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Author's Notes
I've done a lot of reading into the Horus Heresy on Lexicanum recently, and i've gained a real interest in the Primarchs.
I wanted to focus particularly on the two missing primarchs, because, while there is speculation, no-one is exactly sure what has happened to them.
Though my intention originally was to make a backstory for a missing primarch, i've changed a lot of this story after my first draft so that it doesn't actually name the main character as a mising primarch, it merely hints.
Another reason i wanted to do this story is because, quite frankly, i'm fed up of the fact that traitor primarchs still live and breathe whilst loyalist primarchs are either dead or missing and presumed dead.
This is part one of the story, please allow for me to reserve another post so i can post the rest later, and as always, please comment, i've been receiving a lack of them recently...

“No one ever spoke of those two absent brothers and their separate tragedies…”
–Attributed to Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists-

“Brother-Primarch, why did you call me here?”
“In truth, Brother Corren, I need someone I can trust…” The colossal, armoured figure led the way through the laboratory.
“I remember this place, vaguely…” The slightly younger figure followed.
“We all do, brother,” replied the older figure, “Now, observe…”
They both stood before a cylindrical pod, large enough to contain two men.
On one side was a cache made to contain Terminator armour, on the other, an alcove large enough for a man to stand in.
The larger figure pulled a lever, and the cache opened up.
“Strip off your armour, brother Corren.”
The younger of the two did as instructed, with the help of the older man, and the armour was placed in the cache, which sealed up tightly.
“Brother-Primarch, what is the purpose of this?” The younger man asked, now clad in nothing but combat trousers, his muscular chest shuddering in the exposed cold of the laboratory.
“The purpose, as with all things, is humanity’s survival,” The older man stated, gesturing to the now open alcove, inside which was an immersion chamber moulded to the shape of a man’s body, Corren’s body.
“Please, brother Corren, step into the alcove.”
Corren did as instructed, gasping as the transparent door slid over him and sealed up.
“What are you doing?!” Corren growled angrily.
“You never did like confined spaces, did you?” The older figure replied, the white inverted omega of his breastplate glinting through the misted door, “This will strengthen you for what is to come…”
“Brother Guilliman…” Corren hissed, “What do you speak of?”
“I truly am sorry for this, brother Corren, but it must be done…” Robute Guilliman replied, looking away.
“Why?” Corren almost choked on the word.
“When you re-awaken,” Guilliman replied, “Either the traitor Horus will be cast down, or we will be…I am doing this because if this war ends as our traitor brother predicted it would, you will be our only hope…”
“You trust the lies of a traitor?!” Corren cried, to which Guilliman shook his head.
“Though he may be a traitor, the prophecies of the Haunter never lie as others might…”
“Brother, please reconsider, there are other ways!” Corren pleaded, “I cannot miss this! I cannot sleep while my warriors bleed and die!”
“Worry not, brother Corren,” Guilliman replied, “I will care for your legion…”
Corren nodded solemnly, closing his eyes.
“Perhaps I will see you again, brother, but if not…may you forever be in the Emperor’s favour…”
Corren didn’t have the strength to reply as the pod filled with sleep-inducing fumes even an Astartes could not filter out, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.
With a popping noise, the pod was sucked out of the laboratory and thrown out into the cold depths of space.
The pod drifted for a while until the eddies of space parted before it, laying bare the horrors of the warp to the sleeping Astartes.
The pod was sucked in, and Corren Argatus knew nothing more of the horrors of the heresy…

res

wow that sounds really good I'd like to hear more please.