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

She startles as he draws near, and he comes to an instant stop, muscles stiffening underneath his scarred coat. “I am sorry,” he apologizes immediately, his voice whiskey and smoke in his throat. “I did not mean to frighten you.” She was beautiful and soft—and devastated. He knew what it was like to reach that point in your life; he knew what it felt like to have the oak peeled off from you to reveal the tender underbelly.

He had been there before, and he was sure that he would, eventually, be there again.

But today was not about him and his pain—it was about her. So he drops his head, his brows drawing together in concern as he listens to her, taking her name and tucking it away. “Camelia,” he repeats it gently, gold-flecked eyes washing over and then the tree by her side. He had no way of knowing that she was a once-ruler of this land like him; he had no way of knowing that she was the lover to the King of whom he had recently served as Lord under. She was but a girl torn apart by the damage done here.

“I was not here when it happened,” the words sting, the brutal truth of them, the failure. “But I have been told that Beqanna drained her magic from the land in response to a raid. A punishment.” Why all entities had to suffer for the arrogance of some was beyond him, but Magnus did not pretend to understand the wisdom and judgment of the heavens. Surely, there was justice in there that he was not seeing.

He had to believe that.

“My name is Magnus,” he offers, knowing the name had lost its meaning over the years—a relic of another age. “I wish that I was able to greet you with better news than I just have.”

magnus