we are aching bones and wasted years; minette

[Minette]

la jeune fille marquée

A blush suffuses her features as Amorette declares her maman's feelings. It grows deeper still when he reiterates his own with a gentle smile. The gray mare says nothing aloud, but her eyes speak volumes of her affection.

Minette glances down at the sleeping child, now possessing two parents who love her, with a heart too full for speech. Amorette's birth father would never know the sweetness of a child's unadulterated love. Whether by accident or design, Gryffen could not comprehend the usefulness of innocence. He looked at a masterpiece and saw only how he might make his mark upon it, whether desired or not.

The gray mare nickers quietly, her eyes searching Magnus' face as he touches her neck. His breath is warm and wonderful. It is a reminder that she is not alone, that he is by her side.

She wonders if he would look at her that way if he knew the darkness that was in her soul. If he could feel the tangible weight of her sins like she did. It was a chain wound tight around her body, a constant reminder of the terrible choices life life had presented her. Minette had not been innocent before Carnage had taken hold of her. No, it had been Gryffen's pleasure to rend the girl from her naivete. But she had been so certain that she had reached the bottom of despair, that there was nothing worse than the eyes of the pale white wolf.

She had been wrong. Heart wrenchingly, horrifically wrong.

Pain shoots through her joints as Minette shifts. Unshed tears shimmer in her brown eyes and in a quiet voice, almost too low to hear, she speaks.

“Blessed... seems a strong word for me.”

The words she doesn't say hang in the air. The pale gray mare can't imagine that they would be eager for someone as shattered as she is to join them. What good can she be? She is afraid that she will never be able to leave behind the nightmares. She wonders if they will find in her what she sees in the glimpses of her reflection.
Broken. Damaged. Unworthy.

Minette blinks away the tears, her voice shaky but resolute. There is a hardy sapling beneath the delicate velvet and lace, always bending to the wind and the hail, but never breaking.

“I am trying not to be afraid. For her sake, mon petit papillon. And for the others, Felinae and Besra.” Minette breathes deeply, growing calmer and clearer with each word. “I'd like to leave in the morning, before any of us lose our resolve.”

A soft, pleading look comes into her eyes as she looks up at the golden stallion. Every nerve in her body is attuned to him, waiting, humming with longing.

“Please, stay with me tonight?”

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

Their thoughts mirror one another. As she wonders whether he would look at her the same if he knew the darkness in her soul, he wonders the same. He is not the white knight he has always aspired to be. He does not have a blameless past. He had murdered. He had hungered for war. He had given into the keen edge of desire for violence. He had abandoned Joelle and abdicated his throne. He had failed to protect those who he loved so much. His soul was steeped in the bitterness of his sin, and there was no way for him to ever forget it. They were writ like stories upon his flesh, scars crossing and intersecting forever.

But she, much like Joelle, mellows him—softens him. She makes him wish he was better. He had to be better, do better by her. “There are no words strong enough for you, Minette,” he whispers softly, looking down at the child (their child) between them every so often to ensure that she was sleeping. His gold-flecked eyes move upward to catch her own, and he listens although he swears that his heart has stopped beating. It seemed too good to be true, and he caught his feathers rustling, on edge, waiting for Gryffen.

“We can leave whenever you are ready,” he promises, bringing his nose down toward hers where they exchange breaths, the air sweet. At her request, he closes his eyes, breathing deeply and exhaling softly, “Of course, I will.” He opens his eyes again, face painted with emotion, “I will stay.” What he does not say is that he will watch—that he will wait until she falls asleep and then take to the skies to keep an eye out for the Chamber’s ghost. He could not run the risk of him returning before they left. He could not run the risk of him ruining Minette’s escape. His wing continued to lay across her back. “Rest.”

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.