#and magnus not always having his cats eyes like hes supposed to ??

[aleclightofmylifewoodbane]

i truly hate the show bc YOU GUYS DONT KNOW WHAT YOURE MISSING WHEN YOU WATCH THE SHOW BEFORE READING THE BOOKS

you dont know that magnus’ magic is the same striking blue as alec’s eyes

you dont know alec’s eyes are the same color as the ancestors of a family so intertwined with his

you don’t know that magnus sees ghosts in the blue of alec’s eyes

you don’t know magnus is two inches taller than alec

you dont know that alec loves that magnus is taller than him

you don’t know that they dated in secret for months

you dont know alec’s wardrobe is absolutely hopeless and he only wears years old worn out sweaters with holes in the cuffs and magnus loves it

you dont know that sometimes magnus wears his worn out sweaters

you dont know that they didnt get married for years until alec became consul and they could get married in warlock blue and shadowhunter gold under his new law

you dont know they have two kids, before they ever married

you dont know their first son is named after alec’s brother max, who actually died during the war

you dont know that max’s skin is blue, and his eyes are just a shade darker than alec’s

you dont know that alec loved one man so much he changed the world for him

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 14: WE BREAK A BRIDGE

I SWEAR I picked the order at random and then committed to it through the entirety of this series for Nico, of ALL of them, to get this chapter! I think I have a magic power, and I wish to return it.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

It didn't take a genius to figure out why Will looked suddenly sunken, a weight appearing in his usually open face. Nico had no delusions, he was about to read about a lot of Will's siblings dying.

Nico didn't know how he was supposed to just start reading like he didn't know something awful like that was about to happen to Will. How had Will done this? What curse of Hades had been placed on them that he now sat in exactly Will's shoes when he'd been the one to read of Bianca's death?

Will gave him a brave smile. There was always such a kindness in his eyes. He was encouraging Nico like he had from the beginning. To start, to get this over with.

He didn't know how to read, he didn't know how to do this to actually be of help though. Will had been a kind of support he'd never had before through all of this and he wanted to try and be that now. Will just nestled down into his seat, shifting his weight to get comfortable, his arm over his shoulders as warm as ever. Like a cat settling in, Nico had never been around them much but he couldn't help think of the comparison. All he was missing was the purring.

So Nico read, "We Break a Bridge."

Alex snorted in delight at once. "Only Percy! Taking a metaphor for trusting others and turning it into a group activity of violence!"

"You break it you buy it Percy," Jason chuckled.

"Gods I hope that bill never finds my mom," Percy frowned.

The others made a few wisecracks too, but all Nico noticed was Will. Pressing into him, obviously trying to hold him as close as possible. Nico honestly wanted to set aside the book and let him.

He didn't know it, but he'd come a long way from that guy who'd landed in here who wouldn't consider tolerating such a thing.

Fortunately, Blackjack was on duty.

"It's a thing of beauty when Blackjack's on duty," Percy said in a sing-song voice.*

"Was that a quote?" Annabeth looked at him in confusion.

"Yeah, sorry, I should stop that," Percy chuckled, again realizing nobody got it but him.

I did my best taxicab whistle, and within a few minutes two dark shapes circled out of the sky.

'Avoiding those pesky distractions of saving everyone along the way,' Will understood as he tried not to fidget around to much.

They looked like hawks at first, but as they descended I could make out the long galloping legs of pegasi.

Yo, boss. Blackjack landed at a trot, his friend Porkpie right behind him. Man, I thought those wind gods were gonna knock us to Pennsylvania until we said we were with you!

"Land of the Eagles, I guess they don't want competition," Magnus chuckled, though the football reference went over most of their heads, and Jason was looking at him particularly strangely.

"Is that all it took to get past those winds guarding the place?" Alex rolled her eyes. "What's to stop Kronos showing up lying saying he just had a nice cupcake to deliver?"

"Even he's not evil enough to think of misusing cupcakes like that," Percy shook his head.

"Thanks for coming," I told him. "Hey, why do pegasi gallop as they fly, anyway?"

"So that they never lose practice of aiming?" Thalia shrugged.

Jason sighed and slumped in his seat. He really wanted to get his hands on a pegasi skeleton, but knew saying that out loud would make him sound like a lunatic right now.

Blackjack whinnied. Why do humans swing their arms as they walk? I dunno, boss. It just feels right.

"Love, love, love that that pegasus just told you to stop overthinking things," Annabeth grinned. She owed Blackjack some sugar cubes.

"Did it do any good?" Percy rolled his eyes at both of them, even if one was only in spirit. "No." He answered his own question.

Where to?

"We need to get to the Williamsburg Bridge," I said.

Blackjack lowered his neck. You're darn right, boss. We flew over it on the way here, and it don't look good. Hop on!

"If your camp hands out medals, Blackjack deserves one," Jason smiled. "No hesitation, just flying you right into battle, every time."

"I'll find a way to give him a horse-sized donut one day," Percy nodded.

On the way to the bridge, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. The Minotaur was one of the first monsters I'd ever defeated. Four years ago he'd nearly killed my mother on Half-Blood Hill. I still had nightmares about that.

Magnus was a big complainer about Percy's nightmares. He kept insisting it was an extra layer of cruelty he couldn't even get a decent sleep without being bombarded with the world's problems.

He was suddenly just a tad grateful they hadn't been getting a night-by-night example of everything Percy dreamed of, the good, the bad, and the normal trauma.

I'd been hoping he would stay dead for a few centuries, but I should've known my luck wouldn't hold.

"The best summary of your life by far," Nico nodded.

"Yeah," Percy groaned. "Who do I pay to rewrite that?"

Will offered an awkward smile, the errant comment on the tip of his tongue his dad perhaps being able to pull that off, but it fumbled off fast. He just wasn't in the mood.

We saw the battle before we were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.

We came in for a low pass, and I saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, building fiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's way. But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched behind them.

It seemed like a stalemate that was going to collapse any second, Percy's throat tightened at the fresh memory. The smell of the smoke had clogged him up before he even got close, he didn't know how those guys had been aiming with such precision to hit anything. Dust had been sweeping across his feet like he'd brought the shore with him as he landed.

He wished the bodies would have vanished as well, but then, that's what separated them from the enemy.

Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to know.

The same thing that would have happened to Percy all those years ago if Chiron hadn't saved his hind. He wasn't there to save every kid with half-a-dozen arrows this time though, Will felt seized by the thought like someone had grabbed his soul.

"There!" Annabeth called from the back of her pegasus.

Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was Old Beefhead himself.

"I'm sure that's exactly what the ancient Greeks called him while running for their lives in that first labyrinth," Thalia looked at him in her usual pride for never passing a moment to insult someone.

"I hope Theseus made the first hamburger out of him," Percy smirked.

The last time I'd seen the Minotaur, he'd been wearing nothing but his tighty whities. I don't know why.

"Sorry Nico, but those four words are the best summary of Percy's life," Annabeth cut in, "and from his own head!"

"I really could just wear that on the back of any shirt for the rest of my life," Percy sighed.

Maybe he'd been shaken out of bed to chase me.

"I am now imagining Zeus and or Hades just showing up in a monster's house and kicking the frame of their bed until they do their bidding," Alex nodded.

"I'm still half convinced he has Echidna on speed dial for next time," Percy nodded.

"Next time you, piss of Zeus?" Annabeth asked in concern.

"Yeah," he looked at her blankly like he could mean anything else.

This time, he was prepared for battle.

From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear—a kiltlike apron of leather and metal flaps,

"For shame on you Percy for never wearing standard Greek battle gear yourself," Alex cackled.

From anyone else, he would have assumed Alex was mocking him for the idea of guys wearing kilts, but from Alex he was pretty sure she just wanted him in that get-up for potential nerd conventions.

bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull—hair and hide and muscle leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns. He seemed larger than the last time I'd seen him—ten feet tall at least.

Considering the last time Percy had 'seen him,' it had been pouring down rain and Percy's mind might have honestly still been obstructed by Mist, Nico would have assumed in fact the Minotaur would have seemed smaller to the now teenager about to face him down.

A double-bladed axe was strapped to his back, but he was too impatient to use it. As soon as he saw me circling overhead (or sniffed me, more likely, since his eyesight was bad), he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.

"I imagine him like a rhino," Thalia nodded. "He just violently attacks without question at the slightest movement. Your scent is like his red flag."

"Great, just what I always wanted, another chance at being a conquistador," Percy's smile was nearly vindictive. This monster was going to wish he'd been reincarnated as a chicken hybrid instead by the time Percy was through with him.

"Blackjack, dive!" I yelled.

What? The pegasus asked. No way could he . . . Holy horse feed!

"Blackjack underestimating his opponents is going to get him hurt," Jason leaned forward in his seat in concern. It's possible that's how he'd even been captured as Luke's personal steed in the first place.

We were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward us, flipping fender over fender like a two-ton boomerang. Annabeth and Porkpie swerved madly to the left, while Blackjack tucked in his wings and plunged. The limo sailed over my head, missing by maybe two inches. It cleared the suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.

"Feel like that god's going to feel the splash and instantly blame you," Jason said, eyes closed and rubbing them.

"No different than any other part of my life," Percy shrugged. As long as he kept the monsters out of the river while cussing him out.

Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car.

"Was he a brand snob?" Magnus asked. "I just want to know if he picked another limosene, or another white car, or if some certain symbol attracted his attention."

"I'd like to hit him with a John Deer tractor but he'd probably throw that back at me too," Percy scowled.

"Drop us behind the lines with the Apollo cabin," I told Blackjack. "Stay in earshot but get out of danger!"

"Easily the best advice you've ever given someone," Annabeth grinned as she patted his shoulder.

"Far better than that time he tried to convince Clarisse to polish her spear in the blood of that wyvern," Thalia nodded.

"I was trying to be supportive," Percy frowned.

I ain't gonna argue, boss!

Blackjack swooped down behind an overturned school bus, where a couple of campers were hiding.

Annabeth and I leaped off as soon as our pegasi's hooves touched the pavement. Then Blackjack and Porkpie soared into the night sky.

Michael Yew ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen. He had a bandaged cut on his arm.

It had taken all of Will's pleading to even get that far, he kept his sigh very internal. The act of making him sit still for that had been a feat only a little brother could manage. He'd tried distracting him by asking what was going to happen to the animals at the zoo since he heard Conner talking about releasing them.

The memory felt a little bitter, a little sad, and a little nostalgic all at once as Miachel had just told him to stay back at the base as he headed out, and not long after a pig had flown overhead like a bizarre angel all its own.

His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.

Nico glanced at Will for probably the thousandth time in as many words to see him trying for that smile now, but his eyes were to sad. It was obvious he was happy his brother died at the peak of his life, even if that cord had been cut to soon for his liking. He still didn't quite understand how Will didn't associate him with that feeling like he did practically every time he looked at Percy.

"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

"For now, we're it," I said.

"Then we're dead," he said.

"I see you got all the cheer Will," Percy told him.

He gave a sad smile back for his lost half-brother, he'd learned that dry sarcasm from him.

"He has such faith in you," Thalia couldn't help a derisive snort.

"Hey, it was a lot of monsters," Annabeth hadn't even really argued the point at the time it was a fair assumption.

"You still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked.

"Nah," Michael said. "Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing."

'Or some stupid thing,' Jason frowned and tipped his head to the side as he felt for Clarisse in that. They still didn't seem to understand the root of her problem, which was why she was clearly refusing to make any bridges herself so the camp could just break those later too. She wasn't just a tool, a means to be used and never respected for more than just her capabilities. Nobody should just be seen as a weapon you could point and then toss aside when you were done.

He found himself rubbing his tattoo, as usual when thoughts like that sprung to easily to mind and he thought about the Daughter of Ares for to long. He craved to know what connection he felt should be there, but now with her not even in the picture he doubted he'd get any more chances for the foreseeable future.

"Least you tried," I said.

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"

"I so wish that was the Ares cabin though, riding in at the perfect moment," Alex admitted. Even if she made a point to knock Micheal on his ass while she stormed into the battle for calling her ugly.

"Yeah, me too," Percy had no problems admitting, even if it caused a severe twinge in his temple to imagine.

He drew an arrow and launched it toward the enemy. The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew.

When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's largest speakers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said.

"A pity, I'd have let him borrow some of mine," Thalia frowned. She wished she could have dispatched some of her hunters to help their cousins out. The Apollo cabin was probably as close to likable as some of the Hunters could get, even if it was the kind of tolerance at a forced family gathering.

Will knew she meant that in a helpful way, but it made her sound cocky like she'd had extras; it still grated on him, as everything was bound to do when his heart hurt so bad. They were still just laughing, just talking like nothing was wrong. His entire cabin had been on that bridge while only he and his youngest half sister had been at the infirmary at the far back and they were treating this like another quest Percy had gone on and obviously came back from.

"A gift from your dad?" I asked. "God of music?"

"I swear it's like you're still reminding yourself of this all these years later," Thalia sighed as she rubbed her temples.

Percy stayed eerily silent. It was hard keeping track of all this!

Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."

Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion.

"We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."

"No," I said. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?"

I drew my sword.

"Percy," Annabeth said, "let me come with you."

"Too dangerous," I said.

Gods did she hate being told that. He was right. And it was annoying he was right! But he'd still told her no, and for a good stupid reason. And she hated it! Frekaing, Curse, of, Achilles!

"Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."

Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot."

She was the brightest person in Camp, Will couldn't stop an eye roll even by threat of death. Everybody knew it, and she and Percy relied on each other to fix everything like the rest of them weren't even there. Micheal getting a chance to say that, even while being ignored, felt justified in a petty way.

I kept my eyes on Annabeth.

She nodded reluctantly. "All right. Get moving."

Before I could lose my courage,

Annabeth sighed, it was as simple as that to him huh? He'd really been trying to prove he wasn't a coward, now of all times! If he hadn't kissed her down in that lake she might have been afraid to ever press her lips to his again, considering when she did he nearly died!

I said, "Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?"

"For luck?" Annabeth scowled at him in a way that suggested she really wished she had her knife on her again. "For luck! Last time I kissed you, you died for two weeks seaweed brain! How was that lucky?"

"You kissing me made me feel luckier," Percy shrugged. "I think that counts."

If looks could strangle, the son of the sea should have been choking on air as he smiled at her.

I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us.

"Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see."

"A tradition has been broken," Jason tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Nine out of ten times before this, if Percy thought you were going to hit him, you hugged him, or indeed kissed him."

"Sorry to disrupt your data," Annabeth gave him a strange look.

"On the contrary, it's just a new variable," he shook his head, still studying the book like it was his thesis assignment.

Annabeth glanced at Percy wondering how he didn't feel like a lab rat. He was still grinning at her without a care in the world. He hoped he proved to her he wasn't a coward. That she'd only said no because she hadn't wanted to jinx it again. Not for other possible reasons like she'd rather go kiss Luke right now.

I figured it was the best offer I would get, so I stepped out from behind the school bus. I walked up the bridge in plain sight, straight toward the enemy.

When the Minotaur saw me, his eyes burned with hate. He bellowed—a sound that was somewhere between a yell, a moo, and a really loud belch.

Alex waved her hand in front of her nose like she could smell such a thing all the way down here, and Percy envied those who couldn't.

