; it was but a dream within a dream (magnus)

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

Magnus is not sure what it means to be happy anymore—if he deserves it, if he is capable.

So much has happened over his lifetimes, so much pain, so much heartache. So much of it his own fault. All of his failures are branded to the back of his eyelids, enough to make him cringe with regret, enough to make his nights sleepless, dreamless. But this? This was the closest that he had gotten to happy in a long time. And he certainly wasn’t going to let that go soon. Instead he just closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of having his friend close; if he tried, he could almost pretend that they were back.

Back when they were young and foolish and full of vigor for life.
Back with his mother was Queen and he was just a reckless Prince.
Back when it was simple—easy.

But such daydreams don’t last forever—they hardly last at all. He opens his eyes and glances down at her, gives a roguish smile, one corner of his scarred mouth rising further in one corner than the other. “I am too,” he answers honestly, although perhaps not quite honest enough. It did not seem the time or the place to tell her of his personal demons. “Where have you been? Where are you now?” the questions raced over each other, nipping at the heels of the other. He laughed a little, shaking his head in amusement.

“I’m sorry, I am just interested to know.”

It would be easier to immerse himself in his own curiosity instead of turn it toward him. He trusted Hybris, knew her inside and out, but he wasn’t ready to relive his death, his imprisonment, his failures just yet. For at least a little while, he wanted to pretend that he was the same charming, youthful stallion with a little too much mischief up his sleeve. It felt good to try it on. It had been a long time since he had.

magnus