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winterpinetrees · 2 months ago

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Voyager Country (The Gap Years Part 29)

July 20th 2019

Red Oak Harbor, the Storm Coast.

The Mercuralis family and Amedi visit Ryn's old home for the anniversary of the moon landing. Emphasis that it is his old home.

..............

“It’s so strange. I was never taught a Voyager language, but I can almost understand it”. Even as she talks about linguistics, Amedi can tell that their seneschal is giddy with delight.

“The grammar and basic vocabulary are ancient, I think used before the Crash. The rest is modern, even human? I keep hearing English and Russian and Common Lazarin. There’s something else that I can’t identify though…”

“You can recognize all of that?” Amedi says with little interest.

Esther looks down. “It’s all very procedural. I shouldn’t have bothered you”.

They had officially been on duty until late on the 18th, but the two of them spent most of that day trying to find outfits. Ryn had said they should wear white and gold if they had it, representing lunar rock and the golden visors of human space armor. Red, blue, and green could be good accents, but only worn in small amounts. Amedi, unfortunately, didn’t own much that wasn’t Kebero red or Mercuralis indigo. Esther hardly owned any clothing beside her uniforms at all. In the end, Amedi gave the girl a pair of globe earrings with lab-grown sapphires and told her to just borrow something from the Voyagers once they arrived.

(They nearly suggested borrowing something from Devanna, which is comical in hindsight. The councilor has about the same body type, but would never let a human wear her clothes. Also there’s something awkward between Esther and her seneschal. )

The Voyagers were happy to share, but they swear these sparks have a grudge. As a member of the High Council, Amedi’s appropriate title is “Your Eminence”. Before that, they had just been Sir, or Adept when speaking to other nobles. The Apex herself lets these people call her Izzy or Auroch, and nicknames are part of the culture, so Amedi lets the Voyagers call them Dee or Ash. They smile good-naturedly, but seethe a little. Can’t these backwater elves (and half-elves and humans) recognize their vambrace? Do they not notice the badge for victory in their fourth year, the six kill markers, or the trophies of war? They should at least see the leaves and spirals of the Spring Army and take that as a justification to not risk their temper. They’re not a child anymore. Certainly noble traditions aren’t any more complicated than measuring years in eights and eighteens like Voyagers do. Anyway, they don’t stop Esther from beaming at her suggestions getting more use. The locals also make good coffee.

It’s a fascinating place! The crowd is half human, mostly wildbloods that Amedi guesses came from Africa or the parallel Caribbean coast. The elves are more varied, but all follow the color scheme of lunar whites and golds. Ryn casually introduces them to his family. His father Halcyon is another tattooed Stormson. His mother Tenera drags her right foot when she walks, but apparently has an interest in their shooting. His oldest brother Procyon has a more canine aesthetic, and wears dog tooth earrings to match centuries-old bite scars. Cyon also holds a human infant, a direct descendant of himself and a human woman who died a century before. Ryn skips a brother he’s on bad terms with to find Gia, a mild-mannered Voyager who seems almost out of place compared to their adventurous siblings. Amedi thinks of their own family back home. Their brother will attend the Conservatory soon, and join them in the merited nobility if everything goes well.

The most fascinating thing is the hope. They know Voyagers believe they will someday return to outer space, but they assumed it was a myth, like a fated death of the gods at the end of time. Walking around under the tents in the quiet rain, Amedi feels a passion like what has seized the lower nobility around the palace. Elves discuss modern science over fifty-year old recordings, news is passed around about apprenticeships for new trades, and humans even shout for children named after the men on the projector screens.

Well, not just humans. Fedran, it turns out, is an archaic word for the planet Mars. Amedi thinks they knew that once. Ryn’s mother explains that Fedran was an ancient god of forges and fire. Once the ice sheets began to recede and belief in him faded, he became a sort of patron of mechanics. Elves have walked on Mars twice (Amedi does know that), but then the ice began to melt too damn fast and society Crashed and no one ever went back.

“His name is a promise,” Ryn explains. “His generation is going back, and we are making that possible”.

Fen chases human cousins through the rain. Half-Mercuralis, half-Voyager, all symbol. A shiver runs down their spine despite the heat.

……………..

An elven voyager with gold paint over her eyes raises a drink and toasts to Ishtar as “Doctor Braun”, and Ryn has a hand around the collar of her shirt within seconds. The albatross tattoo under his vambrace is clearly visible, a symbol of his endurance and skill as a captain.

“Say that again,” Ryn snarls, and she and Arjuna look at each other in shock. They haven’t seen Ryn instigate a fight in decades. Their children never have.

The other Voyager breathes quickly. There’s fear in her eyes, but like most elves from Ryn’s home, she keeps her cool. “I said your wife is Wernher von Braun. Why are you so mad? He ran NASA, now she’s bringing us back to orbit”.

Ishtar decides to step in. “What is this?” She towers over her second-in-command and the woman he’s fighting.

Ryn turns back to her with a dark glare. “A Nazi turned American engineer”.

She waits for the other Voyager to explain. “Basically, yeah”.

“Human politics don’t concern me, Ryn. You know that. So, what did I do to you? Friends in the human world? A Betrayed family member? Angry that I killed Emer Sondaica?”

The Voyager blinks and her eyes flicker to Ryn’s hand by her neck. “Betrayed friends up river,”

Arjuna calmly steps forward. He looks good in white. It matches his eyes. “Lying”.

Suen whispers to her brothers. Isolated from the real horrors of court, this is scandalous to her. She doesn’t know why her father can hear heartbeats.

Ishtar lets his statement sink in. “I truthfully do not care. Enjoy the evening”.

Ryn releases the woman and slinks back to the family. Chandra takes his hand. “That was so cool! When did Mom teach you how to be scary?”

He tries to laugh but his voice is ragged. “No, no. I taught myself,”

……………

“The woman I knew never would have gone out quietly,” says Ryn’s father, a man so known for adventurous violence against human ships that he was known as Halcyon the pirate before he earned the title of Stormson. “Izzy told you she let go of her scepter? That the final duel was just for show?”

“Well, she got out of it without any real injuries, and I trust my captain”.

The old Voyager reaches for the tattoos over his collarbone. Twenty-six black bars, one for each ship he helped commandeer over a hundred and fifty years. Ryn’s heard all of the stories.

“Emer deserved better than what we gave her. Even her harbor name was a reference to how noble she was. We drove her back to those…”

His father trails off but doesn’t break eye contact. His oldest brother, Procyon, takes after their father the most, but Ryn shares a lot as well. All Voyager captains think some of the same thoughts. He can guess the insult and shouldn’t have expected better. “What do you think she deserved?”

“Acceptance. Respect. A name for a proper Voyager. I’d rather have fought a hurricane than her with a cutlass, but all we ever talked about was her magic”.

It’s a Voyager joke. You do not fight a hurricane. The most elite Voyagers learn to work with the storm and become its symbolic children, but when the earth sends you a category six consequence of hubris from ten thousand years ago, you bring the ships behind the barrier islands and go inland for a few days.

“She was a good kid. I don’t know what about the throne called her like it did, but she made her choice”. His voice goes quiet. “It must have been the same thing that called you”.

Ryn needs to defend himself. This is a challenge against his very family and way of life. He does not know why he is so reactive today. Stress? Fear? His noble vambrace is heavy and vulnerable to water. “I wouldn’t have done what she did. I wouldn’t kill someone I love”.

“Would your Apex? You’re lucky to love Ishtar as much as she loves you. I don’t think she would have let you go”.

Ryn stands and glares. “I’m her first mate, not her seneschal. I’m-”

“I don't know what a seneschal is, Rion. Voyagers don’t keep slaves”.

A cuter nickname for little children. For the millionth time, Ryn wishes he were a noble. He wishes that the very air would crackle with his rage, and that his eyes glowed like rocket trails when he wanted to make himself heard. Ishtar set off an earthquake on the day of the coup. “I’m doing this for us! So we can get our sorry selves back into orbit! The nobility needed a quartermaster and we needed someone in power with actual plans, which happened to be my council. You don’t have to like it, I didn’t even see you for a century, but the throne does call. It calls a whole city of noble bastards and maybe a hundred idiot sparks like me!” He closes his powerless gray eyes and listens to the sound of the wind. “Maybe Izzy would kill her lover for the throne, or me if I tried to desert, or maybe I’d do the same. I don’t plan on finding out”.

“The truth has a way of revealing itself. Why did Ishtar kill her if she let go of her scepter? It’s because their kind destroy themselves”.

“So do we! You know full well Voyagers did keep slaves, Northern ones at least, and Cyon got mauled by a bloodhound over it. You don’t get to judge. You don’t understand how the nobility are”.

His father sighs. He is nearly four hundred and his hair has gone mostly gray. When Ishtar is four hundred, she’ll barely feel it. “You don’t regret anything?” he asks.

Ryn hardly spoke to his parents for a century. He has a body count, including of children. He will unleash a plague to kill some horrible fraction of the human scientists, engineers, and sailors that they’ve dedicated an entire holiday to. He misses an old friend who died because he didn’t yet understand revenge.

“Nothing”.

Neither man stands to leave.

………………

A small brown hawk flies from the branches of a cypress tree and perches on the main pole of a tent. The rain has mostly stopped, and it fluffs it's feathers. Ishtar and Ryn both look at it like it is a messenger from the gods, and one of them believes it.

“We only ever saw her at school, didn’t we? She never got to see this place” she says. The hawk stares down at the two of them.

“It’s a sharp-shinned hawk, Izzy. They’re common here. A sparrowhawk would have brown spots on the underbelly”.

“Life and death, you sound like a seneschal”. She leans back on the bench and throws her arms over the back. “I thought commoners were supposed to be the spiritual ones”.

Ryn sighs. “Voyagers don’t believe they return to this world in bird form, or otherwise”.