"Hey, Beef Boy," I shouted back. "Didn't I kill you already?"**

"Percy over here losing track of how many monsters he's killed," Magnus sighed.

"I just wish I had the gun and actual kill count to match," Percy frowned. Everything he'd done up to this point did not make him feel prepared to stare down this monster that had made him feel more lost in his life than any after. He wished he had that horn on him to stab the Minotaur in a few more places.

He pounded his fist into the hood of a Lexus, and it crumpled like aluminum foil.

"Is cow insurance a thing in New York?" Magnus couldn't help but ask how that paperwork would go for the poor owner.

"Is cow insurance a thing period?" Percy looked around.

"Yes Percy," Will sounded tired though, not at all his usual chipper way of talking and it got all attention. He kept replaying the moment over and over when Percy had killed him the first time in his head, but it wasn't making this feeling any better.

Nico cleared his throat and quickly kept reading, but it didn't stop the lingering looks as Percy's stomach continued to churn up painfully within.

A few dracaenae threw flaming javelins at me. I knocked them aside. A hellhound lunged, and I sidestepped. I could have stabbed it, but I hesitated.

He'd just witnessed one of those murdering a camper, and still he couldn't overcome his greatest weakness, his compassion. Magnus found it admirable, honestly, but he also kind of wanted to stick a pin in Percy's weak spot and remind him to stop being an idiot right now.

This is not Mrs. O'Leary, I reminded myself. This is an untamed monster. It will kill me and all my friends.

It pounced again. This time I brought Riptide up in a deadly arc. The hellhound disintegrated into dust and fur.

Thalia bit back a sigh of regret anyways. Just because it was untamed didn't mean it deserved to die. These weren't wild animals though, she had to remind herself too. It wouldn't just stay in its natural habitat if humans didn't bother it, these things actively sought out and killed half-bloods. Their place in nature was to be vaporized by them only to be reborn.

More monsters surged forward—snakes and giants and telkhines—but the Minotaur roared at them, and they backed off.

Jason really wished Tyson was around right now just to translate. He got the gist of course, but it still would have been fascinating to know the words the Minotaur used.

"One on one?" I called. "Just like old times?"

The Minotaur's nostrils quivered. He seriously needed to keep a pack of Aloe Vera Kleenex in his armor pocket, because that nose was wet and red and pretty gross. He unstrapped his axe and swung it around.

It was beautiful in a harsh I'm~going~to-gut~you~like~a~fish kind of way.

"Is that what all fish think before they bite the hook that ends them?" Nico asked in mild fascination. "This worm is beautiful and oddly shiny."

"I don't ask, I don't fish," Percy frowned at him oddly like it wasn't his own mind's choice of words to prompt that.

Each of its twin blades was shaped like an omega: Ω—the last letter of the Greek alphabet.

Jason leaned over so eagerly to see the symbol for himself he nearly headbutted Nico.

"Looks like an upside-down U," Nico told with a grin.

"A fancy upside down U," Percy agreed, "with curlies on the side."

"How many letters are in the Greek alphabet?" Magnus frowned. "And why do I feel like they're all going to bite Percy in the ass at some point." At least two of them already hadn't been that great.

"Twenty-four," Annabeth answered.

"And no, there's not a cool song," Thalia grinned before Alex could ask, making her slump in her seat in disappointment, only to wind back up a second later and mutter about making her own.

Maybe that was because the axe would be the last thing his victims ever saw. The shaft was about the same height as the Minotaur, bronze wrapped in leather. Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods.

"Oh," Annabeth murmured in understanding long after she didn't need to as bile rose in her. She remembered every step Percy had taken, about a dozen, to banish this monster back to the abyss.

She was now surprised it had even taken that many as angry as he'd be seeing that as a trophy.

I was so mad, I imagined my eyes glowing just like the Minotaur's.

Where was Rachel around to sketch this, Alex thought with relish. She immensely enjoyed Percy's most destructive side, and most of all, where it stemmed from. She craved to get that image into solid marble somehow, of a protective, fierce warrior in all the right ways. Even if Percy would protest every chip away.

I raised my sword. The monster army cheered for the Minotaur, but the sound died when I dodged his first swing and sliced his axe in half, right between the handholds.

"Moo?" he grunted.

"Percy, the cow whisperer," Nico said with a soft chuckle at the actual question mark there. It always was fascinating when one could tell an animal was whole-heartedly confused by something.

Will smiled, the first time he had all chapter. Just a little quirk of the lips, but enough it was clear his thoughts flickered to something other than the ending of this where that bridge was doomed to take his brothers and sisters down. Like he wanted to laugh, and maybe even call back to saying he'd never actually been around cows and might have understood the Minotaur.

It was fleeting and didn't last that long, but Nico still felt a sense like he was doing something right he rarely got to feel.

"HAAA!" I spun and kicked him in the snout. He staggered backward, trying to regain his footing, then lowered his head to charge.

He never got the chance. My sword flashed—slicing off one horn, then the other.

"Percy has officially graduated from taking more than one slice to defeat a monster," Thalia snorted, before back peddling, "no, wait, that's worse."

"Now he's just showing off and will still kill it," Jason nodded.

There was an odd moment of silence, where they all finally realized what they were waiting on, but Will didn't butt in with a pun on his name at all.

Nico had easy access to his hand always on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. He simply nodded and Nico kept going while Percy's hands started to shake. His confidence slipping by the word.

Just because he could finally vanquish a nightmare away didn't mean more weren't always lurking.

He tried to grab me. I rolled away, picking up half of his broken axe. The other monsters backed up in stunned silence, making a circle around us. The Minotaur bellowed in rage. He was never very smart to begin with, but now his anger made him reckless.

"Why are idiots always so predictable?" Jason rolled his eyes.

"Does that make Percy a genius?" Annabeth grinned at her boyfriend, who beamed with pride at the slightly backhanded compliment.

Jason snorted lightly, but he was suddenly rather grateful that Percy's temper which usually did lead him to do impulsive and insane things wasn't what had been 'enhanced' instead of his heart.

He charged me, and I ran for the edge of the bridge, breaking through a line of dracaenae.

The Minotaur must've smelled victory. He thought I was trying to get away.

"Never, ever assume Percy is running from a fight," Will muttered a life lesson he'd clearly taken out of this, as if he'd actually try and pass it along to the next foolish monster and then watch as they didn't listen.

In this one case, he wished he was wrong. That Percy had jumped off the bridge in hopes the army would follow him. His plan had worked, as usual, but the consequences had been deadlier than ever.

His minions cheered. At the edge of the bridge, I turned and braced the axe against the railing to receive his charge. The Minotaur didn't even slow down.

CRUNCH.

"I feel like someone should have gotten that on video," Magnus said in admiration. "Crazy Percy Plan 101."

"We really should add that to the orientation video," Nico agreed with a sideways look at Will. He'd been hoping he'd ramp up to his usual and agree he'd get the costumes ready, but no, Nico had definitely pushed his limit and he recognized that and moved on.

He looked down in surprise at the axe handle sprouting from his breastplate.

"Thanks for playing," I told him.

I lifted him by his legs and tossed him over the side of the bridge. Even as he fell, he was disintegrating, turning back into dust, his essence returning to Tartarus.

"What a fabulous prize, you'll beat that sphinx out of game show host easy Perce," Alex chuckled.

"I've told you a dozen times Alex, I'm done with the TV show life," Percy sighed.

"Eh, they'd never get your good angle anyways," she shrugged.

I turned toward his army. It was now roughly one hundred and ninety-nine to one. I did the natural thing. I charged them.

Nico read that with ease. It had always been the natural thing to do in his mind, of the Percy he'd built in his head. Reading it now, as a fact and knowing the real Percy only made it all the more true somehow.

"At least you were nearly invulnerable this time," Annabeth was still grumbling, considering she knew he'd do this with or without the curse.

You're going to ask how the "invincible" thing worked:

"We actually don't question your methods that much," Magnus admitted as he rubbed his chest, clearly saying it saved him from a heart failure or two being happier in ignorance over there imagining it just magically worked out.

"You should though," Annabeth sounded like she was trying to gently prepare a bunch of pre-schoolers about the real world. "It's always better to understand the methods behind his madness," she finished fondly.

"So that we can all repeat them at length," Alex nodded. Magnus looked between the two in betrayal for every part of this.

"No, I mean, yeah, but," Annabeth frowned at her before Nico read on like all the valid points had already been made.

if I magically dodged every weapon, or if the weapons hit me and just didn't harm me. Honestly, I don't remember. All I knew was that I wasn't going to let these monsters invade my hometown.

I sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared me as much as it did my enemies. I was aware of the Apollo campers behind me shooting arrows, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled—about twenty left alive out of two hundred.

I followed with the Apollo campers at my heels.

Will just knew that if his brother had survived this, he would have told the most epic story around the campfire for the next year. Didn't matter what the others had gotten up to during all this, how many of them could actively say they'd fought side by side with Percy? Only Annabeth and Clriasse came close to sharing that honor. There were so many things Micheal should have been able to do...

The possibilities of what could have been for him felt like an arrow through the heart.

"Yes!" yelled Michael Yew. "That's what I'm talking about!"

We drove them back toward the Brooklyn side of the bridge. The sky was growing pale in the east. I could see the toll stations ahead.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!"

Some part of me knew she was right, but I was doing so well, I wanted to destroy every last monster.

A hubris Annabeth rarely saw in him that made her shiver now. The curse nearly having its way in him, nearly overruling him.

Then I saw the crowd at the base of the bridge. The retreating monsters were running straight toward their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armor, mounted on skeletal horses.

"What is with the skeleton horses?" Magnus scowled. Of the few animals he liked, he found it pervasive that so many easily seemed to summon this. First Clrassie, then Hades, now this!

"Better than skeleton elephants?" Jason offered, a strange idea that lingered all the same of one in his mind he'd ridden atop of. Possibly into a similar enemy threat? Gods he wished his brain made more sense.

"Vaguely," Magnus didn't look all that much better as he grudgingly agreed.

One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design.

The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm, and I recognized Kronos himself, his eyes like molten gold.

Percy's heart dropped like someone had given his insides a good crunch in return. Someone had told.

The spy had told Kronos this was the bridge to hit, was the most vulnerable area. The weak spot on his back pulsed like it had grown its own miniature heartbeat as he shivered deep within for the loss he felt was coming.

Everything he'd done up to this moment had been for this chance, the mere possibility he'd have this fight.

Now he took one look into a face that had caused him more sleep paralysis than any monster.

Annabeth didn't even notice the way the water was tightening around them like lashings, as she'd winced for Percy once again just calling him Kronos. As if that were the only person he was facing.

Annabeth and the Apollo campers faltered.

Nico read that with a fair amount of disbelief. Like Percy hadn't come to a screeching halt with them?

The monsters we'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in our direction. He was a quarter mile away, but I swear I could see him smile.

Percy would swear his face had stretched grotesquely doing it too, like his scar was about to split his face in half. The resemblance to Luke's mother had been uncanny.

"Now," I said, "we pull back."

Annabeth gave him a blatant, 'oh, now you listen to me look,' he must have missed at the time but got to admire now in all its correct glory. What would he do without her? Go charging right into the enemy, obviously.

The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding.

"Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.'"

In a matter of seconds they were on me.

Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but Annabeth stayed right beside me, fighting with her knife and mirrored shield as we slowly backed up the bridge.

Will was leaning forward in his seat now, his heart pounding so loud in his ears he almost couldn't hear Nico. Gods, he almost didn't want to hear this, the coming downfall, even as he visualized every detail vividly instead of hiding in a tent this time.

Kronos's cavalry swirled around us, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Being the lord of time, I guess he did.

"Whoever gave him that title should be boiled in glue," Alex scowled.

"Erm," Annabeth made a face she didn't know how to explain in short enough words to keep her attention you couldn't do that to Gaea.

It wouldn't have phased Alex if she'd bothered to try anyways.

I tried to wound his men, not kill.

Nico's voice strangely eased up some, to Percy's buzzing ears as he felt like he was straddling a tightrope, but Nico's wasn't the only one. He didn't get it, but the others were more relieved than they'd admit at Percy continuing to do this, show his hesitation to those kids did ease up some of his earlier, casual dismissal of those on the river. Like on the Princess Andromeda. He just couldn't do it in cold blood, and that was of some relief the war and this curse hadn't possessed him wholly.

That slowed me down, these weren't monsters. They were demigods who'd fallen under Kronos's spell. I couldn't see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been my friends. I slashed the legs off their horses and made the skeletal mounts disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured out they'd better dismount and fight me on foot.

Annabeth and I stayed shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. A dark shape passed over me, and I dared to glance up. Blackjack and Porkpie were swooping in, kicking our enemies in the helmets and flying away like very large kamikaze pigeons.

Alex snorted in her usual delight of all things chaotic, and nobody would really be surprised if she started a flock of pigeons trained to do this in the fortnight she got out of here.

We'd almost made it to the middle of the bridge when something strange happened.

I felt a chill down my spine—like that old saying about someone walking on your grave. Behind me, Annabeth cried out in pain.

Percy moved, every drop of the ocean urging him forward as he found himself on his feet. A pain, deeper than anything he'd ever felt before spurring him to draw his sword-

"Percy!" Annabeth was right in his face, cupping his cheeks, nearly nose to nose with him.

"He, he hurt," he was stammering, his eyes a memory away as Riptide stayed poised in his hand, the flat of it against her hip. She smiled and pressed their foreheads together without concern.

"I know. I know he hurt us. Just breathe."

His sword fell. He pressed his hands against her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her.

She melted into him, throwing her arms around his neck. This, she thought with ecstasy as her lips eagerly drank him in as if never getting enough. This kiss, this should have been their first kiss.

"Dude!"

Percy leaned back with a frown at whoever had interrupted him, then sheepishly took a small step back from Magnus's cousin as Annabeth's shaky breath lingered on the corner of his trembling mouth.

Alex was still smacking the side of her head to get all the water out of her ears and Will was trying to flop his dripping wet hair out of his eyes, but Magnus was ignoring these minor problems as he looked on in exasperation at the pair.

Percy swallowed a new apology as he looked worriedly around the room. There were now gaps in the walls, large enough to put feet through. He'd obviously been about to lose his temper big time.

Annabeth was running her fingers through his hair, distracting him from whatever doom was probably a snap away, her other hand was still holding tight to his wrist on her shoulder like she wanted to ignore the interruption and keep him there forever.

Will wouldn't have let them even if Magnus hadn't interrupted. A sharp clearing of his throat reminded the two quickly they were in the middle of a battle, and they weren't the only two on that bridge.

He was the one to steer her back to their spot, to force his body to cooperate and keep them on the same level as the others while she didn't take her eyes off him.

"Annabeth!" I turned in time to see her fall, clutching her arm. A demigod with a bloody knife stood over her.

Nico frowned in mild sorrow for this poor dead guy who had probably just hit public enemy number one territory over Kronos. Nico was surprised he hadn't seen a dartboard with this helmet somewhere around camp for Percy to vent on. He knew Percy wasn't a saint, above killing, and this person had just stabbed that into reality.

In a flash I understood what had happened. He'd been trying to stab me. Judging from the position of his blade, he would've taken me—maybe by sheer luck—in the small of my back, my only weak point.

Annabeth had intercepted the knife with her own body.

But why? She didn't know about my weak spot. No one did.

