Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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part one

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"We welcome our new brother, Magnus Bane, replacing Klaus as General of the Fourth District."

A short round of applause followed the announcement, a general hum of approval breaking out at the Warlock's name. Magnus soaked it in, his new position amidst the Council, the ultimate recognition of his skills, and allowed himself a small grin. It had been a long effort to reach this place, and damn, did he deserve it. The years of toil, being the lackey of inferior men, demeaned to running errands and, if he was very well behaved, possibly taking care of a minor Shadowhunter or two.

Well, no more of that. Now he ordered the lackeys around. Now he fought the big bad bosses. No longer was he forced to dwell in the poverty-riddled First District. Once the meeting drew to a close, he would be returning to his new home in the lap of luxury; silk sheets, plush carpets, ridiculously extravagant four-post bed, a complete symphony of rich colours, finally no more grey.

"Unfortunately, Magnus' joining us is bitter-sweet. As you all know, Klaus was lost to us as the Angel Children claimed the Seventh District," Dorian stated, jaw tightening and black eyes burning with barely suppressed rage. All present bowed their heads, the news old but no less agonizing for it.

Magnus' hands clenched into fists beneath the table. Although he had not exactly gotten along with Klaus, the man too stiff and boringly stoic, he had still been a fellow Warlock, and he had been felled by those monsters, the Shadowhunters.

"With that, the Angel Children have gained control of Districts Two, Three and Seven. They're encroaching upon the Ninth, so Ellis, have your men on alert until further instruction. They could attack at any moment. We cannot allow them any more victories. They've begun to allow the Mundanes access to the districts they have stolen from us." Dorian's voice was thick with disgust at the mere thought of the Mundanes contaminating what had previously been their land, and that disgust was shared by every person in the room.

There was more talk of land, battles to keep it and reclaim it, and Magnus couldn't help tuning out. Fascinating as it all was, it had very little to do with him. As of that day, his only concern was with the Fourth District, his District. The Shadowhunters would not be getting that one.

The meeting eventually drew to a welcome close, Magnus out of the room as fast as possible. Boring, boring, boring. If there was one thing he hadn't expected, it was that this war could be so mind-numbingly uninteresting. He was sure that was a contradiction.

Well, he'd rather be bored in luxury than overwhelmed in poverty.

"Honey, I'm home," Magnus called as he stepped out of the portal into his living room, cleaning himself of the sticky residue with a flick of his wrist. No sooner had the words left his mouth than a blur of white rocketed into the room, claws extended, teeth bared. It launched itself at his boots, attacking with a fury that could challenge the hounds of hell.

Magnus blanched.

"Not the boots!" he admonished, bending down to scoop up the ravenous fluffball and raising it up to look him in the eye, "I don't see why you've got your panties in such a twist. There's plenty of food in your bowl."

Magnus' hand flicked behind his back.

If it were possible for a cat to look scathing, Chairman Meow mastered it in that moment. I saw that.

With a sigh, Magnus dropped onto the couch, still making the act look graceful despite his exhaustion. Portal or not, the trip from the Fourth District to the First was ridiculous, not so much long as it wasthick. Like trying to tread water while wearing jeans.

He cuddled Chairman Meow to his chest, apparently forgiven for the inadvertent starving, the cat nestling closer.

He really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. He was still debating not going to Klaus' funeral at all. Surely it would be awkward, trying to act genuinely devastated over his predecessor when it was fairly obvious to everyone that there had been no love lost between them, the only thing Magnus liked about the man being the job he'd now taken for himself.

"I suppose if I don't go I'll just look petty, and that's so unattractive," he murmured, running a finger along Chairman Meow's back. He purred his appreciation.

They sat like that for what could have been minutes, could have been hours, and Magnus was slowly nodding off. Then that almighty shrieking came. The cat heard it before him and it was the claws stabbing into his stomach that pulled him from that half-there-half-not stupor. He didn't have the chance to wonder what had alarmed the cat before it came. An ear-piercing wail, resonating from the speaker embedded in the wall, the warning siren.

Magnus leapt to his feet, Chairman Meow falling from his chest and scurrying under the couch to try and escape the awful noise.

"Shadowhunters." The word was a hiss, the yellow of his eyes overpowering the green as his power flared, the pupils narrowing into slits. He was out the door in a flash, stalking down the hall. It wasn't long before Raphael was at his side, keeping up with Magnus' long strides despite the difference in heights.

"They entered through the Western Gate – four or five of them, I'd say – judging from the sloppiness they can't be too experienced." Despite the situation, Raphael remained as impeccably calm as always, and it helped calm Magnus too.

"There's no need to mobilize just yet. Only attack if they attack; we can't be seen to be the instigators," Magnus ordered, "If they're as inexperienced as you say, they're only here to search. Either way, tread lightly–"

Raphael slowed to a stop. Magnus instinctively did the same, looking at his Commander in question.

"With all due respect," his tone spoke of anything but, "I must insist that you return to your room, General. The timing of this trespass makes clear their intentions – they're here to test the weak link."

"A weak link, am I?"

Raphael smirked, "They no doubt believe you are. Like you said, there's no need to mobilize, General. We can more than handle them. Besides, if they really are here to search, what's the first place they're going to look?"

Magnus was already half way back down the hall before Raphael had finished speaking. As loathe as he was to do as the facetious little bastard said, he did have a point.
A point proven correct, as Magnus slipped back inside his room to see a back turned to him, the intruder leafing through the papers on his desk like they had all the time in the world. He wasted no time, flexing his fingers and feeling the familiar thrum of energy pass through them. Without a word, he lifted his arm and flung a spell at the intruder's turned back, a ball of crackling electricity. The blaze of blue soared towards its target, the aim precise, and –

And hit the desk. The spell collided with the wood with a sizzle, leaving a gaping and singeing hole through the surface. A hole that should have been in the intruder's chest.

Magnus moved swiftly aside, the Shadowhunter's blade cutting through the air instead. The boy was quick, Magnus had to give him that, but he wasn't too slow himself. Within minutes, the air was smouldering as spells left his fingertips. Papers caught in the crossfire burned, books and glasses fell from shelves, the curtains were left in tatters as the Shadowhunter missed his mark.

It wasn't just the boy who couldn't land a hit, however. Now, Magnus wasn't particularly cocky – modesty was always good to have in your arsenal – but that wasn't to say he wasn't aware what a fantastic fighter he was. Not just anyone got appointed General, after all. He was exceptional, not a boast, simply a fact.

But damn it all if the boy wasn't putting him through his paces.

Every spell Magnus launched at him, the boy dodged. Every sly elbow Magnus tried to dig him with, the boy grabbed and knocked him off balance. Magnus even tried the usual baiting, Shadowhunters were recklessly proud after all, but no amount of insults to his Angelic prowess seemed to work. If he didn't have a reputation to uphold, Magnus would have gone for hair-pulling.

The fight crawled on with no sign of either of them gaining the upper-hand, only exhausting each other more and more. Soon, they were both panting, hair plastered to their faces and sweating like a paedophile in a playground.

Truth be told, Magnus was not so much annoyed as he was exhilarated. He should have been worried, the boy was just as likely to win this as he was, but he couldn't help it – this was fun. When was the last time he'd had a real fight? He'd been dithering about in the lower leagues for so long, playing errand boy and licking boots. When was the last time he'd actually been challenged, had to try and just barely scrape by each assault? He genuinely could not remember.

The fun wasn't destined to last, however. Magnus could feel his energy depleting, each spell lacking that spark a little more than the last, and the Shadowhunter was clearly exhausted too, breaths coming in sharp pants, his footwork getting clumsy and his lunges missing by more each time. They were at a stalemate, even getting weaker at the same rate, and Magnus wasn't sure how much more magic he could summon.

He needn't have worried. Rather than magic coming to his aide, his saviour came in the form of a blur of white launching itself at the Shadowhunter's face.

The boy had been so focused on Magnus that he hadn't registered the incoming attack at all, stumbling to the floor with a muffled yelp, his blade cluttering to the ground. Chairman Meow let out his fiercest battle cry, something along the lines of the sound you make when you stub your toe, and released a flurry of claws on his victim's face.

Magnus couldn't have asked for a more perfect opportunity. His opponent was on his back on the ground, his weapon just out of reach, exhausted and completely distracted by the thing mauling his face. It wouldn't even need to be a particularly powerful spell at this point. Hell, he could just put the boy to sleep and give him over to Dorian, a convenient little prisoner and fair payment for Klaus' murder.

The air crackled around Magnus' clenched hand, and –

And he just couldn't help it. He burst into laughter, slumping down to the floor, literally holding his stomach as the gasps had him bent double. He tried to stop, he really did, but for fuck's sake, an Angel Child was defeated by a goddamn kitten. If you couldn't laugh at that, there was just no hope for you.

He'd almost composed himself when he made the mistake of looking back up. The boy had dragged Chairman Meow off his face now, was holding the wriggling furball at arms length, his bright blue eyes looking at it like he'd never seen the likes before. The priceless expression coupled with the abundance of scratches littering his face set Magnus off again.

The boy's lips curled into an embarrassed grimace before he gave a snort of laughter too, shaking his head ruefully.

The laughter died down after a few minutes, but neither of them moved to resume their fight. It was plainly obvious to both that they were in no fit state to continue. Instead they just sat on the floor, catching their breaths and, in the boy's case, prodding at the angry red scratches.

The boy looked up and met Magnus' eyes, gave a little shrug and said, "Truce?"

Magnus couldn't even be bothered to sit up, "Truce," and because he couldn't help himself, "Looking for anything in particular while rooting through my delicates?"

The boy's cheeks blazed a red to match the cuts, "W-What? I was no where near those! I was only on your desk!"

Magnus chuckled again. "Relax, darling, I didn't mean literally... though, guilty conscience, perhaps?"

If possible, he turned an even brighter shade of red. Tomatoes would have been jealous. He was spared from answering when Chairman Meow got tired of being manhandled and sunk his teeth into the boy's hand. With a yelp, the boy released the cat, who scurried over to Magnus.

Shaking his injured hand as though trying to swat away an annoying fly, he glanced warily at the cat cuddling into Magnus' chest, "Good bodyguard you've got there."

Magnus grinned down at his impromptu protector, scratching that little spot behind his ear that made him purr like a revving engine.

"Don't like strangers, do you, babe?" He looked up at the Shadowhunter, still grinning lazily, "He gets jealous, y'see."

Magnus wasn't entirely sure why he was making small talk with the Shadowhunter. Sure, they were too shattered to try killing each other again, but that didn't mean they had to share pleasantries. It was bizarre how oddly comfortable the whole thing was. You'd think it'd be kind of awkward, chatting to the person who broke into your bedroom and tried to kill you. Hell, Magnus was a Downworlder. Awkward was the least of his concerns when associating with a Shadowhunter. But it wasn't, really. It hardly felt like he was talking to a Shadowhunter at all, the boy too easily-flustered, lacking the arrogance his kind usually carried, not looking at Magnus like he was an insect crawling across the boy's freshly cleaned floor, as was the norm.

Maybe that was the reason he asked, when the boy staggered to his feet shortly after and made for the window, "Hey. What's your name?"

And maybe the boy felt at least a little like Magnus had, because why else would he have answered, "Alexander Lightwood."

Chapter Text

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part two

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The Fourth District was bordered all around by a deep and dark forest. It was such a cliché, there was no two ways about it. Even in the middle of the day, it seemed like the dead of night inside those woods. The trees were the type you gave a wide berth to as a child, frightened of those branches that looked so much like claws, just waiting for you to stray that little bit too close. The forest floor was never smooth. Rocks and twigs, hidden roots that almost always succeeded in tripping you, a layer of slick moss coating everything just in case the roots failed to send you flat on your face. Even the animals seemed to realise the ridiculous Grimm origins of their surroundings and conformed to expectations; birds with talons as sharp as knives, always swooping too low and almost getting you; wolves with eyes of glowing amber and howls that waited for the stillest moments; even the harmless animals like deer and hares played their part, rustling the bushes to scare the passer-by, trampling on the crunchiest leaves and snapping twigs, inspiring the mind to conjure up monsters instead.

It was through this forest that Alexander Lightwood trekked with his companions. The eeriness of the setting was completely lost on them. They were a stab first, ask questions later kind of people, and hunting the monsters in those bushes was just another day at the office for them.

"Well, that was a bust," Jace huffed exasperatedly, hopping over a mostly-hidden root peeking out of the ground, "I don't know where Hodge is getting his information. Reckon he's going senile?"

"He's not that old," Sebastian replied, rolling his eyes, "And if there's even a hint of the Instruments then we should always check it out."

"I know that. I'm just not seeing where exactly the hint came from. Even if the Instruments had been there before, the Downworlders would've moved them after we took care of that Klaus," Jace snapped. Sebastian always had that way of speaking to him like he was the kid at nursery that kept sticking the lego up his nose.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. She knew how this went. Sebastian would respond with a barely-veiled insult, Jace would snark back ten-fold, and the rest of them would have to endure their pointless argument all the way back to Alicante. Already in a dark mood from what she considered to be their failure, she dropped back to walk with Alec, who had been lagging behind.

She frowned, taking in just how out of breath he was, how much paler than usual. She'd been against it, the whole using Alec as a decoy plan, but of course Alec hadn't wanted to look like he couldn't handle it and had gone along with yet another of Jace's schemes.

"The rune worked, right?" she murmured, falling into step beside her brother, "None of its spells got you?"

"No, I'm fine. Just drained." Even his voice sounded like it wanted to slip into a week long sleep. He stumbled once more and she almost offered him her shoulder, but just righted him instead. He'd have only said no anyway, not wanting to be seen as weak.

"They're not going to be happy, huh?" Isabelle sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the wind picked up.

Alec loured, "Nope. Like Jace said, complete bust. There wasn't even a hint of the Instruments there?"

"Honestly, it looked like they've never even seen the Fourth District. I've got to agree, where is Hodge getting his leads?"

"Don't let them hear you ask that. Questioning nonsensical orders? Must be a traitor, Iz," he replied, only half joking.

Soon enough, they broke through the swarming mass of trees, once more in Alicante's borders. There was something about knowing they were once more in their own city that seemed to ease their aches and pains, a strong feeling of security that the young hunters were very rarely allowed washing over them. Sebastian and Aline broke off from the group at the bottom of the hill, leaving only the three of them on their trek back to the Lightwood manor.

None of them were surprised when, as their home came into view, a silhouette stood before the open door. As the oldest, it fell to the exhausted Alec to inform his Father of their failure. As the oldest, it fell to him alone to shoulder the responsibility of that failure and bear the weight of Robert's disappointed stare.

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Oddly enough, it was not the thought that he had disappointed his parents that was on his mind that evening as Alec lay in bed, counting the ceiling tiles.

Despite the overwhelming lethargy, he couldn't sleep. He'd usually take advantage of a night off to hang out with Max or train, but Isabelle had put on her Man Pants and forbidden him from getting out of bed until he'd gotten some rest. He may have been the oldest of the Lightwood children but there was no doubt about just who was in charge.

So under threat of his sister's wrath, Alec did as he was told. Sleep eluded him though. He was too switched on, mind buzzing too loudly, all around the one subject; the warlock.

It just – it made no sense. Alec had been on his back, his weapon fallen well out of reach, more than a little distracted by the feline getting too familiar with his face. You couldn't have painted a more fitting picture of vulnerability. And yet, the warlock had laughed. Laughed and sounded so honest-to-god human while he did it. The only way the man could have had an easier victory would have been if Alec had tripped and fallen on his own Stele, but no, he had laughed and let the moment of open attack pass.

Alec couldn't get his head around it. If it had been the other way around, he would not have hesitated to use the man's display of weakness against him for all it was worth. War was war, after all. The fact that he was still breathing was so difficult to process. It just didn't make sense.

Downworlders were ruthless monsters. That had been the very first thing he had learned. Shadowhunter 101. They were evil and cruel, wearing the mask of human to mock and fool us, and they were as likely to eat your hand as they were to shake it.

The images didn't correlate. The facts about his enemies that he had been raised upon contradicted what had happened that day. There had been nothing evil or cruel in the way the warlock had spared him despite Alec being the one who had sought him out for attack. There had been nothing ruthless in those laughter-filled eyes as the warlock had spoken to him, the same way his family did, the words sounding just the same even though they were coming from a Downworlder's supposedly poisonous tongue. He didn't match the image of Downworlders that Alec had been taught at all.

"Alec?" A soft voice pulls him from his thoughts with a jolt. Alec struggled to sit up, glancing over to the doorway.

"Hey, Max. What's up?"

Max shifted from one foot to the other, a mischievous little smile forming on his lips. "I was gonna ask Jace but he's going at it with Sebastian again-"
"I thought they went home?"

"Dunno, him and Aline are downstairs, guess they came back," the boy shrugged, "Anyway, wanna spar? Izzy's with them so she won't notice."

Well, when the cat's away...

"Sure, just let me grab my stuff," Alec replied, rising from the mattress. At least for that day, he pushed the warlock to the back of his mind.

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Not that he stayed there for long. A week passed from that day and the warlock was never far from his thoughts. Despite his constant presence, however, his reasoning was still as much a mystery to the Shadowhunter as day one.

And then Alec had the dream.

Smoky lights flickered across the cramped and crowded room, a haze of blues, pinks and greens, casting an eerie glow upon the mass of swaying people. There was barely a corner of the lavishly decorated room that didn't have two or three people huddled within it, closer than was decent or even practical for a conversation. And the people – Alec had never seen such an array of difference. Men and women, with hair of vibrant colours and eyes that glowed brighter than any light, skin that seemed to move even when they were still, clothes that clung to them tighter than their own shadow. One dancing woman appeared to leave behind a quickly fading blaze of white wherever she moved.

Alec had never been inside a club before. He knew of their existence, obviously. However, they were considered a strictly Downworlder environment, overrun with filth and things that the children of Angel blood should never allow themselves contact with. No, he had never been inside a club, but he knew one when he saw it.

The music was blaring from unseen speakers, the air torn apart by the sharp beats and cutting vibrations. It entranced Alec to watch the writhing fray on the dance floor manage to follow such a chaotic sound with their bodies, to twist and twirl to keep up with the noise, moving in a way he couldn't fathom being capable of himself. He knew how to dance, but not to music like that, not in such an unrestrained way. If someone moved like they were at a Shadowhunter gala, they'd be thought possessed.

It was the most intense dream Alec could remember ever having had, so overwhelmingly vivid. He could feel the floor vibrate beneath his bare feet. He heard the music, the laughter, the bellowed words as clearly as if they were truly standing right beside him. The air felt hot on his dampening skin. People around him bumped shoulders or stepped on his toes and it felt so damn real.

"FYI, you should never give a Warlock your real name," a voice stated lightly from behind him, making Alec jolt. He spun around, hand automatically going to his hip but finding only the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, no holster, no blade.

The Warlock was perched atop a bar stool, drink in one hand, cheek resting lazily in the other. His oddly golden eyes glinted, a flicker of amusement as Alec pawed uselessly at his hip for a weapon he didn't have. He was dressed differently than he had been before, the drab black uniform traded in for bright leather, a slight sheen of glitter making his skin glisten in the strobe lighting. His raven hair, which had fallen about his face in waves, was now gelled up into colourful spikes. He took a small sip from the glass, staring at Alec expectantly.

Just what he was expecting, the Shadowhunter had no idea. If it was anything other than a baffled and uneasy silence, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

"Would you like a drink?" the Warlock asked after the wary stare he was getting proved unrelenting, gesturing to the menu nailed over the bar, "I've found you can't go wrong with a Slippery Nipple."

Alec was fairly sure he'd never heard of a drink with nipple in the title, slippery or otherwise. Nor had he ever been inside a club, even seen one long enough to be able to recall such a degree of detail that he could recreate it so realistically.

"Am – Am I dreaming?"

The Warlock's lips curled into a little grin.

"You're... sleeping. Anyway, sit down, you're getting in people's way."

The man wasn't wrong, people shoving past him to get to the bar or the dance floor, caring less and less by the minute if they trod all over him. Gingerly, Alec stepped closer to the bar, missing out the stool next to the Warlock and hopping up on the next one. If the golden eyed man was bothered by the careful space placed between them, he showed no indication, grin growing as he gestured for the barman.

"So yay or nay on that drink?"

Alec barely heard him. His eyes flickered around the room, searching from corner to corner, but finding nothing. There were no doors, not even at the sides of the bar, not so much as a fire escape. God only knew how people managed to get in but there was sure as hell no getting out. His palms were quickly becoming clammy and it had nothing to do with the heat of the room. He was itching for the feel of cool metal in his hand, the comforting weight of that worn handle he never went anywhere without. Panic had flooded him now, seeping into every bone and muscle, a tension he was in no situation to dispel.

If the Warlock attacked, he was fucked. No Stele, no runes, not even an escape route. He had been so confused about why he had been let go that night. Well, the answer was obvious now; he hadn't been. The Warlock was just waiting to finish their fight by his own terms. Alec, defenceless, trapped and apparently not even conscious.

Years of instinct boiled beneath his skin, urging him to make the first move, his pride compelling him to at least be the one to draw first blood. Logic knocked that instinct clean away, however. Even if he did attack first, who was to say the room full of people weren't on the Warlock's side? He was not only without weapon and retreat, he was vastly outnumbered.

"...They have coke? I mean, I'm not sure if you're even old enough to drink. Look like you could use something stiffer though."

"What do you want?" Alec was all hostility now, hunched in on himself defensively, watching the passing people as though they'd killed his puppy. All that was running through his mind was how the Warlock planned to off him. All that was running through Magnus' mind was how much the Shadowhunter now looked like Chairmen Meow when he accidentally trod on him.

