Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The party is… loud. 

The party is loud, which isn’t something that would be surprising or unexpected. 

(There remains to be said that any party that could happen is a party that Alec would describe as too loud, not that anyone is asking.)

He locks his eyes with Jace for the briefest moment, and his brother rolls his eyes before shifting his attention back to the crowd of women and men doing their best to get their hands on him, which… 

Which isn’t surprising or unexpected either, despite the fact that as far as Alec knows, it shouldn’t be happening right now. 

After all, Alec was, in fact, there, when Magnus Bane warned his guests to keep his hands off his property.

He still isn’t sure what to make of the resident High Warlock and their new owner; the man showed up in the morning, a few hours after the Downworld Council officially announced Camille’s disappearance, apparently having inherited all her belongings, and his only order so far has been that the party Camille had planned was to happen regardless of the unexpected circumstances - after issuing it, he locked himself in what used to be Camille’s torture chamber, confusingly alone, and he hasn’t left the place until the guests started to arrive, which was when he very pointedly asked everyone to behave despite what they might have been used to during the times Camille owned the place, and then he disappeared from Alec’s view again, not that Alec is exactly complaining; in his way too long experience, being away from your master is a good thing. 

Even though being left at the mercy of your master’s guests with clear authority issues isn’t exactly the highlight of Alec’s week. 

They are clearly controlling themselves tonight, though, he has to admit; any other night, any Camille-organised night, they would have already been ordered to their knees or spare bedrooms. 

“You look good enough to eat, sweetheart,” one of the guests - a vampire, which means Alec is sensing a little bit of a threat here - comments. “Though you’re wearing way too many clothes,” he adds, having the audacity to pout, even though Alec is practically naked. “I’ll have to tell Magnus to fix that next time.” 

Alec doesn’t dignify it with an answer, and the vampire doesn’t really seem to expect one. He wanders away, heading towards the open bar, and Alec is momentarily left with his own thoughts, painfully and selfishly glad that the majority of the guests prefer seeing him fight, liking him enough that they don’t mind him being uncooperative at times. 

And then, of course, everything goes straight to hell and Alec only has himself to blame for it. 

And Clary, kind of. 

Which is very much not fair, but still.

The young woman appears at his and Jace’s side with a small tired smile and a tray filled with flutes of champagne, which, Alec knows, is her own way of trying to help them, granting them a few moments of rest as the guests enjoy their drinks. 

It’s not the first time she has done that for them and Alec doubts it will be the last.  

Only, it doesn’t really work out that way, this time. 

Because this time, Jace’s fans seem to be too thrilled to keep touching him (Alec supposes it has something to do with them technically breaking the rules by doing so), and, worse, there is a warlock appearing at Clary’s side, his eyes raking up and down her body with interest that makes Alec’s skin crawl. 

And then the warlock - Lorenzo something, Alec’s mind supplies uselessly - lets his palm wander down Clary’s arm, and Jace… Jace is too surrounded by the guests and he won’t be able to do anything, and Alec knows his brother’s lover well enough by now that he is perfectly aware of the fact that Clary is going to defend herself, consequences be damned, and if she does… 

Well. 

Alec might not be the greatest fan of Clarissa Fairchild, but he doesn’t want to see what the Downworld would do to her for biting Lorenzo’s fingers off. 

Goddamnit. 

He moves before he can change his mind, his speed inhuman, and he wraps his fingers around Lorenzo’s wrist, forcing the warlock’s hand away from Clary’s skin. 

For the briefest moment, Lorenzo is absolutely silent, clearly too shocked, and Alec seizes the opportunity to put himself firmly between him and Clary. 

“Apologies, Sir,” he says in his most polite tone, even though he would happily throw the man into the nearest wall. “But my master asked you not to touch.” 

The warlock fixes him with a look that is both outraged and amused, raising his eyebrow as he points in the direction of the flock of admirers around Jace. 

“This was a very big mistake,” he tells Alec. He glares at Clary. “Bring your master here,” he orders, and Alec supposes it can’t exactly get any worse, when Clary, bless her brave little stupid heart, actually looks at Alec, checking with him, and Lorenzo narrows his eyes. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” he growls. 

“What a funny coincidence,” a voice says behind them and they all turn around. “Neither do I.” 

Magnus looks… tired, Alec notices despite himself. He doubts anyone else is noticing anything; the warlock seems to be carrying himself with an undoubtable amount of outworldly energy, his expensive and extravagant clothes complimenting his body in ways that would make Alec’s knees weak if their situation wasn’t this fucked, his make up - Alec’s heart almost stops - perfect. Yet, there is tension in the way he’s holding himself, in the hard set of his jaw, in the lines around his eyes when Alec dares to look at him. 

“I was just sending after you,” Lorenzo says, finding his voice faster than Alec expected. “I know these are new, but I would have thought Camille trained them better than this - and I hope you will not tolerate insolence.” 

“Insolence,” Magnus repeats quietly. There is something in his voice, something that Alec can’t really place. 

He sighs, looking, for all Alec can tell, as though he wishes to be anywhere else, not that Alec can’t relate. “We’re not having this conversation here,” he says.

“With all respect,” Lorenzo starts, and something about the atmosphere shifts. 

Magnus doesn’t stop smiling, but the glamour disappears, his warlock mark suddenly visible, and Alec feels a shiver run down his spine. 

The man is dangerous. 

Dangerous in ways Lorenzo, and even Camille, could only dream about, and Lorenzo must feel it too, because he falls silent, his sentence unfinished. 

“ With all respect, I don’t generally allow people to come into my house and disrupt my parties,” Magnus says. “We can discuss this in my office - or you are more than welcome to just leave.” 

“Your office,” Lorenzo says through gritted teeth, and Alec could swear Magnus looks disappointed for a second, but he recovers quickly enough. 

“Very well.” He hesitates, not moving for a second, and right. 

Alec doubts he knows where the office is placed in the mansion. As much as Magnus is about to have him punished for insubordination at Lorenzo’s request - because there is no way the warlock is going to trust him and not Lorenzo - Alec finds he doesn’t really want Lorenzo to realise how little Magnus knows of the place he has inherited, which would no doubt be used against him at some point if Alec knows anything about the man. 

After all, none of this is the High Warlock’s fault; certainly not Camille disappearing from the world, and not the fact that the Nephilim pushed so hard that the Downworld snapped and rebelled and won and absolutely not the fact that the guests, so used to the Camille’s ways, are unable to keep their hands to themselves.

Alec lets his eyes flick towards Clary who seems to be thinking the same, as she gives him the smallest nod, taking a step towards Magnus, her hands gripping the tray so hard that her knuckles, Alec can see, are white.

“I’ll take these to the office as you asked me to, master,” she says, her voice calm and composed and perfectly innocent. “My apologies for the delay.” 

Magnus blinks at her, and then he favours her with a small thankful smile, clearly aware of the fact that he never really issued an order like this and he steps aside to let her walk past him and thus lead the way. 

He looks almost human when he smiles, Alec notices. 

He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on the thought. 

It’s not like Magnus won’t turn out to be just like Camille and everyone else.

Chapter Text

By the time they arrive into Camille’s - Magnus’s - office, Alec’s mind has conjured up enough catastrophic scenarios that he could probably be hired to write the next instalment of Torture Your Shadowhunter. 

Not that the authors need any help. 

He wishes it would be just his anxiety talking, but he doubts it will be the case. After all, Lorenzo is pissed and Alec technically did break the laws, and there’s no way Magnus is going to choose Alec’s side over a warlock’s. 

The punishment will be worth keeping Jace’s beloved safe, but that doesn’t mean Alec is particularly looking forward to it. 

He doesn’t even want to imagine what Camille would have done to him in a situation like this. But of course, Camille would never have ordered anyone not to touch her slaves in the first place. 

Clary leads them through the labyrinth of the mansion until she gets them to the office with a confidence of someone who knows their way and hasn’t been enslaved very long, and Magnus surprises Alec by opening the door and holding it open for her to walk inside and place the tray onto the mahogany table. 

“Thank you,” Magnus says quietly, and Clary gives him a small smile before glaring in Lorenzo’s direction, and Alec likes her, he really does, but considering he will have to deal with the consequences of tonight, he would really appreciate it if she stopped trying to get him killed by her actions. 

“Wait for me outside,” the High Warlock orders then, ignoring her very disobedient behaviour and she nods, glancing at Alec with a mix of guilt and gratitude, and she takes a deep breath. 

“You have to trust Alec,” she says, determined and petulant, and practically ordering their master around and… right. 

Alec is so fucked. 

“Outside,” Magnus repeats without hesitation, his voice still gentle, and something like amusement bubbling underneath, and Clary sighs and walks out. 

“Wonderful,” Lorenzo says out loud as she does, and if Alec wasn’t so busy imagining whips and canes, he thinks he would actually laugh at the long-suffering sigh Magnus lets out as he turns around to face his fellow warlock, his whole body screaming annoyed, in a strict contrast to the tired hesitant amusement he was showing to Clary until now. 

