anyone;

[magnus]

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

It was an oddity for him to be here, patrolling the borders when the sun was still cresting and the kingdom was washed in its light. It was not his usual pattern of rising with the morning fog and making the trek to the field, coming home only when had a new member at his hip or when he was chasing the moon.

But today was not normal. He had not shaken the fury from the kingdom meeting from his bones—could not dislodge the discomfort from his throat. It was wedged there between his shoulder blades and in his throat, a constant reminder. It made him uncomfortable and short-tempered, the normal charm dropping from him as he stalked around the kingdom, keeping to himself where the shadows played.

In the distance, he could hear the faint chattering of birds and horses alike, the sound of life on the breeze. The sound of a kingdom gently awakening after years of slumber. It was the only thing that brought even the smallest of smiles to his scarred lips, his gold-flecked eyes widening a little as he lifted his head toward the source of the sound, breeze lifting his mane away from his sweat-soaked flesh.

The Gates would rise again—like a phoenix from the ashes.
He knew it. He believed it. (He had to.)

Magnus, however, was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost did not see the mare standing along the edge. He snorted in surprise and then laughed the sound peeling from his throat. “Oh, I didn’t see you!” He grinned a little, tucking away the anger in the back of his mind. “Which I suppose makes me rather inept at patrolling the borders in the first place.” You had to admit your weakness first. “My name is Magnus.” He looked up to catch her gaze. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?”

magnus