"Nothing in particular. Just fancied a chat," Magnus replied, nonchalant. He wasn't oblivious to how defensive the boy had become, going from wary to defcon one in the space of a minute. He counted himself lucky that weaponry didn't translate over to dreams. He'd have been minus an eye, for sure, and they really did work best as a pair.

Sceptical barely covered the expression on Alec's face then.

"Am I... really here?"

"You're here as much as I am," Magnus assured, for all the good it did.
"And just how 'here' are you? And where exactly is … here?" Making chit-chat with his potential killer, this was far more Jace-like behaviour than was safe, Alec was sure.

"I'm very much here. As much as it's possible to be, anyway. And 'here' is in your head – Like I said before, you're asleep. I wouldn't call it your dream though, since I've hijacked it for a bit, hope you don't mind. I imagine you've never been anywhere like this before. Do you like it?"

"...What?" Magnus may well have been speaking Swahili for all the sense he was making to the Shadowhunter. The most he managed to grasp of what was said was... "Wait, you're in my head?"

Magnus winced, both at the tone and the expression on Alec's face. He had rather been hoping they could gloss over the tiny issue of mental invasion.

"When you say it like that, it sounds weird," Magnus sighed, turning on the stool to face him properly, "It's really not as bad as all that. Your mind's all in one piece, isn't it?"

Apparently not as much a comfort as it had been intended, Alec suddenly going pale.

"If you're looking for plans, you've wasted your time. I have no information that could be of use to you," he stated, voice turning business-like and impersonal, a careful monotone.

"Relax, darling. I'm not here under orders, not planning on screwing with your mind until you're convinced your name's Alexandra. Like I said, I just fancied a chat."

Alec wasn't convinced. There was an enemy inside his head. One he was powerless to do anything against. Warlocks were notorious for their powers, though he had no idea they went so far as taking over someone's dreams. If he was really inside Alec's head, he could do anything. Steal any Clave information Alec had, manipulate his memories until his mind was filled with nothing but lies, turn him against his brethren and his family, the man could even break him down until Alec was nothing but a mindless servant to him. Even if he tried to wake himself up, which he had no idea how to go about, if the Warlock didn't leave first, his consciousness might still stay inside Alec's head. The possibilities were terrifying, his helplessness against them smothering.

He was completely at this Downworlder's mercy.

The awkward silence was somehow louder than the music blasting in the room, and silence was never something Magnus had handled particularly well. There was half a seconds thought that maybe this whole thing hadn't been such a good idea, but it passed quickly. He'd just have to make it a good idea then. He'd come a little too far to be retreating now. Magnus Bane – no, General Magnus Bane never said die.

"I don't think I introduced myself the last time, did I? Magnus Bane, High Warlock, General of the Fourth District, big fan of blue eyes. And you are?" He extended his empty hand towards the boy, having to stretch over the empty stool between them. Rather than shake it, Alec just looked at it like it might be infected.

"...I already told you my name," Alec replied, then added beneath his breath, "Which was probably a really stupid thing to do, in hindsight."

Magnus retracted his hand just short of leaving it hanging there an awkward amount of time. The kid really wasn't holding up his end of the conversation.

"Mm. For future reference, I don't advise it. But what do you prefer? Full on Alexander or something shorter; Alex, Lex-"

"Alec."

"Right! Alec it is," Magnus beamed. At least they were finally getting somewhere. Or not, as Alec just continued to look at him mistrustfully. Dear lord, it was like talking to a brick wall. A very uneasy brick wall. "Look, I get it. Hopping into your head was not the best way to introduce myself. In my defense, I can hardly come knocking on Alicante's door to ask if you can come out to play, can I?"

"Normal people use the phone," Alec couldn't help responding, though fairly sure there was nothing ordinary about the heavily glittered man sitting across from him in an imaginary club sipping at an obscenely named cocktail.

"Normal people don't break in to people's bedrooms. Neither of us are really in a position to judge," Magnus felt the need to point out, "And I don't own a phone. When I can do things like this, there seems little point."

"You do this often?" Alec asked, incredulous. Downworlder or no, he couldn't imagine any society considering this the communication norm. Then again, he himself had enough trouble grasping the concept of touch screen phones, so he probably wasn't the best judge there either.

"It's not like I'm popping in to someone's dreams every time I need to borrow some sugar! There are rules against that, trust me. But it was the only way I could think of to get in touch."

"Why are you going so far to get in touch with me? Are you bothered about the fight or something – want to finish what you started?"

Ah, but that was just it, wasn't it? For the first time since Alec had arrived at the club, Magnus hesitated to answer. Why exactly had he gone so far just to talk to the boy again? One fight, barely two or three sentences, and he had found himself wanting to see the Shadowhunter he hadn't been able to beat again. The simple answer was, just because. Magnus could barely justify it to himself. He knew it was foolish. They were enemies, by blood and by nature, and the only reason they had met in the first place was because Alec had launched an assault on his home.

It had been that very attack, though. Tooth and nail, every breath, they had been desperate to land a single hit on one another. No punches had been pulled in that fight. Magnus had used the most vicious spells. Alec had lunged with the intent of plunging that poisonous knife right into his heart. They were trying to kill each other, plain and simple.

Then Alec had faltered, been taken off guard and left open for attack. It was so... human. Magnus had never seen a Shadowhunter fall before, unless it was because their bones had broken or their heart stopped beating. The blue-eyed nephilim had made a mistake and stumbled to the ground. And Magnus had found it so honest-to-god human that he hadn't even been able to bring himself to take advantage of it.

And then... they spoke. Barely enough to constitute an actual conversation, but it had been enough. Easy words shared between them, without malice hidden beneath the boy's breath, no taunts rolling off his tongue. There was none of the arrogance he was so used to having flung at him, none of the groundless hate from a stranger just because his eyes were different or his blood of other descent. It had hardly been like speaking to a Shadowhunter at all, and Magnus couldn't help being struck by that thought.

What had really done it, though, was that Alexander Lightwood had remained. Magnus had seen the boy leap from the window, disappear into the shadows to join up with his companions, but he had not disappeared from the Warlock's mind. It... was new. Usually, people were forgettable. He met so many, all the same – a mass of faces that just became one in his memory, no personality distinguishable from the last, just a horde of the power-grabbing and glory-seeking. But not with Alec. Magnus had remembered him entirely, even though the encounter was so short it barely seemed worth remembering.

It was the fact that Magnus had remembered that boy despite happily forgetting everyone else that made Alec stand out. It was the fact that Alec stood out that made Magnus seek to see him at least one more time. It was no more weird an answer than any he had given so far, so that was exactly what he said, "I just wanted to see you again. No ill intent. No hidden motives. Just... felt like it."

Alec stared at him incredulously. The very idea that Magnus had gone so far simply on a whim made no sense to him. He was not so interesting that someone would go to so much trouble just to share a few words with him. It was unfathomable that he could have made any kind of impression in such a small moment of time. Yet here Magnus was, visiting in his head, making no move to harm him.

His disbelief was irrelevant, Alec decided, since there was nothing he could do about the situation anyway.

"...I'll have a coke," was the only thing he could think of to say.

The entire thing was surreal. Sitting in a club that maybe didn't even exist, and if it did, he wasn't really inside of it, talking to his sworn enemy and the man he had been trying to kill only a week before, sipping at a coke that tasted real but he was fairly sure wasn't. Alec had never been talkative by nature, but that didn't seem to matter to Magnus, who was happy enough to carry the conversation so long as Alec gave his two cents every now and then. He was waiting, waiting for the moment the dream shattered and Magnus attacked, for the other people in the club to suddenly swarm him and for everything to go to hell in a handbasket. The moment never came, the dream drawing on calmly – well, as calm as you got in a bustling nightclub.

It was weird, Alec decided. Not the situation, it went without saying that that was as bizarre as it got. Talking to Magnus, that is. Alec couldn't exactly say he'd ever wondered what making chit chat with a Downworlder would be like. They were enemies, after all, talking was probably the last thing they'd do when in contact with each other. Still, he hadn't expected it to go so... naturally. It flowed, as much as conversation ever flowed with Alec, who liked to choose his words carefully. One topic melding easily into another, harmless little questions that Alec couldn't find any double meaning to, the odd flirtatious comment that took him by surprise and had his cheeks flushing an uncomfortable red.

Eventually, Magnus paused, turning oddly solemn. The club around them slowly began to dissolve. The people just flickered away like the screen had been turned off, the strobe lights disappearing, the walls surrounding them bleeding away until only the two of them remained, standing in a vast emptiness of white.

"There's one more thing I wanted to ask you. You don't have to answer, I'm just curious – when you and your friends came to my District, it wasn't just to attack, was it? You were looking for something. What?"

Alec was only momentarily wary. The question was a straight forward one and one he couldn't believe the man didn't know the answer to. It was certainly no holy Clave secret.

"We were looking for the Instruments."

Magnus watched him then, closely, carefully, as though looking for a hint of a lie on the boy's face. He clearly didn't find one as the tight-lipped expression faded away, a soft smile taking its place.

"It was good talking to you, Alec. I'd like to do it again some time... but, if you'd prefer not to, put a dreamcatcher over your bed. It'll keep me out of your mind," Magnus confessed, voice becoming just an echo as even he began to flicker out of sight. Alec opened his mouth to reply, though ask him later and he wouldn't have been able to tell you what he planned to say, when Magnus blinked out of existence.

He woke with a jolt to the morning light.

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Alec debated with himself all the following day, but in the end, logic won out. As harmless as the man had been, Magnus was a Downworlder – no, worse, he was a General of the Downworlder army – and he just couldn't trust the Warlock inside of his mind.

That night, Alec hung the worn old dreamcatcher he'd found in Isabelle's room above his bed. True to his word, Alec's dream was Magnus free that night.

Chapter Text

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part three

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Chairman Meow, for all his airs, was a very low maintenance cat. Now, there were some luxuries he insisted upon, yes, but that was simply for the sake of indulging his over-affectionate Master. After all, the two of them lived together, it only made sense to be civil to him. That being said, as of late, Magnus' behaviour had become simply unacceptable.

If there was one thing Chairman Meow did not like in his house, it was sulking, and there was just no other word for what his maudlin Master was doing.

It wouldn't be so bad if it hadn't been so sudden. One minute, Magnus was all sunshine and daisies, never forgetting to feed him once. The next, he was pouting more than the child that little bit too short to go on the roller coaster.

Up with this he would not put.

"Ow! Oi, off the cloth, moth." Magnus plucked up the ball of white fluff trying to make confetti of his shirt and dropped him to the floor, shooing him away with his foot.

Magnus was being ridiculous, he knew. Mooning over some Shadowhunter kid he'd only met twice. Still, a part of him had kind of thought maybe Alec wouldn't put up the dreamcatcher. He didn't really blame him though. If the guy he'd been in a death match with suddenly infiltrated Magnus' mind, he probably would have gotten the hell out of dodge too.

He had to get the boy out of his thoughts – it was beginning to affect his work. He'd only just got the gig of General of one of the better Districts. He wasn't about to lose it to Raphael. The little piss-ant definitely wanted it, that was for sure.

Easier said than done. Alec himself aside, what he'd said about searching for the Instruments had stuck in his mind, now a permanent nagging thought. Simply for the fact that it made no fucking sense.

Why, Magnus wondered for the umpteenth time, would they be looking for something they already had?

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"You and your men will go to District Three and launch an attack. Not to claim but as a warning for the Nephilim to cease and desist. Make sure to keep them under control, Magnus."

Those had been the orders Dorian had issued him that morning and, like the good little General he was, Magnus put them into action immediately. Getting into the Third District hadn't been hard at all, the Shadowhunters clearly not anticipating that being the Downworlder's next target. However, casting a glance through the window of the town hall to the bedlam going on below, he knew that controlling his men was going to be easier said than done. The smell of blood had permeated the air, and with it, the soldier's common sense was gone.

"Animals," Magnus sighed, wearily. He couldn't help feeling a little disdain towards the men under his charge; the more primal fighters, the ones who had long forgotten what exactly they were fighting to achieve and simply enjoyed the feel of torn flesh beneath their fingers and warm blood running over their hands.

The fine hairs at the back of Magnus' neck suddenly jumped to attention, a faint tingle slithering over his skin. Before he even had the chance to attack the intruder, however, the intruder made his presence known.

"It wasn't anything personal!"

Magnus bid his nerves to settle, banishing the flicker of blue at his fingertips, and slowly turned to face the newcomer.

Alec stood at the door of the room. He was dressed exactly the same as their first meeting, multiple layers of black with a weapon hidden in each, arms bare for easier access of his Stele. The cool indifference of that first meeting was absent from his face, however. No, his expression was much more reminiscent of the dream, a little flustered and discomfort etched into every fine line of his face. He shifted from one foot to the other uneasily, as though weighing the pros and cons of stepping into the room.

For the first time, it was Magnus who was rendered silent. Clearly unsure what else to do, Alec repeated it, this time more emphatically.

"It really wasn't. I mean, I'm sure you're a nice guy and all. I just... Not really comfortable with having someone rattling around in my head – well, y'know, besides me, that is, obviously," after that, the nervous rambling just became mumbling until Alec fell silent, looking at Magnus expectantly.

For the first time he could remember, Magnus wasn't sure what to say. It just – it was impossibly adorable. Despite the situation, facing each other on the field once more, this time Magnus being the one attacking, Alec was worried about having hurt his feelings. Oh, that was just precious.

Alec just looked more uncomfortable as minute by silent minute passed them until Magnus had to take pity.

"Not sure this is really the moment for a domestic, darling. I'm kind of in the middle of an assault here."

"I noticed," Alec replied, eyes flickering towards the window and the chaos below, "It's not like I came all the way here just to tell you that. At the very least, I've been ordered to detain you."

Magnus' eyes darkened, "Then why didn't you? My back was turned. You couldn't have had a better chance."

Alec faltered. If possible, he managed to take his clear discomfort up to eleven. When he answered, his voice was as reluctant as he seemed, "Are you going to do something that means I'll have to?"

And once more, Magnus was struck speechless. Alec was managing to do in one meeting what hundreds of his associates had never managed in all their time knowing the Warlock. All he could think was, is this boy really a Shadowhunter? Magnus just couldn't attach that word to Alec. Reluctant to fight, unwilling to attack when a man's back was turned, it was completely contradictory to the nature of Shadowhunters that he had always known.

"There's something that's been bothering me," Magnus swiftly changed the subject, biting back the little smile just itching to curl his lips, "You said the other night that you'd been looking for the Instruments. Would you be breaking any holy nephilim rules by telling me what exactly your legend on the Instruments is?"

Magnus could see as Alec became more eased. It was just like their last meeting – at first so defensive and on edge, then gradually becoming more relaxed. It happened a lot faster this time, he noted. It had taken almost the entire dream before Alec had even deigned to move up to the stool beside Magnus. At Magnus' question, Alec finally stopped dithering about in the doorway, stepping into the room. The unease slipped from his face, replaced by indignation.

"Legend? It isn't some folklore, Magnus. It's fact." He couldn't help being a bit stung. He'd lived his entire life by that story.

"Apologies, meant no offence. Please?" Magnus put on his best smile, and Alec was just as powerless against it as everyone else.

"Right, well. This is the abridged version, but basically... The First Nephilim wasn't born of Angel Blood. He was given it, as a gift, to be able to have the power to protect himself from the Demons – um, no offence – and his children inherited that blood. They were the first Generation of Nephilim. However, in response to the heightened skills of their enemies, the Demons doubled their efforts and the first Generation fell. Therefore, the Angel returned. Blood was no longer enough to battle the Demon's raw power, so it granted the Second Generation three sacred items; the items were just things that happened to be at hand at the time – a cup, a sword and a mirror – but the Angel granted them the power to battle the Demons. We know them as the Mortal Instruments. With the Instruments, we gained the upper hand, generation after generation of Nephilim not only surviving but succeeding. Until... they disappeared. Or should I say, they were stolen, by the Demons. Naturally, we want them back. The Demons don't want to give them back. So... here we are."

Alec recited the story like a song he knew all the lyrics to, painfully rehearsed and simply factual. The only times he broke the rhythm was when he said the word Demon, when he would wince a little and look apologetic.

Magnus didn't take it personally. He'd been called worse things than Demon in his time.

"It's interesting, Alec. See, we Downworlders have a different story-"

The words had barely left his mouth before the next were choked down, cut away like someone had pressed the mute button. Magnus was only just aware of Alec's eyes widening slightly before fire erupted in his chest, a strangled cry falling from his lips as the Stele lashed away from him, an arc of blood splattering to the floor as his legs crumpled beneath him. The smell of singed flesh was smothering as the gash across his chest began to actually singe, the tattered clothing around it blackening and curling away.

The blur of black that had swept into the room was gone, having took Alec with it, and Magnus slipped to the floor and into blackness.

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Sebastian didn't pause until they were well beyond the boundaries of District Three, finally releasing the fist full of Alec's shirt he was grasping. Pale eyes flashing, he withdraw his bloodied Stele once more and held it far too close to Alec's throat.

"Max's favourite manga?" the dark haired boy demanded, voice a veritable hiss.

There was a clash of metal upon metal as Alec whipped out his own blade, forcing Sebastian's away, his own eyes turning stormy.

"Naruto, though it changes more often than he does his socks. Don't you point that thing at me." Anyone who knew Alec remotely well knew that he was generally amiable, not keen on conflict, the peace keeper of the group. Which always made it all the more striking when his voice took on the steely edge, hand that bit too quick with his knife.

It was doing nothing for Sebastian's suspicions.

"Your eyes are clear. You've not been bewitched," Sebastian spoke slowly, as though trying not to spook the other, "Were you in trouble? Distracting the Downworlder with talk?"

Nope. Just chatting with the enemy I should have been detaining while he launched an attack on powerless Mundies. Alec was fairly sure that wouldn't go down well.

"...I – don't really know. A spell hit me, but..."

And just like that, Sebastian backed down, replacing his Stele in its holster. The chilling emptiness his face had held faded away, the usual easy smile returning.

"Sorry, Alec. Had to be sure. You're not hurt?"

Magnus is.

"No, I'm fine," Alec replied, trying to return the smile with a wavering one of his own. All he could see was the blood spreading across Magnus' chest, as red as his own, and the boneless way the man had collapsed to the floor before he'd even been able to raise a hand in defense.

They'd been distracted, too at ease in each other's company, to sense Sebastian's approach.

Familiar voices were carried on the wind, the rest of their group now arriving at the designated meet up spot. As their comrades came into sight, Sebastian leant over to Alec, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this. But you're going to have to be more careful, Alec. I know it's not really in your nature, but... this is a war. You're going to have to harden your heart. You can't give them the chance to bewitch you like that. It's kill or be killed."

Sebastian gave him a warm, reassuring smile as he stepped away. Jace and Isabelle joined Alec as they began their retreat to Alicante. The two chattered away about the fight, the severe damage done to the landscape but miraculously no mortalities, while all Alec could think was how... odd Sebastian's timing had been.

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The dream that night was entirely Alec's own. He recognized it instantly. The day was overcast but still mildly warm, the air smoggy from the rain earlier. The slightly overgrown grass still held droplets of water, clinging to the strands stubbornly, disappearing into the mud the instant they fell. The bench was as uncomfortable as he remembered – hard stone, cold against his legs even through the pants, but he was taller now and his feet actually touched the ground. Back when he had still sat on this bench in this garden, he hadn't even been able to skim his toes against the dirt, legs dangling uselessly as he scrambled up onto the seat.

"Did you mean to let me in? Or did something happen to your dreamcatcher?" Magnus asked as he tentatively approached, glancing around the memory of the garden with uncertainty.

"I took it down. Are you alright?" Alec looked at his chest, not surprised when he saw no sign of injury there, knowing it meant little. He patted the seat beside him and Magnus took the invitation, "Don't mess with this one, okay? I invited you in, but... let's keep it my dream this time."

"Fair enough. And I'm alright – still a bit sore, but I can't heal wounds dealt by Angel Power like I can other injuries," he explained as he settled onto the bench next to Alec, unconsciously touching his chest. Completely spotless there, a mess of singed flesh and purpling skin where he lay in bed.

"...I'm sorry, Magnus. I didn't feel Sebastian coming at all-"

"Me neither, sneaky little-"

"But you're really okay?" Alec asked, with such genuine concern that Magnus found himself glad the boy couldn't actually see the mess his torso was at that moment.

"I'll be fine. A couple days rest and I'll be up and at 'em as usual," he reassured. Alec sighed, relief plastered so blatantly on his face.

The trees surrounding the small manor house and its large garden rustled as a stiff wind blew through, leaves abandoning their branches to flurry in the air. Despite the picking up breeze, it was a calm place, a tranquil corner of Alec's mind, one of the few he had left. As Magnus cast his eyes around, there was a squeal of laughter, the sound of thundering feet. Out of the far trees came two figures. A boy and a girl, couldn't have been any older than seven, one chasing the other.

"Careful, you're going to fall," Alec murmured, though it seemed as though only his lips moved, the voice that spoke not really his. Too high-pitched, too young sounding. As if on cue, the girl suddenly fumbled and was sent flying, face first into the ground. She didn't cry, just pushed herself on to her elbows and tripped the boy over too, snorting a laugh when he tried and failed to dodge her outstretched leg.

"If you don't mind my asking... where exactly are we?" Magnus almost didn't want to ask, feeling so utterly out of place in such a fondly kept memory. He felt more like he was intruding now than he had the first dream, despite the fact that Alec had invited him this time.

"Idris. It used to be our Capital, before... well, you know," Alec's brow furrowed, eyes never straying too far from the two children play-fighting, "They're my brother and sister, Jace and Izzy – Max wasn't born yet."

Magnus watched as the little blond boy danced out of the girl's reach, a cock-sure smile plastered on his face. The girl wasn't having that, feinting running one way and then tackling him to the ground once more, quickly jumping to her feet and darting away, grinning all the while.