Annabeth could feel the questions surrounding her from the others more than she did the salt water, more than Percy finally being entirely wrapped around her. Even Thalia was looking around Percy to study her curiously for an explanation she'd never gotten of details.

She just stared straight ahead at the book and didn't offer anything. She could have said it was a gut feeling, like Percy so often said he got, and they might have bought that. She could have just said it was a reflex, she'd seen what was coming for him and hadn't taken the split second of movement inside herself that was no real choice but a simple shift of her weight to protect him without that curse even crossing her mind.

The truth was, it was none of that, and all of it. She hated not being able to explain something, but she couldn't do any research on this moment until someone found a way to interrogate her knife on what happened for an objective third-party point of view.

I locked eyes with the enemy demigod. He wore an eye patch under his war helm: Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis.

"Boy sure is living up to his damned mother right now," Thalia said in blackened disgust. If he wasn't dead already by Percy's hand, she'd be happy to take up the hunt and be a nemesis to the one who had caused as much destruction on their world as Luke for all his awful, repeated, back-to-back choices.

Somehow he'd survived the explosion on the Princess Andromeda. I slammed him in the face with my sword hilt so hard I dented his helm.

The fact that that was his response and his brain wasn't leaking out of that helmet was a kind of restraint Jason didn't think he'd have in him. If somebody had hurt Thalia, any of his friends, they'd be fried like a fish without hesitation.

The idea bothered him for some reason, as he traced his tattoo and studied Percy and Annabeth, now holding each other close in those beanbags with nothing at all in the way, past or future. He had his arm around her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her hip absent mindedly as he watched the book with a harsh scowl. She was resting on his shoulder, once injured arm hidden from sight as she pressed in close. There was a sad smile in place, but a peaceful one for getting this back, the person she'd wanted since he'd vanished, even amid the battle being far from over.

Jason felt empty as he watched. Nothing in his past could connect to what he was seeing. He had no feeling to relate that to anyone, and it wasn't because he couldn't remember them. They just didn't exist in his world.

"Get back!" I slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from Annabeth.

"No one touches her!"

The protective instinct was a malnourished one in Alex. With Adrian, they'd always had each other on equal ground. She'd felt it flare up a few times around these guys, mostly picturing Percy much smaller and younger facing certain aspects of this alone.

The few group homes she'd wound up in had been a nice delusion of this kind of person existing in her mind, but that was about it.

"Interesting," Kronos said.

He towered above me on his skeletal horse, his scythe in one hand. He studied the scene with narrowed eyes as if he could sense that I'd just come close to death, the way a wolf can smell fear.

Magnus often felt like a part of his life would never be able to look away from those glowing blue eyes in the face of such a monster that had killed his mom, but for once he barely flinched at the idea of a wolf as he kept eyes on his cousin. She seemed at peace, for the first time in here, truly comfortable. He was happy for her, that she'd gotten that explicitly with one person in her life, even being trapped down here so at least he wouldn't have to worry if she was actually alive somewhere.

"Bravely fought, Percy Jackson," he said. "But it's time to surrender . . . or the girl dies."

Thalia knew that hesitation in those last four words was from Nico reading for Kronos, not his own pause of saying something like that.

What killed her in that moment was that Luke hadn't woken up in there. That those eyes hadn't flashed blue upon seeing Annabeth like this. She knew he was capable of it, otherwise this couldn't have ended any other way, but she still felt hurt it hadn't been this. Thalia would have done anything to get Annabeth out of that situation just like Percy, why hadn't he?

"Percy, don't," Annabeth groaned. Her shirt was soaked with blood. I had to get her out of here.

"Still want that lucky kiss?" Annabeth shook her head as her hand came up to clench the old wound.

"From you? Always," Percy said, staring at her with the same smile he'd always had upon that first day in Camp. His mom had been presumed dead, he'd felt out of place and lost in his new home, but still he'd smiled at her just as he was now when she hadn't intervened upon his fight with Clarisse.

"Blackjack!" I yelled.

As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped his teeth on the straps of Annabeth's armor.

They soared away over the river before the enemy could even react.

"Best, pegasus, ever," Percy murmured for her ears alone. He wished he could wrap her in a blanket and possibly post Tyson over her bed to make sure she was never in this kind of danger again.

That just wasn't their life, even the fleeting idea felt ridiculous and she'd get herself out and then smack him on her way to the next thing he couldn't deal with without her.

"Yeah," she grinned up at him, like they were in their own little bubble of a world for just that moment again before Nico popped it as he kept reading without surprise. He'd known she survived, this wasn't his concern in the slightest. She still felt like slamming the book shut and taking a second to breathe as she still felt Percy's lips on hers, but that was his call, she was just along for the ride now.

Kronos snarled. "Some day soon, I am going to make pegasus soup.

"Talk about friends for dinner," Will frowned, dredging up a new kind of scowl as he saw the last page left lingering in Nico's hand. Was Percy even going to notice the fallout as he ran off after her the second he got?

"We will not be talking about that," Percy gave him an intense look, Micheal's thin, ferret-like face and dark hair looked nothing like Will really, but something of their noses and sharp eyes tried to overlap in Percy's brain all the same as he kept trying to pull Annabeth closer.

It was an odd moment where one easily ignored the other's random comment, lost in their own worlds.

But in the meantime . . ." He dismounted, his scythe glistening in the dawn light. "I'll settle for another dead demigod."

"He should settle for a lot lower," Alex scowled. "More so-so problems like the rest of us, bad hair day and morning breath. Hell, one night standards aren't even something to be looked down on as a standard."

She got a lot of blank stares for that and grinned they just didn't have the imagination to conjure up Kronos trying to pick out his wardrobe and checking his cowlick in the mirror.

I met his first strike with Riptide. The impact shook the entire bridge, but I held my ground. Kronos's smile wavered.

'Not so easy when you can't just win with a flick of your wrist,' Jason sneered. He kept the thought to himself only because he wanted to hear more of Percy kicking his ass to badly to bother with the obvious interruption.

With a yell, I kicked his legs out from under him. His scythe skittered across the pavement.

"Look who could kick a fridge across a room now," Nico told him without looking up.

"Oh yeah, you just know I'll do that in my mom's apartment and feel guilty as hell for it," Percy nodded.

I stabbed downward, but he rolled aside and regained his footing. His scythe flew back to his hands.

Percy replayed that in his head a couple of times with annoyance. Why couldn't the gods just do that so easily when they lost their crap? Why couldn't Riptide do that instead of having to wait precious moments to return to his pocket? Then Nico kept reading and he had to remind himself that really wasn't the point right now.

"So . . ." He studied me, looking mildly annoyed. "You had the courage to visit the Styx. I had to pressure Luke in many ways to convince him.

Annabeth's mouth opened in a gaping display of all her teeth Percy tried not to be to phased at. This obviously hurt her, he tried to pull her somehow closer and she willingly went like she couldn't get enough, but he didn't need to be a mind reader to know that her every thought was now plagued with Luke, again. What pressures Kronos had used, how many times had he refused before he gave in, what had been the catalyst?

Percy moved his hand to her other arm, rubbing his palm gently up and down there like he was trying to warm her as she started shivering. He remembered Hermes's harsh words, that must have been the god's idea of some bizarre scenario about her missing a chance to save him. From what he could tell, she'd done everything and more than what was ever asked of her in that regards.

If only you had supplied my host body instead . . .

Percy would rather have live bugs crawling inside him than that sense of disgust that just passed through him. Thankfully the closest Kronos would ever get to his mind was annoying his dreams.

But no matter. I am still more powerful. I am a TITAN."

He struck the bridge with the butt of his scythe, and a wave of pure force blasted me backward. Cars went careening. Demigods���even Luke's own men—were blown off the edge of the bridge.

Not that this surprised a single one of them, but they all flinched anyways. It's like Kronos was broadcasting why Percy would never give him more than a finger of his time.

Suspension cords whipped around, and I skidded halfway back to Manhattan.

I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away from me, his last arrow was notched in his bow.

"Michael, go!" I screamed.

At least he'd tried, Will swallowed down a painful knot. He sort of wanted to hug Percy for that, and also shove a soiled bandage up his nose for not dragging him back kicking and screaming like he would have if it were Grover.

"Percy, the bridge!" he called. "It's already weak!"

He should have been fine, Will kept thinking over and over in his head. Micheal had once hung from his feet like a trapeze artist to aim his shot, he'd move across beams in pouring down rain and his balance was better than some kid who knew ballet. Will had already been a few inches taller than him at thirteen but had nothing on Micheal's ability to jump to any new perch he needed for a better vantage point on the thinnest of tree limbs. He should have been able to make it...

At first I didn't understand. Then I looked down and saw fissures in the pavement. Patches of the road were half melted from Greek fire. The bridge had taken a beating from Kronos's blast and the exploding arrows.

"Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!"

Kayla had told him in a broken voice those were Micheal's last words, that he'd encouraged Percy to do this and he'd of course succeeded in completing that blast to his full ability. Will didn't blame him, truly, but...

Percy never would have done that if Annabeth had been the one on that suspension line.

It was a desperate thought—no way it would work— but I stabbed Riptide into the bridge. The magic blade sank to its hilt in asphalt. Salt water shot from the crack like I'd hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East River. 

Even if they'd kept that stupid chariot for themselves he still wouldn't have survived, Will kept swallowing and it hurt more every time. None of them had enough practice steering it through debris raining down, could have gotten out in time to catch him. There was nothing anybody could have done to prevent this. He was gone. He shouldn't be, but he was.

Kronos's demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backward. Some were knocked off their feet.

Austin had watched, his scream unheard in the noise as Micheal had lost his previously flawless balance on his perch. He'd tried to regain it, throw his bow and grab that cable with both hands, but he'd seen the panic, then acceptance as his feet lost against the force.

He and Kayla had been whispering about it when Will had come upon them hours later, their voices petrified like they'd slip off the edge of the world next while Eliza had been crying at the shore feet away watching the rest of their siblings continue the fruitless search.

Within a few seconds, a fifty-foot chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me.

"Titan schmiten," Alex muttered, "I want whatever coked up shit Percy's on." Percy only hadn't won that fight because there were innocents around, she was sure of it after a display of power like that.

"Gods I hope you're kidding," Magnus sighed, knowing there wasn't a force on earth to stop Alex bathing in the styx if she really wanted to. He wondered vaguely who her godly parent was without much care and if they'd carelessly agree or try to warn her away. Even Posideon hadn't done much of either though so he wasn't sure what the basis of a god's opinion on this even was.

The vibrations died. Kronos's men crept to the edge and looked at the hundred-and-thirty-foot drop into the river.

I didn't feel safe, though. The suspension cables were still attached. The men could get across that way if they were brave enough. Or maybe Kronos had a magic way to span the gap.

Nico's brain easily filled in the gaps, of Kronos snapping his fingers and time reversing to put those chunks back together like nothing, to play the planet like a toy and reverse it to do his bidding like nothing had happened.

He wished he could do that for Will now, as a few silent tears fell, smudging the words on the page. He was sitting so close he could feel every breath, every bony press of his lightweight that had never once felt intrusive through his thick jacket.

While Nico might have asked for more breaks in here than anyone, he didn't feel the least bit self-conscious to do so again, especially not on Will's part if he needed a second. His hand was steady on his arm though. Nico wasn't entirely convinced that was a good measure on Will, he was always that steady, but he also trusted Will to admit when he needed something like that considering he'd been the one impressing upon Nico to do the same.

The Titan lord studied the problem. He looked behind him at the rising sun, then smiled across the chasm. He raised his scythe in a mock salute. "Until this evening, Jackson."

Jason instantly narrowed his eyes suspiciously at that. Why would sunrise stop Kronos? Even Alex's blasie' joke about vampires he vaguely heard didn't cut through his intense concentration of trying to understand what scheme was being plotted, that would take so long to set in instead of leaping across that space and accomplishing the maximum amount of distraction now when Percy was shaken and his forces weakened.

He mounted his horse, whirled around, and galloped back to Brooklyn, followed by his warriors.

I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen.

Why did it hurt worse knowing this would be the outcome all along, Nico frowned. He'd known Will was the head of his cabin, obviously his older brother would have died on this bridge, but still he'd spent every word up to this point hoping in vain he was wrong. That Will wasn't hurting because of that, but some other problem like they'd run out of ambrosia. Like knowing the second Percy had found himself on the edge of that desert his sister was on her last moments of life and still spending the entire time in here wishing he was wrong.

'Because you'd hoped for the best anyways,' a small little voice whispered in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Will. He'd never been an optimist before, he wanted to give that thought a good hand wave away, but he instead sat in a long moment of silence nobody broke as he watched Will's sad blue eyes lost in his own thoughts.

"Oh," Percy's quiet whisper was the first to break the long-held breath. He felt the instinct to dive into the water and find him, but finally the look on the son of Apollo's face connected with the pain in Percy's head he hadn't wanted. "Will, I'm, I'm so sorry." He wanted to get angry. He wanted to get in Clarisse's face and ask if she was happy now. His hands wanted to throw Riptide far away and hope it never came back this time at his own capability of destruction. How had he not accidentally killed Nico?! He clearly had no real control over the chaos he brought to everyone's life.

"Yeah, me too," Will didn't sound angry, just tired. Tired of losing people, tired of the days he spent at camp with the weight of his siblings on his back when all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Tired of the guilt that would never let him do more than grit his teeth but get up all the same to see what they needed instead of muttering where to find someone else.

Having to adjust to three heads of a cabin in less than a year could do that to you.

"No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river. Nothing.

I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. I was about to whistle for Blackjack to help me search, when my mom's phone rang. The LCD display said I had a call from Finklestein & Associates—probably a demigod calling on a borrowed phone.

Magnus silently showed Alex the sign for lawyer he randomly remembered, his smile forced, but his mind amusedly offering up the image all the same of someone trying to deliver Percy court documents at a time like this.

Will had heard all of that, back in his tent. The destruction, Percy's scream, then the sound of more phones ringing as he'd been checking a boy's IV he didn't even know the name of, he must have gotten there mere weeks ago. The Williamsburg Bridge had been so close by, he'd known.

He'd kept working, putting it all away like the rest of the kids crying in pain around him until Percy had come bursting through the tent. He'd expected Percy to tell him what he'd already known. Instead he'd yanked him out babbling about Annabeth and Will had gone, handing over his clipboard to Eliza who was six and trying to give her messages to others to far spread out right now to convey everything he needed.

Hoping on the back of that bike and seeing the bridge as they sped off had been his split second to see it was true before he'd shut his eyes and felt it all for that flight over there only before it was right back to work.

I picked up, hoping for good news. Of course I was wrong.

"Percy?" Silena Beauregard sounded like she'd been crying.

She had, actually, on and off so much her siblings had seemed more worried for her than Annabeth unable to stay on her feet. Annabeth felt a faint moment of amusement as she imagined Percy leaping off the ground, cartoon-style exclamation point over his head and everything in fear as he threw the phone away at the mere idea of being back around a crying girl.

That wasn't fair, and a wild exaggeration she knew. Not after he'd tried to comfort her at Becekendorf's funeral.

Apparently it was just her crying he couldn't seem to handle.

"Plaza Hotel. You'd better come quickly and bring a healer from Apollo's cabin. It's . . . it's Annabeth."