“Lorenzo, I have had a very long day and unless you intend to fix me a drink and give me a massage, I really don’t particularly enjoy the idea of wasting my time with you tonight,” he says. “So how about we cut this short? You tell me what was the grievous offence my slave committed and we sort it out and we both go our merry ways?” 

“You’ve gone terribly soft,” Lorenzo answers. “Camille would never let that red haired slut act like this. Not to mention this one.” 

Magnus presses his lips into a thin line. “The last time I checked, Camille named me, not you, her heir,” he answers dryly. “So I suggest you leave it to me to decide what I find and don’t find acceptable. And while you are of course entitled to using any sort of vocabulary that you please, I firmly ask you not to use it in front of me.” He smiles, but there is something in his eyes. “I’m asking for myself, for now. Do not make me ask as the High Warlock.” 

Lorenzo seems to notice the something as well, if Alec should judge from his quick nod and from the fact that when he speaks up again, he sounds slightly less himself. 

“Of course. Your house, your rules, Magnus. Still, you must agree there are just some things even you can’t ignore. I was hardly the only person admiring the admittedly beautiful additions to your property, and yet this one turned violent.” 

Magnus tilts his head to the side. “Considering what we have both seen him do in the Arena, I would like to say violent would look a bit different,” he points out. 

It doesn’t exactly soothe Alec’s anxiety, but it is something. 

If his new owner doesn't agree with Lorenzo in the definition of Alec's transgressions, it's definitely a good thing.  

“He grabbed my arm and manhandled me, Magnus. You can twist it as you want, I can think of six different laws he broke and I have every right to demand he is whipped bloody for every single one of them, but I'm feeling generous.” 

“Generous,” Magnus repeats. “Very well. How generous are you choosing to be?” 

Lorenzo smiles at him. 

“I want him for the night,” he says, making Alec swallow hard, not that either of the warlocks is paying attention to him. 

It’s, strictly speaking, not bad, Alec knows. After all, it’s not really even a punishment per se, given that Camille used to hand out her slaves for entertainment regularly, and if this is all that Lorenzo demands, then Alec should be thanking his lucky stars and Magnus should take the offer immediately, regardless of how sick Alec feels at the thought. 

Magnus leans back against the table. He actually looks amused now, and if it is because he is about to suggest they share Alec’s punishment the way Camille definitely would, Alec is going to scream. 

“So you come into my home, disrupt my party, break the only rule I have given for the night, and you expect to be given Alexander for the night as a result,” Magnus says. “Please tell me this is an elaborate joke that fell flat.” 

“He touched me without permission,” Lorenzo answers. “You know the Spiral Labyrinth will not approve, if I choose to complain. Do you really want to have to deal with them for a Shadowhunter? I mean, he is pretty, but he’s really not worth the hassle.” 

And just like that, any perfunctory amusement that Magnus might have felt until now fades.

“I do not appreciate being threatened,” he says, his voice cold. “And I would like to remind you that the Spiral Labyrinth approves of breaking the house rules even less. If you want to bring this to them, you are more than welcome to do so. I for one would just love to hear Tessa’s opinion on this. But for now, you have exhausted your welcome. I trust you know your way out, Mr Rey. I will be impatiently awaiting your fire message with an official invite to the Spiral Labyrinth if you so decide.” He smirks, and fine, Alec is a complete idiot but there is just something about Magnus Bane that makes his knees go weak. “Though we both know you won’t. Good night.” 

For a moment, Lorenzo looks like he wants to start a fight, the electricity cracking around him, making Alec long after his weapons. 

“You don’t want to do this,” Magnus says quietly, still smirking slightly, but he stops leaning against the table, actually shifting so that he is standing in front of Alec, shielding him and that makes no sense. “We both know how it would end and I don’t think I would be merciful tonight. Just go.” 

The electricity disappears, leaving a slight smell of ozone, and Lorenzo turns around and storms out without a single word. 

“Rude,” Magnus comments dryly. 

He turns around to actually favour Alec with a smile, which… doesn’t make sense, really. Alec isn’t used to Downworlders smiling at him. Staring at him with lust and ordering him to his knees? Sure. 

This is new. 

“As much as I am sure you know who I am and as much as I know who you are, there hasn’t been time for a proper introduction yet.” 

Alec tries - and fails - not to blush. “Alec Lightwood,” he says quietly. “At your service.” 

Magnus’s smile grows even brighter at that somehow. 

He is very beautiful when he smiles. 

Alec is absolutely fucked. 

“Magnus Bane. Not at your service, but I’m sure we can figure something out,” the warlock tells him, amused, and Alec feels himself blushing even deeper, which is absurd and stupid and embarrassing. 

He wants to be annoyed with himself for acting completely smitten just because anyone else in Magnus’s position would have him bent over that mahogany table already, but, truth to be told - and honesty, by now, is the only thing Alec truly possesses, and so he generally tries to be honest with himself - it isn’t just that, not really. 

Magnus takes a deep breath.

“Wait here for me,” he says easily, his voice somehow playful and firm at once, giving the order with a casual nonchalance of someone who knows they will be obeyed, which Camille never really managed. “We still have things to discuss about tonight - but I need to kick my guests out first.” 

“I would recommend setting Clary and Izzy on that, master,” Alec tells him before he can stop himself, mostly to push aside the dread returning to his stomach, and Magnus laughs, surprised and genuine and apparently unaware (or uncaring) of Alec’s internal turmoil.

“Duly noted,” he says. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

He’s gone before Alec can dig his grave deeper and point out he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

Chapter Text

Being left on his own is, generally speaking, a good thing. It is, generally speaking, a very good thing; it means, usually, that Alec is able to go around fulfilling his duties and that he isn’t forced to deal with humiliating comments - or, less often, but still too often in his opinion - humiliating orders, and that he gets as much of peace as possible.

Being left on his own right now might be what will drive Alec finally and completely crazy. 

He has never really been fond of surprises, and living with (a euphemism of the century) Camille Belcourt has not changed his opinion towards them at all, and he doesn't understand Magnus at all and that… that’s very dangerous. 

Magnus Bane is a mystery, which is kind of surprising, considering how famous he is; Alec has genuine doubts that there is anyone out there who doesn’t know him, or the fact that the warlock almost single handedly defeated the Shadowhunter forces during the Great War, or the fact that the Great War was almost lost by the Downworld, that the Downworld was on the verge of losing it, until Magnus Bane decided to join the rebellion. 

Alec has grown up on the stories of the monster responsible for their fate, and later, on the stories of Camille Belcourt’s lover, and until tonight, Alec was pretty sure he knew what to expect.  

Magnus Bane doesn’t really look like a monster. 

(He doesn’t look like a perfect match for Camille, either, if Alec is being honest with himself, but he doesn’t really want to think about Camille, or anything that she has done to him - or Jace - and he definitely doesn’t want to think about Magnus in any relation to a romantic partnership. Chances are, and not small, that he will learn more than enough about Magnus in this direction soon enough whether he wants to or not.) 

Magnus Bane looks, as far as Alec can tell so far, human, which is not an adjective that Alec was ever going to associate with a Downworlder, and let alone with his master, but here they fucking are. 

Not that it matters. 

Because even if Magnus apparently doesn’t fancy the idea of sharing Alec with his guests, it doesn’t have to mean that Magnus won’t want to punish him himself. 

After all, no one could really blame him for establishing dominance over his new household, for making sure that his new slaves are properly afraid of him, and where should he start, if not by punishing a disobedient slave that disrespected one of his guests, however disliked? 

“So now that we got that unpleasant part of the evening out of the way,” Magnus starts saying as he re-enters the office, and then he freezes. “Oh,” he says. “You really didn’t go anywhere,” he comments, his voice somehow both amused and sad at the same time, and, right. 

Alec didn’t even really realise that he remained frozen right at the same place that Magnus left him at - it felt natural to do so, and Camille didn’t enjoy it when her slaves roamed around her rooms without her permission (or when they moved while she was trying out her equipment in her torture chamber, but Alec isn’t going to think about that, thank you very much). 

“Apologies, master,” he says out loud, instead of pointing out that Magnus didn’t fuck tell him to move. “I wasn’t sure if I was permitted to-” he trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence, and Magnus sighs. 

“Let’s just sit down,” he says, ignoring Alec’s apparent failure in favour of pointing out to the sofa near the window and Alec blinks at him, confused, but he does follow the warlock to it. 

He pointedly remains standing - it isn’t like Magnus’s formulation was anything but a figure of speech. 

The warlock sighs. 

“Sit down,” he orders, his voice tired. He narrows his eyes. “Don’t even consider kneeling,” he adds quickly, as though he is actually afraid of Alec doing just that. 

As though Camille wouldn’t have demanded just that, too. 

Alec awkwardly sits down on the sofa, thanking his lucky stars that the piece of furniture is big enough that he and Magnus aren’t touching. 

He does his best not to shiver or fidget.

