#Clary doing the short person thing like I CAN CARRY IT JUST FINE BACK OFF

[backpackingspace]

Shout out to shadowhunter clothes canonically being solide plated armor with leather over top. It will never not be funny to me. Truly excellent world building. I want izzy to give Simon her jacket and for him to collasp under its weight.

[theredraccoon]

A Desperate Proposal - Ch 4

Simon never thought that he would be the guy that needed a prenup to get married. That was for rich people with yachts and assholes who didn’t think that marriage meant sharing and compromise. He’d always envisioned something pretty simple: his mom and sister, a chuppah, a ketubah, a person of indeterminate gender underneath it who loved him. Jewish weddings were actually remarkably straightforward.

In sharp contrast to that lovely, hazy vision of a wedding that would now, sadly, never be reality, Simon had been confronted with a stack of paper a solid two inches high, which contained the initial contract that the Shadowhunters had sent over. Simon knew that political weddings were always nightmares and that there was a lot more in that stack than just wedding vows, but holy shit, there were so many details and such a short amount of time to absorb them. 

Raphael had explained that the timeline for the marriage contracts had been the first order of business after the initial Alliance had been agreed upon, with Shadowhunters actively pushing for a quick turnaround. The Downworlders had two days to review this first contract and submit changes to the Clave and then the Shadowhunters had an additional two days to respond. After that, each party had only a day to make final small alterations and nothing substantial could be significantly altered. And then on the seventh day, instead of resting, Simon would be getting married. 

Sighing, Simon rubbed his forehead and tried to refocus, shifting on the exceedingly cushy chair. It seemed that Magnus had anticipated them sitting down for eight million years during the negotiations and had thought ahead about comfortable seating. Or maybe the chairs in Pandemonium’s conference rooms were always hedonistic; that would definitely be in keeping with Magnus’ personality. 

The High Warlock himself seemed to be just as bored as Simon, rings flashing as he covered his face to hide a small yawn, red silk brocade catching the light from the chandelier. Simon felt his lips curl up as he remembered the man’s pout when he, Raphael, their secretary James, and Magnus had entered early that evening and had found the Seelie Queen, Meliorn, and another unnamed Seelie already sitting at the head of a long rectangular table. Magnus had immediately frowned and waved a hand and the table had instantly rearranged itself to be perfectly circular. It gave off a distinct ‘King Arthur and his Knights’ vibe and seemed to piss off the Queen, so it was probably the right move. 

By the time everyone had filed in, there were twelve of them around the shiny round table, each contingent sending their leader, their second (usually the one getting married off, like Simon) and a secretary/notary/lawyer-type person whose job it was to sit there and take notes. That’s what Simon had initially thought, anyway, but he was rapidly revising that opinion as he listened to the Seelie secretary argue with the warlock representative about… flowers? The position of Mercury the night of the wedding? Simon had long lost the thread of the conversation. He thought longingly about his imaginary dream wedding, with his sister’s gentle teasing and his mother fluttering around worrying about food. Simon grimaced, now thinking about his future husband’s reaction to the wedding feast including blood. Would they even have dinner afterwards? He couldn't remember. Simon eyed the stack of paper. He thought maybe it had grown in the last hour since he last looked at it. 

A sharp slap on the glossy wood stopped the speakers mid-word and made everyone except the three people directly opposite Simon startle. 

“Enough. This wedding minutiae is what tomorrow and all the damn lawyers and diplomats are for. We should be talking not about the wedding itself but the marriages and what they actually mean for all of us.” The irritated words came from the strikingly beautiful Black woman that headed the New York pack of werewolves. 

Maia Roberts had been the pack leader for the last three years, ever since she’d gotten fed up with the previous alpha and challenged him for control. Apparently he’d been quite the dick. She’d been a positive force since, her no-nonsense attitude smoothing out some of the longstanding hatred between the wolves and the vampires, and some of Simon’s accounting headaches had disappeared when she took over. Turns out when there are fewer fights and fewer things constantly being broken, your expenses went down. Simon might have even tried to make a play for her one day, he was that relieved (and she was that gorgeous) but it was out of the question now. 

Anyway... Everyone around the table was alert now, and Simon could see a frightening gleam in the Seelie Queen’s eyes. She was masquerading as an older matriarch today, her flower crown nestled in dark curls piled high on her head and just the hints of lines on her face. Simon thought she looked like she'd walked straight out of Downton Abbey. 

"And what do you suggest we talk about then, Ms. Roberts?” The Queen’s tone was curious, her voice rich and smooth and somehow girlish, which was jarring coming from someone who looked a little like a grandmother. The Faerie was a mystery box that Simon had no interest in unpacking. 

“Let’s talk about what these alliances will mean in both the present and the future. What are Downworld responsibilities in terms of patrols and helping the Shadowhunters? Right now and after we defeat whatever the fuck is killing them? How many of our people are we going to have to put forward and potentially lose? What is the role of the couples themselves? Are they figureheads? Propped up for all to see with no other real purpose? Or are we actually going to try and see if we can use them to build better relationships with the Shadowhunters?”

Simon was sitting up straight now. Around the table, the other future grooms were also leaning forward. Magnus’ fingers were sparking ever-so-slightly, Meliorn's eyes had actually fully opened where before they’d been hooded, and Luke’s jaw was tight and his shoulders set back.  

A bitter laugh came from Magnus’ right, where his second, Lorenzo Rey, sat. Simon hadn’t met him before and honestly, from the look of him, that was probably fine. Where Magnus’ clothes made him seem fun and eccentric and flashy, Lorenzo’s finery just made him seem snooty and ostentatious. He stared at Maia down his long nose and said, “You don’t know your history very well, young wolf. The Clave might be panicking right now but as soon as they get through this crisis, it will be back to the same; we are regulated to the fringes and we are supposed to be eternally grateful for their help. There will be nothing long term that comes from this, no matter what this contract pretends to say.” The sneer was pronounced. 

Simon watched Magnus bristle and puff up, probably in defense of his boyfriend, er, fiancé, but he was cut off by an unexpected source. Raphael hadn’t moved a muscle since the contract negotiations had started hours ago, besides a faint twitch when Maia had pounded on the table, but he spoke clearly now. “I disagree. I think the time is ripe for change and that the Lightwoods are actually committed to using this disaster to change the way Shadowhunters interact with the Downworld. Alec Lightwood has shown himself to be an honorable man in my dealings with him. I say that we should discuss what is possible and put it into the contract to return to the Nephilim tomorrow.”

Lorenzo leaned forward and put his hands flat on the table. “Ah, yes. The Lightwoods. Before I even address the futility of what you’re saying, can someone please explain to me why the Clave only put forth Lightwoods as marriage prospects? Especially considering Maryse Lightwood’s… history.” 

This time the response came from Luke; the quiet, even tone intimately familiar to Simon. He rubbed absently at his wrist. Their relationship since Clary’s death, Simon’s Turning, and the revelation that Luke was a werewolf had been turbulent to say the least. But ultimately he was still the same man that Simon remembered being such a large presence in his childhood and the need to listen closely to what Luke was saying was strong. 

“Maryse committed terrible crimes during her time with Valentine and the Circle. So did I. No one denies that. In the twenty years since Valentine was defeated though, she has actively worked to make amends. She has her faults, to be sure, but we are all capable of change. If nothing else, look at her children— Alec, who reached out to us, instead of just demanding our help, and Isabelle, who has already been doing her part to help Shadowhunter-Downworld, uh, relations.” 

A small amused titter ran through the group. Simon shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. He knew that Luke probably hadn’t meant it that way, but sometimes the misogyny of the Downworld smacked him in the face. Too many beings in this room were born in a time where laughing at women who slept with others was acceptable. Simon opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Magnus chimed in, and took the conversation in a different direction. 

“Before she married Robert Lightwood, Maryse was a Trueblood, one of the oldest and most powerful families in the Clave. She is a political creature at heart and she is still very well connected. Her words, in spite of, or maybe because of, her history, hold sway in Alicante. And Jace Lightwood, before he was adopted into the family, was a Wayland, another important lineage. Michael Wayland was earning a reputation as a master weapons maker before Valentine killed him. I think his son still carries one of his swords. So they may all be Lightwoods, yes, but they have reach and power. Raphael is right; if we can make these marriages actually mean something then the Downworld has a chance to be heard for the first time in centuries. We need to try.” Magnus’ voice was firm and unyielding.

Simon cleared his throat and jumped in; he actually had knowledge here. “The contract states that Downworlders will be responsible for joining Shadowhunter patrols from now until whenever they are able to restore their numbers to their previous level. So, like, probably at least fifty years? At least a generation or two, depending on how many kids they produce at a time. And they propose that the couples act as liaisons between the Downworld and the Clave, working together to solve disputes that come up, which I think will be really useful. Living arrangements are trickier though.” By the time he finished, Simon found himself the focus of eleven different sets of eyes. 

He shifted uncomfortably and then rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, did no one else do the reading? I mean, I know there were way too many boring details in there about the exact cut of suit we’ll all be wearing, but there were actually some good ideas buried in that crap.” 

Under the table, Raphael’s knee was suddenly pressing against Simon’s, even though his outward expression didn’t change. Simon knew what it meant though, and silently preened at the approval from his Sire.

The werewolf secretary, a hulking fellow with shaggy blond hair, cleared his throat and said, in a surprisingly pleasant voice, “The vampire is right; we are all required to help the Shadowhunters with patrols only until they recover. Maia has a point though, we have room to negotiate what our involvement will be in the future. The other three couples besides us involve immortals. The werewolf commitment might involve multiple generations but to Seelies and vampires, fifty years is nothing. So you should think about what will happen after your Shadowhunters die. The language is pretty ambiguous, I think they are waiting for our response. It’s also really vague on kids.”

“There will be no offspring from these unions.” The Seelie Queen’s words were swift and hard. She was sitting rigidly in her chair, tension obvious. Simon’s eyes flickered to Meliorn and it was clear that he was also holding himself deliberately still. Simon wondered how the Knight actually felt about marrying the woman he was already sleeping with. He was also self-aware enough to realize that he was focusing hard on the Seelie’s reaction in order to not dwell on the idea of having children himself. 

Simon’s internal freakout was stopped by Magnus’ equally fast and firm words. “There might not be children from the marriage between your subject and his wife but the language should stay ambiguous. The Downworld might be aligned on many things but we are not a monolith and your words are not law. Who agrees with me?”

“I do.” Luke’s words were clearly symbolic but Simon caught the grateful glance that Magnus threw him.

Simon swallowed hard but said, “I do as well.” 

Magnus knocked his knuckles on the wood of the table. “It’s settled, the language about children stays. Your conversations with Meliorn are your own, Your Majesty.” The Queen was glaring daggers at the Warlock but he blithely ignored her, and continued, “I do know that Shadowhunters take their marriage vows seriously in terms of adultery, even in arranged marriages, but there is no requirement that the marriage itself be consummated to be valid and binding.” As the only one who hadn’t even met their future spouse, much less had sex with them, Simon could feel how the others at the table avoided looking at him, but thankfully Magnus just kept rolling. “The marriages and that restriction on outside affairs ends with the death of the Shadowhunter though,” a dark shadow passed over Magnus’ face and Simon felt a surge of sympathy knowing his feelings for Alec, “as do our roles as liaisons, unless we decide to change that.”

Simon didn’t often think about his immortality, for good reason; it scared the shit out of him to think about being in his twenties for millenia unless something killed him off first. Contemplating watching his husband grow old and die while he didn’t added a whole ‘nother layer of fucked up to this situation. Simon wanted to run away from this whole thing and anger and frustration choked his throat and he could feel his fangs trying to descend as he lost control over his emotions. 

A cold hand wrapped around the fist he hadn’t realized he’d made and then Raphael addressed the table, saying quietly, “Why don’t we break for lunch. When we return we can hammer out the details of the liaison positions and the living arrangements for the couples. Then we can continue with the other main points of the contract.”

