i lost what i thought was my soul; cerva

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

Were Magnus to know the depths of her bitterness—the depths of the blame she placed on his shoulders—he may not understand. They had, after all, only met once, her arrival overlapping ever so briefly with the whirlwind of politics and banishment that had led to his departure. At the time, he had considered himself responsible for the safety of the Gates, but he was not, at least not formally. He had held no titles, save the former responsibility lingering from his past positions. He was not King, nor General. He was just a private citizen of the kingdom with an overwhelming desire to keep her, and those within her, safe.

He had not even left her in grave danger. He had disagreed vehemently and been fiercely opposed to the direction of the new rule...but there had not been imminent danger. Magnus may have viewed the new King as arrogant and unfit to rule, but he had not appeared cruel. If he had worried that the King would have caused direct harm to those living within the kingdom, the story may have played out differently.

So, no, Magnus may not have understood, but he would have certainly shouldered the blame.

(He was no stranger to regret; he was no stranger to self-loathing.)

Still, he has no reason to think that Cerva would be angry with him, and he finds the terseness of her response startling in comparison to the warmth she had shown when they had first crossed paths in the Gates. For a second, confusion flickers across his handsome face, one corner of his scarred mouth pulling into a frown. “Ah,” he cleared his throat, whiskey voice husky. “I see.” It did not stop him from studying her, looking for scars such as those Camelia now carried or for tears such as those on Longear’s cheeks.

It wasn’t until his attention was pulled toward the young colt that he looked away, ears perking beneath the tangles mass of his forelock. There was an intimacy to their relationship that caused something to pull at his belly with concern, but he pushed it to the wayside for now. When the colt stepped forward, Magnus at first felt amusement tugging at the back of his mind, but he pushed that away, too. Instead, he dipped his head in a formal greeting, years of kingdom training apparent in his militant stance.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dovev of the Mountain.” His gold-flecked eyes warmed as he looked toward the icy mare by his side, mind whirling with questions as to why she was so cold. “You are lucky to have such a mother as Cerva.” At his next question, Magnus’ lips pressed together, his expression growing stern in thought as he considered the question. “My intentions?” He lifted his heavy-jawed face just slightly, looking between them both. “I simply wanted to check on Cerva,” he paused, correcting himself, “on you both.” He felt the tension in the air and once again wondered at the source of it, but for not chose to not pry. She would tell him what was wrong if she so desired. He would not push beyond that.

“I have petitioned the faeries alongside Offspring, and we have been granted a land where many former members of the Gates are now calling home. I am doing my best to find more to offer it to them should they want it.” He could not help but feel the stone settling in his belly, the certainty that they had no desire to live there—no desire to even see it—and that he was the reason. "I could show you the way, if you would like."

magnus