If Nico couldn't look up from that and see her sitting right in front of him, he'd be half convinced Annabeth really was dead somewhere out there just from the universe laughing at him having to read that. Somehow, even in the retelling of Percy's life, death seemed to follow him specifically.

Will didn't reach for the book next. He still stayed tightly pressed against Nico as he gazed vacantly at nothing like the words hadn't quite registered a passing of the book should be coming by tone alone.

But Percy was shivering anxiously, lost in memory to know in as explicit detail as possible how Annabeth was alive as she curled into his side now.

So what was he supposed to do?

PJOPJOPJOPJO

*That is a quote from Homeward Bound II, and I tried to look up if it was a misquote done on purpose by the original character but couldn't find anything.

**This is a quote from Hellboy, and while not exactly an exclusive line only to him and Percy, I couldn't stop laughing when I read it in Ron Pearlmen's voice while picturing Percy and that's why I've been on the movie kick with him lately.

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

prompt: hiadt alec & chairman ☺️

“I’m tired. This isn’t fucking fair,” he exhales, running a hand through his face.

“Finally,” Jace mutters.

Alec raises his head. “What?”

“You’re finally admitting that this isn’t fair.”

“Of course this isn’t fair. Did you think I was having the time of my life or what?”

“We didn’t,” Izzy sighs and brushes his hair off of his face, smiling sadly. “But this is the first you’re acknowledging that this whole thing is fucked.”

He sighs tiredly.

Of course this isn’t fair.

Not of a single fucking this about this is okay. He knows that. He’s angry about it too. He just doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be angry at.

Magnus? No.

God? Possibly.

It’s been a horrible day, it always is this time of the year but today, without Magnus by his side, the pain is boiling like a hot lava. It thrums under his veins, his every cell, every breath he takes.

Alec just needs today to end.

Just then, his doorbell rings.

“I’m not moving,” he groans.

Jace goes up to open the door and there are a few hushed hushed voices before something crawls up his feet. Alec looks down and his eyes widen as they land on Chairman.

“Chairman?” Alec says, surprise evident on his face as he picks up the cat and brings it against his chest. “What are you doing here?”

Alec lifts his head up at Jace questioning.

“Magnus came.”

“He’s here?”

“Yeah. Outside.”

Magnus stands in the hallway, a sheepish expression on his face. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you were having a bad day. I don’t know the reason for it but I guessed that you’d like having Chairman for a while,” Magnus explains, breathlessly.

Oh.

That’s the Magnus Alec knows and loves.

Not the version that’s been acting like Alec’s existence is causing him an inconvenience.

This.

This is his Magnus.

“You’ll be okay without Chairman?” He asks.

“I’ll survive,” he replies. Magnus turns to leave but then he stops again. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

Magnus exhales. “Is there anything I can do?”

You forgot the most important thing in the world. There’s nothing you can do to help me now.

“Chairman helps. Thank you.”

[envihellbender]

Michael being psychologically abused perhaps

Rating: Mature

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Michael Shelley, Elias Bouchard

Content: Archivist Michael Shelley & The Distortion John Sims AU, psychological abuse, gaslighting, role swap

Summary: Archivist Michael Shelley wishes to discuss his encounter with the Distortion Jonathon Sims with his boss Elias Bouchard, Elias however has other plans.

—

Michael swallowed as he stood outside of Elias’s door, he took a moment to toy with the red cat’s cradle he used to calm himself around his fingers for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket. He’d been fidgeting with it the whole walk to Elias’s office but knew he’d be scolded for his lack of professionalism if he did so in front of him. It was baffling to him, because he could see everywhere and he didn’t seem to care when it happened without him in the room. Michael tried not to think about, instead preparing himself for what he and his researcher Gerry talked about. There was a strange being living beneath Michael’s office, a distorted man with what looked like twisted broken bones and black type writer text all over his skin. Michael hadn’t stopped being able to think about what John said regarding him and Elias, Gerry didn’t think there was any point in discussing it with Elias but Michael felt like they ought to try. Finally, after a deep breath and Michael bending so he didn’t hang his head against the frame, he knocked on the boss’s door, he almost stumbled as he heard the amused voice is tell him to come in.

“Good afternoon, Mister Bouchard,” Michael said with a shaking voice, he was always nervous around Elias but not usually this much. He didn’t take a seat opposite the large man who took up the entirety of gigantic green velvet armchair.

“Michael. Can I help you?” Elias asked, so smoothly that if a fly sat on the tip of his tongue it would barely move.

“Yes. Yes, you see. Sir, I have- I have a question to ask, if that’s- if that’s alright,” Michael stammered, he swallowed and tried to straighten his back. He pulled at the string of his jumper absently, anxiety building up as he did. He didn’t look directly at Elias, instead his eyes drifted to just behind his head at the strange green wallpaper that adorned the walls.

“Mm? Of course, Michael, do sit down,” Elias said, not looking up from his work. When Michael’s tall body awkwardly folded into the comfortable chair, he muttered a word of thanks but he stared at the table instead. He saw Gerard’s name on a piece of paper, he craned his neck only for it to be pulled away and slipped into a folder. It was a sudden snatching motion, one that felt deliberate. “So what would you-”

“Hang on, what was that?” Michael interrupted, his eyes fixated on Elias’s fingers. They were wrapped in brown adipose, knitted together and held on top of the offending folder.

“What was what?” Elias asked cordially. He slowly began to edge the file closer to him keeping out of reach of his new archivist.

“That statement. It had Gerry’s name on it.”’ Michael narrowed his eyes and stared at the green folder, he could feel there was something odd about it.

“What statement?” When Elias asked this question yet again Michael wanted to pull out his hair and yell until his throat grew raw.

“The one that you-” Michael was starting to wondered, there were a lot of names similar to Gerard he supposed. He could have misread it but…why put it back into the folder? Why hide it?

“You said you had a question for me, Michael?” Elias’ tone had become little sharp and impatient.

“I- right. Yes. I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about Jonathan Sims?” When Michael spoke the name there was a change in the atmosphere, Elias stared with narrowed eyes and there was something heavy and unspoken filling tue room. Everything in that moment told Michael that whilst John might not be trustworthy, neither was Elias.

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” The boss said slowly, his tone and words heavier, it was so thick with unspoken subtext it sounded as if he would choke.

“Well, he used to work here-” Michael began, he spoke slowly, he was prepared to be interrupted. Sure enough a sharp snap of Elias’s plump lips was thrown towards Michael.

“I don’t remember all of the employees of the institute-”

“No. No, in the Archivesl

“Michael, are you alright?”

“I- of course.” Michael was thrown by the question, he stared at Elias. It was such a caring, unexpected comment that he began to wonder if he actually was okay, on the one hand he was terrified but because of Elias. Outside of him, and the wound he’d received from Jonathan Sims, he felt… okay? He thought?

“Are you sleeping well? Elias pressed, clearly not letting the matter drop.

“Yes- Yes. I don’t see how this is-”

“Michael. Your stuttering,” Elias interrupted. Michael swallowed and began to curl in on himself as his entire body felt watched, eyes grew inside of his body ensuring that every small corner of his inside and outside was under observation. “Look at you.” Elias’s voice had become a sneering and snide, a weapon used to keep Michael submissive.

“I- Why are you- stop-”

“You’re shaking, a shaking whimpering mess. Are you going to wet yourself, Michael? Are you crying? How pathetic. You are positively deranged, aren’t you? A pathetic psychotic little freak. Just like your mother. Perhaps you’ll share a room with her when your madness finally catches up with you. Do you want to know how she feels when she’s alone in her room Michael? Do you want to know how she feels about you? Do you want her to see whats happening in your mind?”

“No- no. I-“ Michael let out an anguished cry and fell to his knees, his hands tangled in his blond curls and tugging. Suddenly, it stopped. The room felt less threatening and the paintings no longer moved, the eyes that were watching him had grown static and his body was his own again. When he shakily got to his feet, he looked up to see Elias looking through paperwork as if nothing had happened.

“Well is there anything else, Michael?” Elias said with a warm smile. All of the sadism that radiated from him before, the power, it had dissipated. Michael almost began to doubt it had happened at all.

“I- you- what we were- what you said before-” Michael spluttered nervously taking a step back before the door.

“I believe you asked to book in some days off in the next couple of weeks and I allowed it, I appreciate you coming to me and not going through Rosie she has been forgetful lately,” Elias continued as if nothing had happened, if anything he looked a little confused.

“I- okay, yeah, I’ll- I better get back to work,” Michael said with his voice shaking and his still feeling weak and fragile. What Elias told him rang through his head, thoughts of his mother gripping his body far too tightly imagining being exposed to his mother and her decaying mental health every day. He took a deep breath and turned away, he walked away awkwardly, trying to get his bearings and remembering he said he would see Gerry in the break room. Why? He thought. Was he planning on doing something with him during the time off he asked for? He tried to think of what had happened before he’d entered Elias’ office but all he received was a jabbing pain in his temples.

[cityofdownwardspirals]

Magnus was just supposed to go out for a quick run. He thought listening to some music and being out in the fresh air could help get him out of his bad headspace. Oh, he couldn't have been more wrong.

"I will give you 50$ if you pretend to me my boyfriend." The words were out before Magnus could even give them any more thought.

The guy he was talking to looked at him, confused, before he took his AirPods out and that is when Magnus realized he hadn't even heard him. "I'm sorry?" the man asked, panting from his running session.

Magnus almost didn't want to repeat it. He almost wanted to dismiss it and lie and ask what the time was or something like that because this was insane. He couldn't just ask a random guy running in the park to be his fake boyfriend. But then his eyes darted towards the direction of his distress and he saw Camille walking toward them and panicked.

"I know this sounds very weird, but I will give you any amount of money you want if you pretend to be my boyfriend," he said and he realized how desperate that sounded but couldn't bring himself to care in that moment. He would rather sound desperate than let Camille get to him.

The guy's eyes widened as his breathing started settling. "What?" he asked, his voice going up an octave.

Before Magnus could repeat his request, Camille was next to them already. "Hello, Magnus," she said in a sweet tone that Magnus knew was all a load of crap.

He looked away from the guy to look at his ex and as soon as he saw her face all his confidence left him. He was right back in that moment where she broke up with him and told him no one would ever love him, that he was too much and too difficult to love.

"Aw...cat got your tongue?" She asked, her voice grating. "You look just as pathetic as you did a week ago, I guess you haven't moved on..." she added and then her eyes darted to the stranger, as if just noticing he was there.

That is when Magnus found it within himself to answer to answer. "I have," he said, tiltong his head toward the stranger. He couldn't see the man's face but considering the fact he hadn't walked away, Magnus decided to take a chance.

Camille seemed to take in the guy, looking him up and down and laughing. "Him? Please, I am not buying it. He looks confused to be here."

And Magnus felt small in that moment because Camille always knew how to make him feel that way. He was ready to admit his defeat and to just leave when the other guy spoke. "Actually," he said in a serious tone. "I am just confused about where you got the damn audacity to talk to Magnus like that from," he said and that made Magnus turn his face towards him as well. That is when he saw the determined look on the guy's face.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Camille asked, her sardonic smile gone.

"I am Alec, Magnus’s boyfriend. Who are you?" he said and at that he put am arm around Magnus’s waist protectively.

"I'm Camille, I'm sure Magnus has mentioned me."

Alec looked at her blankly and Magnus couldn't help but snicker at the offended look on Camille's face. "I can't say I've heard of you. Guess we just have more important stuff to do than talk about you," he said non-chalantly and damn he knew this was his fake boyfriend but Magnus was ready to kiss Alec then and this attitude was hot.

So I couldn't get this out of my head since I got the idea for it last night. Full fic coming after my exams 👀

[forthedancingandthethriving]

A prince slowly paces back and forth, inside the castle. Outside, the coronation area was being set up.

He wore a black suit, with a purple dress shirt underneath. Black dress pants and shoes finished off his look, complimenting his dark blue fur. He wasn't exactly a Russian Blue cat like his predecessor, but it didn't matter. He just had to be careful about how he walked in the light, he didn't want any yellow or orange appearing.

He adjustes his outfit before turning his head, seeing his 'father's' former attendant approaching. She had been more than happy to come back now that the 'son' was here.

"Your Highness, everything is nearly complete," she says, her tail flicking gently. "We haven't gotten word back from the other royals, though."

He puts on a sad yet understanding smile. "I don't blame them. After all my father has done, they are no doubt going to be suspicious of me." He sighs softly. "We must simply let them come to their own conclusions."

She nods, a warm smile on her face. Their new king would be far better than the old one.

○●○

"I still find it hard to imagine he managed to find someone to have a child with.."

Prince Damien hums softly as he approaches the royals of Haromnia. His eyes flick over all of them and the others they brought. They all seem surprised, yet pleased.

"Well, would ya look at that." Queen Alina places a paw on her hip, her formal dress suspiciously close to that of a pirate's. "The lad is real!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Damien." Queen Melody smiles. "Apologies for none of us being here sooner.."

"Ah, it's fine." Damien shakes his head, holding up a paw. "Considering all my father has done, it's not exactly hard to believe that you all wouldn't really trust the letter."

King Magnus chuckles. "Well, we see you now. Hopefully, you'll do big things, Damien."

The soon-to-be king smiles. "I hope so too."

As the group began to talk and discuss, Damien spun the story he'd spun so many times before. His father had him with a commoner, his mother. Yet she grew sick and pleaded with Umbra to take Damien, and the king reluctantly agreed. However, Umbra was ashamed of having a child out of wedlock and hid Damien, and the prince preferred to stay hidden because of his father's behavior and actions. Only the court knew of his existence, but even then he was limited in his interactions with them.

"I remember always listening to Tonio's music.." Damien smiles wistfully. "I hope that maybe he'll return and I can apologize for what my father had done.."

"What had he done?"

"It's.. not my place to say." He didn't want to admit that he didn't know. It was the one thing he couldn't figure out as he integrated himself into this world.

As they continue to talk, getting to know one another, a black cat walks past. He wears nothing blue, a black tunic, brown pants, and brown shoes, but all the monarchs and the Songbird present have their ears flick toward him. Damien has to force his ear to flick.

Unus. He thinks, watching the Muse head over to find a seat.

This would be interesting.

As he nods and parts ways, heading over to the stage to make sure the final preparations, when a ginger tabby clad in black steps in front of him.

"Pardon me, your highness."

Damien narrows his eyes before his ears perk upwards, and he puts on an elated face. "Tonio! I never expected you to come back!"

Tonio chuckles, though his tail is up, as if on alert. He supposes it makes sense. "Well, with Umbra finally out of commission, I believed a homecoming was due, no?"

The prince smiles somberly. "I feel a bit down knowing that only now you've felt safe to return." As he walks away, he turns his head a bit. "Hopefully I'll do well enough for you to feel safe to visit."

As the prince walks off, Tonio merely narrows his eyes a bit.

○●○

It went off without a hitch. Damien was crowned king of Devos, and he was pretty sure that he went deaf from all the cheering. All the monarchs and those they brought were more than happy to congratulate him, all clearly happy to have a competent ruler now.

Just how much did they hate Umbra? Damien thinks, flicking an ear as he shakes King Bolero's paw.

As he pulls away with a smile, he stiffens as something speaks in his mind.

I have high hopes for you, Prince Damien.