“Whatever you think I’m going to do, I’m probably not going to do it,” Magnus tells him, apparently deciding that amused & sad is his tone of choice for the evening, which makes no sense at all. 

Alec doesn’t answer, choosing instead to stare on his own hands folded in his lap, wishing, desperately, that he was more like Jace, or Izzy. 

Hell, even more like Clary, if need be, because he isn’t good with words, and he especially isn’t good with words now and he should be saying something, because Magnus doesn’t know this place, and for some reason he chose Alec as his first night’s entertainment and so Alec should be doing his best to ensure that the man is happy and pleased and instead, apparently, Alec is instead choosing to be completely fucking useless. 

“Thank you,” Magnus tells him suddenly, effectively breaking the silence between them and Alec chokes on air. 

“You- what?” he asks, absolutely improper and Magnus chuckles.

“Thank you,” he repeats calmly. “For intervening. That was very brave of you, especially considering what a major asshole Lorenzo Rey is. I know these people. I should have known he was going to be trouble, and I should have been there to stop him. I wasn’t. But you were. So, thank you, Alexander.” 

And the thing is, he actually sounds like he means it, like he really doesn’t care that Alec broke the laws, like he appreciates Alec stepping in. 

Like he thinks it was brave of Alec, and Alec absolutely isn’t ready for the warmth he feels spread across his entire body at the compliment. 

He is pathetic. 

“It wasn’t- I didn’t-” he starts and then he trails off when Magnus reaches forward and presses his index finger to Alec’s lips. 

“It was brave,” he repeats. “And I thank you for doing it. And consider this my blanket permission to step in if anyone oversteps. They might not like it, but it doesn’t matter; I will deal with the consequences.” 

“Why?” Alec asks against Magnus’s finger. 

He wonders, for a moment, what Magnus would do if Alec sucked the finger into his mouth. He immediately tells himself to get a fucking a grip.

Magnus shrugs and he leans back, thankfully no longer touching any part of Alec, which means that Alec feels like he can think again. 

Somewhat. 

Magnus still isn’t making any sense, regardless of how far away from Alec he sits, and Alec still feels absurdly attracted to a Downworlder, and a warlock, and Alec’s fucking master, no less, and Alec’s head is beginning to pound. 

“I have been alive for longer than you could possibly conceive,” the warlock says then.  “And as such I have witnessed acts beyond comprehension.” He looks at Alec, their eyes meeting, and that’s… that shouldn’t be happening, but somehow it is. His eyes are dark, Alec realises belatedly, and warm, and beautiful, and it absolutely doesn’t matter. Magnus gives him a soft smile, as though he is perfectly aware of Alec’s thoughts. 

He might as well be; Alec has no idea what crazy powers the warlock possesses. 

“The point is,” Magnus continues, “that whether I like it or not, you are mine. And no one gets to harm what is mine.” 

“Without your permission,” Alec finishes before he can stop himself, desperately trying to make sense of the situation, and Magnus sighs. 

“Yes,” he agrees, bitterness sudden and clear in his voice, which doesn’t make sense at all. “You should go, Alexander,” he adds, and Alec can’t help the shiver that runs through his entire body, both at being called Alexander by Magnus and by the fact that he can tell, very clearly, that his master is displeased for some reason (and Alec has no fucking idea what he did wrong), but he isn’t punishing Alec anyway and Alec doesn’t think he has ever been this confused. 

“I’m… sorry,” he says quietly, unsure what to do, or say, and Magnus shakes his head. 

“There’s no need for you to apologise,” he answers, easily enough but there is something in his voice, and Alec… Alec realises with a bigger than mild shock, he doesn’t want to leave - or, more precisely, he doesn’t want to leave Magnus all alone right now, when he sounds so… so human. 

“I upset you,” he points out, because apparently he is an idiot. “I didn’t… I’m sorry I did.” 

Magnus stares at him for a while in complete silence. Alec isn’t really sure if it is because he finally decided that Alec is more trouble than he is worth, or because he finally said something right. 

He supposes he gets his answer when Magnus smiles at him, a small, but clearly genuine smile that almost reaches his eyes. 

“Goodnight, Alexander,” he says, gentle, but with a clear order. “I will see you in the morning.” 

The last thing Alec sees before closing the door behind him, is Magnus Bane sitting on the sofa, painfully alone, with his face hidden in his palms.

Chapter Text

It’s weird, walking through the mansion on his own - Alec isn’t sure why exactly Magnus didn’t bother to send any guards with him. It isn’t as though Alec is going to run - he wouldn’t, not when it would leave Izzy and Jace to pay the price, but it is still surprising. 

Normally, he would assume the lack of armed guards with crude comments was a mistake, or arrogance, on the side of his owner. 

He wonders if, on Magnus’s side, it could simply be kindness.

He isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer. 

The place is silent and only scarcely lighted, which means that Alec must have spent a great deal of the night waiting for Magnus’s return, which… is not good, if he can tell from the anxiety he can feel pulsing through the parabatai bond. 

Over the last few hours, Jace must have worried himself sick, and wasn’t that the main reason why Camille allowed them to become parabatai in the first place? After all, she has always enjoyed the knowledge that she could hurt them both at once even if she wasn’t, physically. 

It’s weirdly comforting, walking through the dark corridors alone, right now; Alec isn’t sure when was the last time he could walk the place on his own speed, without having to worry about guards, or guests, or Camille or all three at once. 

Without the pressures of who and what he is, the mansion feels almost nice, albeit not Alec’s style at all; marble floors that hurt like a bitch against the knees, golden frames on the windows, undoubtedly expensive mundane paintings on the walls. 

He can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to call this place home.

By the time he gets to the slave quarters of the mansion, his stomach has tied itself into knots. He isn’t exactly sure why - there’s no residual shame tonight, nothing that he usually feels upon returning from his master late at night. 

He is perfectly unharmed, hasn’t been hurt in any way, has been protected, even. 

And that, if he is being honest with himself, is precisely why he is nervous. 

In his… fairness, at the very least, kindness, maybe, Magnus Bane has managed to stress Alec out more than Camille and all her friends combined ever could. 

And, worse still, he doesn’t even know what to tell Jace, who will inevitably have questions; Alec hasn’t been bewitched, he is sure of that. He has been bewitched before, by Lorenzo and by a few others, has been made like what was done to him on more than one occasion, and can recognise it when this sort of magic is used on him. 

And that means that everything Magnus Bane has made him feel, he has made him feel naturally, without any help, and that… 

That is something Alec has no idea how he can even begin to describe to Jace. 

-

Turns out, Jace is the last of his worries, Alec realises the moment he opens the door and walks into the small room he and Jace share, because the moment he does, he is practically tackled by his sister. 

“Do I need to kill Bane?” she asks him, her face buried in Alec’s chest, and Alec wraps his arms tighter around her despite himself. 

“Do we need to kill Bane?” Jace corrects her, standing up to join the hug, which leaves Clary being the only one not wrapped around Alec like the most caring boa constrictor, not that Alec is complaining. 

He is happy for Jace. 

That doesn’t mean he wants to be on the hugging basis with Clary Fairchild, thank you very much. 

“No,” he says quietly, sighing internally when speaking up means he gets a mouthful of Jace’s hair. He doesn’t let go anyway. 

“No? Alec, Clary told us what- thank you so much for that, by the way, you know I owe you-”

“You don’t-” 

“- and she told us that bastard Rey was going to take it out on you, and then you weren’t returning and the bond was freaking out and-” 

“Jace!” 

His parabatai falls silent for a second. “Alec, what happened?” 

Somehow, they make it to the ground between his and Jace’s cots, Izzy still pressed to Alec’s side. Alec thinks he would be teasing her for it, if it wasn’t for the fact that her mascara is smudged and her eyes red. 

“Nothing,” Alec says quietly, answering Jace’s question with a bit of delay, and he sighs. “Nothing happened. Rey asked for me for the night, but Magnus… he turned him down. Called him out on breaking the rules, even.” 

“He what?” Izzy asks, clearly unable to keep surprise out of her voice, not that Alec blames her; he doesn’t think he would believe it either, had their situation been reversed. 

“I told you he seemed nice,” Clary points out, the tiniest trace of smugness in her voice evident, and Alec glares at her. 

“That explains why you ordered him around,” he tells her dryly and Clary has the decency to blush a little. 

“I was encouraging him to do the right thing,” she mutters. And then, “thank you, Alec. Really. I’m glad I didn’t… I wasn’t… I didn’t want to make it worse. I was worried that I did.” 

“You didn’t,” Alec assures her. “I was sure you did, to be honest. But you didn’t. Magnus just… he made it very clear that Lorenzo won’t be getting anything he wants tonight.” 

“And then?” Jace asks, his voice deceptively soft. “Alec, you’ve been gone for hours. Whatever Bane did…” 

“He didn’t do anything,” Alec says. 

“Alec-” 

“I’m serious, Jace. He told me to wait in Camille’s - his - office, went to end the party, and then he just… he thanked me. That was all.” 