Magnus stood instantly and made his way over to the bar set up on the far side of the room, reaching for a martini glass with one hand and a bottle with the other. At least he’d have company in his misery, thought Simon bitterly. They should set up some kind of club. Shadowhunter Husbands In It Together. SHIIT for short. Sounded about right. Simon sighed.

The others were starting to get up and move around the conference room, although the Seelie Queen was having a heated discussion with Meliorn in whispers, while the other Seelie sat there with an inscrutable look on his face. Simon got up and made his way over to the fridge at the other end of the bar from where Magnus was sitting, opening it to grab a bag of O negative. The other two vampires had followed him so he pulled out two more and looked around for some glasses. He found some fancy highball ones and got busy pouring, letting his hands take over while trying to clear his mind. James, who Simon barely knew because the older vampire had always treated him with a silent sort of awe, thanked him quietly and then fled to one of the armchairs set up in another corner. 

Raphael stayed though, and together they watched the other people in the room mill around, most of whom had scattered themselves around the large area, although the werewolves were still a tight knot. Simon’s Sire took a small sip of blood from his cup. “Do you want to meet Jace Lightwood before the wedding? There is still time to do that.” Simon opened his mouth and then closed it a second later, taking a gulp from his own glass instead. Raphael shifted and said, “There is also still time to put my name in before the Clave instead, although you will have to take over as Clan leader.”

Simon startled so hard that the heavy, viscous liquid actually sloshed out over his hand and he swore and put the cup down on the bar before sticking his fingers in his mouth. Raphael watched him fumble, staying still in the way that only an undead vampire could do. 

“No. No, I won’t ask you to do that. The Clan needs you, I’d be a terrible leader, I know you’ve said that the other vampires would follow me but I definitely don’t want them to do that, they are all eight hundred years old and don’t understand any of my references and it would be a complete disaster and I’d run the Clan straight into the ground in like, a year, and you would be so mad at me and it’s just a terrible idea. No, I’ll marry this Jace person and hopefully he’s not a raging asshole and we can get along and we’ll figure out whoever is murdering Shadowhunters and we’ll murder the fuck out of them instead. And no, I don’t want to meet him before the wedding, I’ve done so much research on arranged marriages— do you know it’s still incredibly popular in the Mundane world? I totally thought it had gone out of style but apparently not— and most of the feedback from married couples that made it work is to let yourself be surprised at the altar and see your spouse at their finest and best and then you have a really great first impression of them and it’s better to do that instead. Yeah. So I’ll meet him in a week.” Simon finally made himself stop talking and drained his cup of blood instead, feeling the metal in it coat his throat and settle in his stomach.  

Raphael was wearing his “Simon Face” again but only said, “All right, Simon. We’ll keep things the way they are. I’m going to talk to Magnus before we keep going.” 

Simon bobbed his head, not daring to open his mouth again, and he watched Raphael glide down the bar to where the warlock was on his second drink. He knew how deeply Raphael cared for his friend and Simon hoped that he would have some comforting words for a man who was clearly already deeply in love with the Shadowhunter he was marrying. 

Putting the empty glass back onto the bar, Simon thought about the articles and blog posts he’d read from people in arranged marriages. There had only been a few actual horror stories, thankfully, and most had just been about how to live with another person comfortably even if you weren’t in love with them. There were a few entries though that stood out, shining examples of couples who talked about how the person they married ended up being their soulmate, someone they couldn’t imagine being without. Simon knew that his situation was much more complicated than most, but—  

He could hope, right?

[bytheangell]

put you into words

(Read on AO3) 

“Alright everyone, listen up! We have a slight change to the submission process for the Literary Magazine this semester!” Clary calls out, gathering the attention of everyone in the classroom.

Magnus, with more than a few papers already tucked away into an envelope for his own submissions, listens with a worried look on his face.

“After a few troubling submissions last year, Mrs. Penhallow has decided to err on the side of caution and require that all submissions have a name on them, and be turned in personally to a club member by the writer. Nothing can be turned in entirely anonymous - but if you wish for it to be printed anonymously, we can still do that! To keep them as anonymous as possible there will be one person unaffiliated with the club assigned to reading through them, just to make sure they fit the guidelines before taking the names off as long as you aren’t doing anything stupid like sneaking bomb threats in, or threatening to hurt anyone.”

Magnus tenses. He has some pretty personal submissions, some… well, honestly, they could be quite embarrassing if anyone knew they were from him. Not because he’s ashamed of them - quite the opposite, they’re some of his best writing in his own humble opinion - but because if someone read them with him in mind as the author they might be able to piece together who they’re about. And the last thing he needs is for word to get out that his muse this year is his unrequited crush on Isabelle’s brother. Even Isabelle doesn’t know, despite the increasing frequency he makes excuses to hang out with her while he knows Alec will be around the apartment the two siblings share with their other brother, Jace.

They’re friends in their own right at this point. They follow each other on social media, text more than Magnus texts with anyone else, even Catarina, and usually spend most of their little group hang-outs gravitating towards one another to catch up on life, and school, and everything in between. But it’s been the majority of the year now and after an attempt or two at flirting that fell flat Magnus wonders if it’s entirely one-sided, and he isn’t about to risk their growing friendship to find out. Not when he can just dump his feelings into his writing instead.

Anyone who knows him might connect the dots. But a stranger reading them, and then keeping them anonymous from there? He doesn’t love the idea but it’s better than the alternative of Clary reading them, or someone else in the club. And what can he really do about it other than not submit what he’s been working on for weeks now, and that simply isn’t an option. So Magnus nods in agreement along with the rest of the group before scrawling his name on the bottom of every sheet in the folder previously marked only with the word ~Anonymous, before handing it over to Clary.

With the folder in hand Clary holds it up, grinning from ear-to-ear. “This is pretty thick,” she observes. “You’re going to be half the magazine at this rate.”

“I’ve got a lot of inspiration this year, what can I say?” He smirks a bit before shrugging.  “And they probably won’t all make it, anyway. You know how it goes.”

And with that he leaves the rest up to fate, and forgets all about the writing submissions for the rest of the week.

---

The following Thursday he shows up a few minutes early, catching just Clary in the classroom re-arranging the tables into a circle.

“Need some help with that, Biscuit?” he asks, shrugging his messenger bag off of his shoulder and tossing it to the side of the wall by the door.

“Sure you wanna risk messing up that perfect manicure of yours?” Clary quips, and Magnus laughs as he grabs a table without waiting for permission or acceptance.

“So what’s on the agenda for tonight?” He asks, and the hopeful tone of his voice must give away the answer he’s hoping for because Clary shakes her head.

“We’re not voting yet,” she says, and Magnus sighs.

All the submissions for the magazine are typed up without names, read aloud to the group, and voted in by a points system. Everyone gets a vote, and the 30 submissions with the highest number of votes gets in. Not all of them are from people in the magazine, either, so it’s really a mixed bag of submissions every semester. But it’s fair, since they’d obviously be biased towards each other’s if they knew which was theirs.

“I wanted to do it this week, but I couldn’t get them back in time from our apparently too-busy-to-finish-in-one-week volunteer reviewer,” she explains with an eye-roll.

“Really? I mean, I know it’s not their job or anything, but there weren’t that many to read through, were there?” Magnus wonders who could be so busy they can’t set aside an hour or two to read through some poems after an entire week.

“Yeah, well, I gave them to my girlfriend’s brother so I can’t exactly be rude about rushing him--”

Magnus drops the chair he’s carrying, paying it absolutely no attention when it tips sideways onto the floor. His eyes are wide and he’s certain he isn’t breathing. In fact, he can’t remember what air is as his entire brain seems to short-circuit because Clary is dating Isabelle Lightwood.

“What? He’s finishing them now, so don’t worry! They’ll be done by next week.” Clary’s trying to make him feel better, as if his reaction is to the news that they’re still being worked on, and not over who is working on them.

“Clary - and I cannot stress how important this is - which of Izzy’s brothers did you give them to?”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting you know the Lightwoods, too. Why does it matt--”

“CLARY, PLEASE.” Magus is pleading now, and he feels about five seconds away from throwing up. He and Clary aren’t very close outside of the club, and she and Isabelle just started dating a few weeks ago, so of course he doesn’t expect her to remember that he’s friends with them, too. He doesn’t blame her, he isn’t upset with her, he’s just upset.   “Are you alright?”

“CLARY.”

“Oh my god, alright already! Alec volunteered to read through them when he overheard me complaining to Izzy about the new rule, but I don’t see what the big deal is-”

Magnus takes several steps backwards to lean against the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes in frustration. No no no no no no no, he thinks, and doesn’t realize he’s also saying the word over and over again out loud, too, until Clary gives him a look like she fears for his general sanity. She might not be too far off after tonight, if he can ever show his face on campus again for her to notice.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?” Clary keeps her distance, eyeing him carefully during this burst of erratic behavior.

“I have to go.” Instead of answering the question he turns and leaves, pausing only a moment to grab his messenger bag off the floor.

“Magnus?!” Clary calls after him, but he doesn’t stop or turn around.

The walk to Izzy’s apartment isn’t far from the classroom he’s at, but every step seems to drag on for a lifetime, even as he speeds his pace up to something not quite a run, but pretty damn close. Paying little mind to the people around him he bumps into the shoulders of more than one student while he punches a number into his phone and brings it to his ear.

It rings, and rings, and goes to Alec’s voicemail. He sends a text (‘Hey. This is going to sound strange but if you haven’t read the Literary Magazine submissions yet could you wait, and call me first? It’s important.’) but it stays unread and unanswered. Of course it can’t be that easy.

Okay, that’s fine. He can try a back-up plan. A few seconds later another number is dialed and ringing, and this time an eager, “Hey!” greets him through the phone.  

“Isabelle, darling, please tell me you’re at home.” He tries to keep his voice even but there’s a clear edge to it, an underlying panic. Izzy being home to try and stop her brother before he gets to Magnus’ submissions is his last hope.

“No, I have class late on Thursdays, remember? Why?”

Magnus groans, face dropping after the moment of hope he mistakenly felt after she picked up.

“Damn. Right, well. I’m going to your apartment to try and stop Alec from reading about half a dozen poems I wrote about him, so if you never see me again it’s because this went about as mortifyingly as I’m anticipating, I’ll have to transfer schools so I never have to face him again, and it was really nice knowing you.”

“Ma-” Izzy barely starts to say his name when he hangs up on her, much the same way he walked out on her girlfriend only minutes before.

He doesn’t want to go to their apartment because if he does, and Alec already read the poems, he genuinely doesn’t know what he’s going to do. But he has to risk it on the off chance that luck is on his side and maybe Alec just told Clary he was getting around to them now, but he was really pushing them off again. Please, he silently pleads with the universe, be on my side this once.

It only takes ten minutes for him to reach the apartment, but another 4 of pacing the hallway outside the door before he finally knocks.

There’s the sound of shuffling behind the door, soft footsteps that grow louder before a lock clicks and the door swings open.

“Oh, hey Magnus!” Alec’s clearly surprised to see him.

“Why do you even own a phone if you never have it with you, Alexander,” Magnus tries to joke, but he’s too nervous and it shows.

“Oh, sorry,” Alec looks a little sheepish. “Probably left it in my room. Uh, if you’re looking for Izzy she won’t be back from campus until late, it’s Thursday.” Alec points out. It occurs to him that this is the first time the two of them are actually alone, without Izzy or Jace or another group of friends along to go out or watch movies with. His heartbeat picks up speed at the realization, even if this is far from how he imagined finally getting some alone time with Alexander.

“I know. I was actually hoping to talk to you, if that’s alright. You didn’t happen to--”

But Magnus pauses when Alec shifts in an obvious attempt to block Magnus’ view of the living room. Shifting just enough (because Alec is tall and imposing when he needs to be, but he isn’t big enough to block the entire doorway) Magnus glances past Alec to the table that’s in his line of sight, and sees what Alec is trying so obviously to block.

