magnus;

[magnus]

magnus

howling ghosts, they reappear
in mountains that are stacked with fear

He listens to her quietly, soaking in the bitterness of her voice, the anger trapped within her breastbone. He knows how much she has endured—more than any one person ought to—and he knows just how much she has nearly bowed beneath the weight of it, but still, still. Magnus cannot but help but hurt for Leliana, for knowing that she too suffered in this situation. She had been so small when he had first met her, when Malis had made him swear to look after her and Exist, to ensure their safety. He had spent the years watching them grow up wild and free under the Tephra sky, and he loved her like a daughter. To see the hurt in her eyes, to see her light dim, it had been almost more than he could silently bear.

Still, he doesn’t mention these things to Atrani—knows that she will not want to hear about his loyalty to the mare she perceives as having ruined her life. Instead, he tucks the hurt away, folds inward on himself.

Part of him is surprised by the malice in her voice, the intentionality behind her actions, but he doesn’t pull away. She had felt more, been hurt more, than any child should ever have, and he wasn’t going to hold her accountable for how she healed from it. Instead he just listened, absorbed, and then finally, he reached down and touched her neck gently with his inky lips, reassuringly brushing against her neck.

“You’re not ruined, Atrani,” he says confidently and shakes his head. “Not in the least.”

He considers what else she said and takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything. She is wise, but she is also young, and he can understand why she would lash out. Why she wants those around her to suffer as she has. So he doesn’t reprimand her or redirect her elsewhere, he just does the only thing that he knows he can do in those moments: be a silent guardian, a listening ear, a place for her to find some comfort.

but you're a king and I'm a lionheart