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Chapter 1


"It is just like Fenris." Sven savored the biting wind with a smile. The stale recycled air of the Iron Wolf could not hold a candle to the winds he breathes in now. And he was not alone.

Twenty of his brothers stood guard outside, ready to cut down xenos and animals alike. The cold and dark world made the Iron Wolf a blinking beacon, attracting attention to whatever calls the planet their home.

Not even an hour had passed when their premonition was proven right as a horde of ice spiders came skittering. Sven let out a sigh as he don his helmet once more. Strangely enough, the bugs didn't move immediately, only gazing from the distance.

The sons of Russ did not make such a mistake as they quickly aimed their bolters and fired. In an instant, entire columns exploded in sapphire gore. The xenos quickly begin charging, but it was already too late.

By the time they crossed halfway, less than a third remain. The wolf guard barely blinked at the massacre. Sven smoothly traced his bolter head after head, turning each head into fine mist until nothing remained.

"Xenos." Sven scoffed in boredom as he neatly ejected the magazine of his bolter and injected a fresh one. His brothers could only chuckle in reply as they mirrored his action. In less than a second, the twenty brothers were ready for the next wave, only to find nothing. It was... disappointing, to say the least.

After everything they've been through the rebellion, nothing short of a full scale of daemonic incursion would rattle their nerves. And even then, it might even be a welcoming sight. The debt of the betrayal can only be fulfilled with their broken bodies. Anything less is unacceptable.

There is nothing in the world that could surprise them after all the- their auspex scans suddenly pinged. Ten distinct figures this time were slowly moving from the woods. Moving nothing short of reflex, twenty brothers aimed their bolters down, ready to reduce whatever wretched monsters to a pulp.

"Brothers, do you have visual?" Sven barked into his vox cast.

"Negative brother. Scans are still identifying- hold, something is coming out of the... woods." Sven and his brothers blinked, and for a microsecond, shock colored their eyes.

"... Hmm, now this is unexpected." Sven mused as his brother could only nod back in reply.


֍


Brandon was not a religious man. After watching his people grow hungry and cold, it was hard to hold on to one's faith. Though some clung desperately for hope, he had thrown it all to the wind if it meant saving just one more soul.

As he led his men to the comet, however, he found himself clinging to his faith more and more. The screeching of the ice spiders had almost forced him to call for retreat when he heard a terrible roar shouting back in challenge.

No sooner than the first roar was heard, more followed as the ice spiders began screeching in pain and horror. "Old Gods preserve us." Brandon heard one of his men pray, and he could not help but quietly pray as well.

The terrible battle seemed to last for a moment longer before silence reigned once more. Terrified but determined, Brandon slowly led his men forward, moving past the woods when he saw them.

An entire field of ice spiders, gone. Not much of their heads remained as if they were all crushed without mercy and pause. But that was not what caught everyone's attention, though terrifying as it was. No, what caught their focus was them.

Angels. Paladins. Heroes. Great wolves. Brandon could not give a single fuck what they were called, only that they were creatures of myth and legend that now stood the earth. And the battle field was a proof of this claim.

The armor they don was formed not from frail leather or weak iron, but from a metal as dark as the night and as bright as gold. It was as if they were made to take blows from demons and strike back. They all wore capes in the skin of a great wolf. On their left shoulder was a strange symbol that none understood, only the letters 'V' and 'I'. On their right was the symbol of a terrible wolf.

Behind them was a mighty vessel, dwarfing any mortal crafts to shame. Even in its damaged state, if one could even call that, was a vessel of magnificent beauty. Brandon would have love nothing more but to drink in the image for a second longer. Alas, it was not meant to be as the paladins seemed to notice them.

Brandon held the sheath of his blade tighter before taking the first step. The others took a second longer to follow suit. Each step was heavier than the last. From afar, the paladins looked like statues given life, but as they grew closer and closer, it became increasingly difficult to resist and simply lower their gaze.

Some of the men could already not meet their gaze, but Brandon resisted the urge to look down, striding and leading his men forward until they stood mere ten feet from the paladins. To his people, they were the tallest and bravest amongst their ranks. To these paladins, they were like children.

A tense silence fell across the world. Brandon met their gaze head on. Though he flinched, he did not lower his gaze by even a centimeter. He held the leading paladin's gaze head on, until he finally gathered his words and broke the silence.

"My name is Brandon Stark." Brandon began, resisting the urge to lower his gaze. "I am a local chief in these lands and found your comet landing here." It took all of his nerves from jumping in surprise when all twenty suddenly turned and faced him.