"I can't believe these kids are Nephilim. They're so... normal."

"What did you expect Shadowhunter kids to be like?" Alec asked, bemusedly.

"Hardly like children at all. No offence but I've always imagined you lot to be trained from your first steps to kill, like the little mercenaries you are," Magnus answered, completely honest. Alec laughed. It was the first time Magnus had heard him laugh since that first night, and this time there was none of the awkwardness, the embarrassment. A husky laugh that Magnus decided he wouldn't mind hearing again.

"You're a little too early for that stage. This happened a week before the Downworlders swept Idris. So many of the Shadowhunters died during that attack, it left numbers dwindling into the hundreds. The Clave lowered the age initiation then. The three of us started our training immediately. I was eight," Alec answered, the laughter slowly draining from his voice by the word until there was nothing but a heavy melancholy there.

The air was too heavy for Magnus' liking so he swiftly changed the subject.

"If that's your brother and sister over there, where are you?"

"Right here," Alec answered simply, shaking his head as though to toss away the depressing thoughts of what was to come after the memory ended.

"Why aren't you playing with them?"

He gave a dismissive shrug, turning to face them again, "I prefer watching over them rather than getting involved myself," the melancholy seemed to return to him then, a thoughtful expression ghosting over his face. Magnus didn't reply, seeming to sense that Alec had more to say. It was more than a minute of silence before Alec had carefully chosen the words he wished to say.

"I'm not a Shadowhunter, Magnus – well, I mean, I am, obviously, but it's not who I am... I'm a brother. That's how I define myself. I'm a Shadowhunter because I'm a brother, not because of Angel blood or honour or any of that. I'm a Shadowhunter because being a Shadowhunter means I can better protect them. I'm a hunter because for every Downworlder I kill, that's one less Downworlder that could hurt Izzy, Jace and Max. Because... because that's all I've ever seen Downworlders as; threats to my family. And then I met you," he turned to face Magnus again, his bright blue eyes blazing, "You could have killed me when I was exhausted and caught off guard, but you didn't. You could have sent me mad, enslaved me, had me butcher my kin in their sleep, but you didn't – Why? Ever since I was first Marked, it's been drilled in to me that your kind are monsters that would destroy me as soon as look at me, but you... why are you so different?"

Magnus was finding that Alec had the curious ability to rob him of words before he'd even had the chance to think them. It wasn't even what Alec had said so much as the earnest way he had said it. Clearly the boy was painfully unaware of his own contradictions – he accused Magnus of being against the nature of Downworlders in the same breath that he denied fighting for honour, for the Angel blood running through his veins, for the simple fact of being one of the Nephilim.

Magnus countered, "I could ask you the same thing. Today, my back was turned, my mind was focused elsewhere, yet you announced your presence. If you had attacked me then, you'd have had a good shot at killing me where I stood, or at least 'detaining me' like you were ordered. So why didn't you? Surely it meant trouble for you."

And as though it was the simplest thing in the word, Alec replied, "Because you weren't a threat to me."

Magnus couldn't say he was fond of finding he had nothing to say. He was so used to always having an answer, some form of cutting remark, and despite how much that answer had struck him, he found himself throwing back words just so that he wouldn't be speechless again.

"You don't know that. I'm a filthy Downworlder, after all. Lying and backstabbing are my forte. At least, that's what you nephilim are always informing me."

Alec's hesitation was only minimal, "...Well, maybe I'm starting to think otherwise."

"Individual thought? Ooh, no, no, no. The Clave won't like that."

"Magnus," Alec's voice was firm now, no nonsense, "Tell me the Downworlder's story. Tell me what you believe about the Mortal Instruments."

The story had the same basic details as Alec's had, though the roles were different. It was not an Angel that had made the Instruments the powerful implements that they were but one of the Fallen, an Angel rejected by Heaven and cast into the flames. They had not been created to aide the Nephilim against the evil Demons, but rather, to give those of demonic descent a fighting chance against the holy fighters who hunted them down for no other reason than daring to exist. And it had not been the Nephilim who had been robbed, but the Downworlders who had had the Instruments stolen away from them.

Alec listened to the story ardently. Magnus told his so much better than Alec had, making it sound like such an extravagant tale whereas Alec had sounded as though reciting some boring old passage from a book. As he listened, his thoughts thundered – the story may well have been the same when stripped to its nuts and bolts. Two opposing forces, one more powerful than the other, and a gift to fight, cruelly stolen away in the dead of night. The war that was raging between the species now, ravaging the land and the Mundanes caught in the middle, was it all because of some great misunderstanding? All the blood shed and lives lost just because of crossed wires and opposing stories? No doubt helped along by the natural animosity between the species, though it was and always had been the Mundanes who bore the brunt of it all, more defenceless than anyone.

Once Magnus had finished, with quite the artistic flourish that Alec was coming to expect from the man, he shared his thoughts.

"Hmm. I agree, but we can't be that naïve. If it really is some elaborate misunderstanding, it's ridiculous to think that just explaining it would put an end to the war. Yes, we're fighting over the Instruments, but if we weren't, we'd easily find something else to dispute over."

Magnus was right, of course. It was in their blood. By their very substance, Demon and Angel, their blood called for battle between them.

They fell silent after that, sitting side by side on the bench. As the long past day drew on, the clouds shifted, and the two basked in the glow of Idris' forgotten sun. There was something so peaceful about that memory, clearly treasured enough that Alec remembered it in such vivid detail, possibly the last peaceful moment of his childhood before sheer necessity for soldiers had robbed him of such luxuries. It was a deeply personal thing, Magnus could tell, and he felt compelled to ask if Alec wanted him to leave.

"No," Alec responded after careful consideration, "You can stay."

Chapter Text

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part four

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Several weeks later, the dreamcatcher remained in its place at the back of the cupboard, gathering dust. During that time, Magnus had continued to take the invitation he was being extended, a frequent guest in Alec's dreams. The Warlock was as much a fixture of the long destroyed Idris garden as the trees, the manor house and even the bench the two sat upon were.

With each meeting, the awkwardness that seemed to hover about Alec slowly deteriorated. There were not nearly as many drawn out silences. The silences that did inevitably settle between them were comfortable, words not feeling necessary. Alec gradually became more vocal, not needing to be poked and prodded by Magnus for so much as a one word answer. That was not to say he was suddenly steering the conversations, but he was at least in the passenger seat.

Just as Alec relaxed with his new companion, Magnus didn't censor himself as much as he initially did. Before, it seemed as though the Shadowhunter would beat a hasty retreat at any particularly unexpected word. Now, Magnus could say exactly what he felt like without worrying that Alec was going to scarper.

For example, that Alec really needed to try out that little thing called imagination.

"Come now, darling! We're in a dream. We could be anywhere, doing anything, and for three weeks we've been sitting in a garden. Not that I'm against maintaining my tan, but it's rather lacklustre, wouldn't you say?"

Alec bristled.

"Hey, I like this dream! Besides, I wouldn't know what to dream of anyway. Whenever I do travel, sightseeing is hardly the top of my priority. It's fine as it is."

It probably said something about how comfortable they were with each other now that Magnus allowed himself to pout, an expression usually only seen by his cat, and even then, only on very rare occasions. It had to be said, the sulky expression worked much better with Alec than it ever did on that heartless feline.

"Ugh, fine," Alec groaned, "You do it then. I wouldn't know what to do."

Still, Magnus paused. He was well aware how much leeway he was being given by even being invited into Alec's head, nevermind having his wicked way with the interior.

"You are aware what you're giving me permission to do, right?"

The realisation had clearly only just dawned on him, the fact that he had pretty much outright asked Magnus to fuck around with his head, "Oh – uh, actually-"

"How about a walk instead?" Magnus grinned, glad to be rid of what was possibly the world's most uncomfortable bench. It was no wonder the Nephilim were such tight asses being stuck with furniture like that. Alec followed after him. They didn't bother with the little gravel path, veering away over the grass instead. The memory of Jace and Izzy had already disappeared into the forest, and they unconsciously followed their lead. It was impressive how far Alec's memory reached, well beyond the confines of the trees, though the details did begin to lessen the farther they wandered.

Eventually, despite Alec's distaste at the idea, they ended up playing twenty questions.

"But it's so... contrived," he protested, having always found it one of the most pointless 'games' imaginable. No scores, no strategy, no winners. Whoever decided quizzing someone on their personal trivia was a game had clearly never played Buckaroo. Magnus was insistent, however. It wasn't subtle, sure, but it was the easiest way to get to know a person.

"Favourite colour?"

"Black?" Alec replied, shrugging dismissively. Oh, this boy had so much to learn.

"Black isn't technically a colour. C'mon, you must have something."

The boy had honestly never given much thought to such things. Colours were just something that was there, whether he liked them or not, so having an opinion on them seemed pretty useless. Still, he knew he wasn't going to get away with that. Magnus pretty much existed in technicolour. From the individual strands of his hair to his steel-toed boots, he was a symphony of reds, blues and greens.

"Gold," Alec eventually replied, and it was as he said it that he realised that was probably true. Not just any gold, though. Those slivers of gold that hid amongst the greens and yellows of Magnus' eyes, "You?"

Magnus gave the question such serious contemplation, as though the fate of the world depended on him picking the perfect answer. The sheer sobriety of his face as he thought was enough to bring forth a smile, "Hmm. Today, I'm feeling blue. Now, next question; do you sing in the shower?"

"What?" Alec laughed, "No."

"I do. Quite well, if I may say so myself. If I hadn't gotten this General gig, I'd be earning my bread with my rendition of River Deep, Mountain High. Just ask my cat."

"I think I'll be keeping my distance from your cat. One face mauling was enough, thanks."

"Oh, one time. He's a sweetheart, really. Well... on occasion. Anyway, you look like a secret bathroom singer. I bet you even use your hairbrush as a microphone," Magnus stated confidently, though from the dishevelled black hair's appearance, it wouldn't have been surprising if Alec bypassed hairbrushes altogether.

"That would be a bet you'd lose," Alec replied, then offered a question of his own, "Do you... believe in aliens?"

"Ooh, lemme see. Of the E.T variety, or more War Of The Worlds?"

"Friendly or homicidal, take your pick."

"I'd have to say... no. And if I'm wrong, may Roger strike me down where I stand," Magnus announced theatrically, arms raised skyward to invite the potential smiting. Since he survived, he thought his point proved, "And yourself?"

"Laugh all you want, but... yes. I hate being surprised, so I believe there are aliens, if only so I'm prepared when they inevitably land and we have to fight for the planet," Alec confessed, half laughing, half embarrassed, "I'm fully prepared for the zombie apocalypse too."

"Nothing wrong with planning ahead. Okay, so... favourite song?"

"Genuinely don't have one," Alec admitted with an apologetic shrug, "The most music I've heard is the classical stuff they play at the Galas. Not stuff I'd go out of my way to listen to in my down time. You?"

"Anything that has a video that makes me seriously consider if I've taken drugs in the last twenty-four hours, the music is bound to be interesting," Magnus replied, "So since you don't listen to much music – something we're really going to have to fix – I suppose you don't dance?"

"Not if I can help it," Alec grimaced, "In a fight, I'm fine. Put me on the dance floor, two left feet."

"Even two left feet can move the right way with enough practise," the grin that had been present on Magnus' face through the duration of the conversation turned coquettish, "Next question; are you single?"

If there had been a question Alec had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that one. He'd gotten so into the flow of talking that he'd been ready to answer immediately, but upon hearing the actual question, his words fled back down his throat, leaving the only reply a strangled squeak. The boy could feel his cheeks burn, cursing his paleness once again for making it all the more obvious when he was flustered.

Magnus just chuckled, brushing off the question and continuing with inane ones like favourite flavour of jelly bean, but the damage had been done. Alec wasn't the type of person who could just brush things off so easily, after all.

The answer was, quite simply, yes. A social life barely factored into the day to day of a Shadowhunter, nevermind a romantic life. The only people Alec really met was other Shadowhunters, and none had ever made much of an impression on him. The only person he'd ever remotely felt something for had been Jace, probably the most awkward few months of his life, and even that had passed with the realisation that Jace was and would always be his troublesome brother. They were fighting a war, where every day was a new battle, at least a dozen fresh kills to try and cope with. It was all Alec could do to focus on each day as they came. So no, he'd never really had true romantic feelings for someone, nevermind an actual relationship. The fact had never really bothered him either, until now, until asked so bluntly.

Why was Magnus even asking such a thing? Out of nowhere, had it simply been another question pulled from the air for the sake of their little game, or had the man really wanted to know? As socially inept as he was, Alec was not unaware of Magnus' flirting. The suggestive comments here, the salacious smiles there, the jokes clearly intended to bring forth a bright flush to Alec's cheeks. The entire time, Alec had taken it in stride, not seeing it as more than a bit of fun, just the way the Warlock was. A bit of good-humoured banter, surely. Was there more to it than that, though? Was it possible that Magnus was interested in him in that way?

It would certainly explain why Magnus kept returning to Alec's dreams every night despite the fact that all they did was sit on a bench and exchange pointless chatter. After that initial night, they had not spoken of a single thing of substance, so far as Alec could see. The Instruments were never brought up again, their individual duties as fighters not touched upon. All they really did was talk about themselves, getting to know each other better – oh.

"I used to be a huge Gilmore Girls fan, but ugh, it really went downhill in the last season. Never should have got rid of Jess, I say – jumped the shark there – but I don't suppose you get to watch much T.V," the longer Alec stayed stonily silent, the more nervous Magnus' babbling became, eager to just return to the easy exchange they had been having earlier.

He was finally spared when Alec gave a small, hesitant, "...yes," and it was clear to both of them that it was not television he was talking about. Magnus fell quiet, long enough that Alec wondered if he'd misinterpreted the entire thing; it really had just been another question in the random list, asked simply for the sake of asking and not because Magnus really cared about the answer, but Alec had gone and waited so long to answer that he'd made it awkward.

Magnus suddenly grinned, and demanded more than requested, "Now ask me."

"...Ask you what?"

"Ask me if I'm single."

"...Are – you single?"

"Why, yes, I am," Magnus answered with a grin, seemingly proud of the fact, "Do you like me?"

Alec hadn't thought it was possible for his face to burn a brighter red, but his face clearly begged to differ. Surely it wasn't healthy to be blushing quite so much in such a short space of time. "When you say like, do you mean-"

Not about to let the entire thing fall through because of miscommunication, Magnus was quick to elaborate, "In the do you think I'm sexy way."

If he'd been blushing before... Just the shade of Alec's face was answer enough, really, as he spluttered to find an answer. On the one hand, he didn't want to hurt Magnus' feelings. On the other, he wasn't too keen on embarrassing himself by answering honestly either, because, honestly? Yes.

"Because I think you are, in an incredibly adorable and understated way," Magnus continued regardless, "So. We're both single. We both find the other attractive – don't deny it, yes you do – and it's obvious that we enjoy each other's company. I've dated people for less, god only knows. So... what do you say? Ready to hang up your spinster belt?"

Alec was finding it difficult to understand how the conversation had taken such an unexpected turn. That night, he'd gone to sleep expecting nothing more than talking to Magnus for a bit about random and generally inconsequential things. Now here he was, being propositioned for the first time in his life, by the first Downworlder he'd actually been on speaking terms with, not even being conscious at the time.

Alec knew life was unpredictable, but this was really taking the piss.

"Magnus... I... Don't get me wrong. I-I like you. But, we're literally mortal enemies, you know. By blood, by nature, by law. We can only ever meet properly in my head. I'm not an expert on dating by any means, but even I can tell that that's not how it's supposed to work."

A perfectly sound argument that Magnus derailed with a wink, "Come on – I'm the man of your dreams, how can you say no?"

Alec couldn't help but laugh at that, the serious tone that had enveloped them dispelled with a single cheesy statement. Magnus decided then that he really did like that little laugh of his.

"Alec," the smile still ghosted his lips, toned down but no less warm, "Look, I know there's so many reasons for you to say no. You're right. By all rights, we should be enemies. But we're not. Look at us. A Downworlder and a Shadowhunter in a close proximity without a gun to their heads, somehow resisting the urge to tear in to each other. You and I, we're not exactly the poster children for our kinds, are we? I'm not asking as a Downworlder, I'm not asking a Shadowhunter. Are you, as Alec, even remotely interested in me, as Magnus?"

There were so many things Alec should have said to that. Pointed out how ridiculous it was to even be discussing this, that they couldn't even meet in the flesh without the excuse of a battle, that no good relationship was founded on a homicidal first meeting.

But he said none of these completely true things, because the only thing he found himself wanting to say was, "Yes."

۞

Chapter Text

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part five

۞

The transition into dating was not an altogether easy one for either of them. Now, unlike Alec, it has to be said that Magnus Bane had much experience when it came to the dating scene. He hadn't been lying when he said he had dated people for less.

Even among Downworlders, there was a stigma against Warlocks, or any being with a strong magical link. The things Magnus could do with a simple click of the fingers was daunting to say the least and worked well to deter people from approaching him. When a person could magic away your lungs if you looked at them funny, you didn't really want to risk it. Magnus being the painfully social creature he was, this stung a little more than he let on, and meant that when the braver people crawled from the woodwork, he didn't really bother with the screening process. So long as you had the balls to approach him, you were good enough relationship material, in his eyes.

So, suffice to say, Magnus had been around the block a fair few times. However, he had never dated anyone like Alexander Lightwood before.

The boy... he had no self-esteem to speak of. Magnus had picked up on his self worth issues pretty much from the first dream, but he wasn't clued in to their crippling extent until they began to call one another 'boyfriend'. Perhaps that was part of the problem – since then, Alec seemed overly conscious of his every word and movement. He had taken to wondering if a boyfriend would react like that, say something like that, laugh at that joke.

It was quite annoying when all Magnus wanted was to see Alec as himself.

That was the least of his concerns, however. The biggest hurdle in the blossoming relationship was, without a doubt, the constant setting. They could only truly meet inside a dream. In theory, Magnus hadn't even considered it a problem. It had worked for them up to then, after all. In practise? Not so without its drawbacks. For one, Alec was tremendously sentimental about his dreams, which never strayed far from memory territory. Far too sentimental to allow any tampering, so all their dates constituted of that single garden in Idris. Sure, gardens were all well and good, but Magnus was much fonder of the party scene, or at least some place with a roof.

Still, that much was bearable. The little garden had its charm, the fond glow to Alec's eyes as he glanced around it alone. The biggest problem, one that Magnus was finding more and more frustrating, was the fact that neither of them were truly there.

They were dating and the only times the two of them had physically been together had been when they were first trying to kill each other, and then the time Magnus had been victim to an unexpected dissection. Hardly memories for the scrapbook.

They hadn't even kissed yet, probably the most frustrating thing to Magnus, who made it his duty to lay a kiss on his partner before the third date was out. Sure, he could have. Dream regardless, they were perfectly capable of touching one another there, hardly likely to have a ghost moment. He didn't though – he couldn't get over the thought that it just simply wouldn't count. And their first kiss had to count for something.

And so Magnus made a decision. A potentially life threatening one.

The things he did for love.

The hall was dimly lit, a warm glow encasing the room like a protective sphere. There was no battle between the music and the conversations taking place, each an even volume to allow the other. There was a constant rustling of skirts, the clacking of heels upon the wooden floor as people moved in time to the violins and pianos, men and women joined together in a rehearsed movement of one, two three, one, two three. It was the epitome of refined, as all Shadowhunter Galas were, the entire spectacle buffed to a perfect shine.

Alec couldn't have been more bored.

It was a celebration, one they had been in desperate need of when there was so little to celebrate. Terribly belated but a commemoration of their defeat of Klaus. The handful of Nephilim personally responsible for the former Downworlder General's death were at the head of the party, surrounded by awe struck peers and basking in their success. Among them was Robert and Maryse Lightwood, Alec's parents. Neither of them looked particularly smug but the satisfied gleam in their eyes couldn't be ignored.

Alec pressed his back harder into the wall, wishing there was some way he could just phase through the plaster and bricks until he'd escaped the smothering room. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of his parents – of course he was, they were climbing through the ranks more and more by the day, he could only aspire to be more like them himself – but the entire thing left a bitter taste in his mouth that the water he kept chugging did nothing to clear away.

He had never been a party person, after all. He wasn't social, he didn't dance, he didn't trust himself to drink. Beyond that, celebrations like this held no appeal to him, just a night of standing in a corner and watching the clock swallow the night. Worse still was the attention he was receiving simply for being a Lightwood, son of the exalted heroes of the night. He kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid accidentally catching the gaze of one of the several women trying to, in case they mistook it as invitation.

The only girl whose company he didn't mind sidled up to him. Isabelle was resplendent in her silk gown, a crimson that contrasted starkly with her inky raven hair and porcelain skin. A faint hint of make-up lay about her eyes and lips, only accentuating the naturally charming features that Alec couldn't imagine likening to his own. Said features were settled in a frown, dark eyes narrowed at him. Isabelle had that odd way about her, a single look enough to make you want to do as she said. The look she was levelling at Alec brought on the odd compulsion to apologise, but he was one of the few who had never been subject to give in to those compulsions.

"You're not even trying to enjoy yourself," she accused, with such certainty that there was no room left for argument.

"Because you're clearly having so much fun," he replied, taking a sip of his drink, a chilled glass of water. She tossed her head prettily, more than aware of the appreciative looks she received when she did so.

"How can I when you're fossilizing over here? Come on, Alec," her voice was earnest, that way it always got when she tried to pull him into the life of things and that never failed to make him guilty for not being the butterfly she so effortlessly was, "At least dance once. There are plenty of people making eyes at you. God forbid you might have some fun."

