I know this hurts (it was meant to); ANY

[Ledger]

The Gates is too quiet. The Meadow is unusually still as well. He can’t help but be here, drawn as he always is. Constantly waiting for something to happen in his exhaustingly lonely life. Better a boring life then a tortured life but he lived them both constantly. One when he was awake, the other during the few times he dares to sleep. It’s midnight in the field and the breeze is barely pushing through the long grasses. Part of him is slightly longing for the glassy mare that he had met not so long ago here. With her tattered wings and even more broken soul. A kindred spirit that he desperately wanted to reach out and hold to his chest but he won’t for he fears he will shatter her. Another thing ruined at his touch, for everyone he’s ever cared about has fallen to a gruesome end. First his mother, than Librette. Then Magnus. Magnus. He has always struggled with the terrible guilt of not being there to save his father. To save Joelle even though she must have looked at him with her insides twisting. Yet had been kind to him all the same. Every breath he takes is in memory of his father, every day he doesn’t give up on life… It’s in honor of him. For Ledger would have ended his life long ago if he hadn’t seen Magnus’s disapproving face in his mind’s eye. If there was anything he wishes he could have back, it’s his father. For that brief moment of having him in his life was the one purest moment of happiness he has ever attained. The only time he ever had anything resembling a family. Flaxen tendrils from his forelock catch in long lashes, gold flecked eyes scanning the vast area and it’s few visitors. There’s a mare standing by herself in the open. A stallion and a mare in a passionate embrace. A stallion alone leaning against a tree….. He’s suddenly struggling to breathe, the air seemingly snatched out of his lungs. He is suddenly a lighter shade of chestnut, going pale as his eyes are wide with alarm. it looks as if he’s seen a ghost. And he has. This is a dream, another nightmare. I must be sleeping, I need to wake up. Panic spreading, his heart doing flips in his chest. He knows how this plays out, he’s dreamed this too many times. Shaking his head violently, his hooves churning dirt beneath him as he whinnies sharply, trying to wake up. But it’s not a dream. The air is sweet, not rotten. And Magnus is still there, all in one piece. Shakily he approaches him and everything he is feeling is exposed on the openness of his face. The one word hanging in the air (a wavering timid question) and it is filled with grief, anger, hope, relief, and something else he can’t put his finger on. ”Dad?” L E D G E R