He’s too late. The table is covered with papers and a familiar envelope with Magnus’ name on it sits open at the top.

Alec knows. He read the poems and he knows and there’s nothing Magnus can do to take that back. He’s ruined everything - the dynamic they all had when they hung out together, any chance he had of maybe flirting with Alec properly and asking him out one day - now he just looks crazy, like he does nothing but stare at Alec and those gorgeous hazel eyes and soft smile and those little crinkles around his eyes when he laughs that just beg to be admired in poetry.

Which, to be fair, isn’t entirely off-base. He does spend a lot of time sneaking glances Alec’s way. It just isn’t something he planned on exposing yet. It isn’t the right time, and now it never will be.

“--you know what, nevermind. You’re right, I was here for Izzy but I totally forgot about her class, so I’ll just… go. Yeah, I have to go. Sorry.”

Magnus turns around and takes several steps down the hallway when he feels Alec’s hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

It’s a simple request and yet somehow actually stopping instead of taking off in a sprint down the hallway is the most difficult thing Magnus has done in recent memory.

“Magnus, I-” Alec starts, but stops again.

Magnus takes a deep, steadying breath before forcing himself to turn around. “It’s alright, you don’t have to say it. I know you only hung around with me because I was friends with your sister. It’s cool, really.” Giving his best, fake-confident ‘I’m fine, really’ smile.

“That isn’t what I was going to say.” Alec frowns.

“No, of course it isn’t. You’re too nice to actually say it,”  Magnus shakes his head. He can’t do this, not here, not now. He can’t stand there and listen to Alec let him down easy until he wants the ground to swallow him whole. They were just starting to become better friends and now he ruined even that, and he’ll never forgive himself for it. “I’m sorry. I can’t-”

“Will you come inside for one minute? I want to show you something.” Alec looks nervous. Why would Alec be nervous? “Please?” When Alec repeats the request, practically begging this time, Magnus knows he can’t say no to that look.

“Alright.” It’s a reluctant agreement but he finds himself following Alec back into the apartment. When the door shuts behind him it leaves Magnus feeling strangely claustrophobic.

“Just… wait here. Don’t leave.” Alec instructs before disappearing down the short hallway that leads to his room. Magnus can’t help but wander over to the table, picking up his poem from the top of the pile and glancing over some of the words he wrote of a trip they took with Izzy and Cat and a few other friends to hike and picnic a month ago.  

‘We watch the sunset from the mountain top Hand-crafted by deities, perfected over centuries To be mesmerizing To be awe-inspiring But nothing in heaven or on earth could compare To the enchantment I feel Watching hues of green and chestnut and gold Light up like fireworks when he laughs’

It was a perfect day. A perfect memory. Why did he have to go and ruin it?

When Alec comes back Magnus drops the paper back onto the table like it burns to the touch.

“Seriously, Alec, I’m sorry… if I thought for a second Clary was going to give these to you I never would’ve-”

“Listen, Magnus, I know words are your thing and all, but if you could just stop talking and listen for five seconds.”

Magnus winces at Alec’s exasperated tone, attention finally drawn to the paper Alec holds out. It’s covered in Alec’s handwriting from top to bottom.

“What’s this?” Magnus asks, taking it when Alec doesn’t reply right away, instead just holding the paper out stubbornly in front of him.

“It was meant to be anonymous, too. But since I read yours it’s only right that you get to read mine.”

Magnus looks from Alec down to the paper in his hands, and begins to read. It isn’t a poem, more an uninterrupted stream of consciousness. The prose takes the form of Alec observing someone in the fading light of the sun’s last rays. Of a moment on a mountaintop, with wind-blown hair and friends and wine… and about how Alec wished it was just the two of them instead of a group outing, instead of his sister sitting between them on the blanket they shared.

Magnus has to read it a second time to be certain before allowing himself to speak.

“...you wrote about me?” Magnus asks, dumbfounded.

“I know it’s probably awful, I tried the whole poetry thing but it was total garbage so I just sort of rambled instead, but… that isn’t the point. You’re asking if it’s about you, and yeah. It is.” Alec smiles, not the big kind that give him those explosive laugh crinkles but a small, reserved twitch of his lips that’s barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it.

And of course Magnus is looking.

“I thought there were some signs, but then I wondered if you were just being nice to me because I was Izzy’s brother,” Alec admits. “So I figured if I sent this in, and it wasn’t just me…” he shrugs. That’s clearly as far as he got with his plan, but it’s more than enough.

“It isn’t just you.” Magnus confirms, smiling for the first time since Clary told him about Alec.  

“So now what?” Alec prompts.

Magnus considers for a moment before the perfect idea comes to mind.

“I’m free Saturday for another hike. You drive, I’ll pack the picnic?” And then, just in case he isn’t clear enough, adds, “Just us this time?”

Alec’s entire face brightens at the idea. “Sounds perfect.”  

...maybe the universe wasn’t as out to get him as Magnus first thought.

[lunarsapphique]

You’re In My Chair

So, I rewrote my first Aurora fic and seeing as people didn’t think it was completely terrible i thought i’d post the updated version!

Walking into an empty loft was something that Magnus had been accustomed to for years. Standing just inside the door after a long day of clients, debating whether or not he should go out and surround himself with the dangerous allure of alcohol and faceless strangers or if he should just drown himself in his whiskey cart and a head full of ghosts. But now he had Alec to pull him back from drowning and let him breathe for a little while, which is why he was more than disappointed to come home to a dark apartment for the fifth night in a row. The war may be over for now, but with the disappearing Asmodei and the peace between the Downworld and Nephilim close to shattering, Alec had to spend most nights at the Institute.

Stepping further into the loft he could feel the exhaustion clawing its way behind his eyes and the dull aching in his veins taking over all his senses. It has been like this for weeks, after Valentine and Azazel he felt disconnected with his magic, as if it didn’t trust the body that it was in. He was coping sure, but on days like this he feels like nothing but a hollowed-out version of the broken man he used to be and he doesn’t know how to pull himself back from spiralling. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, accepting that breathing was simply going to be a little bit harder tonight. Just as he went to pour himself a drink he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Groaning at the thought of anyone needing him, he looked at his phone and smiled slightly at the name on his screen.

“Alexander, I have never been happier to hear your voice,” Magnus said, sighing slightly at the end.

“Is everything alright?” Alec asked, concern lacing his voice.

Magnus chucked slightly, the poor boy was always worried about Magnus these days. “I’m fine don’t worry. I’m just a bit drained of magic but I’ll be alright once I’ve rested for a bit.” He hated keeping things from him, but sometimes lying hurts less than reliving the hours he spent in that cell.

“Do you think you’ll feel better in a couple hours?”

“I should be, why?” He could hear the hesitancy in Alec’s voice, and couldn’t help the slight feeling of irritation at being treated as if he could fall apart at any minute.

“Izzy was asking about you, she’s worried you know, after everything that happened...” Alec trailed off, the ‘with Valentine’ going unsaid. “She thought it’d be a good idea if everyone took the night off and came over to the loft.”

Magnus frowned slightly, not used to people thinking about him so much. And positively hating feeling so weak. But of course, he knew they meant well and in all honestly, despite his brain screaming at him to continue on the nights journey of isolation, he could do probably do with the company.

“And who would ‘everyone’ be, my love?” He asked, hoping he was masking the frustration lacing his voice.

“Well, me and Izzy, obviously. And Jace, Clary, Simon and Maia. Luke was going to come but he’s out with my mom tonight.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. Maryse Lightwood falling for the alpha of the New York pack,”Magnus said chuckling, remembering a stunned Luke showing up at his door with the stupidest grin on his face.

“Trust me, no one’s more surprised than me,” Alec laughed. “So, what do you say?”

Magnus thought for a moment and decided to ignore his own head. “I’ll get the drinks ready.” -

“I still can’t believe my Dad is currently out with your Mom.”

“Listen Clary, Raziel himself can’t believe it.”

The night had been going well so far, considering the circumstances. While Magnus was still on edge, the dull ache still lingering, he felt content at least. How could he not be when he felt the familiar press of Alec against his shoulder and his hand brushing his leg. It was amazing really, how calming Alec’s presence was. It scared him at times, giving so much of himself to one person, even his magic seemed to relax more, something it was barely doing with Magnus these days. He felt Alec’s hands squeeze his before he kissed the back of it, as if reading Magnus’ mind. He swears he falls more and more in love with this man every day, the thought equally is heart-warming as it was terrifying. He looked to everyone else and couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face.

Jace was sitting on his blue armchair, arguing with Simon over something that Magnus didn’t have the energy or the desire to care about. Izzy was on the floor with Maia and Clary, none of them wanting to sit beside Alec and him on the couch, not that he was complaining, the thought of someone else sat close to him making him slightly nervous. Everyone was relaxed, drinks in hand, relishing in what it would feel like if the world wasn’t always ready to burn. Yes, the war may not be completely over yet but here they are, alive and happy, even if it was for a short while.

He was forced out of his thoughts when a portal suddenly opened up near the front door. Alec immediately went for the seraph blade he kept in Magnus’ coffee table while everyone else looked ready to take on whatever had gotten through the wards. Except Simon of course, who just looked confused and slightly alarmed. Magnus, however, simply continued drinking his whiskey, rolling his eyes slightly but overall seeming unfazed by what was going on. Just as Alec was about to stand and find out who was on the other side of the portal, a suitcase was thrown into the loft, followed by a girl holding two large bags.

“Hey.” she said simply, placing her bags beside her suitcase and making her way over to Magnus’ alcohol cart to pour herself a drink. Everyone, except Magnus, all stared at each other, no one feeling any immediate danger but all feeling widely confused as to who had just made themselves at home in Magnus and Alec’s loft. Izzy mouthed a “what?” at Alec who just shrugged his shoulders, completely at a loss.

They all looked to the girl. She seemed young, in her twenties at the most, Alec faintly recognised her but he had no idea from where. He was almost sure that he’d never met this girl before but something about her seemed so familiar. Something in her eyes and the way she carried herself.

After the girl had made her drink she walked up to the chair that Jace was currently draped over.

“You’re in my chair,” she said, sounding almost impatient. Jace just stared at her for a second not knowing what to do before getting up and going to sit on the floor beside Simon. The girl then made herself comfortable and took a sip of her drink. Alec and Jace just stared at Magnus while everyone else just looked at each other, no one wanting to break the silence. But Magnus was still enjoying his drink, as if the past few minutes hadn’t even happened, looking at the girl with amusement in his eyes.

The girl had a look around the room, taking everyone in properly for the first time, smirking slightly at the lost look on their faces.

“Well Magnus, do you plan on introducing me to your friends? We don’t want to be rude now, do we?” she asked, looking very satisfied with Magnus’ answering eye roll.

“You know, if you want to remain oh so “mysterious” you can’t keep showing up here every few decades unannounced,” Magnus said sounding slightly irritated but more fond than anything else.

“Your hospitality skills are abysmal Magnus. Whatever happened to those manners that you harp on about so often, hm?”

“My hospitality only extends so far I’m afraid.”

“Grouch,” she said smiling widely. “You can put the seraph blade down Shadowhunter, I come in peace.” Magnus couldn’t help but the small grin on his face.

“Magnus?” Alec started slowly, putting his blade back in its drawer. “Who is this?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, the suspense becoming too much.

Magnus sighed quietly, taking a gulp of his drink, bracing himself for the onslaught of questions he was undoubtedly about to receive. “This is Aurora...my sister.”

“Twin sister to be exact,” Aurora chimed in, thoroughly enjoying the whole situation.

They were all silent for a moment before Simon’s brain had decided it’d had enough.

