Heart of Shadow

G-Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1nDDvys_kl9kI9R4xyLIXZrx-42yXoqHaRiHEtFsR79U/edit?usp=sharing
TAGS: Warhammer 40k, Mandrake, Valhallan, Female POV, Way too much build-up, canon-breaking heresy, NSFW

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Bone-chilling screams of terror filled the air. And yet Meharesse felt nothing. Mon’keigh, Humans, were dying and being tortured all around her. And yet Meharesse felt nothing. It was a textbook raid on a Imperium conovy. She would have her payment in full plus a bonus. And yet, Meharesse felt nothing.

Meharesse might as well have been a shadow for all she felt, which was especially ironic since she was a Mandrake. Like her Dark Kin, she thrived on inflicting pain and terror on living things. Or she was supposed to, anyways. But something about this raid felt off. She gained no enjoyment from maiming Mon’keigh, nothing to help give her substance and purpose. Not a single iota of pleasure or satisfaction. She considered simply leaving back to the shadowy realm of her kind. At least there she thought she might feel something, anything. But before she  vanished into the shadows, she came upon something that gave her pause.

Most of the Mon’keigh aboard this vessel, a Conquest-class Star Galleon christened The Bounty of Light, did one of two things as the Dark Eldar raiders invaded their ship. They either stood their ground and died, or they cowered in fear and begged for mercy. Mercy that would not come. In all it was a rather hopeless situation for them. Those that lived would be shipped back to Commorragh as slaves, or worse. Death was the true mercy, all things considered.

So why, then, were these particular Mon’keigh mating?

Meharesse had come upon the couple almost by accident. She was stalking through one of the hab-blocks that had already been raided, looking for anything of value that had been missed. That was when she heard the faintest hint of a moan from behind a door that could have been mistaken for the actual wall around it. She paused, head tilting slightly to the side as she reached out and pulled the door open.

Inside the glorified closet were two Mon’keigh, one male and one female. Both were conjoined in such throes of passion that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Flesh slid over flesh. Tongues lashed each other in a frantic waltz. A cacophony of wet noises interspersed by slapping skin came from their pelvic areas. They were so involved that they did not seem to realize they were being watched. Even as the moisture froze out of the very air due to Meharesse’s presence, the only indication was goosebumps forming across the Mon’keighs’ skin. They continued, unperturbed, as Meharesse watched.

The first thought that occured to Meharesse was that they served She-who-thirsts. Such wanton debauchery would certainly fit followers of the Prince of Pleasure. Yet Meharesse could not detect any form of corruption on either Mon’keigh. They were untainted beings, unless one counted the pervasive amount of passion on display.

The next thought that came to mind was that perhaps they were unaware that they were being raided. Imperial voidships were immense in size, after all. Opposite sides of a voidship could have entirely different cultures and customs. Sometimes, really more often than not, the Mon’keigh weren’t aware of what occured past their small area of habitation and work. They were backwards like that. But even that theory didn’t align with the amount of carnage that was out in the hallway where Meharesse stood. The Mon’keigh would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to have not noticed.

Perplexed, Meharesse’s eyes narrowed as she continued to regard the pair. It took about a minute of silent observation before her keen ears picked up that the Mon’keigh were whispering to one another:

“That shadow’s staring at us, dear…” said the female.

“It’s probably going to kill us,” replied the male.

“Don’t stop. I want our last moments to be as bright as our love~”

“Maybe we can make the shadow go away if we burn it brighter~”

The two paradoxically increased in fervor. Meharesse snorted in disgust at the waves of sickly sweet emotions pouring out of them. All it took was a single swipe of her sickle-shaped blade to make the Mon’keigh stop moving. And yet, as she flicked her weapon clean of their blood, Meharesse couldn’t help but study the now-still apes. This “love” they spoke of was confusing.