He’s met with absolute silence and three pairs of eyes blinking at him in pure confusion. If they weren’t talking about whether or not Alec was fucked tonight, he thinks he would find the look at the three of them absolutely hilarious. 

“Thanked you,” Jace repeats, suspicious, when he finally manages to find his voice. “Thanked you for what?” 

And that, too, is hilarious in Alec’s opinion, in the same bitter not-really-funny-but-he-would-have-to-cry-if-he-doesn't-laugh-at-it way as many other things in his life are, the implication that a Downworlder, that a master, would thank him after using him. 

Jace knows that, too. 

“Thanked me for stopping Lorenzo,” Alec says. It sounds crazy even to his own ears and he was fucking there. 

Everything about Magnus feels crazy, really. 

“Did you drink something?” Izzy asks him carefully. “Your pupils aren’t dilated, but-” 

“I’m not drugged,” Alec tells her. “And he didn’t use any sort of magic on me, either, while we’re at it. He just didn’t… he was just decent. That’s all. I can’t believe it, either. But he didn’t touch me. Didn’t do anything, really. He even moved to stand between me and Lorenzo when it looked like Lorenzo would use his magic - don’t look at me like that, I’m not going crazy.” He sighs, leaning into Izzy before he can stop himself. 

Fuck, he’s tired. 

Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. 

He’s tired and he’s confused, and he’s safe, or as safe as he, as any of them, can be. He’s with his siblings, instead of getting fucked, and he doesn’t understand any of that, not really. 

He also can’t get the image of Magnus, alone and curled up on himself, out of his head. 

“Look, we don’t know anything about him,” he points out.

“We know he fucked Camille,” Jace retorts with his typical tact. “Willingly. Sorry, but that’s not exactly screaming ´nice guy´ at me.” 

Alec takes a deep breath. “Well, we don’t know anything else. He hasn’t even had time to… I don’t know, introduce himself to us properly. Maybe he was just tired tonight to be a dick, I don’t know. But he was nice. And it isn’t like… All Downworlders can’t be complete monsters.” 

“Alec,” Izzy says gently, like she is worried about his mental health, not that Alec can exactly blame her. “He led the Great War in the end. He killed Valentine himself. If it wasn’t for Bane, we wouldn’t have lost - all of this is his fault. Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad… Fuck, I’m glad he didn’t touch you. But he is one of the monsters, Alec.” 

“I didn’t forget any of that,” Alec says. 

His head is pounding. 

Whether I like it or not, you are mine. And no one gets to harm what is mine, Magnus had said. 

Alec doesn't even try to mention this to his siblings. He doesn't think he can even begin to understand Magnus himself; he doubts Izzy or Jace would. 

“Good,” Izzy murmurs. She sighs, pressing herself closer to him. She looks ready to fall asleep right where she's leaning against Alec, and Alec wonders distantly, if it's worth risking a punishment and tucking her into his bed instead of forcing her across the hall. 

In the end, it gets mostly decided for him; Clary is curled up into Jace, asleep, and Alec doesn't even need the bond to know that Jace doesn't like the idea of waking his lover up. 

It's not even that surprising; it's almost dawn anyway. They all have been waiting for Alec for hours, worried and afraid. 

Alec stands up, unable to stop himself from grimacing as blood returns to his legs, and he helps Izzy stand up before gently depositing her on his bed. It's hardly big enough for it, but it's not the first time they are sharing, despite all the displeasure it used to cause Camille and despite all the pain the vampire used to cause in return. 

He feels, more than sees, Jace lifting Clary up from the ground, too. 

“Don't want you to get hurt,” Izzy slurs, curling up on herself in the bed and Alec swallows against the sudden lump in his throat. 

“I won't be,” he answers, grabbing a shirt and sweatpants from his shelf, intent to finally get rid of the ridiculous, revealing excuse of clothes he was forced to wear for the night. 

He feels half-asleep already. 

“Izzy's right,” Jace says quietly, resting his palm on Alec's shoulder and Alec leans into his parabatai's touch without hesitation. “I know what I have been feeling through the bond, Alec. If I find out you've sacrificed yourself to protect us… please don't. Whatever you do, don't let Bane hurt you for us.” 

Alec sighs. He feels stupidly vulnerable right now, half naked and leaning against his brother, with his clothes in his right hand and with Magnus's words still ringing in his ears, with the image of Magnus alone burnt into his eyelids. 

“You don't get to decide, Jace,” he answers softly. “Even if I did, it would be my choice to make, not yours.” He gives him a small smile, silencing Jace before he can protest. “But. I know you don't trust him, but I don't think he wants that, anyway.” 

He slips from Jace's hold before Jace can come up with an answer, hurrying into the slave bathroom. He leans against the sink, gripping the porcelain tight to stop his hands from shaking. 

They don't and it takes an annoying amount of focus to pull the shirt over his head. 

By the time Alec returns to the room, Jace is asleep too, his arms wrapped protectively around Clary, his body angled to accommodate Clary's starfish sleeping position. It makes Alec smile despite himself. 

“You need to get some sleep,” Izzy whispers, shifting on Alec's bed so that there's space for him and Alec gives her a tight nod, turning off the light and climbing into the bed. 

They press against each other in the tiny space. It makes Alec think of the times before the Great War, when they were children and had a future. 

“If he hurts you, I'll kill him, big brother,” Izzy murmurs. “I meant it.” 

“I know,” Alec whispers back. 

He's asleep before she can say anything else. 

If he dreams of dark eyes flashing gold and blue sparks of magic, well. 

It isn't anyone's business but his own. 

Chapter Text

Being brought to his master, without any explanation, in unholy hours and in chains is nothing new. 

Alec thinks he would be bitterly amused by the fact that Magnus Bane apparently only had the patience to play a game with him for one night, if he wasn’t so disappointed by the fact that Magnus Bane apparently only had the patience to play a game with him for one night. 

He doesn’t know the name of the mundane guard tasked with bringing him to Magnus’s office. He doesn’t particularly care; what he does care about is the fact that the guy likes to use a taser a lot more than is healthy and that he has a tendency to look at Izzy in ways that make Alec want to strangle him. 

Alec, at this point, is mostly just glad that Izzy and Clary both sneaked out of his and Jace’s room before he was unceremoniously woken up and handcuffed. 

It was bad enough to deal with a very unimpressed Jace demanding to be allowed to go with Alec, and as much as Jace tried to play it cool, after, the parabatai bond is pulsing with pain still. 

It’s making Alec want to scream. 

Magnus is already waiting for him in Camille’s - his, Alec really needs to remember this - office. He is wearing an expensive-looking satin shirt and a velvet jacket, the rings on his glistening in the daylight. 

Alec finds himself hoping the warlock will undress himself without requesting Alec’s assistance. He doesn’t know how he would get those clothes off the man without tearing them in the process and Magnus looks like a person who does in fact care about the state of their clothes.  

“What is the meaning of this?” Magnus asks, staring at the guard with open disdain. 

“You asked for him, Sir,” the man answers, sounding worryingly undisturbed by Magnus’s tone that kind of sends a shiver down Alec’s spine. 

It makes Alec wonder what it’s like, to not have to worry constantly about the consequences of another person’s displeasure. 

“I’m aware of that,” Magnus says dryly. “I don’t remember asking for chains.” 

“It’s standard. They tend to get violent from time to time; I had to pacify one this very morning. Besides,” he smirks, conspiratorial, as though he and Magnus are buddies. “He does look rather pretty in those handcuffs. I don’t swing that way myself, to be honest, but even I could be persuaded to-” 

“You’re fired,” Magnus interrupts him, his voice perfectly calm. “I made it clear to you that I do not wish to continue in ways Miss Belcourt set.”

“Sir-” 

“It is not up to a discussion. Leave. Now.” He narrows his eyes. Glamoured, Alec notices distantly as though that matters. “Take the handcuffs.”

For a moment, the man looks like he wants to argue. Alec wonders what exactly does he mind the most, considering what he distantly knows of many mundanes, and Magnus must notice it as well, because he stands up. 

“Do not make this worse. I’m sure there are many Downworlders who will be happy to hire you; do not make me prevent that from happening.”

The man sneers, but crosses the distance between him and Alec and unlocks the chains. Alec pointedly doesn’t rub his wrists, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

“My bad, Sir,” the guard - former guard, apparently - says. “I clearly misjudged you.” 

The way he says it, it sounds like an insult. To Alec, right now, it feels like the greatest compliment anyone could impose on Magnus Bane. 

“Yes,” Magnus agrees. “You clearly have. I assume you do know your way out.” 

“This isn’t over,” the guy growls. 

“Yes it is,” Magnus answers, simple as that, and then he flicks his wrist, opening a portal in the middle of the office. 

Another flick of his wrist and the man is gone. 

Alec thinks he would ask, but he is too busy trying to remember how to breathe. 

