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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

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writing Wednesday!!! best day of the week!

My prompt, if it suits you: During the first uprising the circle won and took over rule of shadowhunter society. Fast forward about 2 decades and reluctant circle soldier Alec gets thoroughly seduced to join the downworlder resistance by Magnus 💜🖤💜🖤

It’s so sweet that you think it’s the best day! But it’s also the best day of my week where I get amazing prompts like this one.

Uh okay so this is super dddne (not malec) okay? Canon typical implications of: torture/genocide/war/incest/obsession/brainwashing/homophobia

suicide mention/ideation and graphic mention of self harm to the degree that it could be considered a suicide attempt but is also an attempt at getting free.

Ahahaha… I’m not even sure I can should say ‘I hope you enjoy’ with this one but I really do hope so. Also this was a super complex (and enjoyable prompt) because it changes the dynamic of the entire shadowworld.

This is not morgernstern friendly btw

—

Alec sits as still as possible but with his muscles loose and his spine straight but relaxed.

He’s in a predator's den and even if his mother were here with him, he would still be on his own.

“So, Alec—“ and Valentine smiles at him, lips curled in an utterly charming and fake smile. “You’ve impressed your mother and myself, neither of which are easy things to accomplish.”

And Alec, oh he hates where this is going.

Because he’s almost nineteen and his mother gets colder and sharper and more deadly with her disappointment every year. Never once has she complimented him and to hear this, Alec knows it’s nothing good.

“You’ve never once asked to leave Alicante and you’ve never slacked on your training.”

Alec has asked for both of those from his mother, at the same time.

Once.

He learned quickly to never ask anything from anyone ever again.

“It’s my duty.” Alec recites as he twirls his noodles and he hates how good the meal is. “You wish for me to be here, so here I’ll stay. Every nephilim requires training, it is our honor to fulfill it, and a blessing to do so in the divinity of our homeland.”

Alec has practiced small phrases here and there on his own parents, he knows almost everything that is safe to say around Valentine.

Valentine's grin grows a little brighter, a little more real and Alec swallows another bite of noodles instead of shuddering.

“Well, despite your issues—“ and Alec’s stomach shrivels as Valentine frowns, the reminder that everyone knows Alec doesn’t like girls hanging over Alec’s head like the blade of the soul sword. “Maryse and I feel as though you’ve earned a reward. For all of your loyalty and hard work.”

Valentine is talking like he’s one of Alec’s parents and Alec can’t stop himself from paling because he knows nothing good comes from Valentine’s rewards.

They are traps wrapped in filigree promotions and satin words.

“Your mother has been my most loyal and she and I agree that it’s a pity our family legacies haven’t been joined before. I’ve been very careful with Clarissa and sometimes she does act a little silly, but she’s fifteen now. Sixteen by the time you’re twenty, I think it would be a good fit, for both of you. Our labs will ensure there are no issues with having heirs.”

Alec can understand exactly what Valentine is saying. They want him to marry Clary. To get her pregnant as many times as Valentine asks, to be her protective shadow and her strategist and also the chain around her impulses.

Because Clary is spoiled and doted on and while she’s a spitfire fighting — violent and vicious and slightly deranged — she lacks any of the qualities for leadership that Valentine wants. Because she does what she wants, when she wants and if she doesn’t get her way, it goes poorly.

She’s a mad dog, waiting to be put down and Alec is the prison they want to chain her to.

She is also secretly dating Jace Herondale.

And Jace is the closest thing that Alec has to a friend, even if Alec doesn’t get to actually have friends. And while Jace doesn’t know Alec knows, it’s hard not to with how obnoxiously blatant they are.

Jonathan is smiling too.

But his smile is less fake and more considering, appreciation that Alec doesn’t trust in his gaze.

“I’m honored.” Is the only thing Alec can say even though this is the worst thing to ever happen to him and even by nephilim standards, Alec knows his life has been pretty miserable.

“I thought you would be!” And by the angel, Valentine looks really, honestly thrilled and Alec wants to throw up.

But that would be insulting and he can’t afford to insult Valentine.

No one can.

“You and mother lead us for a reason.” Alec demures. “You’re only looking out for the future of all nephilim. How could I disagree with the betterment of our people?”