She knew what love was, from a purely textbook-like standpoint that is. She definitely had never experienced it herself. Dark Eldar in general were not known for their romantic overtures, Mandrakes even less so. Sure, lustful Archons sometimes did very stupid things to try and win the attention of certain Wyches. But more often than not it wouldn’t be in pursuit of anything approaching what the Humans called “love.” Nothing in Meharesse’s knowledge explained how the Mon’keigh were able to face death incarnate with such strength.

A sudden jolt throughout the ship reminded Meharesse of where she was and of the ongoing raid. She took one last look at the dead lovers, making a mental note to investigate this whenever she was back in Commorragh.

===

By the time Meharesse had returned to her usual haunts in the Dark City, thoughts of the two Mon’keigh were driving her wild. What was their secret? She had to know.

She started with seeing if it was tied to how they touched one another. Her initial experiments on her fresh stock of slaves didn’t yield any positive results. None of the Mon’keigh would let her get close enough to touch them without screaming like a banshee. And even those that she chained down, gagged, and then touched failed to produce anything even approaching the same kind of emotion she had felt before. In her frustration, she turned her slaves’ terror into blasts of blue-white, cold fire from her talons as she smote them.

Next Meharesse tried forcing her slaves to mate with one another. Of five pairings, she had to kill three before the remaining two understood their position. But it was all wrong. The remaining two groups did couple, yet like with her first experiments they felt only fear. Their movements were not anywhere as smooth and as beautiful as the Mon’keighs on The Bounty of Light.

Wait, did she just think of it as “beautiful?”

Meharesse tried to shake the thought from her head as she killed her remaining experiments with Baleblasts. Yet it remained. Fine, if she couldn’t replicate this “love” on her own, she would do what her kind were known for: she would request something arcane rather than a share of slaves as a reward for a realspace raid. Mandrakes often asked for things of this nature like a heartbeat, a true name, or a voice. So Meharesse decided she would request “love” itself.

The first Archon that she made this request of, Arqaras, tried to seduce Meharesse himself by offering up powdered Aeldari soulstone across his dick. He died in such a manner that left all the men in his Kabal wincing and clutching their crotch whenever his name came up. The second Archon, Irukei, was a little more shrewd: He offered Meharesse a mirror. Though he perished too (albeit it a much less gruesome manner), Meharesse did keep the mirror. And in it she saw herself for what felt like the first time.

Her overall form was that of a toned, muscular woman. Meharesse’s skin was night-black and seemed to absorb light. On it were patterns and shapes of glowing, neon-green. Her patchwork skirt ended mid-thigh with cuts in the sides to show off even more dark skin. A sheer band of the same fabric crossed her ample breasts, barely concealing the green patterns that circled her areola. Her stark-white hair was just long enough to cover her ears while a pair of bangs in the front came down to her neck level. As for her face, it was a mostly-featureless mask. The longer she stared at herself, the more two orbs of bright emerald light that were her eyes seeped through the mask.

In all, Meharesse felt she was a monster.

Maybe that was why she was so preoccupied with understanding “love.” It was something new, something that might result in a form of meaningful contact with another living being. Though could she really count herself as living? Mandrakes were, after all, beings that existed both in realspace and a shadow realm parallel to the Immaterium. They could emerge in any region of space-time through another being’s shadow. Many Dark Eldar believed that Mandrakes were the absence of light given life due to this and other rumors surrounding them. But Meharesse certainly didn’t feel alive. Not like she used to. Not after seeing that display during the realspace raid. She was incomplete.

Her quest continued. By the time the seventh Archon lay dead at her feet, finding further realspace raids was becoming difficult. Meharesse had begun to earn a reputation among the citizens of Dark Eldar. Some said that she must have been slighted by a past lover. Others claimed that she had gone mad. After all, why would a being of darkness seek something so “pure” and “full of light” as “love?” Her “favorite” rumor was that she was slowly weeding out potential bachelors so that she could claim the best for herself and sire powerful new Mandrakes. She made sure to appear before lower Kabalites and Parched that whispered this on occasion and impress upon them how wrong they were.