The distance between the Ryn and the people who named him is a thousand leagues wide. On some level, this is an afterlife. The stormson died at the Conservatory with the girl who’s genus was symbolized by a brown-spotted raptor. Ryndrion Stormson Mercuralis is accepted, but he isn’t fully there. His second brother looks right through him.

“She’d always keep watch, remember?”

The hawk stretches out one broad wing and preens its feathers. The clouds behind it are pink and orange with the sunset.

“We could handle it better, but she insisted”. If one of them had been at the top of the tower with her that last night, would she be with them now? Maybe Kavec Adust, that menace, would just have sent a second assassin. Ishtar didn’t take his life for it when they took his stronghold, but her husband would a hundred and fifty years later. Share the load, he’d said, already wracked by hallucinations and nightmares. Her friend’s murder was child’s play compared to Arjuna’s line of work. Ishtar stops mid-breath. They were children.

Ryn shakes his head. It’s a violent action, like he’s tearing his eyes away. “Izzy, it’s just a hawk. I’ve seen them here since I was a kid”.

She doesn’t know how to honor a bird that might be someone she loved. The high nobility worship nothing but their own devastating survival, and Besra hid whatever she did believe during her years in their teenage army. It could have been an empty story the entire time. She extends her open hands in a salute. It’s something to do, at least.

The hawk flies away after that.

…………........

At the end of the evening Ishtar and Amedi bump shoulders with human workers and help put everything away. Some of the decorations will be used as soon as the first real hurricane, others will be stacked up until the next year or next milestone of Ishtar’s program, whichever comes first. It’s a small life, what they live here. It reminds Amedi of home and makes Ishtar nostalgic for something she’s never had. Nonetheless, they don’t ignore it when their vambraces light up with an urgent alert from the palace. The two politicians know not to expect anything good from urgent messages, but the news is worse than they imagined.

There has been a massive break out at Agate prison. All almost all prisoners in the main cell blocks are free, barring a few who are dead. Three Betrayed guards have been murdered, shot dead with a human pistol. The only good news is that the human girl who Amedi cursed has been captured alive.

They tell Ryn that they need to return and make some sort of statement, but Ryn can stay if he would like. He rarely ever goes home, and the people, especially commoners, will respect a decision to stay when there isn’t anything else he can do. Ryn looks over his shoulder at the party. He’s weathered in a different way than the other adults of this town. His injuries are from other elves, not the worlds themselves. Ishtar imagines his eyes sweeping over the spider lilies climbing up the walls and the lights glittering in the trees. This is the climate he misses during dry summers and when earthquakes shake the palace. Ishtar knows him well. Well enough that she isn’t surprised when his hands clench into fists.

“That is very considerate of you. But I want to go home”.

They decide to leave the kids with their grandparents for a few days though. Neither of them have the strength to break Fen’s heart and drag him back so soon.

...................

No authors notes this time but that the uquiz is a great way tell new college people about this whole thing. I am going to pretend that was the plan all along.

@lokiwaffles @reggie246

#by me #the gap years #my oc stuff #writing that *is*

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prettypersuasion · 8 months ago

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Couldn’t agree more.

My Mood Sometimes😂

#guns n roses #izzy stradlin #izzy the golden god of rock #izzy gnr #the one and only izzy stradlin #sweet child o mine #mtv #1988

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blazenfire223 · 2 years ago

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[ID in Undercut]

(ArtTober) Days 8-15

Day 8- Focus (Bad attempt at perspective..I still like it tho)

Day 9- Power (Worshiping a god)

Day 10- Weather

Day 11- Interior (Taken as in the spirit of a person, their interior.)

Day 12- Distract (based off that one Toy Story meme)

Day 13- Apologies (Kraken Era comes to an end)

Day 14- Crystal (Part of what I imagine would be Zaraphim's room. A more witchy aesthetic for an angel, at least, that was what I was going for. He really likes crystals and such. He doesn't really care for what they do, although he knows exactly what every single one does, just that they look pretty.)

Day 15- Letters (Sariel learned about writing letters as a form of communication)

Prompt list by @ mrsmoosie35 on Instagram

ID: Day 8- Focus: A traditional inked illustration of Izzy Hands pointing a sword down at the camera. His gaze is focused, eyebrows knitted and scowl on point. It is a failed attempt at an upward perspective but a valiant one.

Day 9- Power: A traditional inked, colored pencil illustration of Blackbeard and Izzy. Blackbeard lounges in a throne, high above Izzy, who is kneeling in front of him. We don’t see Izzy's face but we can only assume he has a look of admiration. A worshiper looking upon their God. Blackbeard's hair floats out in both directions and his face is shrouded in shadow, leaving only one eye visible. The whites of his eyes are red while his eye is white. Another valiant attempt at perspective, a much better on in my opinion.

Day 10- Weather: A traditional marker illustration of the front of Aziraphale's bookshop. It is raining and you can see a tartan umbrella peaking from the bottom of the page.

Day 11- Interior: A digital illustration of Sariel, my Blind Bear AU Crowley. They are facing forward with their eyes closed and head tilted. They are smiling, their right hand near their mouth and their left holding their arm. Above them is a representation of their angel form. It is a bright orange-yellow figure with flowing bright orange hair and no mouth. The left side of their face is a bright blue, with bright blue particles floating and wrapping all around their body. They have one golden wing on the left side of their body. The other is no where to be seen. The figure looks at the camera with one orange eye and one bright blue eye.

Day 12- Disract: A traditional inked 4 panel comic of Black Pete and Roach.

Panel 1- Black Pete is faced away from the camera on the left side. Roach is pointing towards something off camera on the right. He says "Look, Pete, Blackbeard's Ship!!"

Panel 2- Pete immediately turns his head, a grin on his face and shouts, "Where!?" Roach starts to laugh.

Panel 3- A close up shot of Pete's face where he realizes it was a joke.

Panel 4- A more chibi busy version of Pete blushing, embarrassed, saying "Oh, haha very funny guys."

Day 13- Apologies: A traditional inked illustration of Stede and Edward. Stede and Ed are hugging each other. We can't see Edward's face but this is post Kraken Era and he is sobbing into Stede's chest, clinging to Stede for dear life. Stede kisses the top of Ed's head as he shakes apart. The words "I'm sorry..." are at the top of the page.

Day 14- Crystals: A traditional marker illustration of a section of Zaraphim's room. A dresser sits at the bottom of the page. A large plant in a pot sits on the left side of the page, beside it are crystals and precious gems, decorations. Beside the crystals is a framed photo of Ario, he is looking at the camera with a confused look. Hearts float around him. Above the dresser is part of a circle shelf that is split to make the shelves look like a crescent moon. There are various objects stacked on the shelves. In one of the top shelves is a succulent plant that is turned on its side to fit the space. On the shelf beside it are crystals. The shelves one below them are also covered in crystals and rocks. One below that, in the crecent moon part of the shelf, there are candles. There are three. One is pink, another is blue, and the last one is purple. On the final shelf beside it is what looks like a mushroom person figurine and the edge of a sharp rock. There are also ivy that snakes along the wall.

Day 15- Letters: A traditional inked illustration of my Reverse AU character, Damien. He is shirtless and in sweat pants. His hair is a curly mess, he probably just got out of bed. He is looking down at a peice of paper with a soft smile on his face. In the hand that isn't holding the letter is the envelope. Beside him on a stand are two more unopened envelopes, assumingly from Sariel. /End ID]

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kar-krashew · 4 years ago

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@arsenic-creator THIS IS THE CHEESIEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE'S YOUR CARS AU MALEC FIC.

(Rated T for language).

----

There are a lot of things that Alec misses about life outside this shitty little town, even though he’s only been here for a few days: his family, his friends, his cell phone— he could go on for a while. Hell, he even misses Aldertree’s incessant bragging at this point, which is a little concerning, because the man is a menace and just generally unpleasant to be around. The fact that Alec has not had a very public fistfight with him yet is a goddamn miracle.

But— he’s getting distracted. The point is, there are a lot of things on that list.

So, it’s genuinely impressive when Simon shows up and rambles for long enough that all Alec really misses now is some peace and quiet, because Simon does not know when to shut up, oh my god—

“What happens if you get pulled over on the road and you don’t have your license on you? Do the cops just let you go? I mean, you are a world famous racer, so it would be assumed that you know how to drive, right?” he pesters, “Or do you still get in trouble?”

Alec groans. He’s been dealing with this for the better part of an hour now, and throwing himself into a nearby cactus plant has never seemed more appealing. Simon, ruiner of lives and seemingly oblivious to Alec’s current temperament, barrels on steadily in his rant about cops and racers until they approach the main part of the plaza, where he suddenly pauses and grins.

Dread claws its way up Alec’s shoulders. Simon grinning like that can only bring bad things.

“So,” the kid drawls, “Where are you staying tonight? Anywhere special? In the spare bedroom of a local attorney, by the name of Magnus Bane, perhaps?”

Scratch that: Alec’s going to throw Simon into a nearby cactus plant, and he won’t even feel a little bit guilty. He could make it look like an accident and everything.

“Fuck off, Simon,” he scowls. He tries increasing his pace to ditch the kid, but Simon is nothing if not persistent. “Don’t you have anything else to be doing right now?”

“Nope.” Simon pops the word in his mouth, grin growing even wider. “You like him. Like, like-like him!” he declares, leaning in closer. “If it helps, I think he likes you, too.”

“Are we fifth graders now? Is that what’s happening?” Alec pointedly ignores the blush threatening to take over his face, and glowers down at the brunette. “Besides, he’s just being nice. It doesn’t have to mean something.” He’d meant to sound firm and sure when he said it, but his voice tapers off and gets soft instead, and now Alec is considering committing multiple misdemeanors if it means he’ll get out of this conversation. Simon shoots him a knowing look.

