here it comes without warning; magnus

[magnus]

— find what you love and let it kill you —

Magnus was and had been many things in his life: Son, father, lover, soldier, King, warmonger.

He had been called names with tender love and raging fury. His names had been whispered and spat in equal measure. Names that had spanned across not one, but two lifetimes; names that had been early known an easily forgotten. But, of all those names, he had never once considered himself a hero.

There was too much darkness brooding in his heart, too much blood on his hands.

So the smile he gave her in response is a little sad, one edge curling with a warmth that did not manage to light his eyes. “I’m no hero.” Maybe at one point, he might have wished that he was; he might have wished to be the white knight that Bond managed to be. He might have wished to be the Gates’ saving grace—protecting and loving them in equal, flawless measure. But such dreams had long since been bled from his heart, leaving him with the remnants of truth and possibility. The hope for redemption.

“Thank you though,” his eyes flickered with a little more light. “It is kind of you to say so.”

When she offered her honest opinion, he made a small noise in the back of his throat in thought, his head looking toward the horizon before his gold-flecked gaze swung back toward to latch onto her. “I may be able to help you with that.” His smile was not shy, but neither was it brazen, instead the curves of it flickering around the edges of his mouth. “I am working alongside Offspring and Eight to petition the fairies for a land; a place where we can provide stability and safety for those who are in need of it.” More people than not. “It would be an honor to help you find a home again should we be granted it.”

magnus