“It appears I will have to be more direct in my orders,” the warlock comments after the man takes his leave - or is made to take his leave, but if Alec analyses it too much, he is going to scream - making him the second man Magnus kicked out of this office in as many days for Alec and that doesn’t make any sense. “Go sit down, Alexander. I expect we cleared the details of that yesterday.” 

This is how Alec finds himself sitting on the sofa next to the open window, his hands free and a glass of something sparkly placed in front of him and his owner sliding into a cushioned chair in front of him. 

Alec’s head is spinning. 

“You can ask,” Magnus tells him, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m not going to punish you and I’m not going to be mad. I don’t know what you want to know; this will be much easier if you just ask me what you want to know - I promise no repercussions will come out of it.” 

Alec stares at him, for a moment, weighing his chances.

“The handcuffs are standard,” he points out then. “Not always, but often enough. Why didn’t you… aren’t you worried?” 

He winces at his own words. Both because he is at least indirectly threatening his owner, and because he knows how Camille would react to a suggestion that she might fear the Shadowhunters she owns. She did, though, Alec knows that. 

She wouldn’t have gone into the depths of breaking them as much as she did if she didn’t. 

Magnus, surprisingly enough, just smiles. 

“I’m the High Warlock, Alexander. I’m sure you don’t think much of it, but I’m not easily vulnerable.” Not by you, goes unsaid. “But let’s put that aside for a moment; you have been trained to kill for years. I can think of at least six ways you could kill me, even with the handcuffs, which means I’m sure you can think of at least seventeen.” His smile turns wistful. “We both know you could try. We both know that if you took me by enough surprise, you would even succeed, though I recommend having me asleep before considering something like that. And we both know you won’t try anything that could cause me harm; but it won’t be because of the handcuffs.” 

And just like that, Alec finds himself smiling back. It isn’t really funny, the fact that if he ever were to harm Magnus, he would be executed in a painful, bloody way, and Jace and Izzy would suffer the same fate, which is the main reason why neither he nor Jace ever resisted Camille, but there is something about the way Magnus says it. 

About the fact that he is aware of everything Alec is not doing and of the reasons for not doing it. 

“Yes, master,” Alec agrees before he can stop himself. “It won’t be because of the handcuffs.” And then, because he is clearly an idiot, but he also trusts his instincts (and maybe hopes to see what he can do before Magnus snaps), “And it is more like twenty-four than seventeen.” 

Somehow that’s what makes Magnus laugh for real, and really, Alec isn’t ready for the way the warlock looks, laughing for real, in a way that lights his face up, his eyes bright, his face soft, his body relaxed. 

He’s beautiful. 

Alec is completely and irrevocably fucked. 

“I stand corrected,” Magnus says easily, amusement clear in his voice, and no one, no one should be this amused when pointed out there are ways he could be murdered right now.

“I didn’t poison the champagne, by the way,” he adds, taking a sip himself, and Alec glances at the glass and doesn’t take it anyway. 

He thinks he can detect something like disappointment in Magnus’s eyes, but the warlock doesn’t react to this disobedience. 

“Believe it or not, I didn’t summon you to discuss the probability of my murder,” he says instead, still keeping the same, lighthearted, tone that is driving Alec slightly crazy. 

“Then why?” Alec asks before he can stop himself. Camille would have him gagged by now. Magnus just takes a deep breath and places the half-empty glass of champagne onto the coffee table. 

“I’m cancelling all your fights. Isabelle’s and Jace’s as well. I have already informed the Council of this decision and will not be reconsidering it. I will speak to your trainer at some point today, and I will talk to Isabelle and Jace as well, but I wanted to tell you first.” 

And that… well. That leaves Alec blinking at the warlock in complete confusion, because it just doesn’t make sense. Camille’s entire lifestyle was financed from the fact that she was renting her Shadowhunters for fights. And while it is clear that Magnus doesn’t need that income, it makes zero sense that he would just give it up. 

“I- why?” he breathes out, even though he should be getting to his knees, thanking the warlock properly, because no matches mean, first of all, less immediate danger for Jace and for Izzy. He should be thanking Magnus and he should be begging him to not separate him from his siblings, and instead he does neither, staring at the other man in shock. 

Magnus’s voice is painfully gentle when he answers. 

“You are in constant pain,” he says simply, not reaching out towards Alec but looking like he really would like to. “Don’t even try to deny it; I could sense it when I touched you yesterday. Your ribs are bruised. And I suspect your left shoulder is one dislocation away from gaining the attitude that staying in its proper position is only optional. I haven’t had a chance to look at Jace or Isabelle, but my guess is they aren’t better off. I will not allow my people to return to the arena if they aren't in their best state. Not ever, if it is my choice, but especially not until then. Is that that difficult to understand?” 

He sounds genuinely curious, and Alec is still in a shock, and he feels like his brain is completely detached from the rest of him, and so he blames that on what he does next. 

He stands up, his fingers going to the button of his jeans and to the zipper and he pulls his pants off with a practised ease he is not particularly happy to possess. 

“Alexander-” Magnus starts and then he falls silent, his eyes locked to Alec’s thigh, where CB is burnt into the flesh. 

“When she did this, she found it so hot that she had me pleasure her right after she was done,” he says flatly. 

A part of him is praying it will provoke Magnus to do something, because if he does something, then he will finally act like a master and maybe then Alec can start making sense of the world again. 

A different part of him is praying Magnus will be disgusted. 

He doesn’t even know what he would prefer, at this point. 

“So yes, master. It doesn’t… it doesn’t make any sense.” 

He can’t escape the thought that standing in what used to be Camille’s office with his pants down to his knees is the closest to standard that they got in the last twenty-four hours. Somehow, he manages not to say that out loud. 

“Oh, magic,” Magnus breathes out. He sounds horrified. Alec isn’t sure if he is happy about it. It just makes him even more confused, mostly. “I was so sure she… that I was containing the…” he trails off, and then he takes a deep breath, visibly steadying himself. “I’m not going to ask anything like that of you,” he says. “Not now, not ever.” And then, which Alec can safely say, no one has ever told him before, “Please put on your pants.” 

He does, both of them ignoring that Alec isn’t the only one whose hands are shaking, and they fall into uneasy silence. 

Chapter Text

“If you are cancelling our matches,” Alec finds himself saying, breaking the uneasy silence that has settled around him and Magnus. His voice is shaking. His voice is shaking and his hands are still trembling where they are placed in his lap and Camille would have already backhanded him for speaking out of turn, would have already whipped him for not using a title when talking to her, but it doesn't matter, because he needs to know. He needs to know and he needs to find a way to make Magnus keep them, because he can't lose Izzy and Jace. He can't. He will do anything not to. “What are you going to do with us?” 

It certainly does make Magnus look at him. The warlock looks… tired, Alec realises with some amount of confusion. More than that, he looks sick. His eyes are wet. 

Alec would really appreciate it if Magnus Bane made at least the tiniest amount of sense. 

“I never turn down offers to help me chop the potion ingredients,” Magnus says dryly, but he is still looking at Alec as though he is afraid the Shadowhunter will fall apart at any given moment, which is ridiculous. No matter what Magnus does, Alec has had worse. “But I was serious when I said you need to heal. That’s not negotiable. I understand that Camille…” He presses his eyes shut. Seems to count to ten. Opens them. “I realise that your experience with the Downworld hasn’t been exactly pleasant, Alexander. But the only thing I want from you right now is that you heal. I am not interested in causing suffering.”

“Why?” Alec asks, which is probably the stupidest thing he possibly can do, but it doesn’t matter. 

Magnus just shrugs. It’s, Alec notices absent-mindedly, a surprisingly smooth and elegant gesture. He then feels stupid for thinking that at all. 

“Why should I be?” he asks. “I don’t blame you for your assumptions. I do… I can see that Camille… I don’t blame you. But all that I ask of you and your siblings is that you heal.” He chuckles mirthlessly. “You can see it as an order if it makes you feel better,” he adds with a slight smirk, and Alec waits for the onset of fear.

It never comes. 

What does come is, surprisingly, relief so strong that Alec feels like drowning in it. 

He has, of course, no reason to trust Magnus, not really. But the man could have ordered him to his knees about a million times by now and he hasn’t, hasn’t done anything even though Alec has literally undressed in front of him. 

He trusts Magnus. He isn’t sure why, but he does. 

And if he does, then it means that he trusts Magnus to keep them and to keep them out of the Arena for now, and if that is the case… 

The chance at not having to kill anyone for a while floods him with another wave of relief, as does the fact that he won’t have to worry about Jace and Izzy for the moment. 

“Thank you,” he finds himself saying. 

“Oh,” Magnus says, looking surprised, as though he didn’t expect Alec to thank him. 

Alec elects not to bring up that Camille loved being thanked. 

He would then have to admit he actually does mean it now. 

“Well,” Magnus says then, forcefully cheerful, clapping his hands, which almost makes Alec flinch but he stops himself just in time. “Now that we’ve cleared these unfortunate topics, I say breakfast might be in order.” 

