Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's October already and Alec's not making any progress with the current demon investigations under the watch of the Clave. 

He's been working endlessly, running himself to the ground, but he just can't get any further. He keeps training, and studying and doing everything he can. He just can't keep up.

Alec's hands shake on his third coffee mug of the morning as they keep breaking because he can't stay still. He hasn't slept well in weeks.

There's an anticipatory feeling tightening his chest and stealing his breath and his sleep that just keeps expecting the worse. He's going to fail. They're going to punish him; exile him and derune him and he'll never be able to see his siblings again. All because he just. Isn't. Good. Enough.

The table he's trying to work on shakes as he digs his nails into his palms. The pain should help him focus: the pain should take the blurriness the exhaustion grants him away.

A black card falls on the book he's currently consulting. He glances up and visibly pales.

"Lydia," he greets her superior.

"Alec," she pauses. "You look sick."

"I'm fine."

Her smile widens wickedly. "Well, that's even better. Now you can try to enjoy your day off."

"It's not–"

"It is now. I'm taking over today."

He nods distractedly at her determined to be of voice as he knows there's no use in arguing when she gets like that. The moment he decides to listen to her is the moment he starts planning a day of training behind her back.

As if Lydia could read his mind, she closes the book in front of him. Offhandedly, she comments: "oh, and you're banned from training grounds and the library today."

Alec rolls his eyes, but doesn't fight. It's okay. He can still try going on a run outside. Plus no lack of equipment will ever be able to stop him from running strategies through his mind.

"Though I'll need one thing from you today." 

Alec perks up at that, ready for any task that may redeem himself for the same constant cycle he'll subject himself to otherwise. 

"Sometime today an address will appear on that card," she explains. "I want you to go there. Tell them I sent you."

Alec turns the card around, but it's still blank. It must be magic. He can only hope it's not part of some elaborate plan to get rid of him permanently, a punishment he'll have to wait for so he won't know what's coming. 

Lydia is her superior, but she works for the Clave and the Clave is known for their creative punishments to prolong the suffering of those who deserve it.

Sweat is dripping from every part of his body when he gets to his room around noon. He's been running for a few hours, trying to work on his endurance, but a dehydration headache he would usually ignore reminds him of Lydia's request and his sense of duty forces him to go home to check on the piece of paper he's been given.

When he sees it's still blank, he decides he might have time for a quick shower before he's needed.

The showers are not broken, and he's expressively forbidden of trying to fix them. Exhausted and too repelled by the amount of sweat on him, he decides there won't be any harm if he takes a quick bath.

A door opening and closing wakes Alec from the quick unfulfilling nap he's fallen into. The water has already turned cold and is, by now, probably just as dirty as he is. He rinses himself off as quicky as he can, trying not to waste any more time.

By the time he leaves the bathroom he can see through the window that it's already dark outside.

The card on his desk is not blank anymore. Alec can't tell how long it's been this way, how long whoever's on the other side of it has been waiting. Shuddering at the lack of responsibility, he takes the card in hand to check the address he need to get to.

In large block letters the card announces: 

    THE HIGH WARLOCK OF BROOKLYN

    –where you'll get what you deserve–

Alec's heartbeat rises as his hands start sweating again. ...What he deserves? This must definitely be a punishment. How cruel of them to not even let him say goodbye to his siblings, although it's kind of fitting as well. Why would he be allowed to do that when he isn't good enough for the Institute, isn't good enough for them?

He turns the card around, the only letters that make up address looking back at him with judgement.

Tears well in his eyes, but he wills them away. The nails against his skin and the biting of his cheek work well enough to center him, to help him do what has to be done.

Maybe he's wrong and this is Lydia's way of giving him one last chance. To make sure he gets punished –get everything he deserves– so when he comes back he'll be who they need, who they actually want him to be.

It takes Alec over ten minutes to ring the doorbell once he gets to the apartment door. He's taken his time on the stairs too, procrastinating no matter how much he knows he deserves this. How much he needs this reminder to be faster, smarter, better. 

It doesn't sound like he expects, the shrill of it having almost a musical quality to it as he waits to be attended. 

When the door opens, Alec feels his jaw drop. The most beautiful, flamboyant man looks up at him from the other side.

Alec has to clear his throat several times before he can talk.

"Ms Lydia Branwell sent me," he explains, militar stance being the only thing that gives him enough comfort to be able to focus. "I'm Alec Lightwood, and–"

"Ah, Alexander." The man exhales and Alec– freezes. His cheeks heat up, and if he weren't quite literally on the edge of his own doom he'd be quite flustered at the sultry voice that accompanies the beautiful owner of it. "Come in.

"I'm Magnus. Do you want anything to drink?"

Alec follows him inside sharply, not wanting to annoy Magnus more by taking his time.

"N-no," he says, earnestly. "I'd rather just get this over with."

"Get this over with...?" Magnus repeats, trailing the rim of his glass with a finger as he looks at Alec curiously. "What's this?"

By now Alec can really feel the heat gathering in his cheeks and on his face. It makes sense though, that he humiliation of acknowledging his punishment might be the thing needed for it to start. 

"My punishment."

Magnus chokes, and there's a moment in which Alec genuinely worries Magnus won't make it and he'll have to be punished for killing him as well.

Once he sees Magnus finally breathing normally again, Alec takes the card he was given to show it to Magnus.

"I'm ready to receive the punishment that I deserve," Alec says, tone unbetraying of the undercurrent of fear and despair he's feeling.

Magnus taps the card a few times, pensively.

"...what you deserve," he says. His magic surrounds Alec, and Alec can't stop himself from reacting to it, shivering and marveling at it even through the healthy dose of fear he hides as he knows what it'll be used for.

"...you think a punishment is what you deserve?"

Alec's eyes widen, surprised and slightly irritated at being forced to admit it again. 

However, he doesn't get to say it this time –as Magnus' magic weaves around his fingers and his arms, his legs and his hair and Magnus moves to stand behind him.

Warm air reaches his ear even before Magnus starts to speak. "Oh, Alexander.

"That's not what you deserve at all."