A black cat walks past, and Alina grins. "Ah, that's probably Unus. He loves to be all cryptic like that."

King Damien chuckles. "I figured."

His tail flicks. Unus seems to be important. He shouldn't forget that.

As more come to congratulate him, his eyes catch the light, and turn to a dark yellow rather than a crystal blue.

Everything was perfect. Now for the first step of his plan.. figuring out where the dead was kept here. Then maybe, finally, he could get rid of that accursed ClearAll his sister seemed to care about so much.

Life would be better off without death anyway.

[thelightofthebane]

through the good and bad and all in between

Summary: Magnus was born a warlock. Magnus became a mundane for love and by self-sacrificing tendencies. Magnus turned into a vampire after an act of spite and revenge.

A story about survival, new identities, love through adversities, and accepting changes.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e17 Heavenly Fire, Vampire Magnus Bane, Turned without consent, Major Character Undeath, Immortal to Mortal to Immortal, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Soft Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Cat & Alec friendship, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Rating: E

Chapters: 10

Words: Around 23k~

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2023: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

You can read it on AO3 or the sixth chapter below ~

Chapter 6 - And this is how it's supposed to be

It looked like normal blood.

But it hidden a power greater than they could’ve imagined.

“I thought Simon became a Daylighter as some side effect of the Soul Sword’s light.” Magnus frowned, still trying to comprehend what Alexander has just told him.

That was the official version after all. Something about how being in contact with Clary’s pure blood plus the Soul Sword’s energy affected Simon and he became a rare kind of vampire – something, thus, impossible to recreate. 

“I thought too, until earlier today when Jace finally told me the truth. It’s actually something pretty simple, but that could turn both my parabatai and his girlfriend into a beacon for vampires.”

Magnus nodded in understanding. Not all vampires would be polite enough to say ‘please, could you give me a bit of your blood so I won’t be burned alive under the sun?’ They would actually suck Jace and Clary dry. 

“Not even Clary knows about this. It’s a secret that Jace and Simon have been keeping only between themselves. At least for serious matters those two can actually shut up and keep a secret.” Alec murmured almost grumpily, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, now we both know, too.”

“Why? If Jace is doing this out of guilt just because I lost my magic in exchange of helping him, it’s unnecessary. I made my own choice.”

“It’s not about guilt, Magnus. I think it’s his own version of thank you for, you know, saving him from Lilith. If you haven’t done that, I’d have been forced to kill him. It would have destroyed me. Not only because he is my parabatai, but it would also be my brother’s blood on my hands. He knows that. And he’s grateful for you preventing that.”

Magnus shrugged helplessly as if to say it was nothing, but Alec weren’t having none of that. Taking Magnus’ hand and kissing his knuckles, he spoke softly, almost as if it were a secret.

“Jace might not show it, but he also cares about you a lot, Magnus. You’re family, and we do everything we can for family.”

Magnus’ Adam’s apple bobbed, and he turned his gaze again to the uncapped bottle of concentrated Angel blood.

What if it didn’t work? Though his heritage was of fire and shadow, Magnus was never one to hide in darkness. He liked the light too much, and thrived on it. Being a Child of the Night damped his joy, and he could live with that.

It was just that…

He really didn’t want to.

“Well, if nothing else, I’ll already have my fill for lunch,” he joked, though there was no lightness in his eyes.

His Alexander, never to ignore his distress, kissed his forehead. “Be brave, my love.”

And what else Magnus could do? Still a little hesitant, but more resolute than before, Magnus picked the bottle and took a small sip.

He didn’t know if it was going to work or not, but oh… It was delicious.

Almost addictive.

He drank everything almost in one go, feeling the most sated since waking up to this new life. And fortunately, it was enough to fill his stomach and quench his thirst, or else he might’ve not resisted taking a taste from Alec - whose blood always smelled delicious for him.

And Magnus definitely didn’t want to go there. Yet. Or maybe never.

A thought for another day, however.

“Do you feel any different?”

Magnus shook his head, but was already heading towards the door.

“Only one way to find out.”

Before he could launch himself into the sun, though, Alec grabbed his wrist. His eyes were wide in fear and panic.

“Can’t you just…” He waved his hand. “Put only an arm outside. Just in case it didn’t work.”

“Oh my darling…” Magnus lifted his hands and held Alec’s face in between them. “You have been so afraid all this time, haven’t you? Don’t you worry, okay? I won’t do that to myself. To us.”

Alec searched all over Magnus’ face for reassurance, and seemingly finding it, released a shaking breath. Nodding, he let Magnus’ go and stepped back, giving space to his boyfriend.

Smiling in gratitude, Magnus took only one deep breath - which he didn’t need anymore but the simple action helped to center himself - and then turned, marching forward to the afternoon sun without hesitation.

.

.

.

The world became brighter, lighter, warmer.

 ~*~

They were lazily making out on a sunbed at the back yard, Magnus refusing to go inside for hours already after finding out that he really became a Daylighter. Not that Alec minded. Seeing Magnus smiling and happier was enough for the Shadowhunter.

Only after they were beyond sated and just cuddling, the day giving way for a chilly night, that Alec dared to bring out the topic that was weighing heavily in his mind.

“Have you thought about Raphael’s request?”

For a moment Magnus tensed, but soon enough he relaxed again in Alec’s arms.

“I don’t know if I’m the best as Raphael’s replacement. I may know how their politics work, but I’m fairly new as a vampire myself. How can I expect to have their trust in leading them?”   

“They know you. Maybe not as a vampire, but as a Downworlder like them. An immortal, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were older than most of the clan.”

“It’s still uncharted territory.” Magnus insisted.

“Magnus, you may have changed what you are, but not who you are. Your heart is still the same, and I’m pretty sure your brain is, too. You can still give advice. You have centuries of knowledge in magic and life overall. You created the portal and so many other things. You can still create new things, if not for the Warlock community, but for the vamps. I’m certain they would appreciate that and…”

Alec started to wave his hand aimlessly in the air like he sometimes did when immersing himself at some topic and laying out all the facts to prove his point. It was endearing, actually. It was somehow soothing to have such a small thing unchangeable even when their worlds kept colliding and in the brink of destruction and spinning all the time.

“... And, and we all know how you always liked to eat, from simple things to more ostentatious ones, so don’t tell me you won’t try to indulge yourself with something that may work with blood. Like, hiring some chefs and trying together thousands of recipes while combining different types of blood. You would become their favorite leader in no time! Maybe Maia would love new ideas for Taki’s, too.”

Magnus hummed, humoring his Shadowhunter. “Yeah, that sounds like me, alright.”

“Exactly! The New York clan wouldn’t know what-” Alec’s voice trailed off when a fire message came flying suddenly. He took it from the air and read the urgent message on it.

His expression closed off almost immediately, his eyes thunderous. 

“What is it?” Magnus immediately sat up, worried.

“They found Camille. In a crime scene.”

None talked for a full minute. Alec started typing furiously on his phone while Magnus’ thoughts scrambled like dandelion seeds in the wind.

Only when they suddenly crashed and Magnus blinked out of his reverie, looking up and seeing Alec already looking back at him with worry in his eyes, that he felt coherent enough to form words.

“How…” He cleared his sudden dry throat. “How bad is it?”

“A carnifice. Over a dozen of dead mundanes. Three were children. There was a toddler.”

Silence.

The kind that could suffocate.

Then, Alec sighed. “Magnus, I don’t think imprisonment is enough for her now. She committed too many crimes. She has been killing mundanes left and right. She killed you and Simon. She will certainly get the death sentence, be it from the Clave or the Warlock Council, and I don’t want to–”

“I trust you.” Magnus interrupted him. “I- I don’t want to know anything about her anymore. If I could, I’d have my memories of her completely erased. So, I trust you to make the right call.”

Alec nodded slowly, though he was still very worried about Magnus.

“I have to go back to the Institute to assemble a team. Do you want me to call Cat or Raphael to keep you company?”

Magnus shook his head. “I want to be alone.” Crossing his arms over his chest, the vampire got up from the sunbed. “Go do your job, Shadowhunter. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Without waiting for a reply, Magnus practically fled back to Ragnor’s house, the back door closing with a bitter finality.

~*~

“Wow, I haven’t seen you this murderous since Valentine and Magnus swapped bodies,” Jace commented, very unnecessarily, causing Alec’s scowl to get more pronounced. “No, really. If you glare at the screen any harder, you’ll open a hole in it.”

“Jace, shut up!” Isabelle hissed, elbowing him hard.

As for Alec, he was trying really hard to keep his head cool, or else he would forgo every protocol he knew, laws be damned. Because his only wish currently was to make Camille Belcourt pay with blood, giving her a very slow death.

He wanted to kill her. He really wanted to kill her, deliberately and painfully.

“Alec.”

Alec blinked slowly, back to reality, then turned towards the voice that called him.

“Catarina.”

She wasn’t wearing scrubs like the usual. She wasn’t even with her glamor up. Her blue skin and bright white hair were exposed to all to see at the Ops Center, and for the first time it wasn’t a healer in front of them.

It was a warlock ready to confront the one who hurt her family beyond reality.

Jace gasped, perplexed.

“You called her? We can’t-” He cut himself, then shook his head. “Alec, since when do you put a civilian at risk during a mission? You know it’s against the rules!”

In any other situation, it would’ve been amusing having Jace mentioning laws and rules as if they were something he actually cared for.

But in that moment, Alec didn’t give a single shit.

“I really don’t care, Jace. Cat wanted to come with us, and I would never stop her.” He took his bow from the table and walked past them to give the final orders to all teams assembled and ready to go where Camille was hiding.

“Try to stop me, Shadowhunter.” Cat drawled, staring pointedly at Jace, and soon following Alec.

Jace and Izzy exchanged looks.

They were terrified for their brother.

Usually, Alec was the level-headed, always keeping an eye on them, but for the first time the opposite would be necessary.

They didn’t have at all a good feeling about that mission.

.

.

.

Camille was ready for them.

It was a trap full of demons.

A rift for a hell realm was open.

.

.

.

Alec fell on it.

[alovetold]

feelings were hard. they hadn't ever come easy to him, sometimes they'd be too intense, other times they'd blur and mix into a puddle of grey and he wouldn't know which one was which. one thing he knew was the fact that magnus was an explosion of color. something about him always brought joy - and a ton of nerves. always nervous around him. ( will i be good enough ? does he like me like i like him ? ) but instead of ever speaking about the thoughts that thunder through his mind, alec shows up every night, goes to sleep in the same bed and wakes up early to make magnus his coffee the exact way he likes. he wasn't sure how he was supposed to explain that the warlock ... had become his home. but the thought of losing him instead was more terrifying.

a hand runs through his hair, black locks now messy - not only from sleep, but from the distress of having to open up. didn't magnus know ? somehow alec had assumed the warlock knew that he liked him. knew that the words were hard to speak, a vulnerability he didn't allow himself to tap into often. ❝ magnus - it isn't to offend you. i like being here ... uh, it's just ... ❞ blue eyes lift, seeking out the cat like ones of his lover's. he always found his eyes beautiful, especially the last time they'd be open before sleep claimed him. ❝ i'm not good with words. my family - they wouldn't like this. they wouldn't like me staying here - i guess ... i guess i just think of that sometimes. it isn't you. i like being here, i really do. even if chairman meow gets all my clothes filled with hair - even when you breathe next to my ear when we sleep - especially then. ❞

alexander   lightwood   is   𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐄   𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐍𝐆,   and   magnus   has   found   himself   spending   an   embarrassing   amount   of   time   thinking   of   him,   and   trying   to   decode   his   behaviour.   at   first,   the   warlock   had   assumed   the   shadowhunter   was   playing   hard   to   get,   but   he   quickly   realised   that   alec   just   simply   didn't   notice   there   were   signals   being   thrown   his   way.   (   yet,   he   𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒   𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊.   every   morning,   magnus   wakes   to   freshly   brewed   coffee,   and   he   knows   for   certain   that   the   chairman   is   not   responsible   for   it   !   )   ❛   —   i   don't   believe   sunrise   can   still   be   considered   night,   ❜   he   comments,   adding   a   little   extra   liquor   to   both   of   their   drinks   before   bringing   them   across.   (   of   course,   he   could   have   summoned   them,   but   sometimes,   𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒   𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄   𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄.   )   ❛   i   have   a   question   for   you,   alexander,   and   i   trust   that   you   will   be   honest.   ❜   trust...may   not   be   the   right   word.   hopeful,   perhaps.   ❛   you   come   here   because   𝐘𝐎𝐔   𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄   𝐌𝐘   𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘,   and   i   can't   blame   you   for   that,   ❜   an   amused   grin   is   offered   as   he   gracefully   drops   down   into   his   arm   chair,   a   generous   swig   of   his   drink   taken.   ❛   —      you   come   here   𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓   𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒,   and   yet,   you   always   behave   like   you'd   rather   be   anywhere   else.   i   should   be   offended,   but,   instead,   i'll   give   you   the   opportunity   to   𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋   𝐌𝐄   𝐖𝐇𝐘.   ❜   of   course,   magnus   knows   why,   but   the   real   question   is...does   alec   ??

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

All In The Timing

A/N: The Dark Malec fic I’d promised :)

Anyways, apply canon Magnus’s habit of laughing in the face of heartbreak and fear and on Dark Magnus, and you’ll have a Magnus who’s perfected his Evil Laugh TM. It just comes out at the most unexpected, most uncanny timing. I’m just saying.

****

“So,” Bane said casually as he sat back on his couch, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit jacket. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sebastian’s narrowed brushed around the wide living room of Bane’s apartment, which doubled as his workplace. Sebastian never understood people who received clients at home, especially ones who could be as dangerous as him.

Speaking of which, he had some business.

“I need you to perform a spell,” Sebastian said, going into the specifics. Bane just stared at him, listening, his face a careful blank slate. Sometimes, Sebastian wanted to punch right in the middle of that facade of his, wanted to see it crumble.

Today he would, he reminded himself. He would get what he wanted, and he would get Bane pleading on his knees, if everything went well.

“So?” Sebastian said, finished with his details of the spell he needed. “When will you start?”

Bane gave a displeased twitch of his mouth. “What makes you think I’ll be willing to perform such a spell, Morgenstern? Only a fool would give you the kind of power you’re seeking.”

“You will do it.” Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as he dropped the hook. “Or else, your boyfriend dies.”

Bane blinked slowly, his cat-like eyes focusing on Sebastian. “What?”

“Your boyfriend?” Sebastian grinned and leaned back, delighting in the tiny crease that appeared between Bane’s eyebrows. “Tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed? I’ve got some henchmen looking after him in a secret base right now. One phone call, and they’ll slit his throat.”

Bane blinked again, and titled his head. “Is that so?”

“That is so.” Sebastian pulled up his phone, showing Magnus the proof - a photo of Alec Lightwood that he’d taken right before he came here from the base. Lightwood had been knocked unconscious while he was on patrol and then taken into his base by his henchman, where he’d been put in a cell. The photo showed him in that cell, body slumped in a heavy wooden chair, his arms bound to the arms of the chair with thick ropes. The same ropes were wound around his abdomen and the back of his chair, holding him upright. There was nothing to support his head, however, and it lolled to one side, a small trickle of blood running down his face from where he’d been hit during the scuffle.