It wasn’t until the Archon of the Kabal of the Bleaksoul Brethren approached her, rather than the other way around, that Meharesse felt there was even a sliver of hope to be had. Archon Fahrsar and his Kabal were known for their twisted sense of humour, so perhaps they would be a bit more creative in their payment. Still, Meharesse wasn’t expecting much as she was whisked away on another realspace raid.

The target for the Bleaksoul Brethren turned out to be a frozen moon whose name Meharesse didn’t care to learn. On it was an astropathic relay and supply depot. It was guarded by a small detachment of Valhallan Ice Warriors, or so she overheard while lurking in the shadows of Archon Fahrsar’s vessel. Mechanically it was like any other raid: Hit hard, hit fast, take as much as you can, and get out. The Mon’keigh put up a rather brave fight, but in the end they were defeated by superior numbers and technology. Meharesse’s only source of feeling the entire time was a small amount of contentment that the moon’s atmosphere was pleasantly chilled. She had already begun debating how to kill Archon Fahrsar when the Archon himself contacted her directly:

“We have found your payment. Come to my position for delivery.”

When Meharesse arrived, she found herself on a scarred, icy battlefield covered in bodies, bits of metal, and burning vehicles. The Archon was nowhere to be seen. Rage filled the Mandrake as she assumed she had been tricked. That’s when the sound of coughing caught her attention. She sought out the noise and discovered a Mon’keigh. He was seated upon the ice, back up against what remained of a Goliath truck. His thermally-insulated greatcoat was covered in blood, though perhaps not his own. The dead Kabalites around him seemed to suggest he’d but up quite the fight. Yet the Mon’keigh had not gone unmaimed. One of the viciously serrated weapons of Meharesse’s kin had torn across his eyes. He would never see again, short of cybernetic implants.

“Who’s there?” he called out as he gripped his lasgun tighter. “I’ve already killed your friends, foul xenos. One more of you won’t be a problem.”

Meharesse did not answer. Instead she glided closer like a ghost. This Mon’keigh didn’t recoil at her presence like the others, even if the bone-chilling aura around her was hardly noticeable on this moon. If anything, he seemed the opposite of scared. She could feel his bravado and zeal even from a distance. That made her anticipation grow. He was so full of life. Surely he would know what “love” was?

A shot from the Mon’keigh’s lasgun passed harmlessly off to the side as the blind man squeezed the trigger. “I know you’re there! Even blind, I can kill you pointy-eared bastards!”

“Why?” said Meharesse before she could realize what she was doing. She knew enough of the Mon’keigh’s knowledge by now that she could make conversation, but there was no disguising her unnaturally deep and rumbling voice.

The lasgun snapped to point at her. She wasn’t worried in the slightest, though, and remained where she was. “Why what, xenos?” the man asked.

“Why do you keep fighting?”

There was a pause. Then he answered, “Because that’s what we Valhallans do. We never give up. I never give up. The God Emperor will protect me.”

“I would tell you to look around, but we both know how bad of a joke that would be,” Meharesse replied. “You are alone. Like me. No one is coming for you.”

“Then kill me and be done with it,” he snapped back. “I won’t give you the pleasure of torturing me.”

She stepped closer. Another lasgun shot passed barely over her right shoulder. Now within arm’s reach, Meharesse plucked the weapon from his hands and tossed it away. “I do not wish to torture you,” she admitted. “Rather, I was hoping you could help me with something that’s torturing me.”

“Like what? The knowledge that Humanity will never yield to the likes of you? That you will never be saved by the Emperor’s light?”

Leaning down, she whispered into his left ear. “I was hoping you could teach me what ‘love’ is.”

The silence that followed was pregnant. It was broken only when the Mon’keigh began to laugh. “Love? You want to learn what love is? That’s rich. Did you not get enough affection from your parents, xenos? Or did they abandon you like the trash you are?”

“I never knew my parents,” Meharesse said. “And I’m quite serious. I have been… plagued by the drive to figure out how your kind experience ‘love.’”

“Hah. Then you’re one of those deviant-types that I’ve always heard about in tales of the Ordo Xenos. So what, you want to have sex with me? Fuck a Human for the thrill of it and then kill me afterwards?”