“Wait…sister? You have sister? Why haven’t you mentioned her before? I mean, really Magnus, we all never shut up about our family and you haven’t once thought to mention that you had one too- Wait can warlocks even have a twin? I mean I don’t know how it all works exactly but- “

“Simon, shut up,” Clary said quietly, noticing Alec just staring at Magnus, not quite sure how to process what he’d just heard but definitely needing Simon to quit rambling. Magnus started looking slightly nervous, unsure how Alec was going to react after realising just who Aurora was. He loved him, but he was a Shadowhunter after all.

“Sister...you mean she’s…she’s real?” Alec asked, seeming more shocked than anything.

“She has a name thank you very much. It’s nice to meet you Alec, my brother’s told me an awful lot about you,” Aurora answered. She looked at Alec with a large grin, as he blushed. Magnus was right, his blush was adorable.

“What do you mean “she’s real”? Who are you?” Maia asked looking between Alec and Aurora, never having heard anything about Magnus having a sister before.

“It’s a myth amongst the Shadowworld...” Jace began, looking almost warily at Aurora who was laughing slightly at yet another eye roll from Magnus. “That the great and powerful Magnus Bane had a twin sister. It was said that the two could tear down a thousand cities with the snap of their fingers. That she was as fiery and dangerous as Edom itself.” He paused, interrupted by the sound of Magnus scoffing. With a wave from Magnus, he continued.

“No one knows what happened to her or if she even existed. There’s no files in the Clave’s records and whenever anyone who was old enough to know was asked, including Magnus, they all denied that she was real. It was just a story to most of us, until now I guess,” he finished, chucking in disbelief.

“As fiery and dangerous as Edom itself,” Aurora chuckled. “I like that, very poetic. Father would love it, wouldn’t he Magnus?”

“Father doesn’t love anything Little One, when will you realise?” Magnus said, standing up and making his way over to Aurora. Sighing in relief as everyone seemed too dazed to hone in on the mention of them having a father.

“You’re such a bore at times Magnus,” she said, standing up and hugging her brother tightly.

They hadn’t seen each other in around sixteen years. They kept in touch of course, but even that seemingly blip in time was far too long a wait for twins as close as they were. It killed Magnus at times, being apart. Aurora had been his only family for what had felt like a thousand lifetimes, she’d been with him through it all.

The first century had been the hardest for the twins. A century of growing older and staying young, losing those who at the time had felt like breathing in a life that left you feeling suffocated. They were each other’s life line in that way, one couldn't survive without the other. Now, after the incident with Valentine, Magnus needed her now more than ever, and he was sure she could feel it. And she could of course. If not through her magic, then through the way he shook slightly in her arms and held on a little too tight. She could feel the anxiety and exhaustion that had made home deep in his bones.

When they parted Izzy shook her head, still feeling utterly confused.

“Hold on, if you are actually Magnus’ sister then how have you went undetected? How do the Clave have nothing on you?” Izzy asked. It didn’t make sense. The Clave had files on everyone. They didn’t always go into a lot of detail, Magnus’ for example was quite bare, but there was at least something. And if Magnus was on record then it only made sense that his twin would be also.

“That’s a story for another time,” Aurora waved her hand dismissively, sitting back down. Having just met them all, she was definitely not ready to trust them that much, especially as most of them were shadowhunters. A couple of centuries ago she would have panicked at walking into a room full of Nephilim, but having a brother as good as memory spells as Magnus was really helped put those anxieties at ease. It was because of this that Aurora saw no problem in keeping her glamour off, knowing that if someone saw her own cat eyes and put the pieces together Magnus could simply make them forget. He, however, didn’t agree and had expressed multiple times during of multiple arguments that if she was to show up her eyes must be hidden. She’d given in after a while, knowing her brother was almost as stubborn as her and was most definitely never going to let it go.

She had another look at everyone, feeling uncertain for a moment before adding “I’m assuming it goes unsaid that you won’t be telling anyone about me. My name doesn’t leave this room, understood?”

They were unsure of course, not knowing how much they could trust her giving that she had been lying to the Clave for god knows how many years. It went against every fibre if their shadowhunter training, but at the look of desperation on Magnus’ face they relented, nodding sincerely at Aurora who for the first time that night flashed them a genuine smile.

“Fantastic, but for now, I’d really like to get to know Magnus’ new little gang. Especially you,” Aurora said, winking at Maia. Alec was really starting to see the resemblance now.

Maia’s eyes widened as she realised that Aurora was, in fact, actually talking to her. “Well, I mean, there’s not much to know,” she said, blushing slightly.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find something,” Aurora said smirking. “Magnus, are your little get togethers always so drab? I mean really, you have unlimited magic at the touch of your fingertips and yet you can’t turn on a stereo?”

Everyone apart from Alec laughed as Aurora snapped her fingers, turning on some music and filling up their drinks. Magnus could see that Alec was still wary, they all were of course, but for the most part they seemed to accept that this was real and happening and that there was no harm in having fun and letting off some steam for once. Life wasn’t always about being on guard. Alec clearly couldn’t switch off so easily.

“Alexander…” Magnus said softly. Alec tore his eyes away from Aurora and looked at Magnus. “Look, I know I lied when you first asked me about Aurora and I promise I’ll explain why one day but she’s my sister. Just get to know her, please. She’s my family just as much as you all are and I want you all to get on well. I never expected you to ever meet her and I wish it was under better circumstance.”

Alec’s heart lurched at the slight look of dread on Magnus’ face, he couldn’t help but feel that something was off about Aurora. But being mad at Magnus for protecting his sister? Alec would never dream of it, knowing he would do the same in a heartbeat if Izzy was to ask. He looked at Aurora, who was now listening to Simon and Clary ramble on about how they came about the Shadowworld. Everyone was laughing and drinking and seemed far more at ease than they were when she had first walked in. Alec smiled slightly and looked back a Magnus.

“Magnus, it’s okay. I know you wouldn’t lie to me without a good reason. I trust you and if you trust her then what reason do I have to shut her out?”

Magnus couldn’t help but sigh out of relief. There wasn’t a day that went by were he didn’t thank the universe for giving him Alec.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Alec said kissing him softly.

“Are they always this adorable?” Aurora asked teasingly. “What have you done to my brother Alec? He’s like a lovesick puppy.”

“Oh my god you should’ve seen the wedding!” Simon shouted, while Alec groaned in the background.

[sometimesambroswrites]

prompt: maybe like jace is doubting malec's relationship?? like he doesn't trust magnus At All (doesn't help that he, like all the shadowhunters, is lowkey racist against downworlders) so he's sort of the mind "he's a lothario warlock, he can't be trusted with my bro" but then like he does something dumb on a mission that gets alec hurt or something and magnus w/o hesitation exhausts himself healing him/throws himself in front of him or whatever to save him and jace is like "oh shit i was Wrong"

I was going to write my usual 500-600 words and then I wrote 2400 words because why not; I admit I was a bit skeptical at first because I kinda liked Jace’s I’m-just-glad-for-my-parababro attitude, but then @estefra showed me how interesting it could be to explore this side of Jace, so thank you so much for the prompt! I enjoyed writing from Jace’s POV for once, and I hope you like it as well! Jace is, admittedly, very douchey at the beginning, but I hope it shows why he acts a certain way and says certain things and I hope you can forgive him at the end. Alright, here goes; let me know! :)(I’m publishing this and nobody’s read it yet [I usually have a couple of people read my things], so I’m fucking terrified. Okay.)

-Wait, Alec!

Jace lengthens his steps to catch up to Alec,who looks at him with impatience: -What?

-I just – - Jace tries to gauge Alec’s mood,but he simply looks determined as usual; he sighs: -This thing youhave with Magnus –

He immediately sees a smile hidden in thecurled corner of Alec’s lips and he presses his lips together: -Whatis it, exactly?

Alec’s smile disappears as a frown falls on hisface: -Are you really trying to talk about my sentimental life whenClary’s mother’s life depends on us?

Jace hesitates for a second, but then hedesists; he takes a small step back: -No, you’re right. We better go.

~

Alec isbarely ever at the Institute.

Jace looksfor him for two hours before Izzy tells him he’s out with Magnus.

She lookshappy about it, bus asks: -Why? Did something happen?- as soon as shenotices Jace’s expression.

Jaceshakes his head, jaw clenched: -No, it’s just – he’s been going outwith the Warlock a lot.

Izzy’sexpression hardens slightly at the word: -The Warlock?-she echoes.

Jacewaves his hand dismissively: -You know what I mean.

ButIzzy plants her hands on her hips and looks a lot like Maryse whenshe says: -I really don’t.

-Idon’t think he’s right for Alec,- he says, words dragged between histeeth, -I don’t have anything against him, but I don’t think weshould trust him with Alec.

Izzyrolls her eyes: -And why would you think that?- she asks, impatienceclear in her voice.

-Becausehe’s a Downworlder,- he snaps, -Relationships don’t mean the samething to them as they do to us. Alec gave up something hugeforhim, andwhat did he get out of it? Nothing.

Izzylooks at him, stunned; she raises her hands: -I’ll talk to you whenyour head isn’t lodged so far up your ass,- she says, before turningand walking away.

Jacefrowns after her.

~

Hefinally catches him as he’s sneaking back into the Institute at 3a.m.

Hehas his arms crossed over his chest and his back against the wall inAlec’s room.

-Isn’tit a bit late?

Alecjumps and Jace frowns; he would have never missed him before Magnus.

-Yes,-he says, like it’s obvious, -Which is why I’m in my bedroom.

Hestarts pulling off his boots.

-Wereyou with the Warlock?

Alecstills when he hears the word, one boot off, and he looks up at Jace,a hard expression on his face: -I was with Magnus.

Themuscle in Jace’s jaw twitches: -I don’t think he’s good enough foryou.

Alecstraightens up immediately, takes a few steps closer to Jace: -Whatdid you just say?

-Don’tget me wrong,- Jace says, holding his position even though he has tolook up at Alec, -I’m not saying he’s a bad person. I just don’tthink that he’s right for you.He’s distracting you and he’s keeping you out until late and he’s aDownworlder,Alec. You know relationships don’t have the same weight for them. AndMagnus Bane?He had a lot ofrelationships that clearly meantnothing tohim.

Alec’shands shake as he takes in all of what Jace has just said: -I’m goingto say something,- he says, voice low, almost threatening, -And thenyou will get out of my room because I don’t want to beat the crap outof you.

Hetakes one step closer and he towers over Jace: -Magnus Bane is thebest fucking thing that’s happened to me in a longtime,-hesays, a humourless smile on his face, -He’sreminded me that there’s actually a world outside these walls that Idon’t have to carry on my shoulders, and just because youarean emotionally constipated messforone reason or another, it does notmeanthat all relationships are like yours. Andyou know what, brother?-he spits the word like he never has, because they’ve never foughtlike brothers,aiming for the throat, going so deep that the only thing keeping themtogether would be blood, -I lovehim.-and he’s startled by it because he knowsbutthat doesn’t mean he’s ready to say it out loud, and yet there it is,-And if our relationship meansnothing tohim?- he throws his arms in the air with a cold grin, -I’m fuckingfine with it, because I still got to love him. And now getout.-, hegrowls the last two words, pointing at the door, his breath short.

Jacestares at him and looks like he wants to protest, wants to saysomething, but the fury on Alec’s face convinces him to walk away.

~

Izzygrabs him by the ear and drags him in her room, slams the door behindthem and lets him go: -You are an idiot.

Jace rubshis ear, pouting at her: -I’m sure you’re right, but why?

-Ourbrother.Actually,- she jams her finger in his biceps, -mybrother. Until youstart making sense again, you’re out of the family.

Jacecrosses his arms over his chest.

-I’mlooking out forhim.

-And howis that working out for you?

Jacealmost sticks his tongue out at her.

-Whatthe hell isyour problem with Magnus?

