Horus had always felt that his father had been somewhat strange lately.
Throughout his long and glorious career of conquest, the Emperor of Mankind had always been, in Horus's mind, an utterly clear, resolute, even somewhat cold figure. A great guide whose purpose was as unwavering as a star. He might not have been a "good man" in the conventional sense; for humanity's survival, he could sacrifice billions without hesitation and make any ruthless decision. Yet it was precisely this absolute rationality and power, transcending mortal emotion, that convinced Horus that only his father was humanity's true savior, the sole beacon that could lead them out of the dark ages.
Horus's dream had always been simple and fervent—to stand beside his father and plant the Imperium of Man's double-headed eagle banner in every corner of the galaxy. Like Malcador, who had earned his father's deep trust, he would become the Emperor's sharpest sword, strongest shield, closest companion, and most faithful follower. He was the First Found Son, the first son his father had found. No one could rival that honor or bond.
Until his father brought back Leman Russ, that wild warrior from Fenris. In that moment, jealousy and fury bit into his heart like venomous serpents for the first time. So he was not unique after all.
But soon, as a third, a fourth... and more and more brothers were found, Horus instead came to terms with it. His father had so many sons that competing with them all for some abstract "favor" was foolish and meaningless. Because he, Horus, through his own ability, achievements, and the bond he had formed earliest with his father, was still the most dazzling and most relied-upon of all his brothers. First Found Son—this title alone represented everything. No one could shake his