“No. Not precisely. I want to understand everything about this ‘love,’ not just the act of mating.”

The Mon’keighs chuckle increased for a moment but quickly trailed off when she didn’t react. “You’re… serious aren’t you?” he replied. “And of all the Humans out there, you think I can teach you that?”

“Yes.”

“And what will you do when I don’t?”

“I’ll let you return to your people, unharmed.”

He scoffed, “Seems like the perfect setup to me for a xenos trying to trick me.”

Meharesse suddenly had the urge to touch this man. Her fingers reached out towards his face. He did not shy away when her fingertips touched his flesh and cupped the side of his cheek. “You have little choice, I’m afraid. It’s either you come with me now or you end up stumbling around blind aimlessly until the elements take you.”

His face contorted, his inner conflict more than apparent. Meharesse supposed he was weighing the benefits of staying alive versus dying here and now. To anyone more devout in the Emperor’s teachings, they might have chosen the latter. But much to her relief, the Mon’keigh sighed and relaxed.

“Fuck it,” he murmured. “I might be a stubborn bastard but I’m not suicidal. This is one hell of a traki shoot. I’m at your mercy, xenos.”

“Meharesse. You can call me Meharesse.”

“Akriel.”

===

The trip back to Commorragh with the Bleaksoul Brethren passed fairly uneventfully. Meharesse kept Akriel secluded away in her chosen corner, away from the prying eyes of the Kabalites. Any that looked in her direction were given a scathing glare that communicated the fact she’d kill them if they tried anything. Some still laughed and poked fun at her, yet Meharesse did not rise to the taunting.

Instead, she focused on coming up with a plan of how to proceed with Akriel next. Her research had shown that Mon’keigh could fall in love at the drop of a hat, or sometimes only after decades. She had no idea how that applied to Akriel. That unknown somehow made her feel giddy. It was an emotion she did not know she possessed.

Getting Akriel to her home was rather easy for Meharesse. She knew a secret set of portals in the Dark City that would take the both of them where they needed to go. Their destination happened to be a metallic dome secluded away on the dark side of a ball of rock. The interior was mostly empty. A basic cot lay in the corner along with what few material possessions Meharesse had. The rest of the space was left open so she had room to practice her skills and perform any experiments.

“We’re here,” she said, releasing Akriel’s hand and shutting the door behind them. “It is a good thing you cannot see, as I doubt you could in this darkness.”

Akriel crossed his arms over his chest. “Hmph. Least it’s cold here.”

“You like the cold, then?”

“Of course. I’m an Ice Warrior, after all. By the age of ten I was practicing naked survival in a snowstorm.”

Meharesse tried not to smile. And when she failed, she had to touch her face to confirm it. When was the last time she had smiled? Had she ever smiled? “That is… good. It will always be cold around me.”

“Great. So what do we do now?”

Her heart fluttered. “I am… unsure. I was hoping you might know.”

Akriel thought for a moment before answering, “If you were a Human woman, I’d show you a good time for saving me. But given that I’m your prisoner, much less that you’re a xenos, that’s really not in the cards.”

“Why?”

Another pause. “Because it’s heresy to lay with a xenos. Especially one that’s captured you.”

“You can leave at any time,” Meharesse said hastily. “And you did come here of your own free will.”

“Sure, I can leave. If I don’t mind getting killed by whatever haunts your realm as I blindly wander about. I’m trapped here with you regardless of what I do.”

Strangely, these words caused her breath to be caught in her throat. “I… You’re right. I am sorry.”

“Well at least there’s a bright side to all this. This is definitely not the way I imagined a xenos would treat me. I’m sure that’ll quickly change, but for now it’s at least more interesting than guard duty was.”

She took his hand once more, leading him over to the cot. They sat side by side, only a few inches apart. “I wish to know what this ‘good time’ you speak of is. Is it related to love in any way?”

Akriel huffed with amusement. “In a sense, yes. It involves sex, which usually can lead to love.”

“I’d like to experience this.”