Jacelooks away: -I don’ttrust him with Alec,-he says, his lips curving slowly around each word, -He’s just goingto hurt him and Alec is letting him in way too easily. He’s aWarlock,what if he just wants him because he’s a Shadowhunter?

Izzycloses her eyes for a second and raises her eyebrows in disbelief:-Jace, Magnus loveshim.

Jacehuffs: -When has thateverstopped anyone?

Izzy’seyes turn sad, slowly, understanding digging lines around the cornersof her mouth: -Oh, Jace,- she says, -When will you stop thinking oflove as a weapon?

Jaceflinches like she’s hit him.

Thealarm of the Institute goes off and Jace blinks, shaking his head: -I– I have to go.

Heignores Izzy calling after him.

~

Hegoes alone. He shouldn’t but he does, hoping it’ll clear his head.

Itdoesn’t.

Thereare six rogue werewolves and he can’t keep them at bay, he’s corneredin less than two minutes, breathing hard, and he’s afraid,alone –

Exceptthat an arrow sinks in one of the werewolves’ shoulder-blade and Alecis running towards him, Bladeunsheathed, and four wolves turn towards him and growl at him, baringtheir fangs before jumping.

Aleccan only avoid two.

Clawsrun through his shirt and his skin, tearing his chest open, and hescreams in pain, the sound burying itself in Jace’s brain as he feelsthe pain on his own flesh.

Alecfalls, hand clutching his chest, and Jace roars,buries his Blade in the nearest werewolf and starts slashing at theothers without any kind of plan, he just wants them to get awayfromAlec, he manages to hit a tail and a paw and gets two of them tofocus on him as Alec breathes hard, one hand pressed against hischest but the other still weakly holding on to the Blade to keep thewerewolves away from him.

-We’llget you out of here,- Jace calls, desperation creeping its way intohis voice as the pain lessens, and he knows that can’t be a goodsign.

-Sothat I can kill you,- Alec says, voice weak and strained, sucking inoxygen between every word.

Jaceburies his Blade in one of the werewolves’ paw and chuckles weakly,wetly: -It’s fine with me.

Alec’sscream is not human when he yanks his arm backwards and manages tocatch one of the werewolves’ on the muzzle, and Jace throws himselfmore desperately into the fight, recklessly, growling, and thenthere’s only one werewolf that’s still threatening Alec andJace can easily get rid of him, falling on his knees beside Alec assoon as he has: -We’ve got to get you out of here, come on,- he says,-We’ve got to get you to the Institute – -

-No,-Alec interrupts him, voice almost inaudible, lips white, -Magnus,-his eyes close, -Please call Magnus.

~

Magnusis pale and resolute when Jace emerges from the portal, Alec hangingoff of him, unconscious, blood seeping through his white shirt, andhe points at his bedroom: -On the bed,- he says, and Jace obeys,trying to be as gentle as possible as he lowers Alec on the pristine,silk-looking sheets, Magnus right behind him.

Hesnaps his fingers and Alec’s shirt falls off his chest, revealingthree deep gushes on his chest, and there’s so much blood Jace almostfeels sick.

-I’llmake him sleep,- Magnus says, and Jace feels like he’s talking tohimself, like he needs to reassure himself, -This way I will focusall of my magic on healing him. It’s too late for a potion.

Hishands move in intricate motions, blue magic dancing between hisfingers, and Alec’s breathing suddenly slows down, his eyes stopmoving frantically behind his eyelids.

Magnusbrushes his hand on Alec’s forehead. Just for a second, softly, andhis eyes show all of his worry and sadness and determination andsomething deeper, and Jace feels like he’s going to choke on hisguilt.

Magnuscloses his eyes, his hands on Alec’s wounds, and his magic startsflowing towards Alec.

~

It’sthree hours before Magnus lets his hands fall down his sides; hesways on his feet when he stands up and Jace rushes forward, hishands on his shoulder.

Magnushas deep purple circles under his eyes and he’s pale; Alec’s skin issmooth.

-Youdid it,- Jace says, relief pooling in his voice, and Magnus nodsslowly, blinking like he’s trying to keep himself awake, like he’strying to focus on Jace; Jacefrowns, catching him when Magnus sways dangerously.

-Areyou going to be okay?- he asks, worry climbing its way back up histhroat.

-Ijust – need to rest,- Magnus says, breathing between words. Hetries to walk away, pushing himself away from Jace’s hands, but Jacesays: -Wait,- holds his hand out to him, -Take – take my strength.You need it,- he swallows, forces himself not to look away, -He willwant to see you when he wakes up.

Magnusseems to consider him for a moment, blinking slowly, and then hetakes his hand.

Energystarts flowing out of Jace, and he closes his eyes against theuncomfortable pull.

~

-He’llnever forgive me,- Jace whispers, staring at Alec’s unmoving body.

Magnusturns towards him: -He will,- he says, and he sounds sure, -The thingabout Alec is that he sees his own flaws so clearly and condemnshimself so harshly that he has no issue recognising others’shortcomings and forgiving them. He sees himself in every mistakeothers make, and because of that he forgives them,- a bitter smilecurls his lips as he turns back to look at Alec, -Not himself though.Never himself.

~

Magnuskisses Alec’s forehead, his eyelids, his lips as soon as he wakes up,and Jace needs to step outside because he feels like he can’tbreathe.

Heleans against the wall and stares at the ceiling, dragging air intohis lungs.

It’sa couple of minutes before Magnus steps outside and tells him: -Hesaid tellthe idiot to come inside.

Jacerolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it: -Charming,- he says,but he doesn’t push himself off the wall, can’t quite bring himselfto.

Magnuslooks at him and offers him a smile: -Don’t be stupid, Jace. He’syour brother.

Jaceblinks, feeling his lashes damp; he pushes himself off the wall.

-Magnus,-he calls him back as he’s about to step into the room; Magnus turnstowards him, his movements still slow and careful. -I’m glad Alec hasyou.

Magnussmiles, tired, but it crinkles the corners of his eyes: -I’m glad hehas me, too.

Jacelooks away and smiles.

Hetakes a deep breath and enters the room.

Aleclooks healthy, and if it wasn’t for the careful way he seems to beholding himself, Jace would never be able to tell that he’d lookedlike he was about to die not six hours ago.

-I’msorry,- Jace says.

Alecraises his eyebrows, makes a little goon motionwith his hand.

Jacesits next to the bed with a small smile: -I’m sorry for going on themission alone. I’m sorry that you got hurt. I’m sorry that I didn’tunderstand what you and Magnus have. I’m sorry that I insulted him –

-Apretty long list,- Alec comments, drily.

Jacewinces: -Yeah, well. I’ve been wrong a lot, so. I’ve got a lot toapologize for.

Alecsighs, slowly. -It’s okay.

-Butit isn’t –

-Jace,-Alec interrupts him, -I know you. I wouldn’t have picked you as myparabatai if I didn’t know thatyou always recognise how big of a douche you are.

Jacechuckles, relief mixing in a sigh with it.

-Nowgo home,- Alec orders, -You stink.

Jacelaughs again, shaking his head, but he stands up; he doesn’t feel sotired anymore. He taps his fingers on the covers for a second andthen he says: -Can I say something weird?

Alecraises his eyebrows, doyou ever say something that isn’t weird?

-Theway you two love each other,- he says, swallows, looks away, -Ididn’t know it could exist. But I’m – happy that it does. And I’mgrateful that you’ve found it.

Alecis smiling when Jace looks up, eyes bright. -Get out of here,- hesays, sounding incredibly fond.

Jacenods and smiles as he goes.

[bytheangell]

This Is the Coda That Never Ends... Part 13

(Read on AO3) (read from the start)

“I’ll keep you updated,” Alec assures Magnus, giving his husband a kiss goodbye before picking Clary up off of the sofa and carrying her through the portal. When he steps through into Lorenzo’s mansion it looks almost the same as it did a year ago when he was last here. The little constants are nice, especially considering how much the world around him has changed in such a short period of time. 

Alec immediately moves towards the sofa but Lorenzo stops him. 

“Can you carry her upstairs?” Lorenzo asks him. “We can put her in a proper bed this time until she wakes up, I’ll conjure up something for her to eat, too, the poor thing must be drained.” 

Alec tilts his head for a moment, caught off-guard by the extra measure Lorenzo considered to keep Clary comfortable. He hasn’t dealt with Lorenzo very much in the past year, not since his move to Alicante and Isabelle’s appointment as Head of the Institute in his place. Of course, during his visits and time catching up with Underhill with a night out here and there, he’s heard his fair share of the subtle shifts in the High Warlock of Brooklyn’s attitude from the man who once blacklisted Magnus from the warlock community. 

On the outside he still puts on a show of being above caring about trivial matters and people who serve him no purpose, especially during official meetings and council sessions, but this is a taste of the Lorenzo who Underhill and Isabelle have been telling him about. Alec almost didn’t believe them before seeing it with his own two eyes; Underhill is one thing, Alec expects him to be kind to his boyfriend, but he has no reason to go above and beyond for Clary. 

“That sounds good, yeah.” Alec shifts Clary’s weight in his arms before turning towards the stairs. 

“Up the stairs, take a right, second door on the left.” Lorenzo says before turning and heading off somewhere. 

Alec’s second surprise - being allowed to wander Lorenzo’s home freely. He expected the other man to follow him around, or maybe offer yet another tour of any new acquisitions from the past year, but instead Lorenzo vanishes out of sight before Alec is even up the first set of stairs. 

He finds the bedroom easily enough. It’s clearly a spare for visitors, and even though it isn’t dusty or anything it’s also obvious it hasn’t been used in quite some time.Alec shifts the covers enough to lay Clary down and pull them over her, leaving the door open on his way out and back down the stairs.

Alec is about to call out to find where Lorenzo went when he hears sounds coming from a room down the hall and follows them to find Lorenzo not actually conjuring something up, but gathering ingredients out of the cabinets and fridge to cook with. A lot of ingredients. 

“How many people do you plan on feeding?” Alec asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Assuming your entire hoard of Shadowhunters are likely about to invade my home to speak with Clarissa when she wakes back up, at least half a dozen.” Lorenzo doesn’t even look up from what he’s chopping as he speaks. 

“Oh,” Alec says, not quite sure what else to say to that. Lorenzo doesn’t seem angry about it, more resigned to the inevitability… and entirely willing, just as he was in offering Clary a proper room, to go the extra mile. Maybe he can sense how tense this entire situation is for them. Maybe he just wants to be the better person after that jab at Alec for keeping this secret, the same way he had the Soul Sword. “Thanks,” he adds. “I know you don’t want to be doing all this.” “What can I say, Bane set quite the precedent for Shadowhunter tolerance,” Lorenzo shrugged. 

“Mmhmm,” Alec hums, smiling slightly. “Though it seems like you’re doing a bit more than tolerating Underhill these days.You’ve been together the whole year since the wedding, haven’t you?” Alec hears Underhill’s side of things occasionally, but it’s rare he has a moment alone with Lorenzo that isn’t focused on some sort of official business of another. 

“I suppose so,” Lorenzo confirms. “I suppose,” he continues in a would-be-casual tone. “Not to jinx it, but things are going rather well these days. Andrew is quite the charmer when he wants to be.” 

Alec stifles a laugh. “Good. I was afraid after earlier-” 

Lorenzo cuts Alec off with a sigh and a wave of his hand. “We’ll talk it out. We always do; this isn’t the first time he’s put his duty as a Shadowhunter before our relationship. I’d probably do the same if our roles were reversed.” 

Alec shakes his head. “But you shouldn’t have to, and neither should Underhill. Ordering him to keep this a secret, I never should’ve done that. It was a bad call, and it goes against all of the transparency I’m trying to create in the Shadow World. How are you ever supposed to trust me and the rest of the Shadowhunters if we keep running around keeping secrets?” 