Lightwood had put up quite a fight. But his people had the element of surprise on their side and greatly outnumbered Lightwood, and in the end it was a quick capture.

Sebastian turned his attention back to Bane, who was examining the picture with a scrutinising eye. His expression was as blank as it always was, but this time, there was something shimmering under his gaze.

Good.

“I suggest you start soon, Bane,” Sebastian said with a satisfied grin. “The sooner you finish the spell, the sooner your boytoy returns to you. And don’t you dare try anything foolish.”

Bane’s gaze slid from the phone that Sebastian still held up, to Sebastian himself, and then back to the phone. He snorted, lips twitching as he bowed his head. It was like something cracked in him, his breath coming out in short, heavy puffs, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

This… wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. Sebastian’s grin slipped.

Bane was supposed to be afraid, face turning pale and clammy as soon as he saw Lightwood’s state. Everyone in the Clave and Downworld alike knew that if Bane loved anyone, it was Lightwood. It was why Sebastian had gone through so much pain to capture him, after all. If there was anyone he could use to break Bane, it was Lightwood. He was supposed to break.

Instead, Bane was… laughing?

As soon as that occurred to him, Bane threw his head back, laughing like a madman, one of his hands coming up to rest on top of his forehead. Bane was laughing as if he and Sebastian were old friends, and Sebastian had just cracked a hilarious joke over a glass of wine instead of telling him that his lover was in danger.

Sebastian could only stare at him, incredulous. Behind him, the two Nephilim henchmen he’d brought along for protection looked at each other, confounded. Bane was still laughing, sinking back into the cushions of his couch, clutching at his abdomen as if it hurt.

Was he mocking Sebastian?

“You-“ Sebastian flushed, anger rising within him as he stood, stalking over to Bane and grabbing him by the collar. “You bastard! Did you even hear what I just said?! Your boyfriend-“

“Oh, I heard you loud and clear,” Bane said in between fits of giggles, wiping tears from his eyes. Eyes that glinted with amusement. He was actually amused. The bastard. “I just- you- Oh.”

The laughter which had died down for a moment or two now built up again, rising steadily to a crescendo.

“No wonder he didn’t come home last night!” Magnus exclaimed, still laughing. He winced and pushed Sebastian off, his arm going tighter around his abdomen. “Oh, Oh God, my stomach hurts. Fuck, I haven’t laughed like that in a while now. Anyway, this will do him some good, I suppose - I have been telling him to get some rest.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Sebastian snapped.

Magnus titled his head, regarding Sebastian with amusement, laughter bubbling up his throat again. “What is wrong with you? You left Alexander alone, with, what? Three guards? One in his room to keep an eye on him, another in the hallway outside, and one keeping watch at the front door?”

Sebastian blanched.

Magnus grinned, as if to say, bingo. His cat-like eyes slid to where Sebastian’s henchmen stood, and called out, “They’re not picking up, are they?”

Sebastian whirled on his henchmen, who were indeed on their phones, attempting to call the ones who had been left on guard duty. The worried frowns on their faces told Sebastian all he needed to know.

Fuck.

He needed this spell.

And he couldn’t extract it out of Bane without a bargaining chip.

“I should feel bad for Alexander, but it’s just so hilarious!” Bane cackled. “So many people underestimate him, and then- and then they’re so surprised when they realise they underestimated him!”

“Let’s go,” Sebastian barked at his henchmen before turning to the front door. He could come back here, but he needed to check on his bargaining chip first. Maybe take a few fingers to wipe that stupid laugh off of Bane’s face with.

Bane was still laughing when Sebastian stalked out the front door, his henchmen hot on his heels.

In the forty-five minutes it took to drive from Bane’s house-slash-office to the base, Sebastian had called his guards several times. None of them had picked.

Sebastian’s mind was reeling as the car rolled to a stop and he threw open the door, briskly walking up the short flight of stairs and in through the front door. The shadowhunter he’d left on guard duty there was immediately by his side, asking what was going on, but Sebastian ignored him.

Had Lightwood really found a way to escape? It was unlikely - if this guard was still here, then so should he. He was even tied up, for fuck’s sake. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check on him, and give Bane more of a reason as to why he should perform the spell.

Sebastian clambered down the stairs to the downstairs hallway, mind still reeling as he grew closer to where Lightwood was being kept. He threw open the cell door, and registered the sight of Lightwood, still bound to his chair, a fresh bruise on his face and a surprised expression taking over as soon as he saw Sebastian.

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped in relief, but the relief lasted only a moment.

“Thank you for leading me to him,” came Bane’s voice from behind, and Sebastian froze.

Sebastian turned around, eyes wide and icy with fear as he beheld Magnus, standing with one arm outstretched, blue sparks dancing along his palm. Magnus’s smile brightened just as Sebastian’s eyes went a tiny bit wider, clearly aware of the effect Magnus’s magic was having on him.

It was so easy, really. One simple spell to jam any signals that Sebastian and his cronies’s phones would receive, another tracking spell, and here he was. Magnus worried for the state of kidnappers in the future.

“It’s not personal,” Magnus crooned as his magic tightened its hold on Sebastian’s brain. “Actually, wait. It is. Let me clarify something.”

Magnus’s smile slipped, his cat’s eyes flashing as he looked at Sebastian, who let out a tiny whimper of pain.

“No one lays a hand on Alexander and gets away with it,” Magnus said, and squeezed his hand into a fist.

Sebastian dropped, and Magnus gave him a brief glance - he was dead, limbs spread out in awkward positions, blood slowly seeping out of his eyes and ears - before he stepped over his body and into the holding cell.

Magnus’s heartbeat grew slower and steadier as he drew closer to Alec, who was looking straight back at him, one eye nearly shut by the swollen bruise on his cheekbone. There was blood on the legs of the chair, Magnus realised, and another body tucked away to one side of the room.

“They forgot to bind my legs,” Alec said by way of greeting, and snorted. “Those fools.”

“Good to see you too, darling,” Magnus said, gently cupping Alec’s cheek, fingers brushing along the bruise and healing it. Alec leaned into the touch, heaving a gentle sigh. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Alec snorted again, but this time he smiled as well. “Yeah right.”

He turned his face into the hollow of Magnus’s palm, placing a gentle kiss there, and Magnus’s heart cracked just the tiniest bit.

In a good way, of course.

Alec’s voice was slightly muffled when he spoke again. “Now get me out of here.”

Magnus laughed, a genuine one this time, and got to work on the ropes. “Of course, love.”

[khaleesiofalicante]

When he walks in to the mansion, Max ambushes him at the door. 

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

He is jumping up and down like a child. Alec is instantly transported back to the past, when Max used to wait by the door, sitting at the stairs, until Alec came home. 

Max hasn’t done that lately. 

Max hasn’t done anything much lately. 

“Hey, my baby,” Alec smiles. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

“Wanna show you something,” Max says excitedly.

He grabs Alec by the arm and drags him to his room, practically skipping along the way. 

Despite all the nonsense at work, Alec’s heart feels lighter, knowing Max is happy about something. 

“Did you beat your own high score?” Alec asks fondly. 

“Not yet,” Max replies as they reach the room. “But I will soon.”

Alec chuckles. Unlike Rafael, who kept competing with those around him, Max keeps competing with himself, always pushing himself to do better than his past self. 

Max was sometimes so much like Magnus, it hurt a little to look at him. 

“What did you want to show me?” Alec asks, sitting down on Max’s bed. 

Max walks over to his table and grabs a small glass box. He reaches into the box and takes out something large and fluffy. 

Alec’s body tenses all over. “Is that-”

“It’s a tarantula,” Max says, smiling at the large furry creature inside the box. 

Alec can’t seem to move. His legs are numb. His throat feels dry.

No one really knows about his intense fear of spiders. 

No one except Magnus. 

“Shinyun gave it to me as a gift,” Max announces. “He is so fluffy, dad! And he is nocturnal. Just like me!”

Shinyun. 

He is going to murder her. 

He is literally going to murder her. 

“Max,” Alec manages to say. “Do you need to have a tarantula?”

The boy looks up at that and blinks. 

“But I like having a pet,” Max says and pauses for a moment. “Bapak took Chairman when he left.”

Magnus did take Chairman with him - along with a piece of Alec’s heart.

Or all of it. 

Alec wants to pull Max closer and hug him tightly. 

But Max is holding a fucking tarantula in his hands. 

“I can get you a cat if you want,” Alec offers. 

“I don’t want a cat,” Max says. 

“But you love Chairman!”

“I can’t just replace him with another cat,” Max says, his voice low. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Alec sighs. 

But then he notices the way Max’s face falls at his disapproval. 

Max who had been smiling only a moment ago. 

Max who hasn’t smiled much in a long time. 

Alec sighs again.

“Do you promise to keep him inside your room at all times?” Alec asks. 

“Yes!” Max’s eyes light up. “I promise!”

“Then you can keep him.”

“Say hi,” Max moves closer, holding the spider in his hands. “I named him Sir Lancelot.”

There is a fond expression on his son’s face. 

And Alec immediately knows he will cuddle with the damn thing if he has to just to see Max happy and content like this again. 

“Hello, Sir Lancelot,” Alec manages to say. “Welcome to the Lightwood Mansion.”

Max sits down next to him and goes on about tarantulas, spitting one piece of trivia after the other. Alec is borderline concerned, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised since Max had always preferred to watch Animal Planet over Nickelodeon. 

“Where are you going?” Max asks when Alec eventually gets off the bed. 

“I gotta make a call,” Alec kisses the top of the boy’s head. “I have to thank Shinyun for such a thoughtful gift.”

- Sundays for Divorce Au and Hating on Mondays

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 58: Voicemail

Harry's mobile rang, interrupting a perfectly nice (if solitary) dinner at home with a good book.

With a sigh, he put his bookmark in his book, set his fork down in his bowl of pasta, and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and huffed at the unknown number, "Bloody spam call," he grumbled, tossing the phone onto the couch beside him.

He picked up his fork once more and opened his book.

He hadn't read more than two paragraphs when his phone pinged, notifying him that the caller had left a voicemail. Pointedly, he turned away from the phone and went back to reading; he made it a few more pages, his pasta bowl almost empty, when his phone started ringing again.

The same number was calling again. He scowled and ignored it, going back to his book and letting it ring out. He wasn't especially surprised when he got the notification that whoever was calling had left him another voicemail.

After that, his phone was blissfully silent as he continued reading. When he finished his book he set it down on the side table and stretched until there was a satisfying pop in his lower back.

He glanced at his phone, his curiosity winning out, and reached for it to play back the voicemails.

"Potter? Are you there?" a drunken voice slurred, and Harry knew that voice but he couldn't possibly believe that the person it sounded like had a muggle phone and even if he did, it didn't make sense that he'd be calling Harry. "Oh I can never understand these stupid things. Am I supposed to push a button so you can hear me? This is Draco Malfoy, so if you can hear me, you'd better speak up."

To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

(Read more below the cut)

"You know I don't understand how to make this work," he whined at Harry, "Can't you help me? Isn't that what you do?"

Harry huffed.

"Fine. Don't talk to me. You're the one who's missing out. I'm hanging up now, Potter."

He shook his head and hit delete on the voicemail before opening the next one.

"Potter," he greeted again and Harry almost laughed because he didn't know how it was possible to sound so drunk and so posh at the same time. "I've been informed that you were not, in fact, on the other end of the string...wire?... line?..." he trailed off and this time Harry did laugh.

"Whatever. None of those words make any sense. Anyway, I was told I left you a recording of my voice. You're welcome."

Harry laughed again, ridiculous man.

"So, since you weren't being rude before, I thought I would call to present you my offer. I am out at a club dancing and drinking with Pansy, and I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing. I'm going to guess that you are finishing a terrible detective novel while you sit on your sofa eating dinner by yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "I like my detective novels, thank you."

"And I know you're probably rolling your eyes and extolling the many virtues of your paperback novels, but they're absolute drivel, Potter, you must know that."

It was ridiculous to be fond of this man. Utterly and completely ridiculous, but Harry was nothing if not fond of Draco Malfoy.

"Anyway, I bet that your cat hasn't even joined you on the sofa. Magnus has much better taste in literature than you do."

Magnus was currently resting on his cat tower, but if he'd been asked, Harry wouldn't have admitted it.

"The point I'm trying to make, is that you are living a lonely, miserable life. So you should come out dancing with me. And I know," he carried on, "that you would say that you don't dance but I can teach you."

He smiled at the phone, gripping it a little tighter as he imagined that scenario playing out in his mind.

"And then, you can take me home with you at the end of the night."

Harry promptly choked on his saliva. Draco Malfoy couldn't be implying what he thought he was implying.

"What's your bed like, Potter? Is it soft? Is it red?" he asked aghast. "Maybe we should come back to mine instead. You'd look so lovely on my green sheets." He trailed off with a wistful little sigh. "Or. Just call me back and tell me to leave the club right now. Tell me to floo over and maybe we won't make it past the living room. Maybe on that hideous sofa. Hell maybe we won't make it past that garish rug."

There was a short pause and Harry wondered if Draco was imagining it like he was.

"I'm dying to kiss you." he murmured. "Surely you see it, surely you know. And I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-"

The voicemail ended abruptly and Harry glared at the phone. What happened? He opened the voicemail box again and a notification popped up. His mailbox was full. Of all the rotten luck.

And he had no idea where the other man was and even if he had known, did it really make sense to go there anyway?

He listened to the voicemail, then he listened to it again.

And again.

He listened and he fell a little bit more in love with Draco Malfoy and he knew that even if he had known where he was, he wouldn't have gone, because he didn't want to be something the other man regretted in the morning.

After retrieving Magnus from the cat tower, he carried him into his bedroom and decided to deal with everything in the morning.

----------------

Harry slept very poorly that night and when 7:30 rolled around Harry couldn't stand it for one more second. He stuffed his feet into his trainers, pulled a sweatshirt over his head, and apparated to Draco's front door, pounding on it before he could stop himself.

He waited for a long moment and when there was no response, he pounded again.

The door swung open while he was still knocking, revealing a very tired, very grumpy Draco Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of boxers, "What the fuck." He stared at Harry as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"

"What were you going to say?"

"Potter, I am in no mood for your bullshit; I am tired, I am hungover, and it is bloody early. You're going to need to start making sense. Right now."

"You said, 'I'll be anything you want me to be, Harry. Anything. Because you must know that I-' and then my voicemail was full and I couldn't hear anything more."

All of the color drained from Draco's face, "I think I'm going to be sick." He turned around and stumbled back inside, but he left the door open so Harry took that as an invitation to enter.

Draco was serious, apparently, about getting sick because he made a beeline for the bathroom and Harry heard him vomiting before he reached the doorway.

"Oh," he murmured sympathetically, making his way over and gathering Draco's shoulder-length hair in his hand to keep it out of his face. He rubbed soothing circles on his back as he heaved up the contents of his stomach which truthfully smelled like pure vodka.

"Go away," Draco finally groaned when he'd managed to stop dry heaving and flush the toilet. "Just leave me to die. That would be preferable."

"Stop being dramatic," he said as he stood and moved toward his medicine cupboard. "I'm sure that a potions master has a hangover potion lying around here somewhere." He dug through until he found a bottle and handed it over to Draco.