Because he can’t. He can’t say no even though the word is dancing on his tongue.

“Well since that’s finished. Then I’ll leave you boys to chat, get to know each other as future family.” Valentine says and he claps his hands together before leaving.

Alec wants nothing more to exhale but there’s still another predator in the room and as shaken as he feels, Alec knows it is only going to get worse.

“I—“ he starts and then stops because he doesn’t know what to say. Just something that will convince Jonathon that Alec’s going to do his level best to never even touch or look at his sister.

“Oh Alec.” And Jonathon is laughing and it’s a charming and real sound, which makes it more distressing.

Jonathon is always the most dangerous when he’s being honest.

“I know, don’t worry—“ Jonathon promises and he’s getting up from where he’s been sitting across from Alec and walks around.

Alec swallows and forces himself to let go of his silverware, hands going to his lap.

Jonathon would know if he took the fork.

So he doesn’t, even though he wants to.

“It really is a pity that Robert ended up raising your siblings at his family home, I think you’d have been an amazing older brother.” And Jonathon is watching him with an interest that is normally reserved for his sister.

Alec swallows and turns, keeping his eyes on Jonathon.

“Oh.”

And Jonathon is smiling even softer now and Alec doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. “My father isn’t wrong, you know. It really is a pity our legacies aren’t already tied. Who knows, perhaps you could have been my brother.”

And Alec isn’t even going to try to touch that demon nest with an answer.

“Yeah.” Is all he tries to say and then because Jonathon continues to look at him eagerly he takes the risk and adds, “it would’ve been nice.” And then because Alec slips and he thinks of Izzy, the glimpse of her pudgy toddler face and the one picture he saw in Max’s dossier, he can’t help the soft smile of wistfulness that crosses his face.

And he doesn’t see the way Jonathon notices but he does notice when a hand is on his chin, forcing him to look up at the younger boy.

“My father has goals, Alec. But he doesn’t care how he gets them. He wants a Lightwood in the family and I agreed. He offered your sister for me, but I think you’ll fit into our family much better.” And Alec can’t breathe because Jonathon is too close and he’s being gentle.

Jonathon is never gentle unless it’s something he wants to break slowly.

“It’s amazing how you’ll never have to touch her, but you’ll have so many children. I wonder who they’ll look like the most, Clary, you, or me.”

“Clary doesn’t want kids. Especially not with me.” Alec tries because he knows how much Jonathon cherishes his sister.

How covetous of her he is.

“I know—“ and Jonathon pats his cheek tenderly. “But they’ll have you and they’ll have me. I’ll step up where Clary can’t, hmm? Keep it in the family.”

And Alec realizes as Jonathon’s thumb brushes the corner of his mouth that Valentine's heir isn’t just talking about helping raise his hypothetical nieces and nephews. He’s talking about having Alec, in the way Alec will never let Clary.

And Alec smiles and lowers his eyes in the way that prey is supposed to and internally, the small secret part of himself that he keeps tucked away unlocks.

—

Magnus finds him by chance.

He’s in Portugal chasing a lead on a poisonous ward array when an old woman taps his shins with her cane.

Magnus follows her into her shop and exits with a lighter pocket, the array sent to Ragnor and a piece of information burned into his mind.

Young. Lots of tattoos. Lives on the water. Smell off.

Magnus has the scent and for once, he is the hunter.

—

Alec swallows and tries very hard not to be disappointed in himself.

He’s learned a lot in the eight months that he’s managed to live as a mundane. And he knows he’s doing it poorly, but he’s still alive and he’s mostly free so he figured that was enough.

He was wrong.

So very wrong and as the warlock comes closer to him — the magic bringing him lighter but stronger than anything Alec’s tied up with before — Alec resigns himself to either a brutal death or being tortured for information.

And Alec finds that both options are still more preferable than being tangled with both of Valentine’s kids.

“Now what’s a shadowhunter doing here, living like a mundane and hiding on a boat.”

“Nephilim.” Alec corrects automatically and he winces, flushing when gold eyes narrow at him — and how can eyes be so beautiful.

“I—“ and Alec hesitates because he’s not sure if he’s about to get himself into more or less trouble. “I never became an official shadowhunter, not really.”