“If you think you’re the only ones keeping secrets, Mr. Lightwood, you’re more naive than I thought,” Lorenzo states simply. “This isn’t something that’s going to stop overnight. You’re doing good work, but you’ve barely begun. You can’t undo years of systematic oppression and self-preservation with a law or two.” 

He wonders if Lorenzo knows something he doesn’t, openly admitting that there are other secrets being kept in the Shadow World. Which, Alec reasons, could be almost anything. But the tone that their conversation shifts to is much more serious than it began, and he has to consider if it isn’t more of a veiled warning than a casual statement. 

He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Alec’s phone rings, Isabelle’s name flashing across the screen. 

“Hey Iz, what’s up?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Magnus filled her in on where he is and what’s going on, and she wants to know what the next move is. 

“Honestly, I’m not so sure anymore. You didn’t see her when she suddenly remembered Magnus… if we bring everyone here it might be too much for her all at once…”

Lorenzo looks up at that. “If I just chopped up that many fresh carrots for nothing-” he starts, falling silent when Alec holds up a finger to shush him so he can hear his sister through the phone. 

“What? No, nevermind about the carrots. Listen, I know he’s going to kill me for it later, but tell Jace to stay back for now. If you and Simon want to come, that’s fine. But until we know how her memories are affecting her, and why they’re coming back, I don’t want to risk anything that’s already triggered her.” Alec pauses, listening again. “Take your time, see you when you get here.” 

He hangs up, turning back to Lorenzo. “What do you think? Should I even let those two come?” He asks, curious to hear the warlock’s opinion. 

Lorenzo looks shocked to be asked. “Why are you asking me?” 

“Because I meant what I said earlier. I can’t fix this on my own, and if I’m being honest I’m more than a little biased here, so I’d like a second opinion.” Alec says, opting for honesty this time around. 

“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea,” Lorenzo admits. “But I can’t say for certain, and neither can you. First you’re trying to keep her away from the places she’s remembering, then you’re asking her all sorts of leading questions back at Magnus’, and now you’re trying to keep her away from it again. You’re just as clueless as I am in this unfortunately unprecedented situation.” 

Alec hates how right Lorenzo is, cursing his intuitive outlook and the fact that he really doesn’t shy away from telling things like they are. Alec’s trying to play the diplomat here, while balancing his personal history with Clary, and failing miserably at both. He thought for a second back there he was covering it well enough but clearly that isn’t the case. 

“If there’s one thing you learn being immortal,” Lorenzo continues after Alec’s prolonged silence. “It’s adaptability. Make a plan, but don’t be afraid to change it when something new comes up and it stops working. Don’t just stick with it because you said it an hour ago.” 

Alec isn’t sure how he feels about getting leadership advice from Lorenzo Rey of all people, but it’s good advice.

Alec catches himself staring at the yellow magic that Lorenzo uses, remembering the short period of time he had it at his own disposal. He thinks about that more than he cares to admit, the feel of it just under the surface of his skin, the power at his fingertips… 

“Have you considered using it again?” Lorenzo asks, and Alec sees his gaze watching him watch the magic. “The alliance rune?” 

Alec shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes, plenty of times. But not seriously. Not after the pushback it gave the first time, and the price Clary paid for it’s creation… the Angels clearly didn’t want that to exist. I can’t ignore that a second time, not considering the potential cost for using it again.” 

Lorenzo nods thoughtfully. “Do you think your Angels will allow it now, if they’re returning Clary and all of her powers back to our world?” 

Alec pauses to consider that. He hadn’t thought about it before, but… maybe, just maybe… 

He refuses to get his hopes up. 

“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” Alec suggests instead of pursuing that line of thinking, though now that it’s in the back of his mind he knows it’s going to stay there for quite some time. He clears his throat to refocus. “Alright. So we stick with the plan for now and change it if we have to-”

“What plan?” Clary’s voice sounds from the doorway, causing both men to jump slightly at the unexpected sound. 

“You didn’t leave,” Alec observes, pleasantly surprised. When he left her alone in that bedroom, no wards holding her in or person to keep an eye on her, he half expected her to flee the moment she woke up. He has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised to see her still here. 

“I told you, I want answers, too. And it looks like you guys are the ones who have them.” She glances around. “Where’s Magnus?” 

Alec and Lorenzo share a look of concern. Clary seems okay at first, but the longer she thinks about him, trying to remember the warlock and what happened before, the more Alec sees the discomfort grow in her expression. 

“He isn’t here. We didn’t want you to be in any more pain if we could help it. The remembering hurts, doesn’t it?” Alec asks, knowing it’s a stupid question but wanting to hear the answer from her just the same. 

Clary nods. “The first time is the worst. If it’s just a piece of something I can mostly ignore it. But if it’s something big, or all of it at once… well, it sucks. I mean, you saw me, did I pass out again?” 

Alec stores that knowledge away while Lorenzo cringes a bit from behind a boiling pot on the stove. “Ahhh, actually, Miss Fairchild, that was my doing. I… incapacitated you before the pain could. Both times.” 

“Oh,” Clary says, and Alec’s afraid she might actually run at that news. “Thanks, I guess?” 

“You really do trust us, don’t you?” Alec asks, amazed and confused but also more than a little grateful for it. 

Clary nods. “I do. I shouldn’t, but… here we are. Me in a house with two strangers who have ‘incapacitated’ and kidnapped me twice now. If I don’t end up on some procedural cop show a year from now it’ll be a miracle.” 

There’s the unmistakable sound of a portal in the living room and all three of their heads turn towards it. 

“What’s that?” Clary asks, immediately taking a step back. 

Alec looks at her with a cautious grin. “How do you feel about meeting a few more old friends?” 

“Do I have a choice?” Clary says, taking a deep breath. 

Alec considers this, and then nods. “Yes. You do. Say the word and they’re gone.” 

Clary hesitates. There are voices now, calling out for Alec. A girl and a guy. 

Alec watches Clary carefully as the initial fear fades to the stubborn determination he remembers her so well for; a flash of the old Clary if he ever saw one. 

“No… it’s fine. I’m fine,” she says with a resolute nod, and Alec is positive she’s trying to convince herself more than him, but lets it go. “Let’s do this.”

[bytheangell]

This Is the Coda That Never Ends... Part 12

(Read on AO3) (Read from the start)

Lorenzo watches as Andrew disappears through the portal back to the Institute, which will deposit him right outside the front doors where they left a short while back. The moment his boyfriend is out of site he feels a small bit of relief - he’s a different person around Andrew. Softer. Kinder. Maybe a different person isn’t the correct way to look at it - he’s more himself around Andrew. It isn’t often he feels as if he has something to prove around him, or a reputation already formed to uphold. It’s refreshing… except for the moments it isn’t. 

Those moments are when Lorenzo interacts with Andrew around the other Shadowhunters at the Institute, where both of their easy smiles and casual first name addressing seems to be something of an oddity… and then the moments like this, where Andrew’s duty as a Shadowhunter, or Lorenzo’s obligations as a Warlock, come before their desire to be open and honest with one another. 

Of course Lorenzo understands why Andrew didn’t tell him last night. It isn’t the first time either of them has kept something from the other, and it won’t be the last, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when it happens.

Magnus fills him in with a quick summary of the events since Clary saw Jace at the art show, and Lorenzo listens in silence, taking in every detail with a careful ear. He’s finishing the story as they walk back out with drinks in hand - Magnus with two, one for himself and one he hands over to his husband who is looking down at Clary on the sofa while he waits for them. 

“So it’s more than just flashes of memory if she’s showing up outside the Institute. Her knowledge of the Shadow World is returning much faster than you anticipated.” 

“Or maybe not. Who knows how long this has been going on before now… perhaps her memories started to return the day after the wedding, and she simply ignored them until now.” Magnus points out. 

Lorenzo hums in consideration. “True.” They all look down at Clary on the sofa. “So we don’t focus on the past, and turn our attention fully to the present. The fact of the matter is that she’s remembering, and she’s remembering everything. Why is this such a terrible thing, again?” Lorenzo asks, still unsure why they aren’t celebrating the fact that their friend is returning to them, or furthermore helping her remember faster to get her back properly? It’s certainly what he would do in their position. 

“Because,” Alec starts to explain. “The angels took her memories and her abilities as a punishment - that’s the sort of power they have. If it looks like we’re intentionally trying to work around their decision there’s no telling what the ramifications of that might be.” 

Lorenzo shakes his head. “You and your Angels,” he mutters. “The whole thing is ridiculous. If they aren’t powerful enough to keep a teenager from fighting through a mental block then perhaps they should rethink their hierarchy.” 

Magnus snorts. “That’s the same mindset I took. If they’re that powerful, then it should’ve been permanent. Clearly it was meant to be undone eventually.”

Alec just shakes his head. “No. You don’t just temporarily take away someone’s runes.” There’s a pain 

“So what do you propose we do with her?” Lorenzo asks, eyebrow raised. 

Alec gives a little start at that. “We?” he asks, surprised. 

“Yes, Lightwood-” 

“-Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus corrects again, but Lorenzo simply rolls his eyes and continues. How they expected to know which of them he’s addressing while they’re together if they went by the same name is ridiculous, and he’s positive Magnus only makes a big deal out of it to annoy him and not because he truly cares what Lorenzo refers to him as. 

“-we. Because the last time I checked, your Head of Security called me in to knock out a former Shadowhunter on Institute grounds, and now that I’m all up to speed on what’s happening within my jurisdiction as High Warlock of Brooklyn, this is - unfortunately - very much my problem now, too.” 

Magnus sighs, clearly not thrilled with this development, but Alec nods. 

“You’re right. I just didn’t expect you to be so eager to help.” There’s a silence after that, one that none of them fill with an explanation. Lorenzo has been much better lately about not only serving the Warlocks under him, but also the Shadow World at large. Of course, being in Alicante now, Alec and Magnus aren’t around to witness most of it. 

“Well, I am. So don’t make me regret it.” Lorenzo huffs, almost immediately regretting it when Alec and Magnus both exchange a smirk. 

“How long until she wakes up?” Alec asks, walking over to where Clary rests on the sofa, stopping to brush a small strand of hair out of her face. 

“Not very long. I used a very light magic to render her unconscious. Simply enough to apply again if the effects need to be lengthened, significantly harder to break through in the event you want them shortened. There wasn’t much time for details over the phone when Andrew called so I erred on the safe side.” 

Alec nods, pacing back over towards the balcony doors before turning back. 

“Thank you,” Alec says to him suddenly, continuing when Lorenzo doesn’t reply. “I just realized I hadn’t said that yet. You didn’t have to come, and I know the position it potentially put you in, so I want you to know I appreciate it. We all do,” Alec adds, and he doesn’t have to say he’s talking mostly about Andrew. 

“Good thing I did, otherwise I may never have known about what’s going on. What if she’d shown up the Dumort? Or tried to enter the Seelie Realm?” He demands. There’s a barely concealed edge of anger under his words. If it were much longer than a day or two he’d likely be furious, but he has to give them the benefit of the doubt that they would’ve done the right thing had he not been called in to help first. Still. “I know the potential threat to the Warlocks specifically has the least possibility, but-” 

“You’re right,” Alec cuts him off. “I should’ve told you right away. All of you. I’ll have Isabelle call up Maia and Lily and fill them in, too. I don’t want a repeat of the Soul Sword.” Alec’s gaze drops with the statement, and Magnus reaches over to place a hand comfortingly in the crook of Alec’s arm. Even Lorenzo feels a bit guilty for bringing that up earlier as well: the loss to the Downworld was great that day, and it’s a guilt Lorenzo knows Alec carries with him still, and likely always would. 

“Good,” is the only reply Lorenzo offers. 

Just then a small, muffled groan sounds from the sofa, and the redhead begins to shift on her side, bringing a hand up to her face as she blinks her eyes open. 