Draco took it, wincing as the pain of the hangover he would have had hit him all at once. He shuddered, "Fucking Pansy," he grumbled. "Thank you for your assistance, you've done you're duty to help those less fortunate than you, you may go."

"Not likely," he replied. "Why don't you shower and get cleaned up? I'll make some breakfast and we can talk."

Draco groaned, "Let me die."

Harry rolled his eyes, "You have ten minutes, then I'm coming in and dragging you out."

He made his way to Draco's kitchen and made some scrambled eggs and toast for both of them, as well as coffee.

Draco appeared after nine minutes and fifty-two seconds. "Please, Potter," he groaned, "Can't you just drop it. I promise never to drunk dial you again," he added as he slid into a chair and took a sip of his coffee.

"Draco what was the end of that sentence?" Harry asked.

The other man picked up his slice of toast and took a bite, "I don't know. I was drunk off my arse."

"Don't lie to me," Harry replied. "I'm not stupid."

Draco's eyes flicked up to meet his, "I know that."

"Please," Harry whispered, "What was the end of that sentence?"

"You aren't going to let it go are you?"

He shook his head.

Draco's shoulders slumped, "I am in love with you," he whispered. "That's the end of that sentence. And usually I have enough of a sense of self preservation and dignity not to just go spouting that sort of nonsense to someone who couldn't possibly feel the same-"

"But I do!" Harry exclaimed. "I do feel the same. I have for absolutely ages."

"You don't have to lie to me-"

"Do you remember that trivia night we went to eight months ago," Harry interrupted, "the one where everyone else bailed?"

"Yes."

"I knew," Harry said, "I knew that night that I was completely besotted with you. We were the worst team there."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Right. Everyone falls in love with someone who's a complete idiot about a subject school children could play better."

"I fell in love with someone who didn't take himself seriously. Who laughed at getting the answers wrong, who was clever and funny, and made up answers a hundred times better than the real ones." He looked down at his hands, steeling himself to say something hard but real, "Things are hard for me sometimes," he confessed. "I get stuck in my head and it's not," he swallowed, "Not always good."

Draco's hand found his across the table.

Harry looked up, "But I don't feel like that when I'm with you. I can't remember the last time I'd laughed like that before that night. And I'm not trying to put pressure on you," he added, "I see a mind healer, I'm not asking you to fix me," he said. "Just, when I'm with you I feel like there's something to look forward to." He swallowed and Draco waited patiently for him to continue, "And I couldn't let myself imagine that you might want someone broken like me, I wanted to be better before I let myself even think about it. But then you left me that messa-"

"You're not broken," Draco murmured, bringing Harry's knuckles to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to them that left Harry breathless. "The war changed all of us and we all have healing and growing to do from that, but you aren't broken. You're enough as you are right now."

"You don't know what my bad days are like," Harry said.

Draco shrugged, "And you don't know what my bad days are like, but you're not holding them against me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I really like you," Draco confessed. "A lot. And I know that things aren't always going to be easy, but if we wait for either of us to be perfect before we try, we'll wait our entire lives." He swallowed and Harry watched his throat bob with the motion, "Could we maybe try healing and growing together?"

"I'd like that," Harry whispered.

"Good," Draco replied before standing up and moving around the table to straddle Harry's lap, "Then I'm going to need you to kiss me."

"I can do that," he replied, cupping Draco's cheek and leading his mouth down to his.

Their breakfast got cold but neither of them could bring themselves to care.

-------------

Day 57: Text Message | Day 59: Ring

[nat-20s]

Part 4 of Wonderful! Au! This one isn’t an episode! And It’s not funny! It does, however,  provide the context around Part 3! Also, Jon signs in this one, and sign languages have their own grammar and structure, but I display his signs translated into English and denote them with <> instead of “”. Here goes!

~*~

When, two days ago, Jon woke up gasping at 3 am, Martin didn’t think anything of it. Their nightmares were much like their chronic headaches: sometimes occurring daily, sometimes going weeks in without showing up. They were uncomfortable, surely, and sometimes had lingering effects, but there was a routine to them that took away much of their sting.

When he then throws off the covers, grabs the pack of cigarettes that only gets touched maybe three times a year, and makes a beeline for their balcony, Martin realizes that something worse is going on. Dread starting to settle in his stomach, he attempts to stave it off through action. He grabs the comforter  and puts on a pair of slippers, going to accompany Jon. The early morning spring air is bracing enough to someone like himself, who, barring a certain deeply unpleasant year, had always run hot, it must be awful for the heat sink that is Jon. Sure enough, he finds Jon shifting on his feet, trying not to shiver too much as he’s handling the lighter.

Getting closer, while still allowing Jon breathing room, he offers over the blanket with a gentle smile and gentler words “Wanna talk about it?”

Jon doesn’t take the blanket. Jon doesn’t even look at him. “Talking to you has often been the problem, so no, thank you.”

Oof. Instinct tells him to react with a matching tone, to jab right back. That instinct is one that he’s long learned to ignore. Instead, he wraps the blanket around his own shoulders and replies with a certain level of blitheness, “Huh. Probably shouldn’t have married me then.”

Jon’s shoulders slump, and the harsh lines of his features soften. He still, however, won’t look at Martin. “Sorry, that was...a poor way of phrasing things. Sometimes I just think..”

There’s a silence between them for a few seconds as Martin waits for him to expand on the thought. When he doesn’t, Martin prompts, “Yes?”

Jon sighs with all of himself, before taking a drag of his cigarette. “Four years ago. If you hadn’t been there, I think I would’ve gone through with it. I’m glad for the life we got to build afterwards, but. Sometimes it feels as though I’m being rewarded for failure. Or perhaps, more accurately, for compliance.”

Four years ago. Four years ago exactly. The date dawns on Martin, simultaneously the worst day of their lives, and the day of their freedom from the fears. The realization makes him understand why Jon’s treading the ruts of a worn out argument, a old ache. These days, Martin doesn’t have much to say on the matter. He thinks the second Fucking Jonah Magnus opened the door, and that it was Fucking Jonah Magnus who did it, they no longer had any right choices to make. No matter what way they did the math, the outcome was always going to be terrible. However, when he wakes up warm, with their cat curled up at their feet and his husband curled into his side, he can regret the build up all he likes, but he can’t deny his joy at how it, eventually, all shook out. “Reward would imply intent, and I don’t think what we have now was orchestrated by anything other than ourselves. It’s not like the web promised us a summer wedding if we finished opening the rift.”

It’s too early to have the conversation. Jon seems to realize this at the same time that Martin does, because he snuffs out his cigarette on the railing, and says he’s going back to bed.

Four hours later, Jon leaves the apartment. He doesn’t say where he’s going, and Martin doesn’t ask. In the past, it would’ve been enough for his anxiety to spike, for the insidious thoughts of “this is it, he’s finally sick of me, always knew this would happen,” to circulate. He’s mostly able to stave off that way, able to come to the rational conclusion that this day was hard every year, and that they both needed space to process, that they weren’t even fighting, really. Mostly. He still has to keep himself busy to stave off the worst of it. The sardonic part of himself notes that their apartment’s always sparkling when they’re at their lowest, stress cleaning a habit the two of them share.

Jon gets home close to midnight, and doesn’t look at him as he falls asleep. On the couch. Maybe they’re fighting after all. Martin wishes someone had told him.

This morning, Martin wakes up cold for the first time in months. Blearily, he makes his way towards the kitchen, and finds Jon upright and scrolling on his phone. The bags under his eyes suggest he slept about as well as Martin. He looks up, at Martin, when he walks by, which is a marked improvement. Martin stops in his tracks, and he wants to think of something easy to say. He wants to offer tea or breakfast, he wants to give reassurances, he wants to remain steadfast in his conviction that saving their former world and ending up somewhere else was the best move, he want to smoothly open up discussion. Instead, he blurts out the question that’s been keeping him tossing and turning for the past several hours. “Are we okay?”

Jon opens his mouth, closes it, and lets out a frustrated huff through his nose. He raises his hand in a fist and nods with it. <Yes.>

Inanely, he asks, “Are you okay?,” which only gets him a flat stare before Jon signs <I’m getting some damn sleep.> and shoves past Martin to what is supposed to be their shared bed. Martin lets him, for now, but they’re going to clear out some of the tension this afternoon.

He makes the elective decision to record the episode by himself. He supposes he could send out a tweet telling their audience it’s an off week, but he wants to record it, both for himself and for Jon. After he’s done, he does a three knocks in rapid succession on the doorframe of the bedroom, a code they had established, god, back in the Prentiss days to let the other know it was them. Jon stirs under the covers, so he asks, “Can I come in?”

A hand rises up, giving the same nod as earlier. Before he walks in, however, he also asks, “Can I join you on the bed?”

<Yes.>

Martin crawls in next to him, and Jon immediately turns over to face him. Before he says anything, Jon signs <I love you.>

“I love you too. Hey, did..did you hear me recording?”

<No. You did an episode solo?>

“Yeah. Sort of figured you weren’t up for it.”

Jon shrugs and gives a tilt of his head that Martin reads as “Fair.” <What’s it about?>

Martin gives a shit-eating grin, the first smile hes given in the past two days. “It’s a surprise.”

Jon sticks out his tongue at him, which makes some of the weight on his lungs lift. “It’s also not what we need to discuss. What’s been going on, my love?”

<Same old, same old. Crushing guilt, swells of regret, the general feeling that I don’t deserve this life. I’ll get past it again. It’s just hard, this time of year.>

Martin knew all that already, but, “There’s something else though, this time, isn’t there?”

Jon drops his eyes down to his hands, which he keeps resolutely still. With nothing but an earnest plea, Martin asks, “Why did you sleep on the couch? That’s not ‘same old, same old’.”

To his surprise, Jon comes in closer, only leaving enough room between them that he can still sign. <I love you. So much. Enough to terrify me, sometimes, but.>

“But?”

<Sometimes I can’t look at you without seeing the past. I’m sorry.>

Involuntarily, Martin glances down to Jon’s abdomen. Despite his torso being covered, Martin knows the shape of the scar there, because there are times where he can still feel himself creating it. “I know how you feel. And it’s. It sucks, but I think it’s okay. As long as..as it’s not the only thing you see looking at me.”

Jon shakes his head, and gives an only slightly fragmented smile. <Not at all. Mostly I look at you and I see my favorite person in all of existence, literally.>

Martin relaxes into the mattress and runs his fingers through Jon’s hair. Pressing their foreheads together, he replies, “Ditto. Don’t tell The Duchess though, she’s the jealous type.”

That gets a proper laugh out of Jon, and Martin’s sure that they both know tomorrow is going to be better.

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

post accident snip of magnus with his friend/s

“Fucking hell. How am I supposed to run a fucking empire without any knowledge whatsoever.” Magnus grumbles.

“Like most assholes who run huge conglomerates without any knowledge about shit whatsoever.” Raphael comments.

“Those are evil people.” Magnus points out. “I’m not.”

“Says you.” Raphael replies, without looking up.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Santiago.”

Cat and Ragnor have been quite for sone reason but Magnus can see them passing some weird looks.

Cat nudges Ragnor.

They have been doing that a lot lately.

Magnus is confused but he’s been confused a lot lately so he ignores it.

“This day couldn’t get worse.” He grumbles. “Anyways, what’s going on with you guys? Give me some tea.”

“There’s no tea here.” Ragnor says too quick.

“Why are you being weird?”

“No reason.”

“Something is going on.”

Magnus looks at Raphael but he ignores him again.

Cat throws his hand up in the air. “Oh for fucks sake. Stop being a baby and just tell him.”

“I’ve had it till here with secrets.” Magnus comments. He’s so tired of everyone hiding stuff from him. “What’s going on?”

Cat sighs and takes Ragnor’s hand in hers.

It’s not uncommon.

They have always been incredibly close.

But the moment doesn’t seem right.

Ragnor’s eyes met Cat and there’s that look again.

Oh.

Oh.

“Over my dead body.” Magnus all but yells.

He stands up from the couch and points a finger between the two of them.

“You two.”

“Magnus—“

“You’re together??” He says incredulously. “When did this happen?”

Cat shakes her head. “Three years.”

“Oh my god.”

“Atleast you didn’t find out this time like last time.” Raphael smirks.

“How did I find out last time?” He asks.

Ragnor avoids his gaze.

Of course.

“I walked in on you two boning didn’t I?” He says almost horrified.

Cat let out a chuckle and throws a pillow at him.

“Thank fuck for amnesia. I’m glad I don’t remember that happening.” Magnus laughs. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Enough of your life had been changed. We wanted you to have sone semblance of normalcy.” Ragnor replies.

Magnus’s heart warms at that.

They are such idiots.

“I would never want you to hide something this important to you.” He says with utmost honesty.

[malucy31]

Malec morning drabble #10 🌞

Hello lovelies! This is the 10th I post and I wanted to thank all of you for the likes and reblogs <3 Every one of them makes me smile and gives me a bit more confidence. I really felt self-conscious at first about posting things that weren't in my native language and weren't beta-read, so thank you so, so much to everyone one of you, you're all the best!

I'll leave you with our favorite boys in love now :)

I am a spirit having a human experience and I’m here to get closer to love.

“You, again?” Magnus groans, taking in the card between his fingers. He doesn’t know why he keeps holding on to that stupid oracle deck. Sure, drawing a card once in a while makes him feel closer to humanity, but this one seems to taunt him, surfacing way too often for it to be random coincidences and it gets depressing. Not because he believes those cards hold any power, but because somehow, he gives this one the meaning of his whole immortal life. Because this message gets right to his guts in a way nothing ever has.

And today… Today, he doesn’t understand what exactly he is supposed to do with it. Because the thing is that every time he drew this card, something major happened. Not a big event, but a choice he was on the verge to make, a change.

Magnus is tired today, has been for the last couple of months, years… centuries if he feels like being overdramatic. He just wants some peace, silence. Now that would be a nice change, one he would probably get bored with after a few days, but a nice change nevertheless.

The whole human experience thing hurts always a little and Magnus has rarely the strength to look too much into it. He certainly doesn’t have it today. Today, he feels drained.

Chairman Meow breaks him out of his thoughts, the car purring against his shin and warmth spreads through Magnus’s chest.

“Come here,” he coos as he catches the small cat to pet him on his lap.

His melancholy slowly fades away and as the Sun rises, he forgets about the card.

~

There’s a Shadowhunter in the store.

Every other Downworlder eye him with suspicion when a few Mundanes blessed by ignorance are completely oblivious to the sudden tension and chat like nothing major was happening. Magnus envies them.

The Shadowhunter doesn’t seem to notice the attention around him, the defiance. It would make Magnus scoff at the Shadowhunters’ legendary arrogance if the young man didn’t look so genuinely confused, lost and absorbed by whatever he is looking at.

Magnus gets closer, not really realizing or knowing what he is doing. When he hears the man call out one of the Warlocks working there, asking very politely about the kind of sage one can burn to purify a new place and how exactly it works, Magnus gets even more curious.

“Everything’s here, just read the instructions,” the Warlock answers in a tone that has nothing friendly about it. Magnus half expects the Shadowhunter to throw a tantrum, but he doesn’t, accepting the rudeness with a resigned “okay” that secretly breaks Magnus’s heart.

And because he never resisted a kind soul, especially when it comes with such a pretty face, he gets even closer.

“Hi, I’m Magnus.”