He took another sip of his drink to avoid responding, though just what he was planning to say outside of no he wasn't sure. Said drink suddenly went down the wrong way when a black cat slunk across the hall. Neither of them paid it any mind at first – most Shadowhunters had pets, cats a particular favourite – but then it had seemed to look directly at him, and Alec would have known those eyes anywhere.

"Hey – Alec, where are you going?" Isabelle demanded indignantly as Alec thrust his glass into her hands and made for the balcony doors. He didn't bother with a reply, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to chase after the cat.

Thankfully, the balcony was empty, the night air bearing too nasty a chill for everyone to want to leave the cosy warmth of the banquet hall. Somehow Alec managed to both whisper and shout, eyes darting around the shadowed patio for the gatecrasher, "Are you completely mental? What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet a guest, darling?" Magnus chuckled, brushing the stray cat hair from his sleeve and flexing his fingers, "And after I came all this way too."

Magnus' nonchalance only put Alec more on edge, worried enough for the both of them as his gaze skittered around for any potential eavesdroppers, anyone who may have sensed the Downworlder's arrival. He needn't have been so concerned, Magnus taking more precautions than Alec could possibly imagine, but it was rather cute seeing his feathers so ruffled.

Fingers curling around the boy's wrist, Magnus bid him quiet and led him away from the Gala, down the steps of the patio and along the little path that ended in the empty town square. It wasn't until they could no longer hear the music from the hall that they stopped, Magnus pulling Alec around to face him. The boy still looked ill at ease, glancing around them nervously, but he knew they weren't going to be seen. Everyone and their mother was at that party, the Clave considering it an insult if an invitation was denied.

"So I was doing some paperwork, typical General kind of things, when it occurred to me that tonight is our anniversary," Magnus announced.

"Considering we've been together barely two months, I can assume what you really mean is that you just didn't want to do your paperwork," Alec rebuffed, and from the look on Magnus' face, he wasn't too far off the mark.

"Just had to strip away the romance there, didn't you? And I was actually referring to the anniversary of our first meeting. Three and a half months ago tonight, we were trying to kill each other. Ah, how we've moved on from then. We'll be picking out shower curtains in no time."

"I'm no Casanova but I'm pretty sure attempted assassination doesn't warrant an anniversary," Alec snickered.

"Au contraire, beau-"

"We've been over this, no pet names-"

"Shh, you're ruining the moment. Anyway, it just goes to show how far we've come in so little time, don't you think? Trying to kill each other one day, plaiting each other's hair the next. We're representatives of our kind, darling. I thought that warranted some celebration."

Alec had no idea where Magnus was getting this stuff, he didn't even have enough hair to plait, but he found it was usually easier to just go along with it when the Warlock started accompanying his words with elaborate hand gestures.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it then. But I haven't got anything to give you, y'know," Alec said, faux apologetic, turning up his bare palms. Magnus only smirked.

"Which is why we're lucky at least one of us has a basic concept of romance. Happy anniversary, Alec," he beamed, flicking one of his wrists. There was a small tug at the back of Alec's neck as the necklace poofed into existence, settling on to his chest neatly. It was a spectacularly simple piece of jewellery, especially considering just who the gift giver was. A simple chain made of steel, enchanted to feel lighter yet no less hard-wearing, with a small and unobtrusive pendant at the centre. Alec fingered the cool metal, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"I hadn't thought you capable of something so low-key," he stated, giving up the battle to fight away the smile.

"Well, I was originally going to go for a diamond dollar sign, but that was too bling even for me. Besides, it would have clashed with that atrocious little thing." He gestured to the ring on Alec's finger, the insignia of the Lightwood family in gaudy red against a heavy golden band, twists carved around the ring resembling flames. He'd been wearing it for so long, he forgot it was even there most of the time.

"Alec," Magnus' voice suddenly sobered as he closed the distance between them and took the pendant into his hand, "Wear this when you go to bed. I've cast a spell on it so that, as long as you have it on, you'll be able to come inside my dream."

The significance of that statement hit Alec harder than if a ton of bricks had fallen on him. The gesture of a gift aside, it was not a mere necklace that Magnus was offering him. Trust, direct access into the man's mind, the playing field finally evening despite Alec never having considered how uneven it had been. Knowing what it felt like to allow another person inside of him so completely, in a way no family or friend could understand, Alec grasped Magnus' hand, the pendant warming between their joined palms.

"Thank you," he said, hoping his sincerity was captured in those two small words. If the way Magnus' eyes seemed to glow as they met his own was any clue, it had been.

"That wasn't the only reason I decided to gatecrash the party," Magnus whispered, the words taking on a secretive edge that compelled Alec to lean closer. Just like the Warlock had planned he would, closing the distance and pressing his lips against the Shadowhunter's.

As first kisses went, it was neither horrible nor spectacular. Their lips were chapped and cracking from the cold night air, Alec taken by surprise and accidentally biting Magnus, and not in the fun way he usually enjoyed. No, no fireworks exploded behind their closed eyelids, no butterflies flurrying in their stomachs. However, pulling each other closer and feeling the other's heat as they stood entwined in the courtyard, neither of them would have wished it to be any different. It may not have been something of harlequin romance novels, but it was theirs, and that was all that mattered.

It wouldn't be for another twenty minutes that Alec returned to the banquet hall, the Gala winding down as the night drew to a close, looking more flushed than could believably be blamed on the cold. He spotted Jace over at the drinks table, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the sparse choices available. His friend didn't comment on his ruffled appearance when Alec joined him, looking impossibly bored.

"Seen Izzy? Maryse wanted to introduce her to someone, but I couldn't find her," Jace said, scanning the crowd for the familiar head of raven hair. Alec scarcely had the chance to answer that he hadn't when Isabelle suddenly appeared at Jace's elbow. An uncomfortable heaviness descended in the pit of his stomach, big brother instinct or whatever it was surfacing as he looked at her – on the surface, no different than she had looked before. Not a hair was out of place from her neat bun, the expensive dress still as immaculate as when she had taken it off the hanger, not so much as a scratch. Yet there was something about her expression that had Alec's hackles rising, a difficulty in reading her that he very rarely had and that never meant anything good. More than anything, however, was the fact that for the rest of the night, she seemed to be actively avoiding his eyes.

She managed to keep herself together until the moment her bedroom door clicked shut. Her bare back slid down the wood slowly until she thumped to the floor, all her usual grace and poise forgotten.

Alec.

Her big brother, one of the sole constants in her life, the only person she could truly trust with absolutely anything, had been consorting with a Downworlder right before her eyes. It had touched him, kissed him, it had even made him laugh. A thing even she had trouble doing more and more as the years went on.

Panic swelled within her chest until the room span and she had to put her head between her knees.

Alec and a Downworlder.

She couldn't even think it without that painful pang, a swarm of worry, anger, confusion and other things she couldn't even cope with identifying right then buzzing angrily in her head. In an attempt to calm her frantic breathing, she replayed the scene she had been witness to after following Alec out of the party. The night had started with her usual concern, seeing Alec once again isolating himself from everyone, and when he had suddenly fled the room, she had thought him trying to bail from the Gala. If only it had been something so innocent, so safe.

Reliving the private moment in the courtyard had the opposite effect to what she desired, everything suddenly seeming worse the more she thought about it.

She'd never seen Alec like that. So at ease, so comfortable in the presence of another, making jokes like they were the easiest thing despite him never having been good at talking for the sake of talking. It had stung, seeing him so relaxed with someone in a way she had thought only she, Jace and Max were privilege to. But more than that, it had terrified her.

The Downworlder had said it was their 'anniversary'. Had this been going on since that failed mission all those months ago? Could her brother have been victim to a spell for so long without her even realising?

Because that was all it could be, as far as Isabelle was concerned. Just as Alec had been, she lived by the rules that had been instilled in her before she had even hit double digits. Anything with Demon blood was sinister, dangerous, wrong. There were no depths to which they would not sink and that night had proven it to her so completely.

That Warlock had done something to Alec, cast some spell upon him to warp her brother's feelings and make him so utterly vulnerable, and it was only a matter of time before the Warlock bored of playing around with him and finished what had been started the night Alec had been decided upon as decoy.

No.

But now Isabelle knew. She had seen, she had found out what was going on, and she could do something about it before Alec was either killed or his reputation within the Clave destroyed. That night was already lost and she only hoped Alec would be alright until the next day, by which time she will have found some way to break the spell, and if she could get rid of the Downworlder in one fell swoop? Well, that was just a cheeky bonus.

Alec had always protected her. Now it was his turn to be protected.

"So, it occurred to me, you've never seen my humble abode," was the greeting Alec received as the dream became solid around him. The necklace hung warm around his neck, the pendant glowing a violent red as the room he had woken to settled around him.

It was everything he had expected of Magnus' private quarters. Extravagant, comfortable and altogether improbable.

"It's like the TARDIS..." Alec muttered to himself with a shake of the head, stepping further into what he assumed was the living room. It was impossibly big, that room alone as large as the banquet hall that housed the Shadowhunter Galas. It was decked out modernly, leather sofas and plush armchairs situated around the large television screen embedded in the wall, more DVDs and CDs than Alec could imagine ever being used in cabinets around the room, the only thing that ruined the modern look being the shelves of ancient looking books.

"Ah! So you do watch some T.V then? Not a bad choice either, big fan of Eleven myself." Magnus was slumped on the sofa in a bonelessly comfortable way, smiling warmly as he watched Alec explore the recreation of his home. It was accurate down to the last detail Magnus had been able to remember, needing it to be as real as possible, wanting to share the sole private space he had with Alec.

Well, he'd left Chairman Meow out of it. Dream or no, he wasn't too keen on having Alec's pretty face mauled all over again.

"Jace likes it – I should say he's obsessed with it really, not that he'd admit it in so many words. You can't live in that house without ending up watching it. Is your place really this big?" Alec asked incredulously, wandering over to Magnus while still peering about the doorways to see just how far they led away.

Magnus had to pause before answering, rubbing at his chest a moment as a tingle of discomfort ran through him, clearing his throat before continuing, "I may be exaggerating a tad. Still, it's nothing to turn the nose up at."

"Knew it," Alec snickered, "And, er... that cat?" The sheer wariness of his voice was amusing, the boy glancing around for his former attacker with trepidation.

"Firmly in reality," Magnus reassured, "Besides, even if he was here, I'm the one in his ba-" He had to stop, grasping at his chest tightly, slumping forward as the slight itch of discomfort turned into a steady burn.

"Magnus?" He heard Alec's voice distantly, the concern clear but the word garbled, like he was listening from under water. Drawing breath had suddenly become difficult – if the burn in his chest was bad, each lungful of air he tried to choke down was like swallowing concentrated hellfire, leaving him gasping and pained.

"Magnus!" Alec may well have not spoken at all, not a hint of recognition granted to him as Magnus began to pant, scrabbling at his chest as though trying to burrow beyond the skin. Something was very wrong, he knew, but just what, he had no idea. Grasping Magnus' chin, Alec tried to force the man to look at him, but as he pulled his face around, the hand that had been clutching at the Warlock's chest came away slick with blood. The stain of red blossomed upon Magnus' shirt, spreading out rapidly as the dream disintegrated around them.

The last thing Alec saw was something glow in the centre of Magnus' chest before it was suddenly engulfed in licks of black flame, and then he woke.

۞

Chapter Text

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part six

۞

One of the first things a person learnt during their Shadowhunter training was the art of calm. When your day to day life involved battling things with more legs than you could count, breath that could rot the skin from your bones in an instance and even the odd creature that could steal the very essence of your humanity, it wouldn't do for you to lose your bottle at the slightest hint of danger.

There were only three times in Alec's life that he could remember feeling as though he had truly lost his calm. Not just lost it but had it stolen away, all trace of rationality going with it, leaving him drowning in raw fear with none of the abilities he needed to deal with the problem.

The first time had been on his very first mission. He had been thirteen, fresh from his training, on the field at Robert's heels. He had all the information he needed – the target, what the unit he was a part of would be doing and what his individual task was. However, the information had proven insufficient in preparing him for his first look at a true fight. He had gone blank, he had almost cost his unit the fight.

The second time had been three years later when he was sixteen. Another day, another mission. It should have been routine. A rogue Downworlder who didn't appear to have any affiliation with the Downworlder army had sneaked into Alicante. That day, it was Alec's unit who were ordered to take care of this intruder; Jace, Isabelle, Sebastian and Aline. Unfortunately, as it occasionally did, the information again proved insufficient. It was not Alec who was unprepared this time so much as the information itself had ended up false. The Downworlder was not some simple salt and burn creature, and the five of them had been overwhelmed. There had been a moment that even years later remained as crystal clear in his memory in its sheer helplessness, in which Jace and Izzy were both in danger, at the very same time, and Alec had thought he would have to choose which of his siblings to save. Another unit had arrived in the nick of time and he had been spared the choice, but he never forgot what it felt like to be so helpless to protect those he loved.

The third time Alec truly lost himself was that night, lying in his bed with the image of Magnus engulfed in black flame still emblazoned on his eyelids. It was all so clear and he wondered whether the image would ever truly fade; the way not only the colour but the very glow had drained from Magnus' skin, the way his face had twisted in such agony, how starkly bright his blood had seemed as it spread so quickly across his crumpling body. The worst thing was that brief glance Alec had caught, just before those vile flames had erupted upon Magnus' chest, of something he would never fail to recognise.

The flames had sprung up from a rune, flickering but definitely there upon the man's torso, one Alec only vaguely recognised but enough to knock him sick.

All traces of calm and rationality disappeared.

Alec moved with a speed usually only seen of him when in battle. There was no blade in his hand but his wrist flicked with the same deadly precision, tearing his room apart to search for whatever it was. Within minutes, it looked as though a bomb had hit; drawers pulled out from the chest and upturned, scattering the contents without a care; his cupboard flung open and ransacked to no avail; the books upon his shelves soon joined his other belongings on the stone floor, not a thought given to the torn paper and broken spines. Yet he could find nothing, not a scrap of paper, not a scribbled on post-it note, nothing that could have put that rune so near to him that it could have touched Magnus as he wore the necklace.

It was a very teenager moment of him, something more suited to Isabelle throwing a tantrum, but frustration was bubbling over in Alec and the only way he could even begin to relieve it was to grab his pillow in his fist and launch it across the room. It hit the wall with a satisfying thwack, sliding to the ground along with the rest of the debris. If it hadn't been for that embarrassingly teenage moment, he may not have found what he was looking for until too late.

It had been lying hidden beneath his pillow, the dangling feathers carefully tucked over the woven spider-webbed centre so as not to peek out and alert Alec to its presence. In the centre of the familiar looking dreamcatcher was a different colour thread. It was amateurishly done, thin red cotton stitched over the professional weaving of the dreamcatcher, a rune sown into the middle.

Just looking at that badly done sewing left Alec no doubts about just who was behind this.

"Izzy!" Alec clutched the loathsome dreamcatcher in one fist, bringing the other down upon the surface of his meddlesome sister's door with a vengeance. He'd barely lifted his hand for another harsh knock when the door was flung open.

Isabelle beamed at him. Her hair was still up in a ponytail as it had been the entire day, her clothes wrinkled and unchanged from earlier, the bed in her room clearly untouched despite the early hour. There was a touch of darkness beneath her eyes.

"Did it work?" she demanded, grabbing hold of Alec's wrist and pulling him into her room, kicking the door shut behind them. She was literally buzzing, her smile blinding as she bound over to her desk. It was piled high with thick books that Alec hadn't seen since his training days and the knot in his stomach twisted.

Isabelle wasn't looking at him, rifling through the pages of the open book on her desk. If she had been, her ecstasy may have been diminished, the sheer lividity exuding from her brother frightening, not because of its intensity, but just because of its presence. No matter what happened, no matter what she did, Alec had never been able to be truly angry towards her.

Until now.

"What did you do?" He struggled to keep his voice calm but his hands gave him away, trembling as he suppressed the need to just grab her by the shoulders and shake her, to get her to stop smiling so happily, not when Magnus was bleeding because of what she had done.

"It took ages to find – stayed up all night – it still wasn't what I was really looking for but so long as it got the job done," she was rambling in that excited way she sometimes got, grabbing hold of the book and bringing it over to him, "There was another that would have done more damage to It but there was a chance It could turn the effects back on you, so I went with the safer option. How do you feel?"

There was nothing but honest concern shining in her eyes, an openness she didn't usually allow even to him, and Alec knew he had to soothe his temper. There was no malice there, nothing but honest-to-god worry, and he knew just what that felt like.

"Izzy," his voice almost broke with the effort to keep it even despite that horrible image of Magnus collapsing in the shattering dream playing over and over in his mind like it was on some demented loop, "I need you to tell me what you think you've done here, because whatever it is you think, you're wrong."

Her expression faltered. Alec could almost see the moment she closed to him, that instance of vulnerability vanishing like a door had been slammed shut behind her eyes. When she next spoke, her voice was not cold but there was an absence of feeling to it; clinical, detached, painfully impersonal.

"I banished the Downworlder from your mind, Alec. It obviously worked – but that rune should have broken whatever spell It had over you too." She felt ill, physically ill. She had thought she could do it herself, spare Alec the humiliation and shame of having to go to the Clave and tell them he had been bewitched, risk losing rank because of something that he should never have had to handle on his own. But even though she had successfully forced the Downworlder from his head, Alec wasn't better. He should have been... Isabelle wasn't sure, happy maybe? Embarrassed, of course, and worried about their parents and the other Adults finding out. Had she failed him?

Alec took a deep breath, considering his next words carefully, "That Downworlder's name is Magnus, and he hasn't cast any spell over me, Izzy. I... I was inviting him in."

Isabelle considered herself one of the few people to know Alec – not the Alec he presented himself as, that aloof and brooding figure who seemed only to care about the mission at hand, but the real Alec. The young man riddled with insecurity, both in himself and how the world viewed him, and who measured his worth only on what he meant to other people. She had grown up with that person and watched him disappear more and more into his shell as the years went on until sometimes she felt like she was the only person who saw him. She had considered herself the closest to him, the one who knew him the best – until he had spoken those words and a seed of doubt sprouted in her mind. For she had known him so well, yet she had never heard him say someone's name with the trembling warmth that he did Magnus'.

The sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach doubled, the dawning realisation of having done something wrong descending upon her.

"Alec," she breathed, suddenly feeling like this was a conversation that had to take place in whispers, "I don't understand."

He bit his lip, a nervous tick she had seen on him a thousand times, as he slipped the book from her hands and led her over to the bed. She watched him flip through the pages with a familiarity she would never be able to challenge, and an absent thought struck her out of nowhere; those fingers seemed so much more at home turning pages than holding a knife.

Having found the desired page, Alec slid the heavy book on to Isabelle's knee and extended his bare arm, shoving the sleeve up past his elbow.

"That one," he pointed to one of the several obsidian runes on the yellowing pages, "Draw it on me. If I'm under any sort of spell, it'll change shape and become warped."

He needed her to understand. He needed her to not be able to talk her way around the fact, that he was entirely in control. Without argument, Isabelle took up her Stele and went to work carving the small and not particularly detailed marking on to his pale and scarred arm. Her hand was shaking slightly as she finished, an awkwardness to the action despite having been drawing runes on her own and other's bodies for over a decade. Isabelle stared at the mark, so distinctly black against Alec's pale skin, and he watched her just as intently, feeling inexplicably guilty at the hope he saw on her face.

She wanted so badly for it to be a spell, he knew. That having been caught up in some voodoo or something would be much easier to understand than Alec being in compete control, choosing to open his mind to a Downworlder.

"Izzy, I know it's hard to understand, and I don't even think I can explain it. I just... Things aren't as black and white as we were taught. Magnus is a Downworlder, but he's not evil, and... and he's not my enemy. They're fighting for the exact reason we're fighting. It's crossed wires, so many misunderstandings!" Alec implored, words never his strong suit but desperation to make his sister understand spurring them on regardless.

Isabelle was looking at him but not really seeing him, dark eyes distant. Her mouth pursed and before Alec could say any more her hand shot out and clapped over his lips, stopping the words in their tracks.

"So... what I saw... that was all you?" she murmured, dropping her hand again.

Alec frowned, "What do you mean?"

"That night, in the town square," Alec felt heat rise to his cheeks, not so much at the memory but at the knowledge of just how much Isabelle actually knew, "The Downworlder – Magnus – said two months-"

"Okay, I know how it looks, but-"

"And so when he kissed you... you were actually kissing him back-"

"Look, er, I can exp-"

"Alec!" It wasn't the tone of reproach the increasingly flustered Alec was expecting, nor the horrified scolding he was afraid of. Rather, Isabelle sounded... relieved. Well, that was a new one. "You're dating someone?"

"...yes?" He couldn't help but be hesitant, just plain baffled by his sister's response now. He was only going to get more confused when, at his wary reply, her eyes suddenly grew damp. Oh, she was quick to hide it, of course. Isabelle Lightwood did not cry, and if she did, no one saw her do it. But that glimpse of sparkling tears was enough for Alec, who blanched.

"Oh god, um. Look, I know it's bad. If anyone finds out, I'm dead, or worse, stripped of my marks. But please don't-"

Whatever plea he was about to make was cut off as Isabelle flung her arms around him, hands fisting into the back of his shirt. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and Alec pretended he didn't feel the dampness from her cheeks seep onto his shirt. Tentatively, he patted her back, more confused than ever.

He really didn't understand girls.

Although Alec and Isabelle had always been close, they had both managed to miss how much the one worried about the other. Alec was constantly on alert for her, Big Brother Senses forever tingling, reading to throw himself in the path of danger for her sake. Yet he was blissfully unaware of just how constantly on alert she was for him, too. It was not contrariness that compelled Isabelle to always pester Alec at the Galas or other Shadowhunter parties, to try and drag him in to the life of things. In her eyes, Alec seemed intent on isolating himself. When she was younger, she didn't mind as much, so long as he always allowed her in his self-imposed little bubble. However, she grew up, and with it, she became more aware of just what their lives would ultimately encompass. They were warriors, child soldiers whose destiny was nothing more than to die at the hands of one enemy or the other. Every day they threw their lives into jeopardy, and it continued to hit Isabelle that one of those days, she may just not come home.