A round of curses leaped out from his men as they nervously hold their sheathed blades tighter. They were trembling now, but who wouldn't? Still, Brandon held his gaze tight as he continued. "If I may ask, who are you people?"

The world was silent once more before a voice reply. It did not sound like men, or the children of the forest, or even the Others. It was entirely beyond mortal reason. "We came from the stars." And the answer was even more beyond comprehension.

"S-stars? D-did they mean... oh Gods."

"T-these... a-are t-they t-truly G-Gods then?"

"W-will the night finally end?"

A mix of hopeful and terrified voices mingled through the air as Brandon could not help but left his jaw opened. And for the first time, for as long as he could remember, something bloomed inside of him. Something he was too terrified to acknowledge, but too desperate to let go. If that is true, then!- "Can you help us?" The whispering of his men stopped. This was it.

The answer they sought out so desperately that made even bitter and harsh men look up in hope like a little boy. A single answer from them would spell their fate. Whether it be salvation or damnation, Brandon doesn't know, but he wish, oh how he wish it was the former.

The long silence was suffocating. Men who could withstand the sight of a horde of weights could barely hold their tears as the Gods refused to reply. Brandon felt the desperation sink through his skin and into his very soul as he began to speak once more.

"M-my people could not hold out for much longer." His voice was trembling, his calm was broken. "T-the long night, it had tormented my people for a generation. Children are born and live their entire lives knowing nothing of the light of the sun. Nor the embrace of summer." He knew he was nothing like the leader everyone looked up to now.

"W-we are scraping at the bottom of the barrel, scouring whatever fruits remained, but we simply have nothing l-left to e-eat." He felt like a beggar, maybe even look like one. "W-we cannot survive for another month." But he would gladly kneel down and lick their feet if it meant salvation for his kith and kin. "S-so please, c-can you help us?" Brandon soon found himself not alone in his plea.

All around them, his men were kneeling, begging just as he did.

"P-please have mercy on us!"

"M-my wife cannot su-survive the labor, w-we simply have nothing left!"

"G-Gods p-please be merciful!"

They pleaded and cried out in desperation, all in the hopes of it to be answered. "...Get. Up." And it was soon answered by a grating growl. "Get up from the ground now!" The paladin nearest to them boomed, forcing the men back up onto their feet.

"...We are astartes, not Gods." The paladin growled, forcing any argument to fall silent. "...Gods do not exist. If they did, your people will never have to endure this hell." Silence. Once more. "...No one is coming. No Gods. No angels. Or even mythical messiahs to save you from this wretched hell." Despair clawed through the men.

Brandon felt his knees quaking from the denial of- "And so, it must be done in our own hands." Brandon and the others felt something snap. They looked so powerful, so mighty, and yet the only response that they can give was 'do it yourselves?' That was the last straw.

"We have been doing it for a damn long generation!" Brandon roared, and the others followed suit.

"We have been dying for years now! Decades!"

"Our people starved and shiver in the cold!"

"Our children could not even grow right because of the lack of food we have!"

"Why else do you think we beg?!"

"Can't you see it?! Or do you simply turn a blind eye?!"

The men shouted in frustration and despair. They risked this journey in search of a hope. They found it, standing right in front of them. To finally have an answer to this damnable night, and they were being denied for what? For what?! The men continued their enraged shouts until a low chuckle fills the air. For a moment, their anger falters.

They tried to rally once more, but before it could, the paladin answered. "We never said we wouldn't help." That brought everyone to a pause.

"B-but... but you just said no one is coming?" A man protested weakly. It was met with a round of chuckles from the twenty paladins.

"Gods? Angels? Messiah? No, of course not. Paradise will always be beyond our grasp." Brandon and the others quickly frowned when the paladin continued. "Fortunately for you, we are none of those things." In that instant, hope bloomed once more. But confused and cautious, they did not latch on as easily as they once did.

"Then... what are you?" Brandon asked.

"Astartes." The paladin- no, the astarte simply replied.

"T-then... will you help us?" Brandon prepared himself for the worst. He won't be misled so easily again.

"...Short term? Yes. Long term, you'll need to speak to the Great Wolf first." The answer alone was enough to cause the men to shout in jubilation. Brandon was about to sigh in relief when the astarte chuckled once more.

"Now that is a proper northerner." Brandon and the others quickly tensed as the astarte spoke once more. "Finally looking at us, eh? Took ye long enough." Brandon and the men blinked. For the first time since their meeting, the men could look straight into the astartes.