“But you want it to mean something,” he observes. Alec rolls his eyes, not bothering to grace the statement with a response. Simon takes it as an open invitation to start singing a very loud and terrible rendition of a song about Alec and Magnus sitting in a tree, and it’s enough for Alec to give in and violently shove the other.

Unfortunately, Simon does not hit any of the cacti nearby.

God, Alec hates this town.

---

The thing about Magnus Bane is that, well—

The man is fucking beautiful. Like, holy-shit-Alec-can't-breathe-around-him beautiful, with golden skin and kohl-lined eyes and dark hair and a jawline that Alec would love to get up close and personal with.

The first time they’d met, Alec made a complete ass out of himself by stumbling all over his words in court and then had gotten himself stuck doing community service, largely because of Magnus, for the god-forsaken town he’d managed to land himself in.

(Look, it’s not his fault that he somehow managed to destroy the town’s main road after veering wildly off course and out of control on his way to Brooklyn, okay? These things happen.)

It had kind of been all downhill from there.

But now, somehow, he’s lying in Magnus’s spare bedroom and watching the sunlight as it touches everything in the room with its golden glow, illuminating the walls, the potted plants, the shelves, the man leaning against the doorway—

“Holy shit!”

Alec scrambles to sit up in bed, frantically pulling up the sheets to his bare chest, as Magnus laughs. “Magnus!” Alec squeaks. “I, um, what’re you doing here?”

Magnus grins, rounding the corner of the bed to place a tray in front of Alec. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast,” he says, “before I asked you if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Alec frowns. “A drive?”

“A drive,” Magnus repeats, shrugging a shoulder. “I wanted to show you something, and took the liberty of filling your car up with gas again.”

“Wha— Why? You don’t think I’ll try leaving town again?” The only reason Alec hadn’t been able to leave when he first tried had been the lack of fuel in his tank, so he’s genuinely confused as to why Magnus decided to change that.

“I don’t know, will you?” the other asks. He tilts his head, looking gentle and blurred in his robe and smiling softly, something warm cradled in his eyes, and Alec knows with sudden certainty that he won’t. He might’ve said yes a few days ago, but now?

“No,” he replies. “I won’t.”

“That’s that, then,” Magnus beams, and Alec can’t help beaming back a little stupidly. “I trust you. Now, finish up, Alexander. We’ve got daylight to catch.”

---

“Where do you want me to go?”

They’re both sitting in Alec’s car, windows rolled down, on an old road leading away from the interstate. It’s beautiful out here— green trees circling a little lake tucked in between the rocks and dirt— but Alec has a feeling it’s not what Magnus wanted to show him.

“Just follow the path,” Magnus instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt. He turns to Alec and winks, before hoisting himself so that he’s sitting halfway out of the window, laughing at Alec’s surprised yelp and swerve of the car. “Careful there, hotshot!” he giggles, then leans further out like he’s got a fucking death wish, closing his eyes against the wind.

“Are you insane?” Alec yells out, and Magnus laughs harder.

“All the best people are, darling!” he responds. “I’ll be just peachy. Just keep going, we’re about to get to my favorite part!”

Alec’s about to yell out again, probably something like you have a favorite part of almost dying? or I think I’m halfway in love with you as they pass through a rocky tunnel, but before he can say either, his breath catches at the sight in front of him.

A huge, sparkling waterfall cascades down from the mountains, overlooking the rocky canyon and trees below it, framing the bridge that hangs in between. It almost doesn’t look real, more like something out of a corny road trip movie or a documentary, and Alec slows down as they approach it, taking it in. Magnus grins as they pass by, leaning out to catch errant drops of water on his fingertips, and God, it’s such a cliché and cheesy thing to do, and Alec wants to kiss him straight on his stupid mouth.

“I bet you don’t see that out in the city,” Magnus says smugly, tucking himself back into the car. He glances back at Alec with a smirk on his lips, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes, staring at Magnus’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “It really is.”

(Fuck, now he’s the one being cliché. Izzy’s going to find out about this somehow and laugh at him forever.)

“Right.” Magnus clears his throat, looking away, jarring Alec back to reality. “We’re almost there, just pull up at the sign there,” he continues, pointing to a clearing ahead.

Alec coughs, nodding. “Right. Yes. The sign.”

The sign in question is a small landmark that points to a dilapidated, out-of-place building hidden between the rock of the mountain. “The Hotel Dumont,” the front reads, paint chipped away at the edges of the letters. The building looks Victorian in design, with intricate arches decorating the front, though many of them are cracked and gray now, and there’s a large open courtyard area in the front that appears abandoned now. It must’ve been beautiful, once. Now, it carries only echoes of a world passed.

“What is this place?” Alec asks. Magnus shakes his head and exits the car, then stands and stares at the sign for a while when Alec joins him.

“This used to be their livelihood,” he finally says, “The Hotel Dumont. Raphael used to run it, and everyone else would pitch in. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like earlier: parties in the main hall, music playing in the foyer, people laughing. It kept them going.”

“What happened?”

Magnus smiles wistfully. “A famous racer by the name of Valentine dropped a particularly scathing review of the hotel after Raphael caught him harassing customers and kicked him out. Had enough influence and lawyers to destroy all of this place’s credibility. These days, everyone’s barely getting by. It’s why they took so long to warm up to you; you essentially represent everything that ruined them.”

That’s horrible, Alec wants to say, but instead he looks over at Magnus and notes his glittering makeup and golden rings and silk tunic and blurts out, “Then how did you end up here?” and immediately winces.

It’s a valid question, technically— Magnus obviously wasn’t one of the town’s original residents, if his extravagant nature and the way he discusses the hotel are any indication— but still. Alec could’ve been gentler about it.

“I was an attorney in L.A, actually,” Magnus sighs. “It was good, I suppose, and money was never an issue, but I don’t think I was happy.” He shuffles closer to Alec as they idle in front of the building, brushing their shoulders together. “Got myself horribly drunk one night and made a whole plan to run away and leave the city behind. I woke up the next day, saw the plans, decided I might as well, and just started driving until my car finally broke down here.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Alec reaches out to touch his fingertips to Magnus’s comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like.”

Magnus turns to face him completely then, looking up at him knowingly. “Can’t you?” he asks. He takes Alec’s palms in his own and holds their hands between them. “Are you happy out there, Alexander?”

Alec blinks, startled. “Of course I am,” he protests automatically, because why wouldn’t he be? He’s rich, he’s famous, he’s doing what he loves; it’s all perfect. And yet—

He thinks about the constant pressure from his family and fans to be perfect and flashy and smiling all the time. He thinks back to his mother’s desperate attempts to hide his sexuality from the media, setting him up for meeting after meeting with beautiful women. He thinks about the façade he’s made for himself against the person he is right now, standing here with Magnus, and realizes that they’ve never been the same.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I— I’m not sure.”

Magnus hums. He looks back at the hotel, Alec’s hands still clutched in his own. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay here,” he says.

Alec surveys the landscape, then the man in front of him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I think I could.”

---

He never gets to find out, because the next day it all goes to hell: Maryse Lightwood descends on the town, armed with a fleet of reporters and a truck waiting to take Alec away.

“We’re going now, Alec,” she demands. “Say goodbye to your ‘friends’ if you need to, and then we’re leaving.” She glances warily over at Magnus, who’s holding Alec’s hand, and frowns before she turns on her heel and walks away.

“So,” Magnus says flatly, “It appears you’re finally getting to that race.”

Alec wants to scream. He hates this, hates that this is how it’s going to end, before it’s even truly begun. If he just had more time—

“Magnus, I wanted to—” he starts, “I wish we—” He exhales, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, and Magnus smiles.

“It’s alright, Alexander. Just stay in touch, okay?” He pats Alec’s shoulder. “Go on, darling. I don’t think your mother would appreciate me keeping you any longer than I already have.”

Alec hesitates a moment more, wanting to do something, anything, to make this different, but then he swallows and steps away.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll, I’ll call you.”

(It won’t change anything: his life will be exactly the same as it was before. Just one phone call added onto the routine. They both know this is goodbye to whatever they could be.)

Still, Magnus squeezes his fingers and keeps smiling. “I’ll be waiting, Alexander,” he says.

“Sure,” Alec replies uselessly.

So he’s here now, weeks later, sitting on the stands and supposedly getting ready for a race that he doesn’t have heart in anymore.

Honestly, fuck this race. They all go the same way: he’ll race, he’ll win or lose, he’ll pose with some model for a newspaper, and that’ll be it. It used to be enough for him, once.

“Alec?” a voice interrupts, “You okay?”

It’s Izzy, crackling through the comms piece in his ear. Alec clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as brittle over the mic as it feels, “I’m fine.”

He’ll swallow his emotions and make it enough, again.

“Alright,” Izzy concedes, but she sounds disbelieving, “If you say so. It’s almost time, you might want to head to the car soon, okay?”

Alec hums in the affirmative, heading down to the track, paparazzi trying their best to bombard him. He takes a deep breath, avoiding the cameras, and opens the driver's side door of the car.

He’ll call Magnus after this. It’ll be enough.

Alec ducks under the roof of the vehicle. “Hey, Izzy?” he calls, seating himself behind the wheel. “If I win, remind me to call Magnus, okay?”

“I’m afraid that would be a little redundant, darling,” a new voice replies, and Alec’s heart skips a beat. “Given that you’ll be talking to me already.”

Magnus.

“Magnus?” Alec fucking leaps out of his car, searching frantically around the pit for the man in his ear. A warm laugh floods the comms, and Alec feverishly pushes past cameramen and well-meaning assistants (who are trying to remind him that he really should be in his car right now) in his desperation, only to turn around and:

It’s him. It’s really him, smiling warmly at Alec with his gorgeous brown eyes, wearing black eyeliner to match the Lightwood tracksuit he’s wearing, and Alec missed him so much, oh god, he’s really here—

“Magnus,” he breathes, then he’s throwing his helmet down and closing the distance between them and pulling at Magnus’s lapels, up, up, up, and straight to his own mouth.

