i will breathe the air (any)

[magnus]

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

Magnus cannot rid himself of the anger that has settled so surely into his bones.

It chases him, night and day; it sinks teeth into hide and flesh—reminding him of everything that he has lost and fought for and failed. This is, perhaps, the emotion he feels the most acute. The failure. The regret. The wish that he could have been here to protect the kingdom during the war. The wish that he had not spent so many years in the ocean. The wish that he could have saved Joelle. Protected Minette. Shelter the Gates and her Mother Tree from harm. So many he had disappointed—so many he had let down.

It was a feeling that cut to his core, salt on the wound as he had stood there during the meeting. He had turned around and seen the confusion on their faces—the distrust, the discontentment rising. Part of him wishes he had fought harder to give them the answers that they had sought; part of him wishes he could have rattled them out of Zeik so the kingdom could rest easy knowing that the shifter stallion now stood at the helm. He wishes he had been better at easing their minds. He wishes he had done something.

But he hadn’t. He had exploded and then left, fury bitter in his mouth and works both spoken and the ones unspoken hanging in the air. It wouldn’t leave him, and he found that even in the days after the meeting that he still wandered the kingdom anxious and furious, energy that made his limbs shake and jaw set.

It was something that he could not distract himself from until he heard the soft sobs in the air. He lifted his head instantly, ears perking, as he searched for the source of it. When he saw the golden mare, so similar in hue to him, he instantly made his way toward her, pace quickened.

“Hello?” he called out when he was close to her. “Are you okay?”

magnus