Because Alec has never officially left Idris and has never led a solo or team mission.

And Alec made sure he never would.

Because Valentine puts unblockable tracking runes on his shadowhunters but he doesn’t bother for his nephilim.

Why should he, when they can’t leave Idris alive.

“Is that even possible?”

Alec is asked and he realizes that he’s going to have to explain. Quickly, before his captor grows impatient.

—

Magnus watches as the young —so young but still not as young as so many murdered downworlder children — nephilim shrugs. He looks uncomfortable but not scared or disgusted.

“It’s not supposed to be.” The nephilim mutters and then he raises his hands, slowly, to rub his palms across his face. He smears blood across the edge of his cheek and even ten years ago Magnus would have been tempted to reach out and wipe it off.

But he knows better than to risk it.

“Tell me.”

Is all Magnus says and his captive responds to his order like it’s automatic.

“It doesn’t work on corpses or bodies near death.” Is blurted out and then the nephilim looks both tragically horrified and upset at his admittance.

“Oh? And what crime is so heinous that someone like Valentine would sentence a young, promising soldier to such a fate?”

And Magnus didn’t mean for a compliment to slip in there but, then nephilim is very easy to compliment.

“I did it to myself.” Is spit out and dark eyes are glaring at him mulishly, as if Magnus is going to judge a nephilim for wanting to escape Valentine so badly. “Valentine wouldn’t have wasted a still breathing body by letting it pass the wards.”

Magnus is delighted.

“Couldn't handle the megalomania? The torrid speeches? I know it wasn’t because of a love for the downworld.” Magnus hopes the nephilim isn’t stupid enough to try the last one. Magnus would burn his lying tongue in his mouth, no matter how pretty it is.

“Couldn’t handle marrying Valentine’s daughter—“ is confessed and there is a dark spark to Magnus’ nephilim. One that says he’s serious and Magnus finds it intriguing.

“I’m going to keep you for a bit.” Magnus says, casually pulling the nephilim closer with magic. “And then we’ll find out if you get to live, hmm?”

—

Alexander, or Alec as he introduced himself, sits like he’s afraid to take up room but afraid to look afraid. He gives Magnus all of his attention and tries hard not to look at anything else, like he’s not supposed to.

And he stays polite if not terse and he agrees to everything asked until Magnus summons a needle, because he requires blood. And then Alec is like a trembling statue, the kind you might see before an earthquake shatters it.

Magnus had thought the syringe would be easier, but it appears not.

“I need your blood.” He reminds his prisoner, losing his patience because he’s already being nicer than he should be as it is.

“Can’t you just use your magic?” Is blurted out and Magnus freezes, his fingers tightening in disbelief around the needle.

“You want me to use magic, would in fact prefer it to this?” Magnus asks and he raises a hand with the syringe and one with magic and Alexander flinches.

From the syringe and towards the magic.

“Anything is better than that.” Is spat out with true fear and vitriol and the second Magnus vanishes the syringe, Alec relaxes. He’s wary in a way that’s new and Magnus realizes that despite considering him a threat, this is the first time Alexander has shown actual fear of Magnus.

Magnus finds that shockingly, he doesn’t enjoy it.

Normally, he would revel in it.

He holds out his fingers, wreathed in angry red flames and Alexander offers his hand, not even flinching even though Magnus knows his magic burns when it’s this agitated.

“Thank you.”

Is whispered when Magnus is finished and leaving the room and Magnus pretends he’s hearing things.

He’s dehydrated, he reminds himself.

He needs a drink, he thinks as he summons a glass.

Half a bottle later Magnus finds himself watching Alexander stand at the balcony and marvel at the city below and he can finally admit it.

He wants Alexander.

Desperately.

Magnus lets himself wallow a full hour before he decides he really doesn’t care if Alexander is a nephilim.

Magnus has slept with his fair share of enemies. Has killed and had others try to kill him during sex and Alexander is hardly as bad as all that.

He is nephilim, but why shouldn’t Magnus gain something from this war. If the Council of Elders dislikes the trophy Magnus is going to take for himself, then they can fight without his power.

Magnus will take his people and his nephilim and keep them safe somewhere else.

He can even take them to another dimension and tie the wards to Alexander’s blood, ensuring no other nephilim can ever pass.