“Ugh, what happened--” she starts, groggy words cut abruptly short at the sight of the three men in front of her and the dawning realization that she doesn’t know where she is. 

Lorenzo watches her sit upright, pressing herself as far back against the sofa as she can, scrambling to put as much distance between them and her as possible. When they make no move to stop her she bolts for the door, but Magnus prevents it from opening with a quick wave of his hand. 

Somehow none of them, in their desire to help Clary and ensure that she’s safe and taken care of, stopped to consider the fact that she wouldn’t know that. 

“It’s alright, we aren’t going to hurt you,” Magnus speaks first. 

“Oh, that’s reassuring. You just kidnapped me and…” her words drop off at the sight of her artwork spread out around the apartment. “Are you stalking me?” 

“I can assure you that I’m not stalking you, but as for these two…” Lorenzo starts, stopping only when Magnus hits him on the arm. He gives a slight laugh, because technically speaking they were watching her on the cameras, and Jace had been watching her at the art show, and really the Shadowhunters involved were doing everything just shy of proper stalking. 

“Don’t listen to him, Clary” Magnus tells her. “We aren’t stalking you.” 

“Just the kidnapping, then?” She snaps, a bit of fire behind her eyes.

“That isn’t what this is-” Magnus continues, but Clary isn’t hearing it. 

“So I’m free to go?” Clary counters, and Lorenzo can’t help another small huff of a laugh. He likes this girl, it’s a pity he didn’t get to know her very well before, well, everything.  

“Not yet,” Magnus says carefully. “But you will be, I promise.”  

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow at that. Does Magnus mean that, or is he just saying it so she calms down. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Magnus continues, distracting Lorenzo from his thoughts. 

“The last thing I remember was being outside an abandoned building… except it wasn’t abandoned. I saw people go inside, then my headache came back, and I… I think I passed out. How did I get here?” She’s still pressed against the far wall of the Loft, by the door she couldn’t get to open. They can see her eyes dart towards the balcony and the rooms towards the back, but so far she doesn’t make a move toward them. 

“Yes, when I found you it looked as if you were in a great deal of pain. How are you feeling now?” Lorenzo asks her, fighting the urge to move towards her and run a bit of magical diagnostics, as it were. She can’t get out but that doesn’t mean he has to abuse her captivity. 

“Fine.” Her response is short, expression guarded as she eyes Lorenzo with an added layer of wariness at the knowledge that he’s the one who found her. She tries the door handle again, sighs, and makes her way slowly back towards the sofa. Alec, Magnus, and himself remain where they are - she seems to relax when they show their willingness to keep their distance. 

“You aren’t going to try and run again?” Lorenzo asks. When Clary looks like she might argue he shakes his head. “Don’t think I didn’t see you sizing up the potential exits.” 

“No,” she says slowly. “Just tell me what you want from me.” 

Lorenzo looks to Magnus, who looks to Alec. “We didn’t think this far ahead, did we?” Magnus mutters. 

Clary’s eyes follow Magnus’ and land on Alec. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” she points out, looking at him a moment or two longer before giving a quiet gasp. “Your neck,” she says, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at the rune there. “It’s just like Jace’s, and the two people who went into that building.” 

Lorenzo watches Alec’s face remain impressively impassive. 

“Yes,” Alec says finally, surprising Lorenzo. He knows the whole point of this is to keep Clary away from the Institute and the places she’s remembering. A minute ago Alec was the one defending the decision that she couldn’t have them back, that it was some nonsensical will of the Angels. Why be honest with her now? 

Clary frowns. “You seem familiar. Did we have a class together?” 

“No.” Alec shakes his head and Lorenzo notes a look of disappointment cross his features, but just for a moment. I’m a friend of Jace’s. We used to know each other.” 

“Then why don’t I remember you?” Clary’s voice is quieter now, worry flitting across her features despite her best attempts to look brave in the face of her situation. 

“Because you forgot. You forgot a lot of things that you’re starting to remember now, aren’t you, Clary?” 

Clary’s breath hitches at that, her brows furrowing. “Stop calling me Clary,” she deflects instead of answering. 

“That was the name on your exhibition,” Magnus points out. 

“Only because my psychotic Art Professor couldn’t fit ‘Clarissa Fairchild’ onto the program in full and still have it be ‘aesthetically pleasing’,” she says with an eye roll. “Everyone calls me Clarissa, or just Rissa.” 

“Of course, Clarissa, whatever you’re comfortable with,” Magnus agrees. 

“...were we friends too?” Clary asks, eyes trained on Magnus’. “There’s something so familiar about you. All of you, actually. Is that why you haven’t hurt me yet?” 

The slight waver behind the ‘yet’ pulls at Lorenzo’s heartstrings. 

“We’re not going to hurt you at all,” Magnus reassures her. “I know it might sound a little crazy, but that place you went to earlier... you shouldn’t know about it. We’re just trying to keep everyone safe, especially you.”

“It actually doesn’t sound that crazy at all,” Clary admits. “And I trust you. Don’t ask me why, because I know I definitely shouldn’t, but I just do.”

Lorenzo watches the scene unfold as an outsider. It’s a position he finds himself it less and less these days, the longer Magnus and Alec are away from New York and Lorenzo is left to handle business mostly unchecked, trusted by Isabelle and the others more with each passing day since Edom, and the wedding, and Andrew. New issues that arise are his to deal with as he sees fit, his input in the Downworld Council never dismissed, but this? This feels a lot like the start of his appointment to High Warlock all over again. 

“Do you think it wise to prompt her this way?” Lorenzo asks Alec in a hushed tone, one Magnus might overhear but Clary will not. 

“I don’t know,” Alec admits. “I just need to know how much she knows.” 

“We could try to go into her head?” Lorenzo suggests. “Perhaps call upon the Silent--”  

At that moment a noise breaks through the relative quiet of the apartment. A cell phone rings, loud but muffled by the fabric of Clary’s jeans. They all look at it in surprise and Clary tenses, eyes darting between the men to weigh her chances of getting to it. 

“I just want to warn you that my roommate is a worrier - she’ll probably call the police to track my phone if I don’t come back tonight,” Clary says. 

“Answer it,” Magnus tells her. 

“What?!” Alec and Clary say at the same time as Lorenzo, all with equal measures of disbelief. 

“You said you trust us. So I’m returning that trust. Answer it.” Magnus nods towards the pocket where the sound is coming from, waiting expectantly. 

Clary reaches for her phone slowly, and seems continually surprised every inch her arm moves that she isn’t stopped until the phone is out and up to her ear. 

“Rebecca? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, my battery died.” Clary listens for a second, glances up at the three of them, and bites down on her lower lip. 

“I--” she starts, then stops, hesitating again. “I ran into some old friends, I don’t know how late I’ll be. I might crash here for the night, so don’t wait up.” 

Lorenzo looks startled at the statement, but Alec and Magnus only smile. He has to stop and remember the girl who would sacrifice herself to save her friends, the one willing to throw herself into the unknown no matter the risk. He didn’t know her for very long, but there was a boldness to her every time they crossed paths for that short period of time. He sees that girl return with a resolved nod at her own words to her roommate. 

“See you in the morning,” Clary says, ending the conversation and closing her phone. “God, I hope I don’t regret this,” she adds, looking back up at Alec, Magnus, and Lorenzo. “But I just want you to know I’m staying for me. I feel like I’m going insane today and I want some goddamn answers.” 

“How convenient,” Alec says. “Because so do we, so let’s help each other out. Why did you go to The Insti- to that abandoned building today?” 

“Honestly? I’m not sure. Second time today that happened, second time it backfired horribly.” Clary sighs. 

“So you don’t remember anything about it?” Alec prys. 

Clary shakes her head. “Not a real memory. I thought I saw the inside of it, when the doors opened, and it looked like I’d been there before but-” she’s in the middle of speaking when she screws her eyes shut suddenly, bringing her hands up to her head. 

All three of them are by her side in a moment, Magnus and Lorenzo each reaching out hesitant hands. 

Magnus is the first to react, more comfortable around the girl from their previous friendship, and Lorenzo watches as blue magic flows from his hand and across the top of her head. It should help, the healing, but instead Lorenzo sees Clary’s eyes look up at Magnus, widening first in recognition before closing again in pain much worse than the first time. 

“Magnus,” Clary says, the word choking out through gritted teeth. “Make it stop, please.” 

“It isn’t working,” Magnus says, and Lorenzo allows him a moment to realize why on his own… but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s too close to the girl, too influenced to be an impartial observer of the facts. Lorenzo watches it play out for a moment in front of him and fears the same clouded judgement for himself one day, especially if today’s willingness to help Andrew with little to no information is any indication. 

But for now he pushes those concerns away and steps forward, moving Magnus’ hands out of the way to place his own on either side of Clary’s head. His yellow magic is visible just a moment, a short burst that fades as quickly as it appears. 

The next moment Clary is slumped back onto the sofa, unconscious again. 

“It’s the memories,” Lorenzo says. “She was in pain at the Institute over her memory of the building returning. Then again just now, except it wasn’t as strong until you used your magic on her. Her pain increased the moment she recognized your magic and said your name.” 

“She did, didn’t she. I hadn’t even realized,” Magnus admits, sighing as he sits on the sofa next to her, taking the time to prop her head up onto a pillow and drape a blanket over her this time. “I was so caught up in trying to help I was only making it worse.” He looks around suddenly concerned. “She shouldn’t be here, not if she remembers me; she’ll remember the Loft, too.” 

Lorenzo has to agree with Magnus’ reasoning, but the idea of dumping her back off at school is far from appealing at the moment, not after knocking her out twice. The last thing he needs are the police stopping him in the street on kidnapping charges. Magnus may be willing to believe she’s fine with all of this but Lorenzo knows better than to take anyone at their word in a compromising situation. 

“So where can we take her that’s safe, but isn’t anywhere she’s been before?” Alec asks, his gaze slowly turning to fall on Lorenzo. 

“Don’t look at me, this is your plan, I’m just--” Lorenzo starts, but stops suddenly realizing what Alec is hinting at. “No. No, absolutely not.” 

“I’ll come with. She doesn’t remember me yet, so I’m safe,” Alec insists. 

“Can’t we just pull her memories from today and send her on her way?” Lorenzo suggests hopefully. 

“No,” Magnus insists. “Not again. Twice she’s lost this part of her identity. She’s meant to know, to be part of this world. I’m not watching that get taken from her a third time” Magnus swears. 

Lorenzo is about to protest again but there’s such strong conviction behind Magnus’ words that it gives him pause. 

“Come on, Lorenzo. We all need answers here, and we aren’t going to get them if we wipe her memories and send her away,” Alec starts, a slow smirk spread across his features. “You said it yourself - what if she shows up at the Dumort next? Then we have to send out a team to save her, and Underhill is in danger, and--”

Lorenzo narrows his eyes. “That’s low, Lightwood.” But this time Magnus doesn't correct him on the name, knowing the delicate balance of the moment they're in. Lorenzo knows that Alec is only saying that to taunt him - he’s a good person, and a good leader, and would never put any of his people in jeopardy unless absolutely necessary. It also drives the point home beyond argument - this isn’t just a Shadowhunter problem, and Lorenzo very specifically has some additional investment in how this plays out. 

“Fine,” Lorenzo reluctantly agrees, a portal already swirling open behind them. “Let’s go.”

[bytheangell]

it runs in the family

(Read on AO3) (( A/N: I know there’s some debate on how the ‘tapping into one another’s feelings’ works with the parabatai bond, so for the sake of this fic we’re going with: you can totally do it, either consciously or with them just seeping through when they’re strong enough.)) (also TW: coping mechanisms that can definitely be inferred as self-harm)

It isn’t often that Isabelle is the one holding everything together. Jace is the fighter, the first on the field and the last to leave it during every mission. He never shies away from taking a hit to protect her, or Alec, or any of the other Shadowhunters, for that matter. Sure, sometimes he’s a little too brash, but it’s just who he is and she loves him for it. And Alec? Alec is a born leader and her big brother through and through. Even if he wasn’t technically her commanding officer there’s no way he’d let his guard down for even a second if she might be in danger. They both know she’s more than capable in handling herself but that doesn’t stop his older sibling instincts from kicking in the moment she’s in trouble.