He’s kissing him.

Magnus is gripping onto his face too tightly and Alec is clacking their teeth together too harshly, but it’s Magnus, and it’s perfect, and Alec is kissing him, and he could lose every race from this moment on and still feel like he’s on top of the world if it means he’ll get to have this.

“You came,” he whispers when they finally pull apart. Magnus cups his face, stealing another kiss, before he responds.

“Of course I did. Honestly, I’m offended you didn’t ask for me to show up here, yourself,” he teases, and Alec grins bashfully.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” he replies. Magnus rolls his eyes before pressing their foreheads together.

“Well, darling, we better change that soon, hm?” He twirls his fingers at the nape of Alec’s neck, and time feels like it's perfect and frozen forever in this moment, until Magnus clears his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this, Alexander, but there’s a race and a very excited group of reporters waiting for you, and you should probably get back to both. Unless, of course, you’re not planning to participate?”

Alec snorts and pulls away, loosening his grip around Magnus’s waist. “I plan on participating, Magnus,” he says. “I have a very special someone I’d like to dedicate the trophy to, if they’re open to the idea.”

Magnus grins. “Mmm, you’d have to win, first, wouldn’t you?” he winks, and Alec smirks back.

“For you?” he replies. “I’d do nothing less.”

Alec knows that he’s going to have an absolute media shitstorm waiting for him after he ends this race. But, looking back at a beaming Magnus as he picks his helmet up, he thinks it just might be worth it.

God, Alec loves that town. He's not sure why he ever thought otherwise.

#my writing #fic #malec fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #cars #this is a fucking cars au #im not even ashamed #simon lewis #Simon is MATER lmao #shadowhunters #life is a highway blares in the background

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prettypersuasion · 8 months ago

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I wanted to watch Izzy’s favourite film, so here it is boys and girls…free on YouTube and not bad quality either.

After watching this I have so many questions I’d like to ask him….

Rock on, Pinball Wizards and Acid Queens!

youtube

#izzy the golden god of rock #izzy gnr #izzy stradlin #his favourite film #it’s a trip #ken russell #the who #tommy the who #Youtube

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izzyfromdeadspace · 1 year ago

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Izzy's bruises just continued to spread. As she lay there blue and silver blood began to pool under her thighs as the bandages became saturated and leaked. The blue of her skin began to fade as gray started to take hold. He would be able to see her glow dimming the more she bled out before him. Breathing becoming shallow it was obvious that she might very well die before him. The shadows in the cave seemed to grow excited and tried to reach for her. The second one of them touched her it sucked the light out of her and caused a fresh wound to rip open and begin bleeding. The scent of her blood was thick in the air and just seemed to draw in all the evil around them.

Before too long golden flames lit up the cave and the shadows hissed and fled. The god walked in with a frown feeling on edge and anxious. Moving to L's side he used his powers to take away his pain if only for a little while. Ever so gently he pet his hair trying to show him the comfort he had been denied. "What's going on L? The forest is having a fit and people are getting scared. What's happening?" Looking at the thorns he frowned and burned some of them away. Sitting at his side he wrapped an arm around him and just pulled him close. "I don't care what they say you aren't him."

He knew he wasn't allowed to touch Izzy so he focused on L instead. Pulling the boy onto his lap he sighed and just rocked him. "The forest has claimed her and plans to marry her off to who it deems worthy. But lets not focus on her right now. I'm here for you and I need to know that you're willing to let me help you." Rocking him in his arms he just tried to give him somewhere safe to rest. "I'm allowed to help you but only if you allow me in. My flames aren't his but you have to trust that I can make things better. It won't fix everything but I can take the bad away."

That day he moved to the lake, treading through the forest the plants moved out his way, the lingering hate in his existence irrefutable just like the scars left deep in his skin. Long black hair hung in his face, white eyes staring coldly and empty at all that passed before him he soon came to the lake and began to check the nets when he heard something that had him straightening up, eyes turning to the tree line to stare coldly at the one who came out, he stood out against the vibrant landscape like a black stain, a scorched mark, everyone knew better than to go near him… so who was this fool? He hoped not a human, or a hunter, well if it was at least he was by the lake and could wash off easily enough.

@blackparaderunner / @izzyfromdeadspace

#cinder: the sin eater

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izzystradlindoesitforme · 10 months ago

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For Pretty

Creative Wallpaper designed by: j2rules

Found this and thought of you. @prettypersuasion

#izzy stradlin #izzy gnr #jeffrey dean isbell #gnr #guns n roses #guns n' roses #the one and only izzy stradlin #izzy the golden god of rock #sweet caress #he tortures me #for pretty

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ubernoxa · 4 years ago

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The Dare: A Guns N’ Roses FanFic

Chapter 32: The First Aftershock

Story Summary: A stupid harmless dare, that’s all it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be something they would do, and never revisit. For Delilah, little did she know that visiting the strip wasn’t going to be a one time thing when she made the choice to accept the dare. Life is full of choices. Some choices can mean absolutely nothing, while others can change your entire world. Delilah had heard many rumors about the Sunset Strip or Devil’s Strip. Teenagers would whisper stories about how the Devil walks the streets of the strips without a care in the world. It was known as a place untouched by God. After years of hearing rumors about the Devil’s Strip, Delilah wants to see it for herself. Thus a Dare was born.

Chapter Summary: Drew publishes the article, and the first aftershock occurs.

Author’s Note: Well...here goes nothing. Sorry for the shorter chapter.

Masterlist

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks @str4nge-haze @queen-crue

The office was filled with the chatter as Drew read through his article one last time. He pat himself on his back as he found his golden ticket. His chance to truly make a name for himself. Maybe one day he might actually leave this trash no name magazine article company, and work at Rolling Stone.

“Hey, good luck today Drew!”

“Thanks Jerry, good luck to you too!” Drew never let the smile escape his lips. He submitted his article this morning and ever since there had been murmurings of some newbie writer finding the new it story. Only one hour ago his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he overheard some of his coworkers whispering about his article possibly not only making the cover page of the magazine, but being the cover article.

“Drew can I speak to you in my office?” Drew’s head shot up the moment his manager said his name. Drew practically bolted from his desk when he heard his manager summon him to the office. This was it, he was going to make the cover page!

Once Drew closed the door, he was met with an entirely different situation.

“What the hell is this?” All confidence left Drew at his manager’s words.

“My story,” Drew quickly replied while trying to keep his ground.

“No, your story was about the struggle of making it big on the strip and who the unsung heroes were. Not an article about a bunch of sluts and whores,” Drew tried to steady his breath as he was being lectured by his manager.

“You said find the sorry, so I found it.” Drew’s manager let a sigh escape him as he took off his glasses.

“What happened to the article you showed me a couple days ago about these same women? Drew this article is slander,” his manager sounded defeated as he spoke.

“Not if it’s the truth,” Drew replied earning some cuss words from his manager.

“I just..Drew, I’m not speaking to you as a manager, but as a friend. This has caught a lot of...attention. If you go through with it, there is no turning back,” his manager’s voice was sharp as he spoke.

“I don’t know why you brought this up? Do the higher ups not like it?” Drew sassed back.

“No, they like it...You’re going to make enemies when you post this. You’re going to ruin these girls’ lives,” His manager messaged the bridge of his nose as he talked.

“They told me this, they let me interview them. I didn’t force them to take those photos,” Drew snapped back.

Drew’s manager went silent for several moments before he broke the silence, “Fine, I will let you present this article. I will sign off on publishing it, BUT you have to tell me this isn’t personal. This article is all business and is not motivated by anything else.”

“Nothing personal, just business,” Drew shrugged back. No lie had ever come off his tongue so easily. Mags was going to pay for lying about having his baby. He wanted to make sure her world was destroyed just like she tried to destroy his.

———————————

Duff couldn’t have propelled himself up the stairs faster. Delilah had teased him the night before about a home cooked meal and a present, and he couldn’t get him mind off of it.

“Where the hell is he in a rush to?” Axl groaned as he dragged himself up another flight.

“Delilah told him last night that she had a surprise for him,” Slash mumbled as he followed the red head. All Slash wanted was a quiet night sleeping in an actual bed, but he wasn’t getting that tonight. Duff had practically begged him to spend the night on the couch in hopes that she would have sex with him. Little did Duff know that the present was a new banner, and not sex.

“Ohh Jesus Christ,” Axl mumbled under his breath earning some chuckles from Steven and Izzy.

“Atleast we’ll get some sort of home cooked meal,” Izzy said thoughts of Delilah’s cooking filled his mind, but his thoughts disappeared when he entered the small apartment. The stench of a burnt dinner still lingered in the air, suffocating him.

“Did Delilah burn something?” Axl whispered as he went to investigate the kitchen. He couldn’t remember a time when she had. Izzy followed him right at his heals missing the scene in the small living room.

The small living room was filled with their girls sleeping on the floors or couches. Delilah had cocooned in one of Duff’s blankets. Mags was right next to her fast asleep with her head on Delilah’s side. Tonya and Stef shared the other couch in a similar position. Upon first glance everything seemed normal, there was no cause for concern for the dark of night hid their smudged makeup and tear stained cheeks.

“They look cute don’t they,” Duff smiled at Steven’s comment. It had only been a couple weeks, but it felt like ages since he had seen her.

“Is that a new banner?” Duff asked, smiling at the purple banner that hung above the rotting couch. It was a soft lilac with their logo painted on in a deep purple. It looked screen printed or done by a professional, god she was talented.

“Yeah, Del must have made it,” Steven said before placing a kiss on Stef’s forehead and picking her up bridal style heading to bed.

“Burnt?” Axl nodded at Izzy’s words as he looked at the blackened lasagna. Izzy began to poke around the lasagna to see if any of it was edibles. Axl would have been lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to Del’s cooking.

“What the hell?” Izzy picked up a magazine page that was ripped in half.