Which is how Alec finds himself sharing a meal with his master. A meal that Magnus apparently conjured out of nothing, as far as Alec can tell, and that is leagues better than anything Camille has ever fed them, and so Alec can’t even really complain even if he can’t entirely shake away the thought that he’ll have to pay for it, somehow. 

“I have to talk to the new head of the vampires,” Magnus tells him after a while of an almost comfortable silence. “I did suggest meeting here, but he was very adamant about not entering anything else that belonged to Camille, and I can’t exactly blame him for that, so Hotel Dumort it is.” 

Alec looks up at him, wondering idly why Magnus is telling him any of this. Wondering if he should reply. Wondering, with no small amount of embarrassment, what Magnus tastes like right now when his lips are reddened from the fresh berries, because he is without any doubts absolutely fucking messed up. 

“I’ll understand if you want to return to your siblings - possibly also to inform them that the food I sent them isn’t poisoned - but I would…” he clears his throat, fingers of his right hand reaching out to play with his ear cuff. “I would appreciate the company, Alexander. If you are amenable.” 

Alec thinks of his last stay at Hotel Dumort, of the nameless crowd of vampires feeding off him, of the words and touches and more. 

But of course, even nice as Magnus is, he isn’t truly asking. Alec knows that. 

“Of course,” he answers quietly and Magnus beams at him, clearly happy he doesn’t need to actually punish him for insubordination. “It would be an honour.” 

-

Magnus creates a portal for them to walk through; Alec isn’t sure why it surprises him. They walk through it, appearing in front of the Dumort, and Alec finds himself freezing for a second. He doesn’t remember the last time he was outside, not really. He has been transported , of course, to the Arena and to some of the more prominent guests that Camille felt like sharing him with, but this is different. 

He isn’t chained. 

He isn’t flanked by guards.

He just is, standing in the morning sun. 

Magnus doesn’t seem to mind, either, Alec realises when he finally looks back at the warlock, which is certainly new, considering that Alec is practically wasting the man’s time. 

“Let’s go, Alexander,” he says after a while, smiling a little, and Alec can’t really stop the blush from appearing. 

“Apologies, master,” he murmurs, and Magnus’s smile turns a little sad for some reason. 

“No need,” he says. “Remind me to show you Paris, though. Much prettier than the morning in New York.” 

He opens the door, holding it for Alec to walk through, and Alec takes the last steadying breath and he walks through. 

-

“I can’t believe you brought one of Camille’s pet Shadowhunters here,” is the first thing Raphael tells him after he closes the door of his office behind Magnus. “Magnus, if something happens to him because one of my people didn’t get the memo of the regime change, I will not listen to your complaints.” 

Magnus gives him a tired smile, feeling suddenly stupidly relieved at the vampire’s complaints. After the last forty-eight hours it’s the first normal thing. 

“I, too, am happy to see you, Raphael,” he answers. 

Raphael huffs up something incomprehensible about Magnus’s sanity and hands him a glass of whiskey. “It’ll destroy your liver someday.” 

“I’m immortal, my dear.” 

“Still.” 

They both go silent while Magnus takes a sip of the drink. It’s Raphael who breaks the silence. 

“Why did you bring him here, Magnus?” 

He left Alexander standing in front of the door, officially to hold guard, in reality to prevent the boy from sliding to his knees in front of Raphael. 

Magnus isn’t even sure whose sanity he was trying to protect the most with that decision. He suspects it might have actually been his own. 

He still can’t close his eyes without seeing the CB burnt into the flesh of Alexander’s thigh. 

“I don’t know,” he answers. 

Raphael’s dark eyes, staring into his, are way too knowing. 

“Yes you do. We both know this must be the last place he wants to be. Yet you brought him here. I know you, and you are not a cruel man. So why?” 

“He thinks I’m a monster,” Magnus admits quietly, and Raphael lets out a bitter laugh.

“All Shadowhunters have always thought we were monsters,” he reminds him dryly. “You’ve never before let them define you. Why is this one getting to you?” 

“It’s different,” Magnus says. “With what Camille did to him… what the other Downworlders did to him with her permission and encouragement… Raphael, he expected me to- he was so sure I was going to rape him,” he ends up whispering. 

When he finishes the whiskey, Raphael doesn’t tease him about it. 

“I won’t be telling you I told you,” the vampire says with a surprising amount of softness. “But for the nothing it’s worth and at risk of sounding patronising, I’m glad you are finally seeing it.” 

Magnus glares at him over his glass.

“You love sounding patronising,” he answers, thankful for the illusion of their normal bickering, no matter how painfully awkward. “But it’s hard not to when provided with so much evidence,” he mutters. 

“I hoped I was wrong,” Raphael tells him then. “I mean, I knew I wasn’t, but I wanted to be. You did not deserve this, my friend.” 

“Alexander Lightwood did not deserve it either,” Magnus points out, swallowing around the bile rising in his throat when he thinks of the young man. “Nor did his siblings. I can’t believe-” 

“I know. I know, Magnus. I know and for nothing it’s worth, I’m sorry.” 

He leans back in his chair. 

In Camille’s chair, Magnus reminds himself absentmindedly, probably just to torture himself. He wonders, briefly, if he should tell Raphael to change the furniture. Raphael would probably want to know he needs to; not that he would want to be told. 

Maybe Magnus should just pay for a complete renovation of the vampire headquarters. 

But then again, if Magnus is going to be throwing out memories that right now fill him with more heartache and sickness than usual, maybe he should start in the place he is now calling home. 

He thinks of Alec Lightwood, looking absolutely lost in Camille’s - Magnus’s - office, waiting, terrified and desperate for an order Magnus could never give, and he feels himself shiver despite himself. 

“It’s not worth nothing,” he says out loud, because it isn’t. 

Raphael doesn’t want to talk about Camille, Magnus knows that. 

He definitely doesn’t want to talk about Magnus and Camille, either. 

He is doing both, however hesitant and awkward, and he insisted that Magnus come here, to the place that Camille never really frequented, to help him escape the oppressive pain of Camille’s favourite residence, to offer Magnus as much of a relief as he possibly can right now, because of course he wasn’t as blind towards Camille’s activities as Magnus himself. 

Magnus almost wants to ask him how much he knows about his own experiences with Camille, but he stops himself at the last moment. 

Raphael, with his adversity to sugarcoating anything would probably answer him, and Magnus doubts he really wants to know. 

“Now that we have discussed that - and I wholeheartedly recommend to you that you talk to Cat, as to not torture either of us any more than necessary,” Raphael says, the briefest ghost of a smirk playing on his lips even though it isn’t reflected in his eyes. “What do you want to do now?” 

Chapter Text

The next few days pass in a blur, which… isn’t really fair if Alec is being honest with himself. He doesn’t think he has ever had such calm days as the ones now. 

It fills him, quite frankly, with dread. 

The first day, Magnus let him stand in front of the vampire’s office, alone and vulnerable and utterly confused. 

The last time Alec accompanied Camille there, he ended up as a dinner for several of her closest vampires and that was the least upsetting part of the evening. 

Now, all those vamps have been ignoring him for some reason, walking past him without paying him the slightest attention.  

“New orders.” 

When he turned, he could see a young woman with dark hair with a blue streak in it, porcelain skin and a blood red lipstick - Angel, Alec prays it was lipstick.

“Ever since Camille disappeared, Raphael has ordered us not to touch you.” She smiled at Alec, all teeth but somehow without a threat. “I’m Lily Chen, by the way. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.” 

“Alec,” Alec replied hesitantly. “My lady.” 

She grinned at him, clearly amused. “You can drop that crap around me you know,” she said easily. “Camille and I haven't been friends for a while even before- uh. Before she disappeared, I mean. Lily is fine.” 

Alec blinked down at her, confused, and didn't answer. 

“He's not gonna hurt you, you know,” Lily said, clearly not insulted by Alec's lack of response. “Magnus, I mean. He's sweet. And he and Raphael are friends, and Raphael wouldn't be his friend if Magnus wasn't sweet. He'll deny it, of course, but it's true.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Alec asked then, internally wincing, but Lily didn't seem to care about the blatant disrespect; if anything, she seemed pleased by Alec talking. 

“Because you look ready to jump out of your own skin, Shadowhunter,” she replied easily. “And if you do, Magnus is going to be upset about it. And then Raphael will be upset. And I don't want him to be upset.” She winked at Alec, leaning back against the wall. “Besides, he tends to listen to Please Don't Stop the Rain then, and if I never hear that song again it will be too soon.” 

Alec crossed his arms across his chest. 

“I don't know what that means,” he said, and Lily laughed. 

“That means I like you already,” she told him, and then she reached towards him, ignoring the way he flinched as she squeezed his shoulder. “See you around, Alec.” 

She was gone before he could answer. 

“You aren't listening to me,” Izzy says, dragging Alec out of his mind with something akin to worry. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I was just… thinking.” 

“I was telling you Bane is shady and we need to figure something out,” his sister says, and Alec gives her a half frown – half smirk. 