The man rises beautiful eyes to him and smiles.

“Alec.”

“I couldn’t help over-hearing, maybe I can help you? My fellow Warlocks can be a bit… rude sometimes.”

“I can’t blame them, I’m probably not their customer type.”

Because he doesn’t know what to answer to that, Magnus simply picks up the sage Alec would need and hands it out.

“Here, take this one.”

“Thanks,” he takes it, hesitating before continuing. “Could you tell me how it works?”

“You’re very confusing, you know?”

“Why?” Alec asks with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

“You’re a Shadowhunter in a Warlock store buying white sage for a new place?” Alec frowns, looking at him like he just said the air was particularly transparent today.

“Yes?”

“Don’t all Shadowhunters live in ether Idris or one of your charming Institutes?” He doesn’t know why he focuses on that first, but it’s apparently what itches his brain the most.

“I uh… decided to move out of the Institute. I found a job and a place to rent.”

“A job?”

“Well, it’s still linked to a mission, but I’d like to keep it, or at least find missions that bring me closer to a more… Mundane experience.”

If Magnus was confused earlier, he is now rendered speechless by the Shadowhunter who went from pretty to gorgeous in a sentence. The words Mundane experienceecho in his head and he barely registers his own following question.

“Alec, can I buy you a drink? Or dinner, coffee, breakfast, whatever you like.”

There’s a faint blush on Alec’s cheeks that fits his surprise very well. Magnus is about to apologize for making him uncomfortable when Alec answers.

“Sure, when?”

“How about now?”

Something about his tone seems to amuse the Shadowhunter who all the sudden, doesn’t look so out of place here.

“Now’s good.”

“Then come on, I know a quiet bar where you can answer all my questions. You’re very intriguing, you know?”

Alec laughs, following Magnus to the cash desk.

“Am I allowed to have questions too?”

“Of course, darling.”

[bytheangell]

We Take Care of Each Other

Whumptober 2020 prompt: “Please... get it out!”  (Read on AO3)

Alec’s shots haven’t missed their mark all night. He isn’t the type to get overconfident, he knows that’s the exact moment you set yourself up to lose, but he knows when he’s on enough of a roll to push his normal limits, shooting a little faster, aiming a little further out than he usually would in order to cover more of the small team he’s on mission with.

They follow a small number of Shax demons, killing a few as they go but leaving at least one alive in front of them at all times to hopefully lead them back to its nest. They’re getting close, Alec can tell, but something feels off. It’s just a gut instinct, but he’s learned to trust those more often than not so he’s on higher alert than usual as they round the next bend of the abandoned subway tunnel.

He sees the nest first, and so do the other Shadowhunters who set to work swiftly dispatching as many of the demons as they can, as quickly as they can. It’s a delicate process - sometimes Shax demons use their victims to breed, which means there may be people alive down here. There are more of them in the tunnels than they anticipated, given the number they already killed along the way. Alec spots a victim near the back and makes a beeline for her, catching several swipes of the demons’ pincers along his legs in an attempt to stop him. He reaches her and checks for a pulse, heart sinking when he doesn’t find one.

Fuck.

He can hear the cries of the demons behind him, the telltale sounds of the other Shadowhunters taking them down one by one with thin blades chosen specifically to pierce through their hard upper shells. He’s so focused on the nest and his search for other victims that he almost misses the orange glow to his left, along a smaller side tunnel.

The color may be different, the light foreign and threatening, but he recognizes the glow of magic when he sees it.

Of course, he has just enough time to think. If the Shax demons are being controlled by a warlock, he should’ve considered the possibility that the warlock would be with the nest, not necessarily somewhere safe and above ground.

“WARLOCK, WEST SIDE TUNNEL,” he shouts to his team. There’s no time for a subtle warning as he moves to duck out of the way of a narrowed beam of orange magic that just barely misses his shoulder. A moment later, Alec has three arrows knocked in his bow. He pulls the string back and releases them one after the other with practiced precision.

Alec might be fast, but the warlock is faster. With a flick of the warlock’s wrist, Alec’s arrows are suddenly consumed with a faint orange glow, and he watches in horror as they stop moving, flip direction, and shoot back at him under the warlock's control. He dodges the first one and recovers just fast enough to hit the second away, leaving a thin cut down his arm from the action. Between the speed of the first two arrows and his wounds from the Shax demons, however, Alec doesn’t recover in time to stop the third arrow from hitting him.

It pierces straight into his stomach, lodging itself in deep. Alec staggers back, fighting the shock that threatens to take over both his mind and his body. The pain is immediately excruciating - he can see blood coming from the wound much faster than a normal injury, and dimly registers through the pain that it must’ve nicked an artery.

“Sir-” one of the Shadowhunters rushes over to him, catching him under the arm and easing him down to the ground.

“Targets first,” Alec chokes out. “Clear the nest. Warlock--” but a glance to his side shows the warlock disappearing through a portal just as three Shadowhunters descend on them. “Fuck,” Alec breathes. He wants to curl in on himself but the arrow is in the way.

“What should we do?” One of the Shadowhunters asks, voice high and panicked. Alec isn’t in the state of mind to sagely suggest they calm down and think back to the basic medical training they get at the Academy, and instead groans, both at the pain and at the fact that he’s bleeding out in a dirty underground tunnel surrounded by a team of rookies.

“Get it out,” the Shadowhunter still kneeling at his side says. Her hands are shaking but she looks like she’s bracing herself to help despite being terrified for Alec, which is how he knows he must look pretty bad.

“No!” Alec shouts, or at least he tries to shout. The single syllable comes out desperate and rasping. “Arrows… more damage… coming out.” He’s losing blood too fast. It’s all he has the strength left to do to pull the cellphone from his pocket and drop it to the ground with a single word: “Catarina,” before everything goes black.

---

“Are you with me, Alec?”

Alec slowly comes back to consciousness to the sound of Catarina’s voice somewhere above him. He groans.

“Good. I was hoping you didn’t call me here just to die on me,” Cat says, forcing a smile. Alec blinks several times to focus and can see the strain on her face.

“Please, get it out,” Alec begs, the words weak.

Cat shakes her head. “I don’t want to take the arrow out here, but I closed the wound around it to buy us some time. Think you can stay conscious long enough to portal to the Institute?”

Alec nods slowly. “Mag-” he starts, but his words dissolve into a violent coughing fit.

“Already on his way to meet us at the infirmary,” Cat supplies, not needing him to finish the question. “C’mon, let’s make sure you’re still breathing when he gets there.”

A portal opens and Alec is aware of several hands helping to lift him in addition to Catarina’s magic. Alec does remain conscious for the short duration of portal travel, as well as just long enough to be carefully sat down on one of the empty beds before he passes out again.

---

Before Alec opens his eyes again, he feels the weight of Magnus’ hand in his own, the cold press of rings a familiar comfort. Eyes still closed he manages a weak squeeze, one that’s returned immediately with three times the force.

“Alexander?” Magnus’ voice comes in a soft whisper from his left.

Despite his body’s desire to fall back asleep, Alec forces his eyes to blink open, fighting how heavy his eyelids feel. Magnus sits on a chair beside his bed in the infirmary, a half-empty coffee cup on the table next to him.

“Magnus,” Alec manages, then swallows thickly, his throat dry from disuse causing him to cough instead. Magnus snaps his fingers and conjures a glass of water which he wastes no time holding up to Alec’s mouth for him to drink from.

Alec’s pretty sure he can handle holding a glass, but doesn’t fight it, taking several small, slow sips until the dryness goes away. Looking down he sees that he’s shirtless, his abdomen heavily bandaged.

“Should I be jealous that you called Catarina before me?” Magnus asks jokingly, following Alec’s gaze to the wrappings. “She says you’ll make a full recovery after a few days of bed rest.”

Alec sighs, then winces when the up-and-down motion tugs at his injury. “Great. We both know how much I love that.”

Magnus hums. “About as much as I love calls from my best friend in the middle of the night that my husband is bleeding out in an old subway tunnel?”

“Sorry I worried you,” Alec says, giving Magnus’ hand another squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry,” Magnus says, standing now so he can lean over Alec. Magnus places a soft, gentle kiss on Alec’s cheek first, then his temple, and then his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Me too,” Alec says, realizing for the first time that he hadn’t been so certain he would be alright in the moment. That thought tightens something in his chest entirely unrelated to his injuries, and he shifts himself over enough to make it obvious he wants Magnus to lay next to him.

Magnus doesn’t need to be told, though he’s extra careful about sliding in next to Alec without bumping against his side. “No matter how many times you get hurt, it never gets easier to see,” Magnus admits, threading his fingers through Alec’s hair as Alec rests his head on Magnus’ shoulder.

“I know,” Alec agrees. “If it makes you feel better, having you here makes being hurt a lot easier to deal with.”

“It does,” Magnus says. “Though I believe I’m supposed to be the one comforting you right now, and not the other way around.”

Alec smiles despite the constant, gentle throbs of pain. “We take care of each other.”

He doesn’t have to look up at Magnus’ face to tell he’s smiling when he replies, “Always, darling. Always.”

[alistair-blackwood]

MoMM Chapter 5 - The Storm, Part 2 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1

All he could do now was outlast this storm. Stay sane. No use agonising over the things he couldn’t change. Mum was …

He let out a long exhale, pushing through the weight that lingered on his chest.

Mum was going to have to carry on without him. She was a survivor, after all. He had faith. He just hoped things didn't change too much while he was gone– that the world will still be recognisable.

With Jon’s help, his eyes full of light and concern, and his small, scarred hand gently holding Martin's, he might stand a chance of making it.

The Storm, Part 2

Dear Mum

How have you been doing? I’ve been well. I’m sorry my letter’s a bit late this month, but things have been a little topsy-turvy. I wish I could tell you more about what was going on, but I hardly understand it all myself.

I’m out of a job. Things ended badly and I’m sure I won’t be welcome back at the Lord’s estate, but I’ll do my best to find something else as soon as I can. Something better. I’ll work twice as hard. I know it won’t make up for the missing payments, but I’ll try to make things right. 

I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the meantime. I’ve met someone, and he’s been helping me through all this. We’ve started working on a garden together. I know you’ve always hated gardening, but maybe he and I can grow something remarkable that’ll impress you. Jon doesn’t have much hope, but I’m sure there’s a respectable gardener somewhere between the two of us.

I think you’d like him. He’s kind.

Love,

Martin

 ~

“Jon, these all look the same to me.”

“This is a tulip seed. I’m certain of it.”

“Are you? Because on the pamphlet, it looks like an azalea.”

“Those don’t look anything alike.”

“Just drop it in the pit, will you? We’ll figure out what it is at some point.”

With a sigh, Jon did as told, settling back on his haunches as Martin filled the pit back in with soil. “Is it just me, or does this not strike you as proper gardening?”

“Would either of us know what proper gardening looked like?”

“… That’s a fair enough point, I suppose.”

Taking a deep breath, Jon closed his eyes, shaking out his shoulders. Wiggled, honestly. Did he even know he did that? The wiggling. Like a cat preparing to pounce. Martin had to bite his inner cheek to keep from grinning at the image.

Jon had hung his cloak at the greenhouse entrance and once again Martin was able to appreciate how small the man was, for all the space he took in Martin’s head. Dirt crusted his clipped fingernails and he’d smeared a streak of soil on his cheek. A child begging to be scolded for ruining their Sunday best. Martin didn’t think the man would be so comfortable being filthy.

Comfortable. Perhaps that’s what captivated Martin.

After everything the man had been through – years of loneliness and years more of a nightmare come to life – he still managed to be so … normal? Martin didn’t like how that word tasted, but it was the only one he could think of. Martin had only suffered a few weeks and that had been enough to make him go a bit looney. But Jon …? 

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“Stay … I don’t know, yourself?” Martin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the plots. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to start this particular conversation, but the question had poured out of his mouth. “I mean, I’ve only been here a month and I've already almost gone off my rocker at least once. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re … remarkably well-adjusted?” 

An eyebrow popped up. “Who says I’m well-adjusted?”

“I– Well–”

“Should I have a wild beard, then? A mad glint to my eyes?”

“Well, I’m not sure about a beard, but you haven’t seen yourself chopping radishes.”

“What? It’s satisfying. You understand, don’t you?” Jon scraped the shadowy stubble on his jaw. “Could never grow a beard, anyway. Too patchy.”

“I’m sure it would look brilliant.”

Jon hummed as he absently dug at a pit with the trowel. Martin fidgeted with the azalea seeds in his palm (maybe tulips?), before he bit his lip. Bit of a rude question, after all. Hey, why aren’t you insane actually? Probably not the best time to ask.

But as Martin opened his mouth, Jon sighed.

“To be honest, I barely noticed the difference at first. I’d already spent so much of my time alone in the archives, so by the time I was truly alone, I … supposed I’d already gotten used to it?”

Martin struggled to temper his expression, heart shattering in his chest. He hadn’t expected a nice answer, but something about Jon’s casual shrug made it all a little bit worse. Could Martin, for all his own loneliness, even imagine what that’s like? Being so alone that by the time his house has been emptied, he didn’t even notice the difference? 

A chill crawled up Martin’s arms, far too familiar and unwelcome in the warmth of the greenhouse. There had to be something he could do or say that could be helpful here. Something that could ease Jon’s burden, if only slightly.

“Well, it must have been nice not having to wear trousers all the time, at least.”

“… What?”

Martin blinked, processing his own words, and his face blazed with heat. “W-well, you live alone, you don’t have to wear trousers. That’s one of the perks, right?” 

“No! What would even– What purpose would that serve?”

“I mean, you’re basically doing the same thing already. Just, you know, in the opposite direction.”

“I have no idea what you could be referring to.”

“Right, sure. And you just like swanning about in that great big billowing cloak of yours, because …? It’s silk, it’s not as if it’s keeping you warm.”

The undertones of Jon’s face glowed. His eyes dropped to his fingers, picking the dirt out of his cuticles.

“I … That’s different. I just enjoy the way it feels.”

“Not that different. It’s about the indulgence.”

Jon rolled his eyes. With a lurch, he plucked up one of the seeds and stuffed it into the soil, and Martin leaned back as he tamped the pit with manic zeal before he settled back down with a huff, crossing his arms.

Martin gave the satchel a little shake. “Was that a tulip or an azalea?” 

Jon stiffened, eyes widening. “I-I, uh … I’m not sure? I wasn’t really looking.”

Their eyes met and the air hung heavy between them. Jon’s lips quivered. Martin’s cheeks grew sore holding his expression in place.

Then, a burst of giggles erupted between them. Jon keeled over, clutching his sides, and Martin quickly ran out of air, chest aching as he gasped for breath.

Jon recovered first, wiping his eye and smearing more dirt onto his cheek. “I … I suppose I can concede that the logic is similar.” He looked unhinged, deranged, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he sheepishly dug out the seed that might have been a tulip.

At least Martin could make him laugh. Not the most helpful thing, but it was something.

That chill didn’t go away, though, not entirely. It lingered on the tips of Martin’s fingers and the chambers of his heart, even as they both stood, wiping their hands of dirt. Did Jon notice it, too? His expression remained content and tranquil as he prepared the watering can, a gentle, absent-minded smile tweaking his mouth.

Martin tried to shake off the feeling.

It was probably just his imagination.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!