On the day that happened, who would Alec really have? There was Robert and Maryse, of course, who were loving parents. However, they were also absent parents. They did their best when they were around but that was so far and few between it was barely worth mentioning. By the time Isabelle hit fifteen, the two may well have been strangers. She was sure Alec shared the sentiment. Then there was Max, who was only a child and one who hadn't even begun his training yet, not someone Alec could depend on when he was supposed to be the one being depended upon. Jace too, just as much their brother as Max, but oddly absent. Jace was there in the flesh but there was a vacancy ever present in his eyes, an isolation in spirit despite generally being surrounded by people. Jace and Alec may not have been brothers in blood but they were certainly brothers in bond. However, as much as Isabelle loved Jace, she could not entirely trust Alec to him, not when she worried about Jace just as much.

All that worrying, had it been in vain? Suddenly all thoughts of Downworlder, enemy, Demon blood – it was all gone from her head. It didn't matter. What mattered was that there was someone. Alec may not have come out from inside his little isolated bubble, but he had welcomed someone else inside, and that was so incredible to Isabelle.

It was a moment of weakness for her. She hated tears but a tension she had felt for years was now unwinding and she couldn't help a sob or two. She squeezed Alec a fraction tighter, just feeling that he was really there. It had always seemed to her that he could vanish in an instance, but he was in her arms now, and there was another person out there that would know he was gone apart from her.

Isabelle had had her moment of weakness now, and it was over. She straightened up, swiped the tears from her cheeks, and was as composed as if a single sob had never broken past her lips. Alec watched her warily, arms still hovering gingerly around her.

"Do you love him?" Isabelle asked, proud that her voice didn't waver in the slightest. She had expected a blush or at least a stuttering avoidance of the question. Alec gave her neither, brow furrowing.

"No," he eventually replied after a long moment, "But I think I could. I think I could really love him, Iz. He... He makes me like the person I am when I'm with him."

Isabelle couldn't have asked for anything more.

"Then it's a shame I've probably set him on fire," she replied, "Let's go."

Alec decided it was quite concerning just how easily Isabelle managed to slip away from Alicante unnoticed. Stealth was one thing but his sister escaped the Shadowhunter stronghold with a practised ease, one which he decided he was going to have to watch.

They were silent as they sped to the Fourth District. It was lucky that Isabelle was with him, Alec decided – the closer he got to the border, the more reckless he became. Forgetting caution, abandoning stealth, he imagined that he could almost feel that he was getting closer to Magnus and it spurred him on to rush. If it hadn't been for Isabelle dragging him back into the shadows every time he got ahead of himself, he probably would have been caught.

They followed the same path they had taken that fateful first night, smaller in number now but more incensed in intent. They reached the spot the group had first decided as their meet-up place, and that was where Isabelle left him. For the second time that night, she gripped him tightly in a hug.

She was so relieved, but a part of her found it impossibly sad too. For so long she had been the only one who truly looked at Alec. Now there was someone else, and she knew that a part of her brother was forever lost to her. But she also knew that was for the best. If two people held a piece of Alec, it would be all the harder for him to disappear on them.

"I'm really sorry I tried to kill your boyfriend," she stated, and if it had been in any other situation, the words may have been funny, "Take as long as you need. I'll cover for you."

Alec watched her quickly retreating back until he couldn't make her out from the shadows any more, then slipped away, prowling the narrow backstreets of the Fourth District until a familiar building loomed up ahead. Getting inside was harder this time – he did not have the distraction of the others to use to his advantage – but eventually he managed to get inside Magnus' quarters.

He paused, hearing movement just beyond the door, knowing Magnus was right there. His blood thundered in his ears, adrenalin mixing with panic into a toxic loss of calm.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...

Alec needed that half a moment to himself. He knew Magnus wasn't as hurt as it had seemed. If the situation had been just a week earlier and Isabelle had pulled that trick, the Warlock probably would have been killed. However, because it had been Alec trespassing rather than Magnus in his mind, the effect of the rune was not as volatile as it would have been. He was hurt, but it was not fatal. He could not heal the wound himself, but Alec could patch him up with ease. It had been terrifying but the worst was over and this was going to be alright.

Finally able to banish the final image of that dream away, Alec entered the room.

That night was an eventful one, despite its more than rocky start. The injury Magnus had sustained from the rune had been small but no less painful for its size. It wasn't so much the physical wound as the way his blood boiled at the touch of Angel Power now carved on to his flesh. It had been excruciating – when you have Demon blood running through your veins, it simply did not do to have a Shadowhunter's mark upon you – and worse still was that his healing abilities were useless against it.

Never before in his life had Magnus Bane laid his hands on herbal remedies and bandages, but he decided it wasn't so bad a way to go when your nurse was one Alexander Lightwood. That being said, the nurse wasn't the most sympathetic to his patient.

"Oh, shut up. I haven't even touched you yet," Alec snapped as Magnus continued to squirm away from the alcohol-soaked cloth, watching it with narrowed eyes as though it was about to bite.

"It dripped. You're only bringing home the fact that we should be drinking that vodka," Magnus replied, letting Alec bring the cloth to his bloodied chest again but slinking down on the coach the second it was remotely near the scalding brand.

"Christ, Max was less trouble than this when he broke his arm!" Alec exclaimed, "And he gave less lip too."

"Please, don't act like you don't love my lip," Magnus grinned, "Both of them in fact."

Alec just gave him The Look. He had thought the most difficult part of that night would be explaining what in the actual fuck had happened, but no, Magnus had taken the entire story in his stride. Even jokingly referred to it as their first lover's tiff and the closest thing he'd get to meeting the family. Being attacked by his boyfriend's sister – no problem. Getting his wound cleaned – now hold on a second, let's slow down and think about this, shall we?

Alec had always played the role of matron for as long as he could remember. He had been in charge of patching up the scraped knees and kissing better the bumped elbows. Even when Max had broken his arm, Alec had been the one to set the bone before they had drawn a healing rune and thrown it in a sling. Yet never before had he had such a difficult patient. Maybe it was just because Shadowhunters were pretty much desensitized when it came to injuries. Or maybe Magnus was just being a pussy.

"Oi, it's dripping again, mind it!"

Yeah, option two it was.

A part of him really wanted to go at Magnus with the cloth again just to see him fall off the couch, but his sentimental side overshadowed it, a pang going through his chest just at the sight of the Warlock stained with red. The blood was drying now, crusting to a dirty brown over his narrow chest, and even though the colour had darkened it still seemed to drain away the rest of the colour from Magnus, leaving him looking pallid and... well, un-him. So Alec bit the bullet. With a boldness that was entirely foreign to the boy, he splayed a hand on Magnus' bare chest, throwing a leg over his hips until he had the Warlock entirely pinned to the couch.

Before Magnus could make some comment about buying him dinner first, Alec quickly swiped the alcohol-soaked cloth over his chest, ignoring the hiss of pain from the man beneath him. Next came another cloth, damp with only water this time, to clean away the streaking patches of blood. Magnus still squirmed but remained silent under the ministrations, happy to ignore the pain and just focus on the fact that Alec was not only physically with him but actually straddling him on the couch. And to think, the night had started so badly.

Even after Alec had wrapped a bandage tightly around his chest and declared the E.R closed, Magnus didn't let him get back up, holding loosely on to his ankles and pulling him down for a kiss. This kiss was different than the one from the courtyard. It still had that awkward and fumbling quality to it, something that was so innately Alec that Magnus didn't think would ever fade and wasn't sure he wanted it to, but there was something more behind it now. A daringness on Alec's part to not just let Magnus control the entire thing but to offer something to it himself – it was Alec, not Magnus, who tentatively deepened the moment. And it was Alec who first sent wandering hands through Magnus' hair and over his chest, gently so as not to disturb the still stinging wound. But more than that, there was a heat behind the kiss that hadn't been present in the courtyard, where the entire thing was new and chaste. A heat that left them both breathless but clinging to the other for more.

When they finally broke apart, it was Alec who spoke first, which was good since Magnus found he couldn't quite form any words.

"I – er, think I should stay the night – to make sure there are no side-effects," he stated, his voice husky in a way that couldn't be brushed off as simply breathlessness.

"Yeah," Magnus managed to conjure, fingers playing with the bottom of Alec's shirt, "Could be like a concussion, this. Best to keep an eye on it... no one'll notice you're gone?"

Alec shifted over him, moving to a more comfortable position, something that shouldn't have been that distracting but that made Magnus almost miss his reply.

"Izzy promised to cover for me. No one would have noticed besides her anyway."

Magnus didn't have the patience for more chit chat, darting forward to capture those lips again, knowing there was more fun things they could be doing than talking.

۞

Chapter Text

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part seven

۞

As it happened, Isabelle discovering their relationship was a blessing in disguise, attempted murder aside. She became their accomplice, throwing herself in to the role whole-heartedly. She wouldn't have come out and said it but she was grateful to the Warlock, not only for pulling Alec from his solitude, but also for giving the basis for her own relationship with her brother to strengthen. They had drifted as they'd gotten older, become so different in personality that common interests disappeared, pretty much the only thing they had to talk about being work. That had changed with her finding out about Magnus; she was his confidante, the sole person he could speak to about his boyfriend worries, the one he could ask for advice. It was sometimes pretty awkward, Isabelle inadvertently letting on that she was more experienced than he was probably comfortable with, but even then, the awkwardness was something they could look upon and laugh about later.

She had gotten her brother back in a way she had never had him before, and she had Magnus Bane to thank for that. She expressed that gratitude in the only way she really could. Just like that first eventful night, Isabelle would aid Alec in slipping away unnoticed from Alicante, crossing the border over to the Fourth District. If anyone came to Alec's room, though it was rare, she would divert them. If ever Max came to pester Alec for a sparring session or some other training thing when he was gone, she'd take his place. On the even rarer occasions of Jace being bored enough to actively seek someone else's company, she'd be the one to go wherever he'd suddenly decided would be fun on a whim.

Just like that, nine months passed in relative peace. The war waged on with no particularly resounding losses, the siblings grew closer bound by their secret, and Magnus and Alec became an irrevocable part of each other's lives.

The training room was colder than the Winter air outside, their breath leaving their mouths in puffs of white fog. Of the group, however, two were far from feeling the chill, sweat soaking their skin as they glided across the floor in a bizarre game of Cat and Mouse.

Alec was there only because his disapproval would have to be in the room to be noticed at all.

"Come on – that was just clumsy," Jace sneered, sweeping out of the way of Sebastian's lunge. Sebastian didn't rise to the bait, irritation clear but not leaving him careless. The dark haired boy just kept moving, darting one step forward for every skip back that Jace took.

It was supposed to be a rest day. They had a big mission tomorrow and it was regulation that the day before dispatch be used only for preparation. Which, of course, meant that Sebastian had gotten Jace all riled up until they were at each other's throats once more down in the basement.

It was just a good thing that Hodge was holed up in his office as usual or they would have gotten a bollocking.

"Do you – ever stop – talking?" Sebastian bit out between grabs, trying to get a hold of Jace's weapon hand but failing. Alec could see the problem a mile away – Sebastian stuck to the guidelines of sparring far too strictly while Jace just went with his instinct, thereby making his movements hard to predict – but he wasn't about to give any hints. He was too busy trying to make his disapproval obvious. They were his Unit, after all, so it'd be him getting in trouble if Hodge found them.

"I find my soothing voice lulls the enemy into a false sense of security," Jace said with an intentional musical lilt, once more evading Sebastian with an insulting ease.

Alec tuned out from what would soon enough be just another slanging match, letting his gaze wander around the room. On the other side of the hall was Isabelle and Aline. If the painfully plastered on grin curling Isabelle's lips were any indication, the two girls were having their own little battle, that bizarre way girls had of insulting one another with compliments. Perched on the bench beside his sister was Max, who definitely shouldn't have been down there but who had turned on the doe eyes and gotten his own way. He was watching the fight with rapt attention, absorbing every inch that Jace moved, no doubt to try and imitate later.

As Alec watched, Aline's eyes flickered to him then lingered for an uncomfortably long time. There was a shine of amusement in her eyes that didn't really show up on her face as she purposefully pointed to her neck. There was no malice in her voice, just honest curiosity, when she asked, quiet voice unfortunately loud, "Is that a love bite?"

The girl had managed to ask at the exact moment that Jace and Sebastian hadn't been hurling slurs at one another and the two promptly stilled, a look of priceless surprise on the blond's face. It was rare for him to be caught surprised, and it never meant anything good.

"No way – lemme see." Just like that, his fight was forgotten, a more entertaining prospect having presented itself. Jace was at Alec's side in an instant, face uncomfortably close, peering at his neck. True to Aline's words, there was a none too subtle bruise marring the otherwise pale skin, and Jace was pretty sure those were the little marks left behind by the nip of teeth framing the purple.

"My little boy, all grown up," Jace grinned, mock tearful, wiping at his perfectly dry cheeks.

All Alec could think was, I'm going to kill Magnus.

A part of him hoped that would be the end of it but of course it wasn't. Max was demanding to know what a love bite was, trying to get a closer look despite Alec yanking the collar of his shirt up to cover it. Jace suddenly showed more of an interest in Alec than he had in years, something that would have usually been flattering but was only embarrassing now. Even Aline was displaying a morbid curiosity in the entire matter, calm but insistent to know just who Alec had been with – even if they had never been spectacularly close, she and Alec had grown up together so she couldn't help but be a little curious, suddenly seeing the slight shift in his personality over the past year in a different light. Isabelle attempted to spare Alec the obvious discomfort, but that fact in itself only made Jace suspicious, since he'd expected her to be the one leading the interrogation. The possibility that she had already known if Alec was seeing someone but the two had not told him obviously stung Jace, and Isabelle couldn't help but fall silent.

It was Sebastian who came to Alec's rescue, placing a hand on the flushing Shadowhunter's shoulder and giving the others a look of annoyance.

"Really, guys – you're acting like children. If he wanted to tell you, he would have. For all you know, there's nothing to tell. It's just a hicky, not an engagement ring." His voice was so scathing, designed to make them embarrassed for even showing an interest, and it worked wonders to back them off. Sebastian gave Alec a reassuring little smile, but it wasn't Sebastian's face that he was looking at. The hand on his shoulder was the recipient of his rapt attention, or rather, what the hand was lacking.

The skin was smooth and flawless, despite Alec ardently remembering a thick and gnarled scar running from the curve of his thumb to the jutting bone of his wrist. A scar Sebastian had gotten during Aline's very first mission when his younger cousin had faltered and almost had her chest torn open.

The awkwardness of the previous day was still hanging around Alec as the group congregated in Hodge's office. Perhaps it was only felt so keenly by him, since none of the others mentioned it or so much as sneaked a peek at his neck. Not that they would have seen anything, the uncomfortable itch a reminder of the concealer Isabelle had plastered there while trying to scold him and not laugh at the same time.

More than the uncomfortable interrogation, however, was the matter of Sebastian. It had weighed heavily on Alec's mind that night, so much so that he'd even forgotten to cuss Magnus out, and the only thing he could be resolute on was this – cuts and bruises were easy for a Shadowhunter to get rid of, but scars were their battle medals, and that nasty one on his hand had been a source of pride for Sebastian when they were younger.

All of that thinking seemed to be in vain once Alec arrived at Hodge's office, however, as a quick glance at the waiting boy's hand had shown him exactly what had been missing the previous day. The scar was there on Sebastian's skin as surely as it hadn't been yesterday.

Alec didn't even consider the possibility that he had just made a mistake. He had not reached the stage of joining the Clave by doubting his own eyes. He was not about to start now.

"You'll be supporting the Central Unit," Hodge informed them, handing out their orders, "District Nine will be your target; this is not a warning. We are claiming this District, today."

An uneasiness permeated the air, the young Shadowhunters glancing between each other uncomfortably. It was no surprise that it was Jace who voiced their dissent, "Hodge, there must be a mistake here. We haven't been provoked. The Ninth District is only Downworlder civilians, not the soldiers. And there hasn't been any sign of the Instruments there."

"Jace." It was a single word, not even an answer, but within it Hodge managed to give the strongest of warnings.

He really should have known by that point that warnings only spurred the blond on.

"Hodge. If we follow these orders, it'd be an unprovoked assault! We'd be the instigators. There's no shades of grey nonsense here – we'd be the bad guys!" Jace exclaimed, incredulous. Isabelle shifted closer to his side, nodding her agreement, delicate features wrought with confusion.

Hodge cut him off with a sharp wave of the hand. His voice was a whisper, as though afraid of being overheard, "Enough, Jace. You have your orders. You will follow them. Do you want to be accused of heresy?"

That was enough to silence Jace and any protests the rest of them may have offered. The word 'heresy' was to them what the warning siren was to the Mundanes; fear-inducing, with the ability to destroy a life within seconds. Being suspected of treason against the Clave – not even proven guilty, just suspected – meant having your name struck from the records and, as your name disappeared from those records, your Marks were stripped away.

Treason meant betraying not only your superiors but even the angelic blood that ran through your veins, and with a betrayal that ran so deeply, there was no hope of a life worth living afterwards.

The threat of heresy rang in their ears, the phantom pain of their Marks being taken away singed at their skin, and even though it seemed so intrinsically wrong, Alec and his Unit aided the assault upon District Nine and its innocent inhabitants.

"Three thousand, seven hundred and twenty nine."

Alec stumbled a little as he glanced around the empty dream space. With the necklace hanging heavily against his chest, he'd been expecting the warm colours and cosy luxury of Magnus' living room. Instead, the two men stood in a vacancy of white, no dream created to surround them. That emptiness was nothing compared to the eerie blankness on Magnus' face, though.

"...What?" Alec asked, taking a few steps closer to the Warlock but stopping a fair distance away, a lick of unease creeping through him. Something was wrong.

"Three thousand, seven hundred and twenty nine – the population of District Nine. Well, according to the last survey, anyway. I imagine that number has plummeted recently. Had a busy few days, haven't you?"

Of all the things Alec was, a reader was very near the top of the list, though being as logical as he was, it was more often than not that he viewed things with the eye of a scathing critic. Metaphors were his biggest pet peeve. He'd read stories of battles, the character fighting for his life, and think, no, there's just been an explosion, the last thing you'll be when you're dying is 'so very cold'. Romance novels with the blushing woman gushing on about butterflies fluttering in her stomach, impossible unless you ate them, in which case the last thing they're doing is fluttering. Dissolving, more like. The character struck by fear and anxiety speaking about their stomachs twisting in to knots, that sounds like a medical concern if I've ever heard one, best call a Doctor. But at that moment, with those cold eyes blazing, Alec felt a painful twist at his abdomen, something coiling tight as the number he'd carefully avoided hearing was thrown in his face.

"Magnus," he began, but found that he couldn't scrounge up the words to follow, his mouth working silently. Unfortunately, Magnus had no such problem.

"They think it'll be lucky if it's breaking a thousand come morning. I'm almost impressed," yet he sounded anything but, and Alec wished that he'd show some of the anger boiling beneath his words, anything but that carefully constructed vacancy.

A silence followed, the Warlock waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, Alec just standing across from him looking like he was about to flee at the smallest provocation, Magnus' voice turned nastier.

"How many of them were yours, Alec? I don't mean that little band of pests you're in charge of. How many Downworlders did you personally take a knife to and cut away the life from?"

And that did it, but not in the way Magnus had expected. There was no desperate attempts to explain his actions, the boy's face didn't crumple with guilt, no tears started shining in those too-blue eyes. Instead, a tension stole over Alec, expression hardening, and when he spoke, it was with an authority that Magnus had never heard from him before. Absently, he wondered if this is what the boy – no, the man sounded like when he was ordering the Shadowhunters in his charge.

He didn't like it at all.

"With a knife? Probably thirty or forty. If you want impressive then you'll want to hear the grand total from my group. That's impressive."

This person standing across from him could have been a stranger, and the anger seething inside Magnus soured, mutated into a sickening feeling. Now Alec sounded like a Shadowhunter.

With more effort than it should have took, Magnus tried to reign in his temper. No, it wasn't that Alec sounded more like a Shadowhunter than usual. He'd hit a nerve, and the boy had thrown his defences up. This was the first time, wasn't it? Not even since they'd become a couple over nine months ago, but since the first dream meeting. Their first true fight. And this was Alec's first relationship, period. If Magnus wasn't careful, didn't stop with the accusation, everything could fall to pieces by his own hands. As livid as he was, he did not want that.

"I just don't – understand. District Nine was populated entirely by Downworlder civilians, not a single soldier lived there or was even stationed there recently. They were innocent, Alec. This was unprovoked and unnecessary. Why?" It was with a conscious effort that Magnus kept his voice even and without the sting of accusation. That effort wasn't entirely wasted as Alec seemed to lose a little of that tension, that cold business-like exterior dropping.

"We... we were just following orders, Magnus. I don't know why."

Magnus shook his head, face tight, "That's not good enough, Alec. It's really not."

Finally Alec faltered, desperation twisting his features, "You don't get it. You don't question orders, Magnus. Questioning orders is questioning the Clave, and that's heresy! Do you know what happens to traitors? Do you know what they do to people who question them?"

And Magnus just gave him the most disappointed look and said, "I imagine it'd be similar to what you did to District Nine."