“That was when I started thinking and stopped listening,” he responds and she smacks his arm. 

“Alec! C'mon you gotta admit there's something about him. He withdrew us from all the matches. Has been feeding us regularly. Hasn't allowed anyone to touch us, even though I know he has been receiving a lot of offers and a lot of threats. He's got to be planning something terrible.”

“Or he is just kind,” Alec replies. “No ulterior motive. He doesn't want his property all fucked up.” 

“And he keeps summoning you,” Izzy adds, her voice breaking, and Alec quits his retorts immediately in order to pull her into his arms. She presses into him, her hold strong and only slightly desperate. “Alec I don't care what he- you can tell me anything, okay? We'll figure it out. I can… Hell, I'll offer him myself if-” 

“Hey,” Alec says, swallowing hard around the bile rising in his throat at her suggestion. “Hey. Izzy, it's fine. I told you we were just talking.” 

“You also told me Camille was nothing you couldn't handle,” his sister points out dryly. “So excuse me if I don't think you are good at judging this. And I know that you would do anything to protect me and Jace and I don't want you to. So if you've been lying to us about it to protect us, you don't need to.” 

And the thing is, Alec can very much understand why Izzy is suspicious; Magnus is unusual, and of course his explanation about being able to sense they were hurting and stopping the matches for now didn't really feel all that believable to neither Izzy nor Jace. After all, they were hurting for years and it has never changed anything. 

The fact that Alec finds himself in Magnus's office more often than not doesn't probably help the matter. 

Surprising how it is, Alec isn't lying. 

Despite the fact that it would be completely within his rights, the warlock hasn't really done anything to Alec and Alec didn't have to offer – for some reason, Magnus Bane seems to be perfectly fine with feeding and healing him and his siblings and Clary Fray without demanding payment of any kind, and slowly, Alec is actually finding himself willing to trust him. 

When Magnus emerged from Raphael Santiago's office, he looked tired and pained, and when he ordered Alec through the portal he had created with a flick of wrist, Alec was fully expecting to be ordered to his hands and knees once they appeared in Magnus's office. 

After all, Camille had never shied from using Alec as her personal punching bag in moments like that, and honestly, after all the kindness Magnus had exhibited so far, Alec definitely wasn't going to mind it and if he could prove to Magnus that he could be useful to him, and that he really should want to keep them, then all the better. 

Instead, Magnus gave him a tired smile, massaging his neck with one hand while closing the portal with the other. 

“Thank you for the company, Alexander,” he said. “Please send Jace and Isabelle to me if you'll see them, would you?” 

Alec, too stunned to do much, nodded and hurried away, walking into the doorframe on his way out. 

And despite this unflattering impression, Magnus summoned him into Camille's – his – office the next morning, too, insisting that Alec eat breakfast with him and asking him about the games and about his injuries. 

“He’s not a bad person,” Alec says now, suddenly tired. 

It’s not true, he knows even without Izzy’s sceptical glare. 

They have all heard the stories. They all know that the Downworld only won thanks to the demonic powers of one Magnus Bane. 

Yet, nothing that the warlock has done since walking to Camille’s former home seems to support the image Alec has had about him his whole life. 

Izzy doesn't call him out on the fact that what he is saying is clearly total bullshit. 

Instead she just sighs and hugs him tighter. 

“When you are ready to talk about it, I'll be here,” she says, and Alec takes it for the olive branch it is and hugs her back. 

-

“I thought I forbade this,” Magnus says quietly behind him and Alec turns around from the boxing bag, unable to keep his face neutral. 

He knows he looks terribly guilty. 

He also wonders, idly, if he should be dropping to his knees, but, for reasons Alec doesn't understand, the warlock doesn't seem to like it when Alec does it and so he doesn't. 

“I'm sorry,” he says instead, because… well. 

Magnus did forbid them all from exerting themselves, and maybe Alec is just as reckless as Jace, because he did disobey a direct order. 

He was going stir crazy, which he knows is no excuse. 

Magnus just sighs. 

“Sweetheart, I don't see why you are so insistent on hurting yourself,” he says quietly, and Alec feels himself blush despite himself. 

The warlock, fortunately, doesn't really give him time to answer. “I'm not going to stop you, but I'm going to insist on hand wraps,” he adds. 

When he reaches out and takes Alec's palm into his, Alec is pretty sure he stops breathing for a moment. 

To be fair, being touched by a Downworlder has usually resulted in pain in the past, as so, Alec supposes, it's not that surprising that his whole body has gone taunt in anticipation, but he isn't going to start lying to himself now. 

He's not afraid of Magnus Bane. He hasn't been for a while now. 

If he was, he wouldn't openly ignore his orders. 

Magnus's fingers are gentle when they brush against Alec's bruised knuckles. 

Alec doesn't really manage to completely hide his flinch at the blue sparks dancing around his hand, but the warlock doesn't respond, he just quietly finishes healing and then he does the same with Alec's left hand. 

“I generally don't complain about gorgeous men training shirtless in my house, but may I know why you were hurting yourself?” Magnus asks him then, his thumb drawing circles against Alec's skin. 

Alec is never going to stop blushing, he suspects. 

He also knows that despite Magnus putting it as a question, he does expect an answer. 

“I don't know when you are sending us back,” he admits, staring at their joint hands. “I need to- I need to be able to protect Jace and Izzy when you do.” 

Magnus doesn't answer for a while, long enough that Alec is sure he has finally pushed the man too far. 

When he does, his voice is impossibly gentle. “I didn't realise this,” he says, letting go of Alec's hand but not taking a step back. “Alexander, I promise you that I would never have you return to the Arena without proper training and without time to accustom to it. I withdrew you so that you can heal. I said I don't like seeing you hurt and I mean it. I would never risk getting you hurt by sending you to a fight unprepared.” 

He takes a deep breath, and Alec risks glancing at him. His eyes are wet. He looks horrified. 

He looks human. 

“I'll have to talk about it to Cat, but… would it make you feel safer if we came up with a training schedule that would take your injuries into account?” he asks quietly. “I can't say I would be exactly excited about it myself, but I suppose it would be better than you sneaking around and injuring yourself.” 

“I'm sorry,” Alec says again. And then, because Magnus did offer, and the thought of not being able to protect Izzy and Jace has been keeping him up at night, “Please.” 

“Alright,” Magnus says, his voice only shaking a little. “Alright.” 

He snaps his fingers and this time Alec manages not to flinch at the display of magic. The hand wraps appearing in Magnus's hands are red and golden. 

“I wasn't sure C- I wasn't sure she actually had any here,” the warlock says. “I got mine during my Jaime Lannister phase, but I'm sure you can forgive me for that.” 

“I don't know what that means, sorry,” Alec says, unable to hide his smile when Magnus presses the hand wraps protectively to his chest at his words. “But thank you, Magnus,” he adds. 

“You're very welcome, Alexander,” Magnus tells him, his smile real. 

It isn't until the warlock is gone that Alec realises he called the man by his name. 

He called his master by his name and Magnus smiled at him in response. 

Maybe Izzy was right. 

Maybe Alec truly is going crazy.

Chapter Text

There is something painfully outrageous about Lorenzo Rey, Magnus decides. It's maddening, really. The man is a skilled warlock, even though admitting it makes Magnus grit his teeth. He stayed out of the Great War, too, which some called cowardice and which Magnus himself has long been hoping to call wisdom; after all, Magnus himself remained removed for as long as it was possible, and he only joined in the fighting once Ragnor-

No. 

Magnus isn't going to think about Ragnor right now. If he does, it's much more difficult to feel sympathy towards the Shadowhunters in his care, and the truth is, Magnus doesn't want to stop feeling sympathy towards them. 

The War has been nothing but a mess right from its bloody beginning to its bloody end. 

It wasn't the first time the Shadowhunters, fanaticised, this time, by Valentine Morgenstern, chose to fight the Downworld. Somehow, it was the last. 

Magnus takes a small sip of his whiskey as he leans back in the chair in his office, unable to do more than glare at the fire message in his other hand. 

It's not like he can do much. 

After all, Lorenzo Rey is, above all, petty. 

“I can't believe you summoned me here,” Raphael says the moment he walks through the portal, his eyes narrowed. “I specifically said I will not be seen at this abomination of a lair.” 

“I changed the majority of the furniture,” Magnus says quietly and Raphael huffs. “Really, darling. It's less Camille-related than Dumort, I can tell you as much.” 

“Thank you,” the vampire says dryly. “I didn't know what I was going to do with my free time for the next month. Redecorating it is.” He sits down onto the sofa near the window, glancing out at the moon. “You didn't call me here to remind me you had questionable sex with a psychopathic disgrace of a vampire in my office, Magnus,” he comments, and while his words are cruel, the tone isn't. “So how about you tell me what the problem is?” 

Magnus hands him the letter from the Spiral Labyrinth without a word. 

“I see,” Raphael says. “Have you considered just assassinating Rey?” he asks, perfectly innocent and Magnus laughs despite himself. 