But while Magnus is willing to take a risk, he’s not willing to take a leap of faith and so he’s either going to keep Alexander or make sure he never sees him again unless it’s to kill him.

He walks to the balcony and startles for a moment, magic flaring before he realizes Alexander is the dark puddle curled up with a blanket on Magnus' sofa.

Magnus pretends he knew where Alexander was all along.

“So darling,” and the endearment slips out before he can help it and Alexander blinks up at him in wary surprise, but no protest.

“You have three choices before you. One, I can bind your nephilim blood, your Sight and your memories and throw you to the mundane world and let them deal with taking care of you. I can let you run back to your little boat with a geas on your tongue that will never let you speak of anything you learn and alert me if you encounter others with angel blood.”

Alexander is watching him with hope and desperation and Magnus wants to see what he looks like for the last offer.

“Or, you can be mine. Take all that loyalty that Valentine tried to beat and bribe into you and surrender it to me. Because unlike Valentine, I don’t break what belongs to me and I don't let it go.”

—

“Yes.” Alec says because he knows exactly which option he wants. He’s only made it to nineteen so far because he tried to live like a mundane and keep his head down but he doesn’t enjoy it.

It’s a better life than what he had, but it’s not the kind of life Alec wants. Not after the risks he took, not after he almost succeeded in killing himself just to have a better future.

And Alec doesn’t want to forget himself or how hard he fought to survive.

How for a time, he won.

And Magnus is… Alec can guess what Magnus is implying and he can be good, he’s been trained to be good, to obey.

But most of all, he wants to stay near Magnus. Who gives him options and doesn’t force Alec to do something because he is afraid of it.

“Yes—“ and Magnus trails off leadingly.

“Yes, sir.” He adds, because it doesn’t feel like torture to call Magnus that, even if the word still tastes wrong on his tongue.

And twin moons are blinking at him and then there is a dark, reassuring chuckle.

“I was asking what part of my offer the yes was to, but I suppose that answers that.”

And Magnus leans down and magic surges through Alec’s body and Magnus is kissing him.

Magnus tastes like how Alec imagines magic does.

Tingly and powerful and too wild to ever chain and Alec sobs brokenly into the kiss.

Because Magnus tastes like the future.

Alec’s future.

—

It’s been two weeks since Magnus claimed the spoils of a war he didn’t start but he’s certainly trying to finish.

He’s limited himself to a very few excursions with Alexander, mostly mundane and with a very firm hand on the small of Alexander's back.

And a tethering charm.

And several tracking amulets.

And an earring containing a shard of hellfire hidden under Alexander’s soft curls, in the cartilage of his left ear.

And it’s been going splendidly, until today. When Alexander pressed closer than usual and pressed his lips to Magnus' ear and mouths, “shadowhunters.”

And Magnus knows it’s a warning and not a threat but he pulls Alexander in even closer and loops magic around Alec’s waist to keep him near.

“Where?” He whisper-breathes back and Alec is nodding to the side when his gaze catches somewhere in the middle of the crowd of mundanes approaching them.

“Jonathon.” Alexander whispers and he is shocked and pale as he says it, horrified even. And Magnus concludes that this Jonathon is not someone he needs to worry about Alexander missing.

And then Alec is ducking around and behind Magnus, making himself as small as possible without forcing Magnus to turn his back.

“A friend?” Magnus asks, his magic only staying in place because Alexander came closer to him instead of closer to this, Jonathon.

“Valentine’s son.”

“Ah, your would-be-brother-in-law.” Magnus says with some disdain and eyeing the shadowhunter with more intense scrutiny. He wonders if he can manage to take out the boy without hurting the mundanes and exposing the shadowworld.

“He wanted a uh, little more than that.” Is muttered against his neck and Magnus’ magic swells and thrashes as anger bubbles in him.

“He’s really talented. The best of the best.” But Alexander doesn’t sound like it’s meant as a compliment, “and he really loves his sister.” There is a wealth of unspoken information there in the emphasis, “he implied that he suggested me as Clary’s future husband to his father. Mostly because he knew I wouldn’t fuck her. He promised he’d help me get her pregnant without me touching her and he was very uh, touchy himself.