“Maybe they used it for painting or some shit...to keep the paint from getting on the rotting floor?” Axl shrugged disassembling the lasagna hoping to find an unburnt layer. Relief passed him as he did and cut a piece out of the center. He was going to get a home cooked meal after all.

“Is that Duff and Del?” Izzy motioned towards the cover of one of the trash magazines that he’d see by the checkout line.

It was, there was no denying it. On the cover of a magazine was Delilah lying on Duff’s lap with his hand up her floral dress.

“The real stories of the strip: the drugs, sex, and whores of an up and coming Rock & Roll band,” Axl mumbled as he read the title on the cover out loud. He shot Izzy a confused look once he finished reading it out loud. What the actual fuck?

“Wasn’t this article supposed to be about how they helped us or putting them in a good light? A feel good story type of thing?”

“That’s what I was told,” Izzy watched as Axl began to clench his fists, and breathe deeper.

Izzy was sure of one thing, Drew was going to pay for writing this damn article.

Izzy watched as Duff picked Delilah up bridal style and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead. Izzy contemplated on showing Duff the article, about the reason for Delilah’s tear stained cheeks. He didn’t. He was going to, but as he saw Duff’s tired face covered with the joy of having Delilah in his arms again, he couldn’t do it.

————————-

Cold, that was the first thing Duff noticed when he woke up the following morning. He sighed as he tried to fight the sunlight that was prying his eyes open. He eventually gave in. His heart sunk when he wasn’t welcomed by Delilah’s cinnamon smell or her cute giggle. He shrugged assuming that she must have just began to make breakfast.

Duff leapt out of bed and immediately headed for the kitchen trying to see if Delilah had begun to make breakfast. He walked into the small kitchen hoping to see Delilah, but the kitchen was empty. The usual smell of bacon and eggs or pancakes that usually filled their apartment has been erased. He sauntered his way into the living room to be greeted by an annoyed Slash and Axl.

“Where’s Del,” Duff pulled Axl and Slash out of their discussion as he spoke. Part of him wondered what the hell they were bickering about, but at the same time he was more concerned about Delilah.

“Don’t know, she left with Stef, Mags, and Steven like a half hour ago to go to the store or some shit,” Slash replied taking another sip of his drink.

Axl just shook his head and hid a laugh as he lounged on one of the torn up couches. He couldn’t believe that Duff was bale to sleep through the fight that had happened between Stef, Steven, and Mags not even an hour ago.

“Why?”

“Have you read the article yet?” Axl shot back in a cocky tone.

“What article?”

“The one that fucker Drew James wrote,” Slash’s blunt tone caught him off guard. While Drew hadn’t discussed Slash’s sex life as much as the others, he was still pissed at the comments Drew made about his love of snakes.

“No you’re not gonna watch me fucking pee on it you jackass because that’s a damn violation of my personal privacy,” Mag’s voice echoed through the small apparent as she stormed in. She flung the door open, practically throwing it off his hinges. Slash and Axl went silent the moment Mags walked into the room, curious to see how the scene would unfold.

“No, but I have a right to know if it’s your pee or not!” Steven shouted right back.

“Oh my ducking god Steven! You think I’m going to stoop that fucking low??” Mags shot back.

“Hey hey hey, Steven. Breathe okay breathe,” Delilah held onto Steven wrists while trying to hold him back from following Mags. Stef and Tonya bolted past the two of them to help Mags.

“Del”

“Steven, please,” Delilah’s voice was no louder than a whisper. She was a lost for words for how to calm him down, but after Stef and Steven’s fight this morning she knew that she was the only one with hope of calming him down. The only problem was that she had no idea what she was doing.

“Del, that bastard got her pregnant,” guilt was tearing Steven apart as tears began to cascade down his face. He continued to torture himself with blaming himself. She met Drew because of his band, because of him. She wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for him. He couldn’t protect her and it was all his fault.

“Shhh shhh shhh,” Delilah pulled him in for a hug as she tried calming him down.

“Del, is she pregnant with that bastard’s child?” Delilah couldn’t answer, all she could do was pull him in tighter for a hug.

She mumbled, “I’m sorry” before she let go of him and walked towards to moldy bathroom that was at the end of the hall. Duff remained frozen as Delilah hurried past him rushing down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Delly,” Steven turned towards Duff’s soft wine that Delilah had clearly ignored. Duff’s eyes never lingered from Delilah as she ran into the bathroom.

“What the fuck is going on,” Duff turned towards his band.

“Drew fucking James,” Axl tossed Duff the trash magazine with the infamous article in it.

Duff’s heart stopped as he saw the cover of the magazine. Under any other circumstance, he would of loved to see a photo of Delilah lying on top of him. Her smile and the look in her eyes would have melted his heart any other day. The longer he looked at the photo the angrier he became. He looked at his hand that had bunched up Delilah’s dress, so he could grab at her underwear. If this was any other girl with him on the cover he would have shrugged it off, but this wasn’t any other girl. This was Del, and this photo made her look like a damn whore.

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izzyfromdeadspace · 1 year ago

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He knew they were going to use every trick in the book to twist things into their favor. There would never be enough to sate their hunger but he had to try and at least take the edge off. Carson could rot for all he cared. Hell, he might even set the man ablaze and refuse him death to amuse them for awhile to buy more time. He had to do something. If Fox were going to devour this whole reality he couldn't let them take the last of the Nova out with them. Watcher worked so hard on her star that he broke himself time and again to try and save her in any capacity he could. It was when their full attention was on him that he knew his guard needed to be up.

"His heart? They were kept apart by your shadows until now. Every chance he had to meet her and know kindness was stolen from him. They're strangers to each other." He began with a frown. Hugging her to his chest he couldn't let them worm their way into her anymore than they already had. She'd suffered and been left in terror under the water choking and unable to move. Trapped in a near endless hell where no one would save her. It broke his heart. Eyes meeting theirs he didn't waver despite knowing that this would come back to bite him later. He could hear L screaming for help and he lit up bright to try and light his way back out of the dark. A golden light to lead him to his star.

At their demand he sighed and lifted the veil of sleep off of Izzy. She awoke with a strangled cry and just clawed at him sobbing. Reliving her last moments she was in agony. Every scar, every wound and mental razorblade cut at her before the weight of the water sank in and smothered her. She trembled and bled tears from her eyes that he knew would just amuse them. Rocking her gently he tried to calm her down. Eventually his heat and presence gave her a false sense of comfort and she just lay trembling in his arms. Looking to Fox he gazed past their eyes to the boy torn asunder within them.

"The ritual gives you power to claim a bride to be your light and drive away the shadows. You were denied meeting her and knowing the love and comfort she could have offered you. Years of love and devotion were robbed from you by the very god who wears your skin. But you still have that power. Name your bride. I am to adhear to the rules of the game just as everyone else." Sighing he held her up so her star could glow bright and become his beacon. "Just speak the words. Claim a name and it will be done." As he spoke Izzy trembled not knowing what was going on. In her eyes she was being fed to the hivemind on a silver platter so she panicked and went supernova. The whole room disappeared in a blinding light and the mansion was obliterated by her power.

L was curled up on the floor clinging to a wound as black blood seeped out onto the floor, his ears filled with whispers and he saw coloured auras around everything as his head throbbed in pain, it was all too clear and he felt the pain throbbing from the stab wound as the blood was drawn to the marker. He didn’t know why Carson kept him alive, he didn’t know why he was kept around, he didn’t know why he was tortured with and then left to suffer before the marker line this. He felt sick and lightheaded and his nose leaked thick black ichor, ah he hated everything. Why had his grandparents agreed to give him up? He just bit his lip hard as tears spilled down his cheeks as he fought to stay silent, if he made too much noise he would be hurt again, he could hear Carson working so close by him at the desk. Ah… he didn’t know what he did to deserve this.

@izzyfromdeadspace

#tw dark topics #cinder: the sin eater

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years ago

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Merry Christmas, @cardiamachina!

This was a real joy to write, mostly because it's a very different fic to what I normally do. I'm super hoping the light angst isn't too much as I know angst was a dislike!

I hope this exploration of immortal husbands makes for a satisfying Christmas gift. I always like to explore decisions and choices in my fic, so this was a really lovely opportunity for me to actually write some of my feelings on why - or why not - Alec and Magnus should be eternal.

Merry Christmas!

Read on AO3

******

A Malec Christmas Carol

Chapter 1: Christmas Eve

“Oh come out, you little bugger,” Magnus swore under his breath as he levered the Angelica out by the root. This would be much easier if he had Alexander by his side - the plant responded to Angel blood and practically leaped into his hands - but he’d nearly run out, Christmas Eve was the full moon and he couldn’t begrudge Alec spending this night with his family. Especially not as last year Magnus had whisked him off to Madagascar for some winter sun. And if he was honest, to watch Alec’s delight as lemurs cheerfully romped over them both, stealing fruit out of their hands. Magnus thought of it like an extension of their honeymoon.

But that indulgence last Christmas left him alone this Christmas Eve, collecting plants by the shore of Lake Lyn, bathed under the cold eerie light of the full moon. Absolutely fucking freezing as well, he thought ruefully. And no Alexander later in his bed to warm him up. Ah well, he would be back tomorrow and they would have Christmas together. Maybe a warm crackling fire and hot toddies and Magnus could conjure a fluffy rug to lay Alexander down on. Magnus grinned to himself and moved to the crop of Blessed Thistle growing out between two rocks. Planning and anticipation was really half the fun.

Two plants obtained, he placed them carefully in his herb pouch and stood, brushing dirt from his knees. It was a fair trek back to the loft in Alicante and Magnus contemplated a portal, but the combination of full moon and mildly holy plants on his person sometimes did funny things to his magic. He sighed, pulled his scarf closer about his neck, and set off, the light of the moon illuminating the way. It was astonishing, really, how bright the moon could be on dark nights, even with the rebuilt towers of Alicante twinkling like beacons in the distance. It was pleasant, really. Had he thought the light was cold and icy before? It seemed to glow now, warmer and warmer, golden round the edges.