“Raphael-” 

“I have a few people who owe me a favour.”
“To assassinate a warlock?” 

Raphael shrugs. “What can I say. It is a big favour.” 

“Raphael.” 

“I know. No one would ever forgive you if you chose that pretty and sweet Shadowhunter over an obnoxious and self-centred warlock.” 

“I was sure he wasn't going to challenge me,” Magnus says. “When I stopped him from taking Alec, I mean. I was sure he wasn't going to challenge me, but that if he ended up trying to, I would win. But this… I wanted him to leave Alec alone, not this.” 

Raphael sighs. It's a clear sign that Magnus looks just as bad as he feels that the other man stands up and walks to him, pulling him into a hug. 

“I know, Magnus. And I'm sure Alec will understand once you tell him. You will tell him, right? You don't plan to try and figure it out without him knowing.” 

“I'm not-” 

“Oh c'mon. Lorenzo persuaded the majority Spiral Labyrinth that you are unhealthily attached to the Shadowhunters you inherited. Ergo, the last thing you should be doing is proving him right. You want to protect him, I know. But right now, the best thing you can do is to let him protect himself. If you interfere, Lorenzo will use it to take the position of High Warlock from you. We both know he doesn't care about Alec. He's not even his type. He wants your job, that's all, plain and simple, and making you look fond of the very same people who used to hunt us for fun is a very effective way to get it. You know that.” 

“This isn't any better than what the Shadowhunters used to do,” Magnus points out uselessly. 

It isn't. It also doesn't matter. Magnus was way too filled with grief at the times when it still could be different. He cannot change anything now. 

“No, it isn't,” Raphael agrees. “And sometimes I feel like it's fair, with what they did to Ragnor. Even though it isn't. But there is nothing you and I can do about it right now. Maybe with time. But for that, you need to be the High Warlock still. You know that.” 

“I hate it when you're right,” Magnus tells him, hugging him tightly. He can feel Raphael's answering smirk against his shoulder. 

“I would have thought you're used to it by now,” the vampire answers dryly and Magnus laughs despite himself. 

He isn't sure how long they stay like this, standing in the moonlight. Magnus doesn't particularly intend to let go. 

-

He finds Alec in the training room, attacking a wooden block with a wooden sword, his movements smooth and elegant, every movement making it clear that he knows what he is doing. 

Magnus stops for a moment, mesmerised despite himself - Alec is simply stunning. Beautiful. 

And Magnus might have a competence kink regardless of whether he is disgusted with himself or not. There is something really attractive about people who know what they are doing regardless of what exactly they are doing. 

“Oh,” Alec says when he notices him, and he carefully places the weapon away. “Apologies. I haven't… noticed you,” he finishes, a little flushed and a little awkward and Magnus wishes he could kiss him. It also doesn't escape his notice that Alec doesn't tap on that awful title of a master that he seems to have finally dropped, which Magnus is immensely thankful for. He has been holding his breath over the last week, afraid that the title might sneak its way back into Alec's communication with him but fortunately it never did. 

“How can I help you?” the Shadowhunter asks, gentle and sweet, and Magnus wishes, desperately, that their situation was different. 

“I need a favour,” Magnus says quietly and Alec turns his head to a side, confused. 

“You don't need to ask for favours,” he points out, in a way that Magnus knows by now would make Camille have him whipped for insubordination. Magnus, on his side, just flinches. 

“It would still be one,” he says. “And I want you to know that you can refuse. I promise - I will swear to you on anything you deem fit, really - that your answer will not have any consequences for you or your siblings.” He is rambling, he knows, too desperate and too heartbroken, but what he is about to ask is unforgivable and he hates himself for it, more than he thought was possible. 

Alec glances at him for a second, the briefest contact of their eyes. There's something in his eyes, something that Magnus doesn't quite recognise, but it isn't fear, and that is enough for now. If Alec isn't afraid of what Magnus might do to his siblings, Magnus will take it with all he's got. 

“I will be happy to do as you ask, Magnus,” the Shadowhunter tells him, and Magnus almost chokes at the other man's tone. 

He doesn't think Alec knows that tone. Magnus, by now, knows quite a lot about Alexander Lightwood and he knows, with painful clarity, that anything even remotely resembling a relationship that Alec has ever had was done to him, at hands of Camille and at hands of her guests and so he is pretty sure that Alec doesn't in fact knows what he's doing. Yet, his words, in the low, flirty, tone, take Magnus's breath away for a moment and he has to take a deep breath before he can focus on the matter at hand. 

“Lorenzo demands a retribution for the… perceived insult from the first night I spent here,” Magnus tells him quietly and he winces internally as he watches the colour disappear from Alec's face. 

“Oh,” he says quietly, his entire body going stiff and small in ways that pain Magnus to look at. He wants to step closer, pull the man into a hug. Tell him he's never going to suffer through Lorenzo or anyone else again, because Magnus is going to fucking kill anyone who would try to touch him. 

He doesn't. 

It's not like Alec has any reason to trust him. 

“Will you take me back, after?” Alec asks, his voice small, and the words don't make any sense to Magnus for the longest time. When they do start making sense, he is hit with nausea so strong that it's almost painful. 

“Oh Alexander,” he says before he can stop himself, and it's terrible, and selfish, and unprofessional, and probably the last thing that Alec wants, but he looks lost and scared and fragile, and Magnus physically can't take it any longer. 

Alec lets out a soft sound when Magnus crosses the distance between them and pulls him into a hug, but he doesn't protest - Magnus pointedly ignores the part of his brain that cruelly reminds him that the Shadowhunter doesn't really have any other option but to take anything Magnus hands out his way.

“Please,” Alec says into his shoulder. “Please, I know you don't like how used I am, but please, let me come back.”

Magnus is going to be sick. He is going to be sick, and he is going to scream, and he is going to invent time travel and fix this absolute fucking mess he caused, except that he can't do any of it. 

“I don't like that you were hurt,” he says quietly instead of doing any of that, and it's not enough, but if he does say more, he's technically committing treason, and if someone comes looking and they find out what Magnus and Raphael did, it's going to ruin Raphael as well, and Magnus isn't going to let that happen. 

“I don't like that you were hurt,” he repeats. “I'm the last person who… darling, you could sleep with the entirety of the Seelie realm and I wouldn't say a word, as long as it would be voluntary. I hate that it… wasn't,” he finishes lamely, proper words escaping him. His arms are still wrapped around the other man, which means that he can feel that Alexander is shaking. “And it isn't what Lorenzo wants,” Magnus adds, quietly. He isn't sure if he is making it better or worse, but he can't stand the idea of Alec thinking he's about to be handed over to be raped any longer. 

“Oh,” Alec says into Magnus's collar bone, his voice shaken and his breath hot against Magnus's skin, and Magnus lets him go, but he keeps his fingers wrapped around Alec's wrist. 

The Shadowhunter doesn't exactly seem to mind. 

“What did he ask for?” Alec asks, still fragile but all business now, and Magnus feels sick; he has had centuries to learn how to take anything in stride. Alec… hasn't. 

“A match,” Magnus replies, unable to keep disgust out of his voice. “Between you and one of his Shadowhunters. He knows that I am not… fond of the practice. If I refuse, he will use to it take the position of High Warlock from me. If I don't refuse, I'll have to sentence someone to death.”

“You don't have to,” Alec says, tentative and gentle and really, Magnus isn't sure why the man looks so worried about Magnus's mental health when he is the one who will have to kill someone soon, provided he doesn't refuse, and they both know that Alec isn't going to refuse. They both know Alec isn't going to lose, either. 

“What do you mean?” Magnus asks anyway, genuinely curious, and Alec shrugs, his eyes locked to the proximity of Magnus's shoulder. 

“It's not really done since most of the… masters… wish to see death during a match,” he says quietly and Magnus swallows around the bile rising in his throat. 

He did this. 

He helped create this and he didn't do anything to stop it once it was clear that the hatred against the Nephilim was getting way too out of hand, and no amount of the grief he had been feeling at that time will ever be enough of an excuse. 

“You can choose to grant life,” Alec tells him, unaware of his internal turmoil and Magnus looks at him at that. 

“How.” 

“Lorenzo - sorry, Mr Rey - is making you start the match, right?” Alec asks and Magnus nods, impressed, involuntarily, by both Alec's knowledge and by how practical he is. “Then you have the right to decide its end as well. If we both fought well enough, and if I put my opponent into a position of surrender, you will have to give me the order to kill him; or not kill him. No one really grants life, these days. But based on the rules, they can.” He looks up, meeting Magnus's eyes. “You can. If you want to, that is.” 

I promised you you would never have to do this again, Magnus thinks. But then again, he did promise Ragnor they would withstand the storm that Valentine brought unharmed, too, so it isn't as though Alec will be the first person Magnus fails in a spectacular way. 

“I want to,” Magnus says, and with Alec's nod calm and composed, it's almost easy to pretend Magnus's world isn't falling apart.

Almost.