we are aching bones and wasted years; any

[magnus]

we all carry these things that no one else can see
they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea

“No.”

The words are final, clipped, Magnus finally getting a grip on the heady appeal of his emotions. He would let himself fall into the turbulent rivers of his emotions later; he would indulge in the fury when he was by himself. But his son needed him now, and Magnus needed to be a father. For once, he needed to be there for Ledger. “I won’t do that, Ledger.” He takes a step forward, unafraid of both the bear and the stallion. If he was to be attacked, he could hold his own; if he was hurt, it would be nothing he didn’t deserve.

Magnus presses his cheek against his son’s neck. “We’re going to get through this—together. I promise.” He felt the sweat and the exertion—but more than that, Magnus felt the other’s fear and it was one he knew well. He knew what it meant to be afraid of yourself, afraid of what you could accomplish. He would not make the other stallion navigate through those trying waters all by himself.

“Your grandfather is a shifter,” he thought of the scarred black warrior in the Chamber and the skill that the older warmonger had exerted over his ability throughout the decades. “You can master the skill too.” His gold-flecked eyes are steady. “If you want, we can go find him together.” Not that Magnus had a great deal of confidence in Atrox’s patience in training another, but he also knew that Atrox had a soft spot for the children of Twinge (as soft a spot as Atrox could have, at least). Perhaps the panther would indulge him.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.