after the fire drove out the sparrows; any

[magnus]

magnus

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

He does look like they would remember, and that’s the trick to immortality.

He never changes. At least not in the obvious ways.

His coat may bear the marks of new scars, but he remains youthful. He had been in his prime when he had been killed during his first life so when he had crawled out of the ocean, and when immortality sunk into his veins just a few years later, that's where he remained. Bright and golden and forever young. But such things do not show the ways that his soul has aged. It does not show the cracks beneath the surface, the wizened and hardened spots of his soul. It just shows the young warrior, the handsome King.

Still, he smiles at her, nudging her gently. “It’s good to know that some things remain unchanged.”

Watching them here together, his heart swells in his chest. For all of the pain that he has been forced to bear. For all of the ways he has been burdened over the years. This was the balance. This was the gift. He was given these moments of peace. He was given these relationships to buoy him during the darkness.

It’s enough, he thinks. Such joy is enough to make everything else worth it.

His gaze sharpens slightly at the mention of change, the kingdom-born stallion straightening his shoulders and concentrating. He has experienced both the good and the bad to kingdom change. He has seen the dual-edged sword it can be—the way it bring people together and subsequently tear them apart. It is therefore no surprise that Magnus is wary of such change, suspicious of the winds that bring them.

“I hope the change is for the better,” he echoes, lifting his ink-dipped nose and smelling the blossoming land around them. When he lowers his head again, he just smiles. “But whatever it is, we face it together.”

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