It isn’t just in the field, though - they’re there for her for the emotional moments as well. Jace takes her out for comfort food and threatens to beat up any person who ever dares to break her heart, and Alec offers a shoulder to cry on more than once after she finds out about Robert’s affair, or after their mother’s de-runing. Both of them stay by her side (when she allowed them to) during the ugliest moments of her Yin Fen recovery. She has no doubts that they’re both there for her through thick and thin, no matter what.

So when she starts to notice them spiraling - Jace first and Alec close behind - she’s caught off guard. She isn’t used to being the one in the position to help. This might actually be the first time she has enough of her life together to even be able to consider acting as someone else’s support instead of the other way around.

She tries to reach out to them, of course - hoping to start a conversation innocently enough and branch into a more serious discussion. It never works. They deflect, grow defensive, and shut down in true Lightwood fashion. So she falls back for the first few days, hoping they’ll sort themselves out and settle like they always have in the past.

But this is unlike anything they’ve faced before, and they don’t settle. In fact, things only go from bad to worse.

After just a few days she can’t continue to stay silent. She offers help, insists they lean on her. They won’t have it. They won’t talk to her, doubtless trying to protect her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see the way they both change after the night of the explosion. They’re both irritable and hiding in their work;Jace is out on patrol more hours than not.  Every time she sees Jace his eyes lose a little more light, a little more life. He volunteers for the most dangerous missions and his actions become reckless. Alec hides it better, at least, but the unrest and guilt he feels through their parabatai bond weighs on him... and that’s on top of the guilt he feels over Magnus’ loss of magic. He tries to be strong for Jace’s sake, for Magnus’, and for her own, but Isabelle can see him cracking at the edges and wonders how long it’ll be until he breaks.

It’s less than a week before Jace snaps. She sees the broken mirror in the bathroom, shards of glass littering the floor, and follows the trail the drops of blood leading out of the room make though she already knows where they’ll end. Unsurprisingly she finds herself standing outside Jace’s room, and opens the door without knocking. It looks like a hurricane tore through it. Anything on a shelf or a tabletop is now on the floor. Chairs sit askew, some knocked over entirely, and there’s a mark on the wall with the same tell-tale drying crimson that brings her here.

“Oh, Jace.” She says softly, the name escaping her lips in a painful sigh. She shuts the door again and retreats, asking him later about his bandaged hand.

“Hit the punching bag a little too hard,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Jace-” she starts to argue. He can’t keep lying to her like this, he needs to let her in.

“Drop it.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his voice, one she isn’t sure she’s ever heard directed at her before.

It silences her immediately and she turns away before she says something she’ll regret.

She’s walking by the training room when the sound of somebody actually hitting the punching bag a little too hard draws her attention. Spotting Alec in the room isn’t surprising; seeing him in jeans instead of workout clothes (the button-down shirt he was wearing earlier tossed to the side), however,  is definitely unusual. He obviously didn’t plan on ending up here. The next thing that catches her off-guard is the way he’s beating the bag - because he isn’t just training, he’s attacking it, sending it swinging every which way with a force more akin to rage than his usual frustration. His breathing is heavy and Isabelle can’t quite tell if the moisture on his face is only sweat or tears, too.

“Alec?” She tries hesitantly from the doorway. He doesn’t even register her presence, letting out a noise that’s as much a scream as it is a cry while his hits intensify; even from a distance Isabelle can see his knuckles split.  “Alec! ALEC!” Before she knows what she’s doing she’s crossing the room, grabbing her brother by the shoulder to pull him away from the punching bag.

Alec, startled by the sudden touch in the heat of the moment he’s lost in, spins toward her with the swing of a fist she narrowly dodges, the arm falling to his side when he sees her and stares with confusion.

“Alec what the hell ,” Izzy gasps, eyes wide.

“You should know better than to sneak up on someone like that,” he huffs, like this is her fault somehow.

“I was yelling your name.” She points out, eyes dropping to his hands. “Let me see that,” she demands, pulling out her stele.

“It’s fine. I deal with it later.”

“Alec, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, just drop it.” He snaps, eyes narrowing, and Izzy’s struck with a moment of dejavu.

“You too? You sound like Jace.” No sooner do the words leave her mouth does Isabelle pause. “Alec, you’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he repeats for a third time, but he isn’t talking about his hand this time. “I’m just keeping tabs on him. It isn’t like I can keep half of it out anyway.”

She knows what he’s doing now - why he’s down here with a fury she isn’t used to seeing in this brother. “Tapping into the bond while he’s like this isn’t good for you, Alec.” She knows he means well. He wants to make sure Jace is alright, and if he isn’t, Alec wants to know exactly how not alright he is. But that doesn’t mean he can shoulder the pain they’re both feeling at the same time, especially not if this reaction is any proof.

“I’ve got it under control, Izzy.” He sighs. “I wish I could say the same for Jace. I’m worried about him. I know he’s done stupid things before, but I’m really worried this time.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, looking at him with dark eyes full of concern. “I know the feeling.”

---

When Jace volunteers himself for a high-risk mission Izzy isn’t surprised to find Alec agreeing to go right behind him. Jace glares, vaguely aware he’s being babysat, but Alec pretends not to notice when he makes some off-handed comment about taking the reins on anything involving the escaped convicts. Of course Izzy knows better, and with just a moment’s pause for consideration she’s rounding out the patrol by throwing her own name onto the roster.

“What?” She asks with an innocent shrug. “I’ve been spending too much time in the Weapons room. Don’t want to get rusty, do I?”

She doesn’t know what to expect with the three of them out on the field together but no amount of imagining could prepare her for what goes down. Jace, running out ahead without a plan, nearly getting himself killed in his recklessness. Alec thinking quick to step in and save the situation but not quick enough to stop Jace from getting hurt. She made the mistake of thinking they could hold it together when it mattered, when lives were at stake. She was wrong.

And so Isabelle, despite her best intentions, now stands helpless at a distance before she’s able to step in to take control and finish the job. She listens as Jace yells at her and walks away, not even trying to hear reason.

She wants to help him, but instead she feels herself losing him more and more with every step away from her he takes... and she can’t think of a single thing she can do to stop it.

---

Isabelle has a little extra work to do for her end of the report after Jace’s actions in the field, but once it’s done she’s eager to hand it off to Alec and be done for the day. She stops by Alec’s office, only giving one short knock before making her way inside like she normally does.

“Hey Alec, I finished up the forensi--” she starts, already holding out the paperwork she came to drop off in her hands when she notices the way Alec brings both hands immediately up to his face and turns away from her.

“Hey Iz,” he manages, and though she can hear him fighting to keep his tone even there’s a crack he doesn’t manage to control.

“Alec what’s wrong?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“Is that the report? Here, I’ll take it,” he swings around in his chair, eyes red and face lightly flushed, but to his credit he manages an almost convincing neutral expression.

“Alec,” she repeats with pleading eyes, holding the papers away from him now so he can’t reach them. The report can wait.  

“It’s just… you saw him out there, Iz. It’s so overwhelming all the time, it just never stops. The guilt, the anger, the frustration… he can’t keep going on like this.”

“And neither can you.” She doesn’t just mean the parabatai bond either, and the pointed look she gives him makes that very clear. “Clary isn’t your fault as much as it isn’t his. Magnus either. You can’t keep carrying the weight for both of you.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Alec mutters.

“No, it isn’t. None of this is easy for me. I’m watching the two of you lose control more and more each day and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I might not be bound to you but I’m still your sister and I can’t keep watching my brothers self-destruct at arm’s length, it isn’t fair!”

Alec falls very quiet after her outburst and for a moment or two Izzy is positive she said the wrong thing and that he’s about to kick her out and never speak to her again. Maybe it’s selfish of her, but she refuses to allow herself to fall into the same pit as Alec and Jace - she wants to help them, but she won’t allow them to drag her down into silent denial with them in the process.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She allows the briefest flicker of a smile before her phone is in her hand, dialing a number and bringing it up to her ear. “Alec’s office, now.” She hangs up before the person on the other end can argue and a few minutes later Jace is standing in the doorway, hesitating at the sight of them.

“Emergency Lightwood Sibling meeting. Shut the door.”

They might not want to let her help them but she’s beyond giving them the option. She’s been going about this all wrong - they didn’t need her to stand by and be supportive, to try and talk and offer condolences and reassurances. They didn’t need her to be there waiting for whenever they decide to come around and talk to her. What they need - and what she fully intends to give them - is a reality check.

“I know I’m your kid sister, but I’m not some fragile little girl. I’m your equal. Both of you . And you need to start talking to me and letting me help before this gets out of control and someone dies out there. Again . What happened with Lilith is neither of your faults, but if this keeps up and something else happens, this time it will be on you.”

Isabelle knows the words are harsh but she also knows that Alec takes his ability to lead very seriously, as does Jace. Even though she almost can’t bring herself to say them, once the words are out and she sees the way Jace diverts his gaze towards the floor and Alec shifts away from her in his chair it’s clear that they have the desired effect.

“And if you aren't going to talk to me, at least talk to someone, because neither of you can keep going on like this. Look at you.”

She looks pointedly between Jace and Alec, her gaze dropping down to Alec’s newly re-bandaged hands. Jace’s eyes narrow at the telltale site of it knowing, as it always is with Alec, that anything he doesn’t immediately fix with an iratze is intentional. “I thought you stopped that,” Jace says quietly.

Alec glances down at the scarring cuts still healing on Jace's own hands, left over from the other day’s outburst. “I didn't think you would start.”

It dawns on Jace what Alec is talking about and he looks close to tears, mirroring the state Isabelle found Alec in minutes before.

“I'm sorry. You shouldn't have… I shouldn't have let it get bad enough for you to feel, I didn't realize…” As if for the first time, Jace seems to be thinking of how his actions are affecting more than just him and Izzy knows she’s finally getting through. This is the push they needed, to pull themselves together not for their own sakes, but for each other’s.

“See? This is what happens when we push each other away. We’re supposed to be a team. No, screw that, we’re a family . Neither of you have to deal with all of this alone. Let. Me. Help. You.”  

Alec and Jace mumble something and Izzy crosses her arms over her chest, eyebrow raised. “What was that?” “Okay.” “Fine.”

Come the slightly louder replies, and she allows herself the briefest flicker of a smile at her victory. It doesn’t last long, knowing the circumstances that made it necessary.

“I’m going to call mom and see if she wants to have us all over for dinner tonight like she’s been talking about all week. No cases. No patrols. No paperwork. One night to unwind and recharge. Deal?”

She can’t help but sound a little too eager as she makes the suggestion because it’s as much for her as it is for them. She needs this. She misses her brothers, her mother, her family . Not a day has gone by since the explosion that she didn’t consider how easily she could’ve lost any one of them and it’s a thought that keeps her up at night. Who knows how many more chances they’ll have to be together like this? She always knew it was part of the job… they all did. But it’s never felt as real as it does now.

If they can sense the desperation in her tone they’re kind enough not to mention it.

“That sounds really nice, actually.” Jace is the first to agree. And then, after a pause, adds, “Thanks, Izzy.”

“It does, she’ll really like that.” Alec agrees. “Thanks.”

Neither of them have to say that it isn’t the idea of dinner they’re taking her for.

“You’re welcome.”

It isn’t going to be easy, and it isn’t going to be quick, but they’re going to make it through this. Maybe a little worse for wear, but when aren’t they these days? So long as they stick together they can handle whatever the world - Shadow or otherwise - throws at them.

Starting tomorrow.