Disclaimer: I do not own Falling Kingdoms.
AU where Cleo runs away with Jonas.
Every night was the same. Every day was the same. Nothing changed, and Cleo still was not there.
As Magnus sat on the floor with his head against the bedpost, he considered this monotony and loneliness to be his punishments for all the wrongs he had committed in life. Even so, fate seemed more brutal, more relentless than usual. He was, by no means, a spiritual person, but the utter absurdity would cause even the most devout unbeliever begin to question the coincidences.
About two months had passed since Lucia had run away with that Watcher, Amara had murdered Ashur, and Magnus had discovered his true feelings toward Cleo. But only a month had passed since Cleo had run away with that insufferable rebel, Jonas Agallon.
The glass that Magnus was holding shattered with a sharp crashing noise as he threw it against the stone wall. As the amber liquid began to slide down the wall, Magnus watched with unfocused eyes as the candle light flickered against the surface, reflecting much more than just light. Memories of her danced through his mind, and his fingers ached to run through her golden hair just once more.
She used to be his light, his only purpose to stay alive, but she was gone now, probably off enjoying the company of that rebel.
"Irrelevant," Magnus hissed as he reached a hand toward the bottle of spirits that sat beside him.
Drinking had become his only companion and source of pleasure ever since Cleo ran away. A strange sort of darkness hovered over Magnus, and the servants, even the pretty, clueless chambermaids, began to avoid him altogether. He would catch some of the mutterings and gossip being exchanged in the hallway.
"Cursed by the goddess, herself," whispered some.
"He's lost his mind," said others.
Of course, Magnus had every power in the world to execute such slanderers, but even the thought of ridding himself of pests seemed too tedious, too worthless. Everything had lost significance ever since Cleo left.
Magnus gulped back another mouthful of the harsh amber liquid, grimacing at the fire that coated his throat, but he welcomed the pain. Maybe the physical pain could mask the mental pain and throbbing heartache that dominated his entire being. The pain was like a phantom, always there, but always out of sight, teasing the back of the mind relentlessly.
Standing up, he stumbled over toward the desk where Cleo left a book open from the last time she had stayed in her room. Since Magnus had returned to the castle, he would sneak to Cleo's room in the dead of night, hoping and praying to some omnipotent power that he was living in a sick dream. But reality was a cage, and Magnus was a bird with his wings clipped.
Flipping through the pages in the book, he saw that it was a story about the origins of the sorceress, Eva. He couldn't help the bitter smile that creeped on to his face when he caught a small hint of Cleo's sweet perfume. The smell was like a tortuous venom to him, but he always found himself wanting so much more.
He looked down at the hands that once held Cleo and closed his eyes, lips tingling as he remembered that last kiss he shared with her back in Limeros. If he imagined hard enough, he could believe that Cleo kissed him back just as much as he kissed her. If he imagined hard enough, he could still feel her face cupped gently in his hands, his fingertips tracing the outline of her jaw carefully. If he imagined hard enough, he could still feel her crystalline eyes blazing up at him, locking with his own, stone-hard eyes.
But the imagination was a joke. It loved to taunt the weary and lost with images and dreams of what he couldn't have.
Magnus's grip on the bottle tightened as he swallowed some more of the liquor. The world twisted and tottered before him as he stumbled back toward the bed. Sliding back down onto the floor, he closed his eyes and braced himself for the unwanted tears that always seemed to follow him in his drunken ventures. He angrily wiped them away and took another long draught of the drink.
No matter what he did, the pain always seemed to linger, and Magnus was tired of the weakness. What was the use of drinking the pain away when you could just cut it off altogether?
So in the confines of his love's room, Magnus decided to shut himself off from all feelings, whether they be rage, happiness, or love. Cleo was not coming back, and it was a harsh reality that he had to accept. She had found solace and freedom in the arms of another. There was nothing Magnus could do to stop it.
But he would cut her off from his life tomorrow. For now, he would drink to the memory of her, and hope that his dreams would come soon.
She only came to him in his dreams.
Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the lack of an update, but a lot has been going on lately in my life, and I don't really have time to plot out the course of Beyond Fallen Souls. But in the meantime, have this little one-shot of Magnus pining over Cleo. After all, Magnus is not Magnus until he broods over what he can't have.
Please review and I'll try and work on my other story as soon as possible!