Magnus became aware of several things at once.

One, the moon is not golden, nor does it give off warmth. So that was definitely not the damn moon. Two, there was a faint ringing in his ears, not like he’d been to a loud gig, but like thousands of bells and chimes were tangling and jingling in the distance. Three, there was an Angel suspended over Lake Lyn.

Magnus froze, eyes riveted to the vision in front of him. He felt detached from his body, so suddenly immersed in panic he’d come out the other side into a zen-like calm as the Angel opened his mouth and spoke his name.

His real name.

Magnus swallowed.

“Son of the Angel Asmodeus, former-prisoner of Edom. Or do you now prefer Magnus Bane,” the Angel continued, not really making it sound like a question.

“Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus corrected, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth and finding his voice. He wasn’t sure he could move any of his limbs, whether by the Angel’s doing or his own fear, he didn’t know. But Angels didn’t appear to Downworlders. Angels especially didn’t appear to the sons of Fallen Angels, Princes of Hell. His eyes adjusted to the light emanating from the Angel and he raked over his appearance, looking for clues as to his identity. Handsome, muscular, scarred - scarred - piercing blue eyes and a long spear with a fluttering white scrap of material clasped in his hand.

Michael then. General of the armies of Heaven. Banisher of his father. Banisher of Lucifer .

Magnus was in trouble. And he’d never get to tell Alexander goodbye.

“I come to you now to offer you payment.”

He blinked, then shook his head as if to clear his ears, chimes still tinkling somewhere. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Payment. Or a reward, depending on how you wish to see it.” Michael spoke in a slow monotone and Magnus failed to read any emotion in his words.

“What have I done that could possibly lead to a reward from the Archangel Michael?” Magnus asked, not trusting anything. This could be a hallucination. A trick from a demon. A prank of a Warlock, not that he was aware of any in Alicante right then.

And yet, he knew. He knew in his bones, in what passed for a soul deep inside, that this was Michael. The real Michael in front of him.

He tried to make himself remember that the Angels were cruel. They’d only just allowed Clary to return to them. Oh, fuck . The probability that this was bad news statistically rocketed when he remembered Biscuit was back in the Shadow World.

“You prevented the destruction of our people. You protected Idris and the mortal world with your blood. Your immortal life. When you had much to stay for, you sacrificed all.”

Magnus cocked his head, narrowing his eyes at the Angel.

“Ye-es,” he dragged out. “I did that over a year ago.”

“Thirteen months, twenty-two days, fifteen hours and eleven minutes ago.”

“Can you tell me the seconds too?” Magnus quipped before he could control his mouth.

“Magnus Lightwood-Bane,” the Angel intoned, his eyes narrowing slightly. Magnus felt a wave of energy swell over him, and he staggered against the sensation.

“Apologies,” he whispered, his mouth paper dry.

“We give to you the gift of immortal life.” Michael stopped, as if this was enough information.

Magnus waited for a few seconds and then opened his mouth, abruptly shutting it again. He did that a couple of times, before running on autopilot, shifting his weight to one hip and waving his hand around airily.

“I hate to sound ungrateful, but I’m already immortal. I know sometimes people can miss that because of the rest of the fabulous-ness, but that’s me. Living forever.”

There was a silence, slightly too long to be comfortable, and then Michael raised one eyebrow. Damn, Magnus was impressed by how sarcastic that one gesture was.

“Who said it was for you? It’s a gift. That you can give to someone else, if you wish it.”

All colour drained from Magnus’ face and he sat down on the earth, collapsing with a thud.

“No,” he whispered, staring at Michael with wide eyes. That couldn’t mean what he was taking it to mean. The Angels, they wouldn’t be that kind. His mind flashed to Alec, surrounded by his family when they’d moved to Alicante, hugging Izzy when she became the Head of the Institute, looking so proud and full of love. No, but they’d be that cruel.

“Are you… are you saying I have the power to make anyone immortal?”

Michael inclined his head once. “Yes. You would bind them to your life force, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You would protect him with your life.”

“Him?” Magnus echoed hollowly. He hated that Michael could see right through him.

“We see all,” was all Michael replied, and Magnus shuddered. Great, voyeuristic Angels, that’s all his libido needed.

“You have until the clock strikes midnight on Christmas Day to perform the ritual,” Michael continued, and suddenly in Magnus’ mind the knowledge of how to do it, how to bind Alec to his own immortal life force, dropped in like it had always been there. Like he’d always known. It felt obscene, a violation, horrifically unnatural, and Magnus gasped, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple. His herb pouch grew heavier with the small Adamas dagger that the ritual required. They had thought of everything, which is why Magnus, after being tricked by Lilith and his father, was instantly suspicious.

“What’s the catch? Forgive my candour, but we haven’t exactly been used to the generosity of Angels.”

“No? Did Ithuriel not give his life for Clarissa Morgenstern? Have we not guided and protected your loved ones through troubles of their own making? Did Raziel not grant Clarissa’s wish?”

“And then erased her life because she saved hundreds of Nephilim, causing untold pain to those I care about,” he retorted.

“I am not compelled to justify our decisions.” Magnus could make out the beginning hints of colour high on Michael’s cheeks, his lips compressed into a thin line. “We move to God’s will.”

“You’re saying it’s God’s will that Alexander lives forever,” he scoffed, his scepticism rising. There was always something in return. Nothing was ever free.

“And we will not be questioned,” Michael continued as if Magnus hadn’t spoken, the light around him growing dim, the edges of his body beginning to blur and fade. It was a disconcerting effect, not least because it meant the Angel was leaving.

“Well, I’m going to question you anyway. What do you want from me - from Alec?” Magnus held out his hand as if he could entreat Michael to stay longer, aware his voice edged into pleading for answers.

“It’s a gift, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You may choose to ignore it, and he will remain mortal and die in time.”

“And if I ask him to share my immortal life? Does he remain - is he still..?” Magnus trailed off, swallowing around the words. Despite Alexander’s ludicrous demand to become a vampire to join Magnus in Edom, Magnus had never been able to separate the Shadowhunter from the man. Especially when Alec had so recently been promoted and could finally begin to make real, systemic changes to the Clave.

“He will always be my kin,” Michael answered evasively, which honestly was not as reassuring as Magnus wanted it to be.

“As will you,” the Angel continued, which was possibly even more alarming. Michael’s form faded even further until Magnus could make out the woods behind him.

“Your ki… no, wait. Don’t leave!”

“Until midnight on Christmas Day, Magnus Lightwood-Bane, son of Asmodeus,” the Angel intoned and then winked out of existence as if he’d neer been there. Magnus sat staring at the spot for Lilith knew how long, frozen to the ground, unmoving until his leg cramped and jolted him out of his reverie.

“Ow, shit,” he hissed, digging his palm into the muscle of his calf. Magnus forced himself to his feet, brushing at his clothing, and then risked a look inside his pouch. Out of season lavender curled around the simple hilt of an Adamas dagger. There was a small pouch next to it, and Magnus lifted it out with trembling numb fingers. White Willow bark. Perfect for Moon magic and symbolising long-lasting love. It wasn’t necessary for the ritual - spell, he would say, but somehow instinctively knew the Angels would not want it called that - but it would strengthen the effectiveness, he supposed. They really wanted this to work.

Which meant they had some purpose for Alec to keep living.

Magnus walked home lost in his thoughts, snapping a fire to life in the fireplace automatically when he got inside. He placed the pouch carefully in his study and locked the door, not wanting Alec to find it. Not until he’d talked to him.

How the fuck was he going to talk to him? How could he spring something so momentous on his husband?

Would Alec even want to spend eternity with him?

Magnus shook his head and went back into his study, rooting around for Bearberry and Blue Sage, then threw the herbs into his cauldron. He added brandy because he might as well enjoy the drink, and muttered an incantation for guidance, appealing to the spirits to give him clear thought and a calm mind. Straining it into his mug, he tidied up and relocked the door, making his way to bed.

Even the brandy couldn’t fully mask the bitterness of the drink but he forced it down and prepared for bed, taking off his makeup and settling in for the night. Shooting a goodnight text to Alexander, he turned off the lights and prepared for sleep, hoping that his dreams would hold the answers.

Chapter 2: Past

“Tsk. Well at least you had some sense to ask for my opinion, seeing how well it served you last time. Come on, open your eyes you dramatic old goat, and have some more brandy. ”

Magnus frowned and blinked open his eyes. He was fully dressed, sat in front of a roaring fire in what looked like his old London townhouse, sharing a very good vintage from 1862 with Ragnor Fell.

“So. Not in Alicante, then.”

Ragnor snorted. “Still as quick as ever. Honestly, how you managed to become a High Warlock of anything with a brain as slow as treacle I’ll never know.” He settled back into the large Chesterfield and sipped from his glass, harrumphing into it.

“Slept my way to the top,” Magnus said automatically, falling back into their old banter before startling forward.

“ Ragnor .”

“What is it, you histrionic clothes horse?”

“Am I dead? Are you alive? Why am I in London? Where’s Alexander?” Magnus demanded answers in an increasingly belligerent tone. Ragnor thwapped him in the knee with one slippered foot and Magnus subsided, glaring.

“Because the higher powers have a terrible and literal sense of humour, I’m meant to tell you I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past. I like to think of it as me sensibly and altruistically preventing you from making a terrible mistake of course. Again. As per usual. Come on, get up.” He rose to his feet, brushing down his velvet trousers and smoothing his cravat.

“Mistake?” Magnus echoed, clambering to his feet. He looked at his brandy glass, debated putting it down and instead polished it off in one gulp. If he was going to have vivid dreams like this he was going to enjoy the free booze.

“In your love life, of course. I apologize for missing your first wedding, but I had to RSVP on account of being dead.”