Alec woke up on his bedroom floor, thrown from the dream so forcefully that his waking body had fallen too. He didn't try going back to sleep that night, his thoughts too loud, his mind trying to rationalise the orders he had carried out. However, now the arguments he and the others had constructed for themselves – just orders, it's us or them, we're soldiers what else do we do, if it were the other way around the Downworlders wouldn't even hesitate – were overshadowed by the dream filled with nothing but Magnus' judgement.

The next night, Alec wore the necklace to bed, armed to the teeth with rationale and regret, only to wake almost instantly. A dread descending on him, Alec tried again the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that.

Nothing. Even with the necklace he had been given, Magnus' dreams were closed to Alec.

۞

Chapter Text

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part eight

۞

The stables were almost entirely empty, only four horses shuffling around in their pens. These days, it was never full, at least half a dozen in use by one of the groups in whatever District needed them. Still, it was with a pang that Alec strode through the stable doors and saw all those empty spaces, wondering just how long it would be until every last one was filled. For years, he'd always thought soon. Now he tried to avoid thinking about it at all.

He was half way across the room before he realized he wasn't the only one there, drawing to a halt in the hay, "Oh – hey. You headed out today too?"

Gold eyes flicked at him momentarily before returning to the task at hand, Jace's hands running through one of the horse's manes and untangling the knots. "Nah, nothing on today. Heard Hodge calling you earlier though. What you got?"

Jace stepped aside, an invitation, and Alec slipped in to the pen with him, "Just a scouting mission, up to the old Verlac estate. He thought it might be a bit tactless to ask Sebastian."

As always, just the name was enough to sour Jace's expression, though his hands remained as gentle as before as they slipped through the thick hair. There was something else to the blond's face though, a disgruntled tension that Alec knew meant there was more he wanted to say. It was odd for him to not just come out with whatever it was. For all his many good qualities, a thoughtfulness with his words was far from on the list.

"You alright?" Alec asked, concern starting to form. He'd been so out of sorts in himself since the failed attempts to get through to Magnus, barely leaving his room so that he didn't have to share what had happened with Isabelle. Hiding away had also meant that he barely saw anyone, Jace included, something could have happened, maybe something had happened and he'd missed it –

"I don't know who I'd be without my Marks," Jace said suddenly, hands stilling on the horse's neck, "A Shadowhunter's who I am, always has been, always will be. Still, that... it doesn't sit with me. The entire thing, with District Nine. It came out of nowhere and they won't even tell us why? Something is wrong, can you feel it?"

Oh. Alec didn't have a chance to be relieved though, one worry being born from another. It was all he could do to stop himself clasping a hand over Jace's mouth, cutting off the words before they were spoken. It had only been a whisper but the hairs on the back of Alec's neck stood up as though he had shouted, as though someone had heard.

Jace was watching him with that disarming way he had. Eyes so intense, like the gaze was a spotlight. When he looked at you, you were all he saw and he saw everything. Alec sincerely hoped he didn't see everything at that moment, the doubt pounding in his skull, the questions he suddenly had so many of but couldn't ask.

Alec moved forward a fraction and Jace took the signal, closing the distance between them until they were sharing breaths. His mind was reeling now, the adrenalin he usually only felt with a blade in his hand pounding through his veins, and he had to choose his words so carefully because Jace was hanging on a hair trigger.

"I feel it," even at that, a look of relief swept over the blond's face, not alone, "Mum and Dad are always away now, the Clave is always calling them out – they never used to do that. Look, look how many horses are gone. How many of the adults aren't here, in Alicante, where they should be. I'm pretty sure it's only Hodge here right now! And, all due respect, how much use would he be in an assault? It doesn't make sense."

"None of it makes sense, Alec. I mean, District Nine? What was the point – its resources are low, its not a linking point between Districts already under our control and there were no important targets there at all. And don't even get me started on the Instruments, if they even exist at all-"

"Of course they exist!" Alec snapped, "The Downworlders just don't have them. We don't have them. The problem is, if neither of us have them, what are we even fighting about?"

"I don't care about that," Jace shrugged, "We're fighting because we can, simple as. It's always been that way. But Alec – what I mean is that something recently has changed. I don't know if it's the Clave or what, but our orders, the adults never being here, it's all... weird."

Alec nodded, Jace's hair tickling at his forehead at the motion. They were so close that their breaths were uncomfortably warm on the other's face but at least their voices weren't carrying, the murmured words just covering the distance between them.

"Jace, I agree completely, but... but don't go digging, okay? I know what you're like. You get a hint of something off and you go throwing yourself into it head-first regardless of the danger, and while that's not a bad quality for a Shadowhunter to have, it's not something to throw in the face of the Clave," Alec frowned, the words that he'd said a thousands times before now tasting bitter in his mouth, "We're soldiers, and we do what we're told."

"Which'd be fine, if we were being told anything at all," Jace replied, a challenge brewing in his tawny eyes. That really didn't bode well at all.

"I mean it, Jace – do not go looking for trouble. I promise you that this is trouble even you don't want to find," Alec warned, though already resigned to the fact that Jace wasn't going to listen to a damn word he said. He never did.

Jace gave a lazy grin, drawing away from Alec, "Of course. Don't worry, I'll behave." He was already striding towards the barn doors as though the conspiratory conversation had never taken place, and all Alec could do was sigh. He'd have been better off just keeping his mouth closed and letting Jace think it was all a figment of his paranoid imagination.

Jace paused at the door, that same frown from before twisting his mouth. He didn't look back at Alec when he asked, "That wasn't all that was bothering you, was it?"

Alec wouldn't insult him by pretending otherwise, "No. It wasn't."

If it had been anybody else, that would have been the cue to jump on Alec and demand to know what was wrong with him, why he'd suddenly become so much more withdrawn than usual and obviously out of sorts. It was moments like these that Alec was glad it wasn't anybody else, that Jace was so uniquely Jace as to instead simply say, "You know where I am," and leave it at that.

For the first time in his life, Alec was actually glad to have been landed with the scouting mission. Everybody hated them, boring and depressing in their entirety, not to mention that it was more often than not a very solitary affair.

Before Alicante became the Shadowhunter Capital, another city had held the title, one that now only existed in a single dream. Idris. Once the height of industry and offering the best standard of living, it now consisted of ruins, the crumbling framework of destroyed buildings. Even the street urchins didn't bother with it any more. After the Downworlder attack, nothing of its former majesty remained.

It had been evacuated so quickly, however, that even ten years later, not everything had been recovered. If there was the chance that any of the higher Clave families had left things behind in their dilapidated homes, they had to be checked and, if possible, items recovered.

So Alec prepared the horse, the one Jace had been grooming, and began making the trek to the Idris ruins. Left with no distraction from his thoughts, he finally gave in and let himself wander on to the subject of Magnus that he had been avoiding as much as he could.

Was it over? Alec didn't know, nor did he have a clue how to go about finding out. He was willing to bet that even Isabelle wouldn't know the protocol for finding out the status of your relationship with a Warlock when he was blocking his dreams from you after you butchered a fair amount of his kin. They probably didn't cover that in Cosmo.

Well, he'd stopped trying to enter Magnus' dreams after the fourth night, the sting of rejection getting a little too much. If all he needed was time to cool off then surely Magnus would just show up in the dream garden again one night – or maybe not. Alec was the one who was in the wrong, maybe he was supposed to be the one waving the white flag?

Except he didn't think he was wrong. Okay, killing innocent Downworlders definitely wasn't right by any stretch of the imagination and if it had been his choice then he certainly wouldn't have done it, but it wasn't fair for Magnus to be so furious at him for just doing his job. It was like getting pissed at a fire-fighter for, well, putting out a fire.

But a fire did not think. Flames did not live, breathe, exist in the hearts of others. And could a fire be blamed for the destruction it wreaked? Held accountable for all that it ruined? No, but Alec could. He may have been following orders, but it was his hand and not the words that instructed it that spilt innocent blood.

Never mind Shadowhunters and Downworlders. These days, all Alec saw were people, and it was on his head that those people were dead.

Stop it, he gave his head a sharp toss, as though trying to fling the guilty voice away. If there was one thing that Alec was sure of, it was that he did not want to be the kind of man who hid behind his orders. That wasn't him and he wasn't about to let himself become that.

But what was the alternative? Yes, he had already admitted to himself a long while back that there was something amiss about the entire basis for the war, the increasingly nonsensical orders from leaders they had seen hide nor hair of for as long as he could remember. If this was some cheesy teen novel and he were the honourable male lead, that would be the moment that he'd go digging for clues, expose corrupted leaders and bring peace to the war-torn lands. No doubt there'd be enough time in the final act to squeeze in a sickeningly contrived reunion with Magnus.

It was reality, however, and the reality remained daunting. It was risky enough that he was even thinking such thoughts, suspecting the Clave even if he didn't know what he was suspecting them of. Acting on those thoughts? Alec could almost feel his skin beginning to singe at the very possibility.

Treason, of the highest order.

His name, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, struck from the records.

The darkest of flames burning away his Marks.

No longer a Shadowhunter, knowing too much to ever truly be Mundane, his life in ruins and his family no longer his own. No, because if he betrayed the Clave in even the smallest of ways, they would burn the very heart out of him. "I don't know who I'd be without my Marks," Jace had said, and wasn't that true of them all. The Marks made him a Shadowhunter – being a Shadowhunter enabled him to protect his siblings, thereby making him the brother he defined himself as – but then there was Magnus, and whatever he was to him, or had been, and just the Warlock's name in his mind confused everything.

Alec didn't know what to do. The definitions of himself were becoming murky – shadowhunter, brother, soldier, son, Magnus' partner/boyfriend/whatever I was, I can't be all of them, it's too much, god my head hurts – he probably only saw it because he was so desperate for a distraction from his viciously churning thoughts.

The Verlac estate had produced nothing of interest, not that Alec had been looking particularly hard. Just more rubble, scrap metal, tatters of furniture and broken ceramic. Standard discoveries for scouting missions. He had traipsed around to the back of the manor house now, over what used to be no doubt gorgeous gardens and out the back. The estate was on an incline, the steep hill weathered after all those years, and it wouldn't have been odd for the turbulent storms that plagued what had once been Idris to have scattered the remnants of the Verlac's possessions.

It was a corpse, or at least what was left of it. Stained bone peeked through the uneven dirt like a gruesome jack-in-a-box, the quite small skull staring up at him sightlessly with what looked like both a grin and a snarl. Alec didn't even falter in his careful steps as he made his way down the crumbling hill – death was no stranger to him, after all, and he'd be more concerned if skeletons weren't buried, however poorly. If you're dead, the ground is the one place you belong. He wasn't even going to approach it, just taking it at face value; time had eroded the hill and unearthed the buried body, a little odd that there was no coffin but even that was easily explainable, some people so bogged down in their sentimentalities that even as Idris collapsed around them, they had wanted their loved ones put to rest there, abandoning luxuries like funerals and cremations.

But then a glint caught Alec's eye, the sun catching on something upon the skeleton's hand. Only one of the hands was unearthed, sticking out of the ground haphazardly with a morbid little wave. As he drew closer, Alec saw that still upon the skeleton's finger was a ring. Even though the skin had long since rotted away, the ring clung to the bony finger determinedly, rattling when a strong wind blew but not slipping flee.

The ring was almost completely identical to the one upon Alec's own finger. Heavy gold, the band scored with twists and curves that resembled flames, with a rich red circle on top, the middle of which had a single letter emblazoned upon it. For Alec's, that letter was L, for Lightwood, his family crest and one that all Shadowhunter families possessed. The ring was a coming-of-age gift from the Clave, presented to the young girl or boy on the day they received their Marks. As such, it was one of the most valuable things they possessed and treated as sacred.

The ring upon the skeleton's finger was almost completely identical to the one upon Alec's own finger, except that instead of flames twisting around the golden band there was a snake, and the letter in elegant gold at the centre, V.

It was always a little difficult trying to acclimatise to having four legs and a tail, though Magnus liked to think that he pulled the look off magnificently. The motor skills were always a bit rusty, trying to get all four legs to move in the right direction at the right time, and it couldn't be helped if there were a few Bambi moments. He was fairly certain that all his concussions could be attributed to a few headboards and then almost entirely feline related depth perception problems.

The things he did for love.

Only Alexander Lightwood could have him donning the furry cameo once again to infiltrate the enemy stronghold and try to sort out what had quickly escalated into a full-blown domestic. And people thought he was the one with the witchcraft.

Magnus was still angry – the death toll had only proven higher the morning after their fight – and it had been that residual lividity that had led him to continue spurning Alec's attempts to contact him. It was only after Alec gave up, a little too soon for Magnus' taste, that he had begun to simmer down.

It all boiled down to the fact that Magnus did not want to throw what he had with Alec away, no matter what the problem lay between them. As Magnus' relationships went, this was one of the few that had made it long-term, but even that time didn't seem like long enough. Nothing was enough. Meeting in dreams was too distant when he craved the Shadowhunter's presence. The stolen moments in Magnus' room were far too fleeting, treated like a dirty little secret, and it was all he could do not to trap them both there so Alec couldn't leave him.

That thought scared him. It was unhealthy, thinking like that. Alec wasn't a possession to be locked up in Magnus' treasure chest, he couldn't belong to him. Yet the thoughts stopped being whispers, until they were all he could hear. Was this obsession, or had Magnus never been as in love as this before? Both were terrifying possibilities because either way he was entirely unprepared for the intensity of his anger, the sharpness of his longing, the stark desperation that compelled him to enter Alicante.

If nothing else, at least his disguise was impenetrable. It had worked when he had crashed the Shadowhunter Gala that night, their esteemed Angel blood doing nothing to help them see beyond a black cat with golden eyes. He was invisible in the way that only the most ordinary of things could be.

Or, at least, he should have been.

"Hmm, what's this?" a voice drawled out of nowhere, giving the black cat a jolt. No-one should have been able to sneak up on Magnus like that, not when he was putting every ounce of focus into analysing his surroundings and any approachers. The cat stalked a few feet away, casting a sharp glance around and catching sight of a young Shadowhunter.

The boy had inky black hair and eyes to match, a sickly sort of pale and very lean, though despite his slightness there was a quiet sort of strength surrounding him. He was dressed in the standard Shadowhunter black, his shirt sleeveless and displaying a matrix of obsidian swirls staining his ghostly white skin. Those dark eyes were fixed on Magnus, and they clearly saw so much more than a cat.

An empty kind of smile tugged at the boy's lips. It was an uncomfortable thing to watch, like his face wasn't quite sure what it was doing, just mimicking a gesture it had seen before.

"Did it scar?" he asked, and his voice wasn't quite as empty as that pseudo-smile. There was a thrill in the words, a spark of something that was absent from his too-black eyes. Magnus had an idea just who this particular Shadowhunter was.

The jig was up.

"Please. It barely stung," Magnus lied, twisting his feet to get used to only having two now, brushing the stray cat hairs from his sleeves. It had, in fact, scarred. Quite a nasty one, topped only by the one he received from Alec's darling sister and her trick with the rune. Now that he thought about it, his meeting Alec had done quite a number on his body, in more ways than the fun one.

"Hardly. I could smell you burning from the hallway," and the smile didn't seem quite as empty now. Charming. Why did he always get landed with the sociopaths?

"Well, that was mildly disturbing. Moving quickly along, my turn for a question; what are you?"

At his question, all pretence of amiability, as half-hearted as they had been, fell away. Fake smile slipped from his face as though it had been washed away, dark eyes shadowed. Magnus could almost see his hackles rise. Several tense seconds passed in silence and no answer was forthcoming, so he continued, "Because no ordinary Shadowhunter would be able to see through my disguise. Trust me, boy, I've fooled bigger and better men than you. So I have to assume that there's more to you than fancy tattoos and sparkly blood."

A breathy little laugh broke past the boy's lips, as though despite himself, and he gave an indulgent nod of his head, "Okay, okay. I'll give you that much. But it's no fun if I just tell you. C'mon, I'll give you three guesses."

"Ooh, a game. Fun. Okay, goblin spit in your eye and granted you the Sight?"

The boy sighed exasperatedly, "You would go straight for bodily fluids, wouldn't you, Bane?"

Magnus shrugged, "Stick with what you know. Alright, guess two. Cursed by a gypsy?"

"Does that ever actually happen?" the boy replied sceptically, taking a step towards him.

"Well, there was this one time in Peru... but we don't really talk about that," Magnus dodged quickly, eyes tracking the boy's approach carefully, "So, just out of curiosity, what's the penalty if I don't get it right on my last turn?"

He stopped, appearing pensive, though the thoughtful look was a little too much like a caricature. "I haven't decided yet. I should be a good little Shadowhunter and detain you so the Clave can have their wicked way with you, but... I've been awfully bored, and we're almost done here anyway, so I suppose I could have a little fun. He won't mind too much. Tell me, Bane; is it true someone with Demon blood, even the most powerful Warlock, can't heal injuries dealt by Angel power?"

Magnus gave a wicked grin, "You'd know all about Demon blood, wouldn't you?"

People are often described as freezing when they are taken by surprise, but Magnus had never seen the turn of phrase displayed quite as truly as when he offered his final guess. At his words, the boy seemed to turn to stone. All animation left him in an instant, eyes deadening, movements ceasing, even seeming to stop breathing.

The Shadowhunter with the Demon blood. An impossibility stood right before Magnus, a walking talking contradiction.

"Now, since you know my name, it's only fair you tell me yours," Magnus said slowly, reigning in the triumphant grin. He may have won that little game but if anything it had only put him at more risk. Not only was he cornered by a Shadowhunter in their own territory, he was stuck with the Frankenstein's monster of Shadowhunters. How he managed to get himself in to these kinds of situations, he hadn't the foggiest.

Life returned to the still boy, a chilling emptiness in those murky black eyes. All traces of good-humour were gone from his voice when he spoke. "I don't suppose you'd go for Sebastian Verlac, would you?"

Magnus smirked, "Not for a second."

"Good. That name's boring. I'm tired of it," the boy shifted his feet restlessly, giving a hard done by sigh, "My name is Jonathan Morgenstern."

Now it was Magnus' turn to freeze, the blood turning to ice in his veins at the sound of that name. His fight or flight instinct went into overdrive. Get the hell out of dodge.

His reaction was not missed.

"Rings a bell, I imagine. Doesn't matter now anyway. We set the ball rolling, now we get to just sit back and watch the fireworks," it was almost like Jonathan was talking to himself, gaze unfocused and off to the distance.

"Morgenstern," and as always, Magnus' mouth was running off on its own despite his brain's very good advice to shut it and bail, "You're lying."

Jonathan snorted another wispy little laugh, "Funny. That's probably the first time I've told the truth in years."

For all Magnus' power, the magic at his disposal, his most trusted weapon was probably his tongue. Whenever he was cornered, whenever he felt threatened, when so much as a slither of vulnerability fell upon him, it was his wit and not his spells that he counted on to keep himself safe. Yet the moment he heard that name and his mind registered that this was probably the most danger he had ever found himself in, the defense of humour that he always fell back on did not rise to the surface. Sparks crackled at his fingertips without his even willing it to happen and he just hoped that his surprise at the unexpected motion didn't show on his face. The last thing he needed was this wolf in sheep's clothing to know just how thrown Magnus was.

Unfortunately, luck had clearly decided that It and Magnus needed to take a break, gone walkies and left him alone. Jonathan's eyes flickered to his hand, saw the tell-tale twitch of his fingers, and suddenly the grin was back. There was something innately disturbing about the way the boy's face worked, the odd control he had over his features like they were just another tool at his disposal. It was like watching one of those two-faced dolls they had at carnivals, the head spinning and revealing either a too-big smile or a sinister snarl. Out of the two, Magnus was beginning to find the smile the most unnerving. It held a lot more threat than the empty stare.

"Go on. I'm feeling charitable – ask what you're dying to ask. Like I said, we're almost done here, so it hardly matters."

Magnus felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath his feet. He had come here to patch things up with Alec but instead found himself unravelling a web that he suddenly knew he shouldn't get personally caught up in – that single name, Morgenstern, in the possession of a Shadowhunter... but oh, not just any Shadowhunter. One with Demon blood, and how was any of this actually possible? Confused and dizzy with adrenalin, he did his best to throw up his usual defense; sarcasm.

"You've come across all Bond villain, Johnny. Rookie mistake, offering to explain your nefarious deeds like that," Magnus grinned cattily, more relieved than he could describe that his voice didn't betray his anxiety. Jonathan mimicked the expression with an unsettling likeness.

"Hello, Shadowhunters and arrogance, it's quite the monogamous relationship. Are you new, Bane?"

"Quite right, my apologies. Note to self – brush up on Shadowhunter 101," Magnus laughed emptily, "Go on then. I'll indulge you; what brings a Morgenstern to this side of the war?"

"Monitoring variables," Jonathan replied simply, "What brings you to Alicante?"

There was something in the way he said it, the way his eyes darted off to the side and back, that left no doubt in Magnus' mind that he knew the answer already. Things were worse than he'd thought possible.

"Oh, you know. Taking in the sights," Magnus dodged, "What do you mean, variables?"

The two-faced doll returned, the mocking reflection of Magnus' smirk dropping from Jonathan's face like it had never been there, replaced by nothing, an utter absence of expression.

"Two independent variables, Angel Blood and Demon Blood. Then me, a holy fighter with Demon blood. And you know the name Morgenstern. C'mon, Bane. You somehow managed to grab yourself a General position. I'm assuming you're more than a lanky magician with a weakness for blue eyes. Do the math."

Magnus almost recoiled at the poison that bled into Jonathan's voice, more and more concentrated by the word, until the last sentence was practically a hiss. Warning signals were blaring in the Warlock's mind. Probably the only reason Jonathan hadn't attacked yet was simply because Magnus was providing some form of entertainment. Evidently, he was growing boring, and with Jonathan's boredom came danger.

"There's only one person by the name Morgenstern that I've ever heard of, and I sincerely doubt it's you, Junior," Magnus snapped, "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't see him in your face. Looks like our Lord and Master has been playing away from home."