Though they flinched, they no longer bow their heads as if they were sheep. And the sons of Fenris could not help but feel a tinge of pride. For no self-respecting northerner would ever bow down like sheep.


֎


"...It seems you were mistaken, brother." Sven could not help but sigh. After hearing their plight, the brotherhood agreed to shelter Brandon's tribe from the horrors of the planet, allowing them to set camp near the Iron Wolf.

While they did offer for them to stay within the Iron Wolf itself, Sven found it impossible to convince them otherwise. Even Brandon could not be moved, as if they were terrified of entering such an enormous abode. It also did not help that the remaining wolf guard stalk its halls. Though their cousins may call them savages, they were still astartes at their hearts.

They were the bulwark against the terror. And although they had failed to protect Terra and her children, they will never allow another branch of humanity be assailed in the terrors of old night so long as they were there. Unfortunately, there was little they can do how the normals look at them.

The group Brandon led stared at them in awe and horror, barely than a few hundred could meet his gaze, and they were in the thousands. 2,308 if the numbers Brandon had given were to be true. Though he was glad his gamble paid off, making Brandon and those men able to resist transhuman dread, the same could not be said for the civilians.

Women and children especially. He kept catching them staring before bowing down as if they were hoping they would be spared from his wrath. Sven wondered if there was anything he could do to shock them out of that state like he did with Brandon, but alas, there was none... none that wouldn't leave a scar, anyway.

As Sven was mulling over what to do, he felt a small piercing gaze just below his knees. He looked down to find a young boy staring in awe, but there was no terror in them. "Yes?" He asked the little boy. The young lad beamed up as if he was waiting for this.

"A-are you a hero?" The boy asked as Sven blinked before laughing. Several of his brothers were quietly laughing in their private vox as well.

'No, lad, I am not. I am an astarte." Sven replied as the boy frowned.

"But you're big!" the boy said.

"I am." Sven agreed.

"You must be strong!"

Oh, if only you knew, lad. "Perhaps." Sven said.

"And you helped us!"

"We did."

"Then you are a hero!" The boy proudly proclaimed, his gaze denying any opposition, not even the astarte's could rebut it. And yet, Sven and his brothers uncomfortably shift ever so slightly as Sven shook his head.

"Perhaps. Once, but we are no longer heroes, lad." Sven sadly replied, causing the boy to frown.

"But why?" Such an innocent question made the astarte's flinched. A sight that caught everyone's attention.

Because we weren't there. Before Sven could reply, a young woman quickly scoop up the boy. "I-I am s-sorry, sir! P-please have mercy on my son! He d-doesn't know any better!" The woman begged, it was the same awe and terrified look. Sven could only silently nod his head as she let out a sigh of relief before quickly retreating.

The brotherhood remained quiet for the entirety of the day, silently watching the new groups of civilians gasping in awe, wonder and terror at their sight and the Iron Wolf whenever they arrived.

"...I don't think they are ready to meet the Great Wolf if they are like this." Sven vox at his brothers as they grunted in approval.

"Aye, cheers to that one. Can imagine them now, pissing themselves just from the sight of him." A small round of laughter filled the brotherhood before it was silence once more.

"...How is he?" Sven asked as the others sighed. "I see..." Sven could only reply in remorse. Russ had never been the same after the rebellion. If only they had been there, then- No. Don't dwell, focus. Sven thought as he straightened his back.

Before he could shake the dreary thoughts off, a monstrous shriek and horrified cries echoed through the night. In an instant, the normals huddled to themselves in fear. In a heart beat, Sven turned in the direction of the noise. With the help of his auspex and enhanced eyes, Sven quickly saw what it was. A snarl made its way up to his lips.

Before his brothers could even say a word, he was already running. And he was not alone. The Others were used to hunting defenseless sheep and young pups. It was simply bad fortune for them to hunt a herd under the vigil of the wolves.


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An:

I need to come clean. I haven't watched GOT nor read any of the books of ASOAIF. I only watched one episode of season 1 of GOT. I've watched some lore vids, but as always, it can fall short. While I'll do my best to write it well, I have to warn you all in advance that this completely and utterly an op fic for the 40k verse.

While I will try to not write every battle with a space marine or Russ in it, whenever they do appear, expect body counts. One man army? Yep, they sure can! Dragons? How about some missiles? If you are looking for a balance fic, this is not it chief. This is Russ and his bois trying to find their purpose while obliterating every little shit who could not read the sign of "DON'T FUCK WITH ME, AND I WON'T FUCK WITH YOU."

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