“Ragnor,” Magnus said again, tears springing to his eyes as he pulled Ragnor into a hug. “My oldest friend.”

“Stop touching me,” Ragnor said, wheezing slightly from having his ribs squeezed. “This is very unbecoming.”

“I miss you, you grumpy cabbage,” Magnus grinned and gave him one last squeeze. “Why are you my Ghost of Christmas Past?”

“Because apparently you've forgotten the lessons you so painfully learned.”

“And what lessons might those be?”

Ragnor raised his eyebrows and beckoned him to follow, opening the door of the parour they had been in to the dining room. There in front of them, was himself - exactly as he had been, beautifully brocaded frock coat and laced cravat, rubies in his ear. His hair was parted low on one side and swept over with waved ends and he looked thoroughly, utterly miserable.

The explanation for his misery sat opposite, drinking blood from a wine glass.

The Magnus of the present turned to Ragnor. “Really?” he asked. “If we’re going to remind me of all my terrible love choices, could we not have gone with something a little less… vicious?”

Ragnor nudged him. “Shut up, Magnus. Just watch.” Magnus sighed and went back to observing himself and Camille.

“I was thinking perhaps we could take in a ballet. Or the theatre. Something festive for New Year’s.”

“Mmm,” Camille replied noncommittally, running a finger round the edge of her wine glass, not raising her gaze. “Could we not do something a little more exciting, darling? One does get so tired of the same faces at this time of year.”

“Perhaps a trip, then?” Magnus rose and held out his hand towards her and after a moment she acquiesced with a small sigh, rising to her feet gracefully and taking his hand, although she dropped it before they got to the settee. She tucked herself into the corner and ignored him in favour of inspecting her shoes.

“A trip? Well, I do so like to travel. New places, new people…”

“New opportunities for presents,” Magnus teased her and snapped a wrapped thin box into his hands.

Camille finally looked up and squealed, becoming the most animated she’d been. She held out her hand palm up. “Magnus! You shouldn’t have. We said we weren’t doing anything this year.”

“I know, my dove, but I do like to spoil you. And I know how much you had your eye on this.” Camille graced him with one of her wide smiles as Magnus handed her the box.

A stunning array of emeralds greeted her when she opened the box, tearing the wrapping greedily and then cooing at the contents. “Oh, Magnus.”

“Green to match your eyes. May I?” Magnus leaned over and delicately took the necklace from the box while Camille turned her back to him and smoothed her long hair off the nape of her neck, moving the heavy mass out of the way. Magnus secured the necklace around her and trailed his fingertips through the silky strands as he gently pulled her hair back into place, fingers curling through her ringlets.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Magnus, I haven’t even turned around yet.”

“I know you’re beautiful, my love.”

Camille laughed, that high tinkling laugh that now set his teeth on edge and finally rose, turning around. She was a vision, her hair half piled high on top of her head and ringlets curling down her back, her eyes clear and painted colour high on her cheeks. The low neckline of her burgundy dress perfectly complemented her pale shoulders, bare and glowing in the light of the fire. The emeralds sparkled and her green eyes shone.

Magnus leaned towards her, expecting a kiss. Camille ducked away from his embrace and ran straight to the mirror, laughing again when she saw herself, turning this way and that to catch the light in her new gems.

“Oh, we must go out!” she exclaimed. Magnus trailed after her.

“Camille, it’s Christmas Day.”

“Yes, which means there’ll be a party somewhere. Oh, honestly Magnus, stop being such a bore. I want to go out!” She ignored him and went to ring the bell for her maid.

“I thought,” Magnus started, his voice sounding hesitant. “I thought we could just spend tonight with the two of us. Have a romantic evening.”

From this angle, the Magnus of the present could see Camille’s mouth thin and her nostrils flare, before she put on a beseeching expression and turned back around.

“Oh my love,” she cooed again, her voice soft and wheedling. “But you’ve given me such a lovely surprise gift, how can I not want to go show it off? To show everyone how much you love me? You know how I enjoy making all those miserable people jealous of what we have.” She pressed her lips to Magnus’ cheek, taking his hands in hers.

“Just this once, Magnus, please? We’ll be home well before dawn and can spend the whole day in bed tomorrow, just you and I. I’ll wear nothing but this wonderful necklace.” She kissed under his ear and Magnus made a content noise.

“How can I ever say no to you?”

“I don’t think I ever want you to try,” she giggled and then clapped her hands with joy before turning away from him yet again.

“That’s quite enough of that,” harrumphed Ragnor and he waved his hands, the scene in front of them fading.

“And your point is?” Magnus drawled, surprised at how little seeing that memory again hurt. “I was content once upon a time to spend the rest of my immortal life with one person. My choice of person was not the greatest. I am well aware that Alexander is not Camille.”

“But he could be,” Ragnor said and Magnus looked at him in surprise.

“Do you really think so?”

“Immortality changes us, old friend. Love no longer seems so important if you know it is eternal.”

Magnus frowned. “You told me to chase love! And hold on to it!”

“When I felt you closing yourself off to even trying,” Ragnor countered. “You put everything into making Camille’s life happy with scant thought for yourself. I don’t want you going down that road again.”

He shook his head, wondering where this was coming from. ��Camille and I had very different views on love. Yes, she and I were happy - for a long time. But it became a lie. I don’t think the same thing would happen.”

Ragnor spread his hands in the universal sign for ‘maybe’ and sat back down, crossing his legs. “Forever is a long time. How can you be so sure you won’t tire of him, or he of you?”

Magnus started to follow him but stopped still at his words. His hand flew up to grasp at his chest, trying to soothe the sharp pain that ran through him.

“I… I can’t.” Magnus licked his mouth, feeling suddenly faint. “I don’t know if he’d stay with me.”

“Are you so willing to risk your eternal happiness on someone you can’t trust to be there for you forever?” asked Ragnor, arching his eyebrows. “I’m trying to protect you, Magnus. So that you protect your own heart. Grieving and loving again is more healthy than losing your love and wallowing until the end of time.”

“I’d like to avoid both,” Magnus said sharply. “He married me. There was an oath. ‘Til death separates us.” And Alexander would never go against his word, he reminded himself forcefully. Magnus could always trust in him.

“So you think the only thing keeping him with you would be his oath? Aren’t you worried he’d come to resent you, Magnus?” Ragnor voiced Magnus’ greatest fear, and Magnus loved him for it. Wanted to kick him at the same time, but still loved him for his honesty.

“I disagree,” came a new voice. “If anyone could make eternity work I would have said it would be Magnus and his Shadowhunter love.”

Magnus startled and turned, his eyes widening at who he saw. “Dot!” He rushed over and embraced her. “Dorothea, my wonder! I miss you. So, so much.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she told him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Ignore grumpy here.” Ragnor made an offended noise.

“Come with me. I’m here to show you why this is a truly blessed gift, Magnus.” Magnus stepped forward to join her, but then looked back at Ragnor. He darted back to embrace him one last time, pressing a kiss to his forehead as Ragnor swatted him away.

“Goodbye, old friend. May we meet again.”

“Stop pressing your lipstick all over me.” Ragnor pushed him away but a small smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You may call upon me at any time.”

“Thank you, my dear cabbage.”

“I might not answer, but you can call.”

Magnus was still laughing as Ragnor faded away.

“Well,” Dot said brightly. “Let’s put all of that negative nonsense to bed, shall we?” And she took Magnus by the hand and stepped forward.

Chapter 3: Present

“You can’t let your past dictate your future,” Dot reminded him as she guided him through what looked like a nicely upmarket fitting room.

“How many Warlocks do you know that are in blissful immortal relationships?” he asked her.

“Ok, fair, they’re rare. But if you were willing to marry Alec, with no guarantee that either he or you would stay together even over 50 years, then why can’t you have faith in your love for longer?”

He fell silent, thinking that over. Dot lead him into the bright lights of a store that he instantly recognised as the men’s section of Bergdorf Goodman. Magnus looked around, surprised. A few yards away he spotted a familiar head of hair, easy to see as Alec was so tall. Magnus’ face brightened instantly and he instinctively began to move towards him.

“He can’t see you,” Dot said, linking her arm with his and stopping him short. “We’re not really here, remember?”

“Do I have to just watch again?” Magnus asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance from his voice. He wanted Alexander - to hold him and talk to him and look into his eyes to find the answers he so desperately needed.

“What we share with those who’ve known us the longest - when we know they won’t hesitate to call us on our lies to ourselves - that’s a gift to be able to overhear.” Dot gave him a knowing look. “Like you’ve not wanted to know how Alec talks about you behind your back.”

“I haven’t,” Magnus protested, and then realised that it was true. He’d never wanted to know how Alec spoke about him, simply because he trusted Alec to be honest with him first.

“Well maybe that’s a lesson in itself,” Dot chided him and drew them closer as the siblings shopped.

“Why didn’t you do this earlier? This is pretty last minute, Alec.”

“It’s not like Alicante is teeming with stores like this, Iz. This is Spring Versace.” Alec shook the sleeve of the shirt for emphasis.

“Ok, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Isabelle grinned and nudged him with her shoulder while Alec blushed and went back to looking on the rack.

“It’s important to Magnus. Therefore it’s important to me,” he mumbled while she cooed.

“Oh, shut up.” Alec rolled his eyes and pulled out an artfully ripped sweater in an alarming shade of crocus.

“No, brother dear.” Izzy calmly steered his hand to place it back on the rack and Magnus thanked her silently. “Definitely not. Anyway, I think it’s very sweet. Simon. Well, Simon isn’t exactly high fashion.”

Alec’s face took on that mixture of fascinated horror that appeared whenever Simon was mentioned in front of him. “Is, um. Is everything alright with you two?” Magnus could see the internal war inside Alec as he waited for the answer.

“Honestly? Yes. It’s wonderful. Amazing, even. He’s sweet and kind and funny and he loves me. He’s really good for me.”