"'Away from home' would imply a loyalty in the first place, and let me assure you, my Father has no such affliction."

A sense of dread stronger than anything he'd ever felt captured Magnus as pieces slid into place in his mind. Now old conversations with Alec revived in his memory, discussions of discrepancies in their respective legends, doubt in their absent leaders and the increasingly vague orders, the search for mythical items that no one currently leading or fighting or breathing had touched or so much as seen.Independent variables. A Morgenstern Shadowhunter with tainted blood, not Angel blood yet still able to wield a Stele, his skin scrawled with its protection, positioned right at the centre of the Clave.Someone with the same blood as a Downworlder right under the Clave's nose. And someone with the name Morgenstern, the same name that was whispered throughout the Districts, the faceless voice that led the Downworlders as they clung to survival.

"I don't – understand," and Magnus' considerably large ego didn't even protest the admission, too horribly true as his thoughts surged to make sense of the facts before his eyes, to piece them into some semblance of comprehensible truth.

"Of course you don't, Downworlder," the word was spat, as though Jonathan loathed to taint his tongue with it, and if Magnus hadn't been so ruffled he certainly would have commented on the hypocrisy, "None of you do. Not you lot, not these self-righteous knuckle-draggers I've had to endure all these years. None of you look, y'see. It would be so obvious if you did but you're all too happy to rip each other's throats out that you don't even notice that it doesn't even make sense. But it's alright," that eerie little smile was back, "Like I said before, there's nothing left to do now but sit back and watch the fireworks."

Magnus took a deep breath, jaw clenched, scrunching his eyes shut then opening them slowly. No sparks escaped from his fingertips this time, but he had a feeling that his eyes were substantially more yellow than usual. He adopted a diplomatic tone, "I'm tired. I've travelled a fair amount, and believe it or not, it felt twice as far despite having double the legs. I'm also fairly sure there's a bit of a hairball at the back of my throat. And now you're getting on my last nerve. So here's what we're going to do – you are going to stop with the Mystic Meg bullshit and tell me, in ten words or less, what the fuck you're talking about."

That could have gone either way, really. To be completely honest, Magnus was probably expecting the knife-to-the-throat variant of typical Shadowhunter reactions. He may have preferred it, in fact, compared to the sharp bark of laughter he instead received.

Jonathan nodded, holding up both hands with the fingers splayed out widely. With each word he spoke, he lowered one of those narrow fingers, curling it into his palm. "Father's experiment to see which is stronger. Angels or Demons."

For the first time in memory, Magnus was completely blank. His mind struggled to register the words, to realize what they meant, but there was nothing. Either Jonathan mistook his silence as a desire for elaboration, or he wanted to twist the knife, as he continued breezily, "It always comes down to that in the end, doesn't it? God and the Devil, Heaven and Hell, Good and Bad. It fascinates him, my Father. The nature of us. Two completely opposing forces, down to our very cores. He had to know which would be better, though," Jonathan's eyes kept wandering off to the left, "When it came to the decisive fight, which would survive; Heaven or Hell.

"And he couldn't have asked for better lab rats, could he? All of you, so keen. It barely took any incentive at all to have you butchering each other in the name of Justice. All he has to do is give a whisper and then the war drums begin. I mean, the entire thing with District Nine? You and your little half-breeds have done exactly what he wanted, and he hasn't even had to give an order. The Downworlders are planning a response, right? Tell me I'm wrong."

Magnus wished he could have, but Jonathan was right. It had little to do with Magnus personally, his sole business being with his own District, but he knew enough. After all, the Shadowhunters had been the instigators, the ones launching an assault with no provocation. Despite the masses of dead, the Downworlders were taking it as a good thing – now they could attack without losing face. Because Jonathan was right, it took barely any incentive to get them crying for Shadowhunter blood. All they needed was an excuse and, if what the boy was saying was true, Valentine Morgenstern had organised the perfect one for them.

The words were finally beginning to register. Everything, all the Downworlders had done and fought for and achieved, it was all orchestrated by a single man. Magnus' life, his aspirations and his career, were all just part of some sick scheme.

Teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached, Magnus bit out, "And the Instruments? I suppose they're just another lie."

"Gifts from deities to help you slaughter? And you called me arrogant," Jonathan sneered, gaze once again flicking to his side. It was the mocking that did it, the straw that broke the camel's back, and Magnus swung his wrist back with a warning crackle, ready to fling the blaze of red now burning from his skin. He was beaten to it, however, as the thump of running feet signalled a new arrival – or perhaps not so new, as the person came from the direction that Jonathan had been glancing almost the entire time they had been speaking. For a brief moment, the naïve part of Magnus actually thought it was Alec, a timely arrival by the most welcome interrupter. Of course, it wasn't. Things never actually worked that way in real life. But Alec and the intruder shared the same messy dark hair and vivid blue eyes, and that may have even been Alec's Stele clutched in the charging boy's fist, because there was no way the child was old enough to have been given his own.

Magnus was almost positive the kid was coming at him, the weapon raised to defend his fellow Shadowhunter, so was more than a little surprised when it was Jonathan who was the target of the blade. But Jonathan had known the kid was there the entire time, had given a smirk when the boy had begun running, so was more than ready for him. As Magnus realised what was about to happen, he darted forward and launched the spell at the floor. The aim was off, a last-minute switch from Jonathan's chest to the floor in front of the boy, and the unexpected blast knocked the boy off balance enough that the sweeping arc of Jonathan's Stele missed his throat. Before the Warlock even had a chance to be relieved, however, Jonathan had spun around on one foot to catch the stumbling kid and drove the blade into his small chest.

It was all in the minutes, really.

If Magnus had held his temper a minute longer then he wouldn't have had to improvise with the fireball already formed in his hand. He might have been able to instead send a strong gust of wind that could have knocked the boy out of Jonathan's range. Maybe even create a shield around the small boy to keep him safe from Jonathan's harm.

If Alec had been a minute quicker in tying the horse up in the stable, he might have actually been the interrupter that Magnus had hoped for. As it were, he turned up several minutes too late, coming across the scene as he sprinted for the Lightwood Manor to talk to Jace.

Magnus' hands were stained red as they hovered above Max's torn and heaving chest, those hands that were always so steady and sure now trembling and hesitant. A faint blue shimmer exuded from his fingertips but as the hazy fog probed around the boy's open wound, it sparked and disappeared. A sound of desolate frustration tore from Magnus' throat as he summoned the blue fog again, shadows growing distinct beneath his eyes as his skin drained of colour.

Beneath Magnus' hands lay Max, rattling breaths barely making it past his colourless lips, coated in crimson. Already his eyes were distant, staring but not seeing the sky above him.

Across from the two stood Jonathan, dark eyes wide, face a perfect picture of horror. Almost too perfect, really, something quite manufactured about the expression. When those black eyes found Alec, frozen and gaping, the expression became a little more real.

"A-Alec!" Jonathan came towards him, tripping over his own feet a little, "It – Max, It attacked him. I tried to stop It, but-"

At Jonathan's words, Magnus looked up with wild eyes, a panic on his face so acute that Alec could almost feel it himself. It hadn't really been that long since they'd last seen each other but right then, with Max bleeding beneath his palms, Alec felt a million miles away from Magnus.

"I didn't," Magnus murmured, as though unable to manage anything louder, "It wasn't me."

And the blue fog trying to touch Max once again evaporated as it met the jagged edges of the boy's wound. Alec watched the spell almost recoil from Max, disappear as though banished. When he looked back at Jonathan, it was with a quiet fire in his eyes.

"I know it wasn't, Magnus," he replied, voice even as he watched the realisation dawn on Jonathan's face, the fake horror slipping away, "Just... keep trying, okay? Please, try and save him."

The pleading was the only slither of weakness Alec showed then, prowling towards Jonathan. His hand grasped at his belt and pulled free his Stele, the feel of it heavy and cold in the palm of his hand, a soothing comfort. He wasn't sure what Jonathan was seeing on his face but, whatever it was, it was enough to have him carefully stepping backwards. He had no weapon, his own blade lying bloody in the dirt beside Max. When Alec spoke, it was with a voice Magnus had never heard from him before. Not the professional soldier voice, not the warm and private voice from their shared dreams, and not the cold and defensive voice when he was backed into a corner. This was a dangerous whisper, controlled but thrumming with something dark.

This was the voice of a killer.

"I don't know who you are, Sebastian," his free hand went to one of his pockets, launching whatever was inside at the retreating man, a golden ring, "Unfortunately for you, I find myself not particularly caring any more. All that matters," he tossed the Stele to his other hand, Jonathan watching the action avidly, "is that you've hurt my little brother."

And then he lunged, with a ferocity Jonathan had never seen in all his years training at Alec's side. If nothing else, that knowledge of his skills should have benefited Jonathan now that they were pitted against him, but this was entirely new. There was none of the careful calculation he usually saw in Alec's movements. He wasn't planning ahead, forming strategies to catch Jonathan out, forming back-up retreat options all the while.

It was primal, letting the adrenalin and anger and horror – so much blood, Magnus can't heal that wound, he'sonlynine – control him. After each lunge, Alec flung the Stele into his opposite hand, making predicting his movements a near impossibility. When Jonathan began predicting the hand switch, it stopped, and Alec snicked his outstretched hand when he tried to grab his attacker's wrist.

Jonathan felt his face dampen with sweat – it was like sparring with Jace, not knowing which way Alec was going to come or which way the blade was going to swing from, and irritation prickled at his skin. If only he'd kept hold of his own Stele when he'd stabbed Max rather than leaving it in the boy's chest. Hindsight, never his friend.

Out of all the Shadowhunters he'd been rubbing shoulders with since Valentine had positioned him in Alicante, it had to be said, Alexander Lightwood was the last one he'd have thought would be coming at him with the intention to kill. Jace, certainly. Isabelle, possibly, with that volatile temper. But calm Alec? Composed Alec? Full time peace-keeper Alec? Jonathan had not accounted for this possibility.

As the fight continued, Alec slashing the air as Jonathan darted out the way, constantly trying to disarm him, Magnus was still working frantically on the weakening Max. As it was, Max wasn't the only one being weakened as the seconds crawled by. Every ounce of the Warlock's power was being concentrated in his fingertips, summoning up that healing energy, but the second it ghosted over the wound, the entire cloud of blue vanished.

The wound was rejecting the spell – no, rather, Max's body was. Angel blood and all that. Just like Magnus hadn't been able to heal the burn of the rune all those months ago, still bore the scar, he could do nothing to force that torn skin to thread closed beneath his hands, was helpless to cease the flow of spreading blood as it blossomed across the small boy's chest. Max had been making little keening sounds but they were growing fainter by the minute until they were nothing more than gasped whimpers.

The world swam before Magnus' eyes, power draining and not even making a difference. Yet still he kept his hands upon the boy, dredging up every last shred of energy he could, all the while hearing that devastating voice, "Please, try and save him."

Jonathan had resorted to taunts.

"Should you – really be wasting – your time with me?" he managed between gasps, analysing the movement of Alec's swift feet, waiting for a fumble to take advantage of, "Go and hold Max's hand like a good boy."

If he'd been hoping to throw Alec off, that hope was in vain. At those vicious words, Alec's concentrated expression twisted into a snarl and he only grew more harsh with his swipes.

"You should be grateful," Jonathan sneered, "That brat wouldn't last a day in battle. Following us around like a little puppy, damn near wetting himself any time Jace did a pretty trick with a knife. Pathetic. At least I finished him nicely."

It was hard to tell if the words were having any effect, Alec already so beyond anger that riling him up any more made little difference. Still, as Jonathan kept talking, his movements grew more uncontrolled, more desperate. Sloppy.

"It's just a shame I started with him. I've been dying to gut Jace since day one. Carve up that face he's so proud of," Jonathan continued, having noticed the slip in Alec's pace, "Or Izzy. The girl's sodamaged. She'd probably thank me for it-"

Composure was lost. With a strangled growl, Alec flung himself atop of Jonathan and they both went sprawling in the dirt. Before Jonathan could even begin to fight for dominance, Alec had landed a punch across his face, something breaking with a sickening crack. Whether it was Jonathan's jaw or Alec's hand, neither were really paying attention to note.

As Jonathan blinked his vision clear, he felt a cool sharpness brushing against his throat, and froze. The knife's edge was playing over his Adam's apple, a teasing brush that held so much threat. He didn't dare move, couldn't even swallow, for risk of dislodging the precarious position Alec had straddling him to the ground. So much as a millimetres slip could have him bleeding into the mud.

Alec lowered his lips to beside Jonathan's ear, "Don't even say their names," and there was more hate in that single sentence than Jonathan had ever thought the eldest Lightwood capable of. Oh, he had severely misjudged this one.

Alec's hand tightened on the hilt, every muscle in his body tensing in preparation for what he was about to do. Beneath him, Jonathan began wriggling his legs, trying to move Alec without disturbing where the knife lay across his throat. Alec knew the technique, how to do this quickly or how to make it drawn out, and he'd slit a thousand throats but never one of his kin's. But then, nobody had ever harmed his family like this before, and all Alec had to do was close his eyes and he saw Max's broken body seared into his memory.

He could do this.

As his arm tensed to dig in and draw back in one swift motion, he felt an odd tickle criss-crossing over his body. Alec barely had the time to register Jonathan's wicked grin before he felt himself yanked backwards, all the strength in his body suddenly gone. His Stele clattered to the floor as several shouts broke the air.

"Alexander?"

"Sebastian!"

"Max?"

The last was the worst, a woman's shriek. The wires ensnaring Alec's body hummed with the energy they were depleting from him and he could barely find the will to drag his head and look as Shadowhunters arrived on the scene. He managed though, stones scratching at his face, dusty dirt catching in his sweat.

Robert skidded into a kneel at Max's side but from his expression alone it was clear what he found. Maryse hung behind him, face pale and blank, dead behind the eyes.

Twitching besides Max was Magnus, completely drained of colour, captured in the same wires as Alec but effected so much worse. His eyes were already closed, body completely limp.

Distantly, Alec could hear Jonathan speaking, adopting a somewhat manic tone.

"It wasn't his fault, Inquisitor. It bewitched him! It killed Max and then-"

Alec slipped into unconsciousness.

۞

Chapter Text

۞

part nine

۞

"The Downworlder General, Magnus Bane of the Fourth District, will be executed."

Isabelle had never been so silent. She sat beside Jace on the sofa, still in her sweat-stained training clothes, dark eyes fixed on the wall across from them. She was hugging her legs to her chest, chin rested on her knees, as though trying to make herself as small as possible. He had never seen her like this, and he had little to no idea on how to act now.

Comfort had never been part of Jace's repertoire but they were alone in the room. The adults, so miraculously returned, had hurried off to call yet another of those meetings they were all so fond of. Sebastian was amongst them, the only available witness. Aline had excused herself as soon as it seemed she politely could. Jace envied that, sharing her sentiment of feeling as though they were intruding.

But he wasn't. This was as much his grief as it was Isabelle's. When he had heard what happened to Max, he had felt a nausea that no amount of battlefields and gore had ever been able to inspire in him.

He lay a tentative hand over Isabelle's. It was no engulfing hug or shared tears, but for the boy who had always been so distant, its meaning wasn't lost on her. She turned her hand in his hold and entwined their fingers, grasping him tightly.

No words passed between them for a while. There didn't seem to be words in the world for what was happening, what they had lost in the space of a morning, and neither felt the compulsion to try and find them. After a while, Isabelle uncurled herself, setting her feet on the floor and finally dragging her eyes away from the wall. When they met Jace's, empty was the last word that could be attributed to them.

"Magnus didn't do this," she stated, in the same way one would say the sky is blue and Bert and Ernie were gay. Jace raised an eyebrow.

"On a first name basis, are we?" Isabelle opened her mouth to reply but Jace cut her off, "Stop it, now. We both know something isn't right here. Even if I could trust a word out of that snake's mouth, I still think that something in Sebastian's story doesn't add up. It's all a little too convenient. So I'm more than willing to believe that the Warlock didn't do it. But you need to start telling me why you think so, and you can fill me in on what you and Alec have been keeping to yourselves all year, because I'm pretty tired of being left out the loop."

He said it all in a very matter of fact way but Isabelle didn't miss the sting in his tone. Turning to face him fully, she held his hand tighter.

"I'm sorry, Jace. We should have told you. In our defense, it didn't seem so life-or-death at the time. Alec got a boyfriend. It hardly affected the world... but now it does. It affects our world, and you should know just as much as we do," she took a deep breath, and began, "His name is Magnus Bane."

Skulking down the twisting halls, they came across no other person, adult or otherwise. No one was even guarding the door but, Jace supposed, it was hardly as though the inhabitant was going anywhere.

"Give me a sec," he muttered to a clearly impatient Isabelle, trying to tweak the lock open while she vibrated with energy beside him. No door stayed locked long when Jace put his mind to it and in less than a minute it swung open, the two slipping into the infirmary.

Alec was a sight. So pale his skin had taken on a sickly yellow hue, face glistening with sweat, eyes dull and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Thin silver wire was twined around his body, slack now but there were narrow red trails along his arms and neck that made it obvious they had been dangerously tight before. They could hear the wire humming from over by the door and Isabelle couldn't contain her flinch – she had never been on the receiving end of it and was glad, that wire an emergency tactic for when an opponent was too close to winning. Once the wire made contact with a person, it sent a charge to the nerve endings and rendered them immobile, then when they were paralysed it began to leech the energy from them. It was barbaric, and they had done it to her brother. Her parents had stood by andlet them do this to their son.

Jace's hand slipped back into hers, giving a firm and warning squeeze. It was only as her jaw ached that she realised her anger was clear on her face and she quickly composed herself before they approached the bed.

Alec was immobile but not unconscious, his eyes following them as they moved to his side.

"Alec, are you alright?" Isabelle asked, knowing it was a stupid question but unable to help herself. Jace was silent, looking Alec over with an intent eye, nimble fingers tracing over the nasty welts on his arms. Blood beaded on the angry red marks and, although his face remained as carefully passive as usual, a tick started to form in his cheek.

Obviously Alec couldn't answer, hardly able to blink, nevermind talk. Isabelle hadn't really expected an answer and busied herself with brushing the sweat-soaked hair away from Alec's face, more than preoccupied with forcing herself to keep calm and not go storming into that meeting to give the Adults a piece of her mind. She faltered in her movements when she saw Jace grasp Alec's hand in her own. It was not the comforting gesture that it had been intended for her, a calculating look on the blond's face. He leaned over, looming over Alec until he was surely all Alec could see.

"I know you can't talk but if you can understand clearly what I'm saying, try and squeeze my hand."

Isabelle looked to their joined hands, watching anxiously for the merest twitch. It took a few tense minutes but then there was the faintest tremor in Alec's fingers, and Jace grinned.

"Right. Izzy's filled me in on the basics – congratulations, by the way, we'll make an honest woman of you yet – so let's get right into the saving the day part of the agenda. Always my favourite part. Number one on the to-do list is springing your magician, since we've got something of a deadline there. But first thing's first, I'm going to need some guidance here, because something seems a bit off to me; you came back from the Verlac estate, but you were coming across the courtyard when you always, and I mean always, cut around the back to go through the gardens. Makes me think you were in a rush, even before you came across Max. Am I right?"

There was something about the effortless confidence Jace exuded that was putting Isabelle right at ease. It was so familiar, even though everything else about that day was completely wrong. As Jace rattled on in his breezy way, Isabelle could feel herself relax, her mind clearing.

At Jace's question, Alec gave a tight squeeze of his fingers.

Jace nodded, "Were you looking for me? Was it about what we talked about in the stable?"

Another squeeze of Jace's hand, but this one was sharper, shorter.

"No?" Jace guessed, frowning, "Something else then. Did – was something off at the Verlac place?"

Alec gave what Jace had interpreted as a yes squeeze. This continued for a while. Jace would ask increasingly off the mark questions, trying to decipher meaning from Alec, who was obviously getting all the more frustrated when communication was failing. There was only so much you could glean from a hand, and it was not enough to give Jace and Isabelle the warnings Alec was desperate to share.

Frustration mounted, Isabelle joining in with the questioning but not having any more luck than Jace, who had taken to pacing the room like a caged animal.

"What – wait, Jace, come here," Isabelle said after a long pause, brow furrowed. She had dropped Alec's hand and was watching it avidly. Jace came to her side, following her gaze. The most movement they had managed to get from their brother had been the minimal twitches of his fingers but now, the strain of the effort obvious as his muscles pulled taut, Alec was exerting the very last of his energy to force his hand upwards. He hardly moved far but even that small distance took several minutes, tension coiling around all three of them, until his fingers were brushing against the base of his throat. Jace frowned, unable to understand the significance of the movement, but Isabelle's eyes widened as realisation dawned.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, grabbing onto Jace's arm. She swooped down to leave a quick kiss on Alec's forehead before she was pulling Jace out of the room with a chirpy, "Leave it to us!"

"Hold on! What did I miss?" Jace managed not to stumble over his own feet as Isabelle dragged him along in her wake, running as though the hounds of hell themselves were at her heels. Their bare feet padded along the stone floors a bit too loud for his comfort. It wouldn't do to be darting around like this when they were supposed to be in mourning, the Adults would know they were up to something.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Isabelle was muttering, Jace was sure to herself since he'd been nothing but clever all day, "Where will he have left it?"

Their destination was Alec's bedroom apparently, and Jace was more confused than ever. Confusion was certainly not a feeling he liked.

"What are we looking for?" he bit out, impatience overcoming tact now as Isabelle flitted about the room, peering around Alec's sparse belongings.

"A necklace," she replied distractedly, dropping to her knees to glance under the bed, "God knows where he'd leave it. I had to tell him he couldn't just shove it in his pocket about five times."