“Oh?” Magnus asks, voice cool and even despite the stuttering of anger in his veins.

“He’d never touched me outside of sparring or lessons before that.” Alexander tucks his head closer to Magnus’ shoulder like it can hide him, “he basically said that Valentine doesn’t care which of his kids fucks me as long as he gets Lightwood genes out of it one way or another.”

“And his sister?”

“She stopped me when I was leaving and told me she was ‘glad I and Jonathon were getting along so well’.”

Magnus feels very much like the calm before an avalanche.

The slightest bit more pressure and everything will break but he still asks, keeping his voice soothing to not spook Alec.

“And did you consider it?” Magnus asks because he has always loved tempting fate and his own temper.

“Magnus, the night I ran I climbed the tallest tree I could find at the brink of the ward lines. I set myself up on the highest branch that held my weight and I stabbed myself in the heart with one of my own arrows. So that when I fell from blood loss and shock and pain, I’d still fall over the barrier.

“I had the arrow tied to the tree so it would come out and I activated a bunch of runes first. And when I woke up, I had to lay there in agony and alone and quiet at the boundary of Idris until my body decided if it was going to give up and die or struggle to continue. I ran that night and picked that method because Jonathon came to me that morning.

“He promised me that my wedding night would be a ‘memorable one’ and he called me his brother and told me he was looking forward to having a new sibling.”

Magnus blinks as he remembers what Alec had said earlier,“because Valentine wanted you to wrangle his daughter and didn’t care if his son fucked out as long as you also sired a lot of babies for his future armies.”

Alexander nods, miserable and exhausted as he closes his eyes and trusts Magnus to protect him.

“Then I’ll just have to keep you far away from him.” Which is a fortunate timing for their conclusion to reach, as Magnus knows his eyes have finally been spotted.

While he has a mundane-proof glamour on, Magnus never hides his warlock mark anymore.

Let them see him.

Let them fear him.

Let them attack him.

He will incinerate all that try.

However, Magnus is currently in a small mundane town and Magnus will not risk Alexander being snatched away from him.

“They’re coming.” He whispers, lips brushing Alexander’s ear and Magnus sees the exact moment Jonathon Morgernstern recognizes who is in his arms.

The vindictive glee of having found a warlock to hunt turns to shock and then feral rage.

“Alec!”

Is shouted across the court and only a few in the crowds of mundanes twitch, downworlders who can’t afford to be as open as Magnus is.

Alexander simply keeps his eyes closed and his cheek to Magnus’ chest.

“Give him back, warlock!” Jonathon is saying, blade drawn and Magnus can see shadowhunters gathering to his call.

“Who would I give him back to?” Magnus queries in mock confusion, “he already belongs to me.”

Valentine's heir spits at the ground and then gives a vicious curse before demanding, “Alec come here.“

And it’s an order and Alexander looks across, at the life and people he left behind and Magnus tightens his hold but Alexander leans back instead of forward.

“Why?” Alexander asks and his confusion is as beautiful as it is fake, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” And he tilts his face up, lips parting like petals beckoning for a taste of the sun and Magnus kisses him.

Magnus kisses him and lets his magic visibly dance on Alexander’s body for several dangerously blissful seconds.

And then there is the scream of an enraged animal who has had its prey stolen and Magnus laughs, throwing his head back as he opens a portal behind himself.

“He’ll never be yours, he’ll never be anyone’s but mine.” Magnus promises with a vicious, victorious smirk as he tips them back, letting space and magic absorb them and take them away, Alexander exactly where he belongs.

And later, in Magnus’ lair and behind his wards, Alexander will frown and say “I think maybe I should have said something else. What if he thinks you bewitched me? I’d rather be a traitor than have them trying to ‘save’ me.”

And Magnus will kiss him and hold him down with magic so that his hands can cup Alexander’s face.

“It wouldn’t have mattered, it doesn’t matter, I have you.” He will promise.

Because Magnus recognizes the look Jonathon gave Alec and it’s not one that will let Alexander go, not without a bloody fight.

Which is fine.

Magnus will enjoy making Valentine’s heir bleed.

#shadowhunters #magnus bane #malec #alec lightwood #immortal husbands #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #lumine writes #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

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