His head turned to look towards her, even if his eyes were useless. “I don’t even know if you have the right parts. For all I know, you could be some form of monster with multiple limbs and a snake body.”

“I… am a monster,” Meharesse whispered. “But I believe we are physically compatible. What would I need to do?”

“Well for one, it would help if you weren’t a xenos. But considering this whole situation is fucked to begin with, I’ll improvise. Do monsters have breasts?”

“I do, yes.”

“Let me feel them.”

Meharesse could feel herself trembling as she guided one of Akriel’s hands to her left boob. Upon contact, she let out a soft gasp and went as rigid as a board. For his part, Akriel gingerly traced around her mammary with his fingers. Once he’d done a full circle, he found the edge of the fabric across her chest and yanked it downwards. Then he felt his way to her nipple. He squeezed, kneaded, and pulled, each new sensation causing Meharesse to shudder and moan despite herself.

Akriel smiled. “You like that, huh? I’m guessing no one’s ever touched you like this before?”

“No,” she said. “No one has ever touched me, period.”

“That’s a shame. I can’t see but, based on what I’m feeling, you might have an interesting body. For a xenos, anyways.”

It was the first compliment of the sort Meharesse had ever received. Her face flushed in embarrassment, even if no one could see. “I think it is customary for me to touch you as well?”

“Yeah, usually. Why? Do you--”

Meharesse had him pinned, back first, on the cot before he could react. As she straddled him, she carefully tore away his clothing until he was as modest as she was. Her eyes lingered upon his member, which was hardening on the spot. “It’s… that goes inside of me, yes?”

“Usually you do a bit of foreplay first, but yes. I also find it funny how forceful you’re being about this.”

“Should I… not be?”

“Nah, you’re fine. Just a bit more lively than I expected. Do you need any--”

Meharesse lined up her entrance with his tip, then drove her pelvis downwards. She hilted him in one swift movement. Pleasure mixed with sweet pain exploded throughout her body as she threw back her head and groaned in delight. She could feel him twitching inside of her, her body craving more. She began to move, swirling her hips much like she’d observed during that realspace raid long ago. Meanwhile her mouth found his. Again, she replicated what she had seen. Her reward was a confusing amount of ecstasy that threatened to overwhelm her. How could anyone not want to feel this? If this was only a step on the way to love, why did none of her Dark Kin ever choose to experience it like the Mon’keigh did?

She wanted to feel more.

It felt like an eternity of joy before Meharesse realized that Akriel was tensing up. Moments later, she felt him spurt inside of her. His seed slammed into her wall, which then greedily absorbed the life energy within. Her skin’s marking flared an intense green that grew with each deposit within her. She felt ALIVE. Alive for the first time in her whole life.

That’s when her own climax hit.

Crying out in happiness, Meharesse savagely molested Akriel’s mouth with her tongue. Her high persisted for minutes (or so it felt) before things began to die down. Her movements ceased, her tongue withdrawing from his. The pair of them panted as she lay atop of him.

“That… you sure you haven’t done this before?” Akriel asked between heavy breaths.

“No. That was my first,” Meharesse replied. “I am sorry that you had to experience it with a xenos monster like me.”
To her amazement, it was his turn to cup her face. “This goes against everything I’ve ever been taught about xenos, but it sounds like what you need right now is positivity in your life. Since I’m stuck here anyways, why don’t I do that for you?”

Mandrakes did not cry, but that did not stop Meharesse from feeling like her heart would burst from her chest. “Please. Please do…”

His hand moved to the top of her head, rubbing it gently. “Not like I have a choice after all that. What with being a heretic, blind, and your prisoner.”

***

Nightfiend Meharesse lay with her mate before she departed on a realspace raid. In the year since his arrival, Akriel had acclimated well to his new environment. He was her rock, a source of energy that she still did not fully understand. That was why her new goal was to find a way to restore his vision without relying on Haemonculi. He had never literally seen her in all their time together, but he had seen her true self. That deserved all the reward in the galaxy, stigma (and canon) be damned.