not speak such favoritism openly. The unity of his sons mattered more than honesty.
So he answered carefully.
"A Warmaster must do more than win victories. He must bind the armies of the Imperium together. Most importantly… he must be the bond that unites his brothers."
Misunderstanding
Horus's vision blurred.
It was over.
Mordecai Threxion's victories spoke for themselves.
His rapport with his brothers was effortless.
Horus had struggled with Russ.
Mordecai had befriended him within days.
Was Father not clearly describing Mordecai?
Horus swallowed hard.
"Yes, Father… it should be so… I… understand…"
The Emperor stared at him.
What had he said wrong?
He had just described Horus perfectly.
Victories. Correspondence. Brotherhood.
Why did the boy look as though the sky had collapsed?
The Emperor glanced at Yuki's book.
This scenario was not covered.
He made a decision.
"Summon the Princess. Immediately."
Yuki Arrives
"So," Yuki said, arms folded, "you called me here for this?"
"Yes."
"Tsk."
"I did exactly as you said this time."
She sighed, then nodded.
"You did well. Asking directly is progress."
She paused.
"I'll speak with Horus."
Horus's Room
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, Horus sat reading.
His chamber was austere:
a bed
a desk
a few chairs
a small bookshelf
Neatly stacked letters from his brothers occupied one corner.
Even Abaddon's chamber now looked more like a prince's quarters.
But Horus loved this room.
Everything that mattered was here.
A worn constellation book rested on the desk.
Beside it sat two small boxes:
one for his father's gold ring
one for his sister's silver necklace
Within this small space lay his understanding of family.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
Yuki leaned through the door.
"Hello, Horus. Miss me?"
He stood instantly.
"Sister?! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Thought I'd surprise you."
She sat casually beside him.
"How have you been?"
"The Shadowmoon Wolves reclaimed a compliant world. We depart for the next system soon. Did you need something?"
She produced a lunchbox.
"Ta-da. I brought food. I made it myself."
Horus accepted it carefully and opened the lid. Inside lay sliced meat and unfamiliar vegetables.
He ate slowly, reverently.
The Question Beneath the Silence
"Father says you've been distracted," Yuki said softly. "What's wrong?"
Horus stopped eating.
Words crowded his throat.
Could he say:
Don't share yourself with them. Stay with me.
He lowered his head.
Silence.
Yuki sighed and brushed his temple gently.
"Remember what I told you? I will stand by you no matter what. Tell me."
"…Sister," he whispered, "am I really important to you?"
"Very important," she answered without hesitation.
"And my brothers?"
Now she understood.
Horus was afraid.
Afraid of becoming insignificant.
Afraid of returning to the nameless boy he once was.
Before he was Horus.
Before he was loved.
Everything he had — honor, power, belonging — had been given by Father and Sister.
If they abandoned Horus…
only the nameless orphan of Cthonia would remain.
So he fought to prove himself indispensable.
Unique.
Irreplaceable.
But his brothers were giants.
World conquerors.
Legends.
And Horus feared he might fade beside them.
Horus is Horus
Yuki cupped his face and forced him to meet her eyes.
"Horus. Look at me."
Her violet gaze burned with fierce sincerity.
"Do you remember what I told you when I gave you the necklace?
I wished only for your safety.
Not your glory.
Not your rank.
Your safety.
Horus, no one loves you because you might become Warmaster.
No one loves you because you are a Primarch.
We love you because you are Horus.
Is there another Horus among your brothers?
No.
You are irreplaceable.
You are my brother.
Father's son.
Your brothers' brother.
No title can change that."
Everyone loves Horus.
Because Horus is Horus.
Tears
Something long knotted inside him loosened.
The fear.
The doubt.
The whispering voice.
His eyes filled.
He had not cried since returning to the Imperium.
A Primarch did not cry.
But Horus was not only a Primarch.
He buried his face in Yuki's shoulder and wept.
She held him, gently stroking his back as his tears soaked into her hair.
Outside the chamber, the Emperor stood silently.
After a long moment…
he turned and left.
After
From that day forward, Horus stood straighter.
His laughter returned.
The Shadowmoon Wolves rejoiced to see their father restored.
He could now say without hesitation:
"I am my father's beloved son, and my sister's beloved brother."
There remained only one small problem.
"Children," Horus began solemnly,
"I must tell you again about those thirty years…"
The legion groaned.
"They gave me a golden ring and a silver necklace…"
Abaddon covered his face.
"Father said I was his Centaur…"
"Commander, please—"
"And my sister wished only for my safety…"
"Father, stop him! Stop him!"