leaves all sinking, fever dreaming; ANY

[magnus]

magnus

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

She breathes the same thing that he does, and the air between them becomes taut with something unspoken and unknown—something that is entirely its own. His heart trips against his ribcage, and his gold-flecked eyes darken and then sharpen, tracing the lines of her face in more earnest. There is something beneath her surface that errs to the magical, and he wonders how he has not noticed before.

For all of the magic that has permeated Magnus’ life (dragging him to death and then back again), he has never been one who had it buried in his bones. Once, he bore wings to defend a kingdom he had served (they had been large and clumsy, and he had not mourned to lose them), and now immortality laced through his veins, an unspoken magic that kept his body young despite the years, the decades that have passed since he was first born. But, still, it does not compare to the magic that now runs rampant.

He has no command over the elements.

He has no command over the supernatural.

He has no superior command over his own form.

He has always been an utterly normal man, forced to face a world that pitted him against magician and demon alike with nothing but his own hard-earned muscle and grit. He has persevered through it.

For now, at least.

Still, despite this lack of true magic in his veins, he has enough sense to pick up on the buzzing sense of it in the air, and it is enough to pique his interest. It is enough to cause his breath to catch in his throat at her question, shadows growing behind his eyes. “Without question,” he replies quickly, the whiskey of his voice growing nearly hoarse. It does not matter that to see the jungle again would tear him apart at the same time that it knits him back together. It does not matter that he would imagine his mother, his father, the flood rising. It does not matter that he would see his sisters, both related and not, or the memory of when he finally left to serve a kingdom he did not love for a woman that he did.

None of it matters as he takes another step forward, drawn like moth to flame.

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