we are aching bones and wasted years; esileif

[magnus]

The wings were still, by and large, unusual for him. He had never been one to yearn for traits; he had been completely content without anything special added to supplement his natural strength. Perhaps that is why he had internally paused when Mast had extended the gift to him—hesitating on the brink of refusal—before he had decided it was for the best of the kingdom that they were better armed. If he could fight off more mythicals in a fight, then he could get over his own hesitations about being adorned with wings.

And they were not ugly to look at, although Magnus was not prone to vanity. They were clearly made for a bird of prey: large, golden, powerful. Perhaps the closest comparison would be the wings of the golden eagle, which he assumed was fitting for his coloring. For now, they remained tucked to his side, the buckskin still getting used to the extra appendages. His smile was crooked as he laughed lightly at her joke, and he shook his head. “If it eases the pain, I am horribly uncoordinated with them.” His voice is husky, and he stretches one wing out to the side, “I am much more graceful on the ground for now.”

As they make their way to the Gates, stopping and traveling at their leisure, he watches her. At one point, he looks her way, “You know, all of the kingdoms give out gifts such as these wings to their members.” He motions toward the golden wings tucked at his sides. “Whichever kingdom you join, should you choose any of them, will most likely gift you in one way or another should you be loyal and climb the ranks.” He does not limit that to the Gates, because he knows that would be dishonest. Even if she chose to join the Valley, she would be given the same gifts if she climbed their ranks.

He is pleased when they arrive at the Gates to see her enjoying the lush landscape. He knows that he had always appreciated the beauty of it—soft and glowing, warm and inviting. There was few kingdoms that could rival the innate beauty of the Gates. “It is rather stunning, isn’t it?” he says under his breath as he makes his way up to her side, looking out toward the rest of the kingdom as it unfolded before them. At her acceptance of his proposal, he just nods his head and motions toward the side, leading her down the knoll to the rest of the kingdom. As they walked, he began to talk. “Currently, our king is named Mast. If you meet him, you will find that he is a fair, just ruler. Invested in the good will of his people.”

Magnus’ eyes twinkle, “And he has the unique gift of being able to shift into a deer at will, which does come in handy.” The buckskin stallion enjoyed the younger King—thought well of him. He had seen all kinds ascend the throne in his time, and he was grateful to know that the Gates was led by someone that he could respect. “Our Queen, Fiasko, has recently abdicated the throne as per her agreement with the Chamber. She agreed to stay there if they agreed to not attack us.” His mouth tightened on the sentence, and his stomach soured, but he continued. “Although, between us, I don’t believe the Chamber is counting on how strong we are getting—how strong we will get in the future.” He knew in his belly that the Gates would rise again like an avenging angel. And what a majestic day that would be to witness.