Jace frowned but moved to help look, "A necklace? Have you checked his jewellery box?"

"Ha ha," she said deadpan, "Shut up and check the bathroom."

He did as he was told, striding into the ensuite. The search didn't prevail, nothing but a toothbrush and razor blade cluttering the sink. He didn't even know what the necklace looked like, though he assumed it would be the first one he found. Somehow he doubted Alec had an entire selection of the things. Then again, just yesterday he hadn't even known Alec had a boyfriend. He was going to have to be careful what assumptions he made about his friend in the future.

He gave up in the bathroom when he heard Isabelle give a triumphant cry. She was grasping a simple silver chain with a sapphire blue pendant. They perched on the edge of Alec's bed and looked at it hesitantly.

"Not that it isn't lovely but I'm still not sure why-"

"Ssh, I'm thinking," Isabelle cut him off, frowning down at the necklace as though it had done her a personal insult. She ran her fingers gingerly across the stone, even lifting it up to her ear, screwing her eyes shut tightly and listening.

"Far be it from me to interrupt your process," Jace said sarcastically, "But I was under the impression that you're supposed to wear them, not listen to them like a seashell."

She opened her mouth to snap back a retort but then looked contemplative, "I guess, how long will it take though." Obviously not looking for an answer, she dragged Jace closer to her side so that their shoulders and legs were pressed tightly together, then brought their heads together so she could fit the necklace around the both of them. It was a tight squeeze, the chain not designed for more than one person to wear it, but since Isabelle was practically sitting in his lap by the point, they managed it. Before Jace could demand to know what she was doing, they both slumped into unconsciousness.

When their eyes next opened, there was very little to see. If the situation had been different, Isabelle would have been disappointed, having expected something much grander than the stark white landscape spread out as far as she could see.

The Warlock looked in as bad a shape as Alec, no doubt looking worse where he lay in the prisoner cubes below the manor. Dark hair hung lankly around his pallid and weary face, unnervingly sharp eyes shadowed and sunken, even though they were in a dream his legs still shook under the weight of his body. However, as they stood and approached him, Magnus straightened, holding himself with a strength he clearly didn't possess.

"I can't sustain this for long so we'll have to make it quick," he said in lieu of greeting, giving them both a quick eyeing up, "Isabelle and Jace, I take it?"

"And you must be Bane. Charmed," Jace tossed on a grin, "We can do the awkward meeting the family bit later. There's no time – we know you didn't kill Max. It certainly wasn't Alec so that leaves the one contender. Yes or no, did Sebastian kill him?"

Magnus gave what may have been an attempt at a smirk but that came out just as a grimace, "No, Sebastian didn't."

Isabelle shifted impatiently, "Then who?"

"Alec figured it out, I don't – it's not Sebastian, his name is Jonathan Morgenstern – he has demon blood," Magnus' eyes flickered shut momentarily, swaying where he stood. He hadn't been exaggerating when he said that he couldn't sustain the meeting for long and seemed to be trying to share as much information as he could, making very little sense in the process.

Isabelle held up a hand, "Slow down! Sebastian's not... Sebastian? What do you mean?"

Jace seemed to be following more closely than Isabelle, tawny eyes glinting dangerously, "It doesn't matter, Izzy. Demon blood, that's all we need to know," he stepped closer to Magnus, grabbing on to the Warlock's shoulders to keep him from keeling over, "Pull it together, you're not done yet. We need proof. Evidence. If this is what Alec was rushing back from the Verlac estate to tell me... oh – Izzy, he found something. Alec found something!"

Isabelle was fighting down a grin of her own now, "So we just need to find what he found. And then, then we can tell Mum and Dad."

Magnus jolted back, eyes suddenly much more lucid, "No Instruments, there aren't any, it's all just to see who is stronger. What are they planning, what are your leaders planning now?"

Jace scowled, trying to keep up with Magnus' frantic mumbling. It was Isabelle who answered now, in a placating voice, "It's... fine. We'll get the evidence, whatever it was that Alec found, and you'll be fine."

Magnus spluttered into laughter, an unhinged edge to it that had Isabelle and Jace exchanging wary glances.

"They're going to execute me, right? Of course. Oh, he planned it all. Downworlder General invades the Nephilim capital and murders an innocent child. What other choice do they have, they have to execute me. And that's all the incentive my fellow Generals will need after the District Nine fiasco. The final fight, full on guerilla warfare, exactly what Valentine's after."

Jace looked over at Isabelle uncertainly, "I think he's hysterical. Should I slap him?"

Isabelle ignored him, coming to stand in front of the Warlock and grasping his chin to force him to meet her eyes. "Forget about the war and your other Generals, alright? It doesn't matter right now. See, thing is, you've made Alec pretty damn happy this past year. That's no mean feat, trust me, I've busted my ass trying. So I'm not about to let anyone kill you – the only time someone can do that is if you fuck things up with my brother, and I'll be more than happy to do the honours then. So just sit tight, try not to get framed for any more murders and me and Jace are going to take care of it."

Magnus gave an exhausted little smile before slipping to the ground, the dream blinking into darkness instantly.

They left immediately, both riding the one horse so it would be less obvious that the stables had been used. Isabelle's arms were wound tightly around Jace's waist as he spurred the horse on as fast as it would go. It didn't take long to reach the Verlac estate, and they scoured the grounds carefully, looking for something, anything that would have incited suspicion in Alec.

Their search was in vain. The skeleton they were looking for that Alec had found that morning was long since removed.

Their evidence was gone.

"The Downworlder General, Magnus Bane of the Fourth District, will be executed."

By the day after Max's murder, there was not a soul in Alicante who had not heard the announcement. It was on the lips of every soldier, written hastily on slips of paper jammed in envelopes, whispered in meetings and corridors. One would have thought that a dead Downworlder was not cause for such commotion – after all, it was in the job description – but the significance of it being an execution of such a high up figure was not lost on even the most clueless of Shadowhunters.

It was to be a public execution, slated to occur on the following Saturday. It would happen in the courtyard outside the Town Hall, and everybody was invited. The more people who came for the show, the better. The decision for it to be a public execution was to make an example of this Downworlder, who had infiltrated their stronghold and taken the life of an innocent.

The only reason the execution was not to be carried out immediately was because the Shadowhunters needed time to prepare. Not for the execution itself, but for the inevitable backlash. As soon as the Warlock's heart stopped, the Downworlders would have all the invitation they needed to attack Alicante directly, and they were just waiting for that signal.

Alec had been freed that day, the Adults deeming the threat passed and any spell that had been cast on him definitely expired. He had barely left the infirmary before the announcement met his ears and it had been all he could do to keep himself composed and his anxiety contained.

Isabelle and Jace had been at his side instantly, filling him in on their failed expedition. He, in turn, told them everything he had seen and heard. There was no doubt in any of their minds now that Jonathan Morgenstern was the one who had killed their brother and who should have been reaping the consequences, but there was not a shred of evidence they could produce to prove it.

All day, the three of them struggled to form a plan, desperation eventually leading them to the Lightwoods. Pleading with their parents was the absolute last resort, and it amounted to nothing but deep concern that Alec was still under the influence of a spell. He couldn't explain how he knew Magnus was innocent without risking them knowing about his relationship with the Warlock, and fraternizing with the enemy was a sure-fire way to have your Marks stripped away. Alec accepted defeat completely when Robert started to tear up and said, "We're all having a hard time coping with what's happened, Alexander. I know it's a lot to take in but stop talking like that. I've lost Max – I won't risk you."

After that, a sense of helplessness descended on the three – well, Alec and Isabelle, at least. Jace had never really understood the concept of being helpless. Even as Alec's head swam with exhaustion and Isabelle dozed off on the couch, Jace was still pacing around, restless as though ready to burst free from his own skin. He eventually drew to a halt with his eyes assessing Alec's face, and he didn't like what he saw.

"We're going to find a way to do this – and it won't be that," he stated resolutely, leaving no room for argument. The thought was only just forming in Alec's mind yet Jace could already see it. Sometimes Alec forgot how perceptive his friend could be, through the layers of indifference and distance.

"Jace... we may be able to find a way to prove Magnus was innocent, what a sham this entire war is, maybe even make them see that we're being played like Valentine's toys... but we're not going to be able to pull it off before Saturday," Alec replied. Jace had expected resignation, but surprisingly, that was not the tone in which Alec spoke. There was a determination in him that he only ever saw when he and Isabelle were in danger, that deeply ingrained instinct to protect them always giving Alec so much more life. It was born from the most bone-deep kind of love, and this was the first time Jace had ever seen it directed at someone who wasn't him or another Lightwood.

"By the Angel, you love him, don't you?" Jace asked, stricken. It felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath his feet. They were friends – no, brothers, by bond even if not blood, and how could it have been possible for someone to have made their way into his heart without Jace even noticing? And as Alec gave a tight-lipped nod, he felt the situation so much more keenly. Felt the pressure of the deadline they were facing, the risk of Alec, so newly vulnerable, being broken down, and it knocked him a bit sick.

"I have to save him, Jace," Alec said, and it was spoken as a concrete fact, "If there's even a single way that I am capable of keeping him alive, I have to do it, because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

Jace came to stand before him, jaw tight, "What do you need?"

There had been many times in Alec's life where he marvelled at having Jace – talented, otherworldly, brilliant Jace – as a friend, but none so much as that very moment. He felt himself smile for the first time in days.

"A diversion."

Alec stood in his bathroom, staring at the mirror, his breath fogging up the glass. It was Thursday now, two days before Magnus' execution, and his final day in Alicante. Carefully, his hands steady, he dragged the tip of his Stele over the curve of his shoulder, adding the final line to the intricate rune. It glinted darkly against his pale skin and Alec found himself staring at the black mark longer than it really deserved.

The Stele clattered to the floor as he lunged towards the toilet, throwing up the lid just in time to retch, stomach convulsing emptily. He panted, laying his forehead against the cool porcelain, and looked back over at the blade. It was beautiful, really. He'd never given the fact much thought – it was a weapon, after all, so long as it killed what it looked like didn't matter – but it suddenly struck him just how beautiful the ivory blade was.

He left the bathroom without picking it up.

Alec froze as he entered his bedroom. Isabelle was sitting on his bed, leafing absently through the small backpack on the mattress. She didn't look up as he entered, though her hands stilled, and she said softly, "If I asked you not to go, would you even consider it?"

Alec heaved a sigh, that spike of guilt he'd been careful to quash down now returning with a vengeance, "You know the answer to that." He made his way over to her, going to sit beside her but then second-thinking it as she tensed, instead leaving a large gap between them.

"It's funny," Isabelle murmured, more to herself than to him, "You always looked more at home with a book than with a knife."

Alec frowned, unsure what to make of that. A part of him had hoped a confrontation with Isabelle wouldn't happen. It was all hard enough, stripping away his familiar life piece by piece, without the added guilt. He feared it, really, having to see Isabelle, knowing that she could shatter his resolve with the right word or look.

"I won't ask, Alec. I want to, but I won't. But please," her voice thickened and it was a good thing her head was bowed because if Alec had seen the tears he'd have been undone, "don't hate me for not helping you. I already lost one brother, Alec, I can't take an active part in losing another."

He couldn't bear to see her face, as cowardly as it seemed to him, as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. Burying his face in the back of her neck, he held as tightly as he could, probably hurting her, but it still wasn't tight enough. His own eyes burned and he let slip a few treacherous tears, knowing Isabelle could feel them dampening her shoulder. His voice was painfully tight when he choked out, "I never could, Izzy. I love you."

He left the room as fast as he could after that, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he'd be staying for good. If there was any small mercies in the entire situation, it was that he'd already said his goodbyes to Jace, and they'd been deliberately tear-free on both sides.

Alec had only the vaguest idea what the diversion was going to be, so was more than a little alarmed, though not at all surprised, when silence-shattering explosions rocked the ground. Judging from sound alone, they were coming from near the East wall – it didn't even matter what the explosions really were. The assumption the Adults would make was that the Downworlders were attacking early. Alec briefly hoped nobody was hurt, Jace could get a bit carried away with the theatrics, but then all his focus was on getting down to the basements, where Magnus was being held.

Alec met no obstructions along the way, the guards confident that Magnus was too weak to escape and eager to find out what the explosions had been about. The door wasn't even barricaded, the assumption being that nobody would be trying to go in regardless, and Magnus unable to even stand, let alone try and leave. Alec would have thought it all too easy if he didn't know the real risk he was taking.

Magnus was in much the same state as Alec had been days before. Strapped down to an infirmary cot, ensnared in that damn wire, as white as a sheet. Alec couldn't give himself a chance to fret, hastily unfastening the buckles holding the Warlock down. Once that was done, he slipped free the ordinary knife from his belt and, oh-so-careful not to touch the wire himself, cut Magnus free. It took longer than he liked but he didn't want to accidentally cut Magnus too, the man laced with enough fine but deep gashes as it was.

Free of the wire's drain, Magnus began to come round, a raw-throated groan gasping past his cracked lips. Alec dropped a hand to cover his mouth, looming over his partner so he was sure to be seen before Magnus panicked.

"There's no time to explain now. We're getting out of here. There's a rogue I've heard of, Lucian Graymark. He deserted years ago. Disagreed with the war so much he just up and left. He might help us out, at least let us stay with him for a few days. Can you stand?"

It soon became clear that Magnus couldn't stand, barely enough energy in him to keep his eyelids open, so Alec ended up essentially carrying him out of the room. Magnus may have been taller than Alec, but he was actually very light, barely any weight on him anyway, and Alec had carried heavier. Soon, they were outside – manoeuvring the stairs hadn't been fun – and the horse was waiting for them, just as Jace had said. Alec realised with a pang that it was the same one Jace had been grooming that day, the one he'd always sort of considered his own.

No. No time for sentimentalities. Gritting his teeth, Alec managed to get Magnus up onto the horse then hopped on behind him. Steadying the slumped Warlock against his chest, one arm around his waist and the other gripping the harness, they set off.

He did not look back at Alicante as they rode away, smothering the overwhelming urge to do just that, instead focusing on the heat of Magnus against his chest and the soft brush of hair against his cheek.

Magnus' eyes flickered open, the steady sway of the horse beneath them that had lulled him back to sleep now gone, replaced by a pair of hands shaking him roughly awake. He wasn't as empty as before, his body working to heal itself as soon as the wire had been cut away, and he could even sit up without support now.

They were on the edge of a forest, having cleared the trees, and a stretch of barren land lay before them. The air was cooling as evening drew in, though it held a thickness that suggested it had been quite hot before, and Magnus' clothes were a little damp. His mouth was parched too. Before he could even ask, Alec was pressing the mouth of a bottle to his lips and he gulped back the water greedily.

As soon as the bottle pulled away, Alec was pushing his mouth against Magnus', gripping the back of his neck tightly. There was something undeniably urgent about the kiss, chaste but a little desperate. Magnus responded immediately, hands scrabbling at Alec's shoulders to pull him closer, swiping his tongue across the Shadowhunter's lower lip. Alec moaned, but it was far from being one of pleasure.

Breaking away, Magnus rambled, "I'm sorry, about Max, I tried-"

Alec yanked him back in, shutting him up with another firm, closed lipped kiss. Pulling back again, he pressed their foreheads together, holding Magnus to him as though trying to get them as close together as possible. Sweat was soaking Alec's skin, more than the heat really demanded, and the breaths blowing out across Magnus' face were decidedly laboured.

"Alec, what's wrong?"

Alec's gaze wavered as he drew away. The first bit of space put between them seemed difficult but after that he scurried back faster, raising his hand in warning when Magnus attempted to follow. The Warlock could see now that something was definitely wrong, Alec shaking with violent tremors and his face crumpled in pain.

"They know what I've done. By now, they'll be... they'll be striking my name from the Clave Records. I can feel it starting. Listen, this if very important; very soon, I'm going to be stripped of my Marks. There's nothing you can do to stop it so don't try. Keep away until it's over," he enunciated these words very carefully, they rang like an order, "You'll know when it's over. Then you have to get me to Graymark's place as fast as you can. If you keep riding that way, you'll find it. Jace said he sent a message ahead, so it may have reached him. N-No matter what it looks like, I'm gonna be fine, alright?" Alec's eyes were shining as he spoke, the bluest Magnus had ever seen them, but not a single tear fell. There was a strength to his words even when his voice quivered with the rest of his body, nothing betraying the agonizing fear he felt.

When it happened, no amount of strength and reassurances from Alec could have prepared Magnus for the pure brutality of the process. As he watched, Alec bit back a scream, teeth tearing into the skin of his bottom lip with the effort to restrain himself. His entire body convulsed, the runes all over him blazing white, before black flames appeared from thin air and engulfed him. It was physically painful for Magnus to not help him, not even the knowledge that there wasn't a thing he could do enough to make it less horrifying to just sit by and watch.

And then it got worse. The smell of singing hair and melting flesh reached Magnus and his stomach turned, teeth gritting as he forced himself to abort the automatic movement he'd made towards Alec. A crackle sparked from his fingertips, spells running through his mind, trying to have the best one ready for when the flames disappeared and he could finally help. A cooling spell? A healing spell? One that would dull if not kill the pain?

The flames expanded, a surge of heat flinging Magnus back, before they disappeared completely. Alec collapsed to the ground with a single heart-wrenching sob, shaking uncontrollably. Magnus was at his side instantly, tentatively picking him up and cradling him to his chest. Where any rune had been, there was a horrendous burn, the skin blackened and tender. There was little blood but that was a small consolation. The spell screaming in his mind, Magnus let the blaze surging at his fingertips free, its healing power cloaking Alec.

Magnus rode, and no amount of Downworlders or Shadowhunters would stop him from reaching his destination.

Epilogue:

Three Months Later

"He's been using my grapefruit body wash again. I can actually smell him coming a mile off," Clary fumed as she entered the living room, dropping onto the worn couch beside Alec, "Have words, will you?"

Alec gave a slight snicker, not looking away from the fuzzy television screen. There was some reality show on, though he wasn't giving it too much attention, looking through it rather than at it. "I'd have several if they'd do any good. I'd just take the defeat, if I were you."

She gave a sigh, picking up the remote and switching it over to the news. There was little of value to get from it, the entire world at something of a stalemate. It was the same news every day; negotiations were being made, the Morgensterns were being searched for, a Council of some sort being formed between the Downworlders and the Shadowhunters. Until Valentine or his son were found, nothing could really be proved either way, despite increasing efforts from certain unnamed individuals. Alec's lip curled in a grin as they replayed old footage from about two months ago, one unnamed individual in particular being displayed, his golden eyes particularly vivid on camera.

It wasn't that bad at Luke's – he didn't like being called Lucian, apparently. The man hadn't even asked for an explanation when Magnus burst into his house, fingers blazing and a threat on his lips. He had just taken one look at Alec, slipping from Magnus' hands, and got to work. He was quite gruff but there was a hesitant kindness to the man, and he had made it clear that Magnus and Alec were welcome under his roof as long as they wanted to stay.

Luke didn't live alone, as Alec had expected of a rogue. Clarissa, who also didn't like being called by her actual name apparently, with hair as red as flames and eyes of emerald. She bore no resemblance to Luke, but there was no denying he was her Father, whether they shared blood or not. She had a spirit as vibrant as her features, though could turn suddenly taciturn without warning, and they'd learned to leave her to her own devices when such a mood struck. More often than not, however, she was keen for their company, very rarely having met anyone her own age. Alec liked her, if only because watching her spar with Magnus could be very entertaining.

That day, however, there was a heavy lethargy to his limbs. It happened sometimes, not in any kind of pattern that he could predict, but often enough to be expected. There were days when being around people just left him completely drained and he needed to escape to solitude, to recharge. Today was one of those days, his fingers beginning to tremble despite his efforts to keep them still, and he excused himself before Clary noticed.

When Magnus eventually came into their bedroom himself, the episode had fully hit Alec. He was curled in on himself, face tight and eyes scrunched shut in pain, his entire body shaking. Shutting the door over behind him, Magnus slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, sliding down and curling himself around Alec's prone form.

They didn't speak. They never did when the phantom pains made an appearance, rendering Alec immobile and agonized. At first, Magnus had done nothing but talk, trying to distract Alec from the ghostly scorching of his skin, but he soon ran out of words and just took to holding him, making sure Alec knew he was there while the younger man rode out the pain. It happened when he was thinking too hard, when he wondered how Isabelle was doing or how Jace was coping as the face of peace he had become. In a way, Alec brought it upon himself, but he just couldn't help it. He had to think about them because it was the only way he could be close to them any more.

And so Magnus held him and stayed silent, knew better than to try and bring up the subject of Alec's pining, until the tension drained from his partner's limbs and Alec turned around in his hold to bring their bodies closer together.

Sometimes, on nights like these, Magnus wondered if Alec ever regretted it – them, loving him, losing everything he was to save him – and it was then that Alec became the comforter, as though able to sense the uncertainty. It would surprise most who knew them to find that it was mostly Alec who initiated anything more than a cuddle, and it was always when Magnus most needed that closeness. To be certain of Alec's love for him, to be reassured that Alec felt no resentment even though Magnus thought himself to blame, to feel the reality of Alec in his arms.

Things were far from perfect. The war may have reached a stalemate but it could be triggered by the smallest of things. There was a void in Alec that Magnus could not fill, no matter how hard he tried, unable to mask the loss of his family. Magnus' guilt could not be entirely dismissed, despite Alec's reassurances and earnest declarations of love. And yet, they were happy, despite it all. They were together in a way that could not be matched by dreams and battles, a united front against all that would destroy them, their ow makeshift family in the shape of Luke and Clary.

It was far from perfect, but their story had never been a fairytale, and this was as close to a Happily Ever After as they could hope for.

۞

.end.

۞