la jeune fille marquée; Magnus

[magnus]

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

Her story pours forth and every cell within him aches to protect her, to shield her from all of this. His body is still tense, some part of his attention still diverted to the trees where he knew something was waiting, but for the most part, he remains entirely focused on her and the story that she told. There are parts of it that he does not understand, although he can connect the dots between the dark god and Carnage (did she suffer from the same events at his son, Ledger?), but the core of it is the pain that sits like a stone in her stomach. And that he can understand. Pain, he can understand better than most.

His laugh is half-choked and he presses his forehead against her neck. “I wish you had met me first too.” Oh, how much he wishes that she had. He was not perfect—far from it—but he never intentionally hurt those around him. He would never take out twisted desires on the body of another, certainly not a female. To Magnus, it was a stallion’s job to protect his herd or his kingdom mates. Not exploit them.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises, and his voice is rough. “Whatever happened isn’t your fault, and it is going to be okay.” Magnus pulls back just enough to hold her gaze steadily. “I’ve been hurt plenty in my life, Minette.” His breathing is steady now, resolve settling into his bones. “It would be an honor to be hurt for you.” Whatever decision he has made is silent, a promise to himself. “Just say the word and I will help you find a new home where he can’t find you—or I will check in on you in secret to make sure you’re safe and happy. Whatever you want, just say it and I will make it happen. I promise.”

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.