Alec’s shoulders relaxed a notch. “Why is there a ‘but’ about to happen?”

“I want kids,” Izzy burst out and promptly looked horrified. Alec dropped the shirt he was holding and wheeled around to stare at his sister.

“What?!”

“Not right now,” she hastily reassured him. “But. Someday. I want a family.”

“He’s a vampire.” Magnus rolled his eyes. Well done to Alec for pointing out the obvious.

“Yes Alec, we’re aware of that.” Izzy mirrored Magnus and rolled her own eyes. She brushed her hair out of her face and concentrated on a pile of soft silk scarves. “We’re trying to find a way around this.”

“Izzy, don’t you dare think about taking the bite. Don’t you-“ Izzy stopped him by placing her hand firmly against his chest.

“Don’t be an idiot. We’re trying to find a way to make Simon mortal again, obviously.” Magnus’ eyebrows shot up when he heard that. Oh, well done, Isabelle. If anyone had the determination to make that happen, it was her.

“Angel above, Iz. Is that even possible?”

Her mouth set in a determined line. “I’m going to find a way, Alec.” He blinked at her and then Alec’s face softened in acquiescence and he nodded, turning back to the clothing. He browsed the rack for a minute in silence, rolling his lips together to try to hide a smile. Magnus watched as Alec cleared his throat.

“But does it have to be Simon? Really?”

“Oh, you dick!” Izzy smacked him hard on the arm as Alec burst out laughing and then held his hands up in surrender.

“I’m kidding! Well, mostly. Izzy stop hitting me!”

Izzy flicked her hair back and visibly shook off her indignance, the corners of her mouth trying to curl as she fought a smile.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want kids?”

“We try for them nightly,” Alec said dryly and Magnus burst out laughing, echoed by Dot next to him.

“You’ve had an influence,” she murmured to Magnus and he smiled at her.

“Alec!” Izzy swatted him again. “Be serious. There’s nothing stopping you. There’s always children, warlock kids or orphaned Nephilim that need parents.”

“We have the same issue as you two, I guess.” Alec was concentrating too hard on the print on a very nice shirt, and Magnus realised he was gripping Dot’s hand. He grimaced in apology and let her go. She softly smiled at him and took his hand again, and his heart ached with missing her.

“Magnus is immortal and I’m not. It makes it harder, I guess. He’ll outlive any mortal children we could have.”

“Would you want him to be mortal?” Izzy stepped closer and put her hand comfortingly in his forearm, forcing him to turn to face her. Magnus held his breath.

“No,” Alec shook his head. “Raziel, no. We went through that and it’s not. Just no. I want him to live.”

Magnus breathed again.

“Would you... want to be immortal?”

“I.” Alec blew out his cheeks and shifted his weight on his feet, avoiding her gaze and Magnus leaned forward.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane, you answer me right now!” Izzy hissed and jerked his arm sharply.

“Ow, Iz, yes, yes , ok? If I could. I don’t want to leave him. I want a family and I want him and I want to see more of the world, his world. God, Izzy, I love him. And there’s so much to him and so much I want to experience with him and I’m not sure one lifetime is enough. Yes, ok? If it was possible, I’d want to be with him forever. But it’s not possible. And so I don’t allow myself to think about it.” Alec closed his eyes as if in pain and Magnus became aware of a keening noise. He looked around for the source and realised it was coming from him.

“Dot,” he whispered. “Dorothea, why are you showing me this?”

“Because you need to know. It’s only your own fears from stopping your happiness.”

“You’d be ok with not aging? All of us dying?” Izzy gestured to herself, sounding more curious than annoyed.

“Iz, I’m going to have to watch you die anyway. Or I’ll die first, whatever, but. Me not dying won’t make a difference to my family and most of the people I love being mortal.”

Alec sounded so practical. Magnus frowned. There was a difference to knowing everyone around you was going to die and being forced to live through it and live on without them.

“Even if you do have kids? Alec, you went crazy when Max was injured.” Izzy sounded as sceptical as Magnus felt.

“It was my fault.” Alec set his jaw and met Izzy’s eyes again. “Max nearly dying… that was my fault, Izzy. I should never have trusted Jonathan.” Magnus ached to touch him.

“How could you know?” Izzy demanded softly, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “He was wearing a different face. And I vouched for him. I was the one who brought him in.”

“He was going to come to the Institute anyway,” Alec pointed out and Izzy rolled her eyes again.

“Yeah, and even if you hadn’t shoved him on security he probably would have hurt Max. So if you can cut me some slack, you can do the same for you, big brother.”

Alec finally smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. Alright!” he protested when she poked him as well for good measure.

“Can we please get back to picking out the last of my husband’s presents?” he asked, turning back to the clothing. “Now, he’s often mentioned someone Cavelli. Cavalli? Does that mean anything to you?”

“I’m gonna get you a subscription to Vogue,” Izzy threatened under her breath and grabbed Alec’s arm to steer him to a different section. Magnus wanted to get in their way, to demand Alec answer her about how he’d feel watching his mortal children age and die. To ask how Magnus could possibly deal with that, even with Alec at his side, because Magnus couldn’t even fathom living through that.

Instead, he looked back at Dot, feeling lost. She tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic look.

“It’s alright Magnus. You’ll see. He loves you beyond anything and the two of you are stronger together. This is what you’ve always wanted. Someone who challenges you, and supports you and will explore with you - by your side, forever. I wanted to give you that, but I wasn’t the right person.”

“Dot -” he started to say, intent on preventing her from any self-deprecating sentences, but she shushed him with one finger and then smiled.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. I had a wonderful life, and I’m more than happy with the time I had and my choices. My purpose here is to help you do the same - and not regret for the rest of your life.”

“What if Alec regrets it for the rest of his life, Dot?”

“I’m not saying it’s easy being immortal. I’m not saying there won’t be times where he has to be reminded about perspective and priorities and all the things he takes for granted being mortal. But I don’t think for one second he’ll regret living for you, Magnus. Not one second.”

“You two are sickeningly in love,” a new voice chimed in and Magnus jumped, whirling around to look at the newcomer. She looked... familiar but not - a tall woman with a well-shaped afro. He squinted at her and she laughed, putting her hand up to her throat. A moment before she pulled the scarf off, he knew.

“Sweetpea!” he exclaimed, and she flew into his arms, still laughing.

“Definitely too big for you to pick up, Magnus,” she told him. “Time for you to say goodbye and come with me.”

He untangled himself from her embrace and enveloped Dot instead, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Goodbye darling Dorothea. I hope you rest well and that I see you again one day.”

“Never stop fighting for love, Magnus.” She squeezed his hand and kissed him back. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he whispered as Madzie grabbed his hand and began to pull him away. Dot waved goodbye and faded from sight, so he turned back to Madzie, who led him… right to the front door of their loft.

Chapter 4: Future

“So I’m your ghost of Christmas future, yeah? What I’m going to show you isn’t set in stone. But it is what your path is right now, where Alec remains mortal. Don’t worry, you’ll forget the specifics when you wake up, time travel’s a bitch on free will.”

“Language,” Magnus said automatically and then covered his mouth. Madzie laughed, bright and sudden.

“Yeah, you don’t shake that particular instinct for about another seventy years.”

“Well that’s just embarrassing.”

“Hazard of immortality. Max has it way worse.”

“Max? Why?”

Madzie’s eyes went wide and she gestured hurriedly. “Oh, not Uncle Max. Um, other Max. Baby Max. Ah, fuck it, just look.” She swirled her hand in front of her and the door opens to reveal what looked like a very chaotic Christmas.

Two dark-haired children ran past Magnus giggling as he walked into the living room, followed by an older, red-headed teenager.

“I swear to Raziel, if you two don’t stop running round, I’m telling Uncle Magnus that you broke the vase at Thanksgiving.” The two kids screeched to a halt and slunk back around the corner the way they came before bursting out into laughter and running off again. The girl - Magnus assumed Clary and Jace’s kid, grimaced and made throttling motions with her hands, before an older looking Isabelle, her hair shorter than Magnus had ever seen it, walked into the room.

“If you want to swipe a glass of wine I promise to look the other way,” she told the teen solemnly. “I often tell Simon that the twins are the reason we get through so many bottles every week.”

“It’s ok, Auntie Iz. They’re just hopped up on sugar and also the living incarnation of Satan,” the girl said, yelling the last part of that sentence in the direction of the twins.

“It looks like someone needs a very diluted mimosa,” came Magnus’ own voice, and then his future-self swanned into the room, his hair longer and pinned up in an elaborate fashion. He snapped his fingers and handed a glass that looked like it was mostly peach juice over to the teenager and then promptly summoned a bottle of champagne and two glasses and handed one to Isabelle. She fell upon it gratefully.

“Celine, you’re doing a marvellous job keeping them in line,” Magnus continued and gestured to the couch for them to sit.

Celine shook her head. “It’s ok, Magnus. I need to make sure they’re not trying to get Max to turn them into something weird. But I think Hannah could probably use one of these as well.” Magnus watched himself hand over another mimosa.

“It’s ok, I don’t think Max has quite mastered that trick yet.”

“It doesn’t seem to stop them all from trying,” Celine replied dryly and wandered off in search of the kids and this mysterious Max.

“So how much of our home do Izzy’s children destroy?” Magnus asked Madzie who was still standing next to him.

“So, so much,” she said without a hint of teasing. “You keep saying they remind you of Clary, given that the Herondale children all seem to actually respect rules.”

“I’m sure Biscuit and Blondie just love that.”

“They settle down a lot,” Madzie told him with a small smile. “Alec asked them to train Shadowhunters. Clary specialised in improvised weaponry and tactics.”

Magnus threw his head back to laugh. “That would definitely suit her.”

The front door opened behind them and a silver-haired Maryse and Luke arrived carrying bags overflowing with gifts.

“Where are my grandkids?” Maryse called and suddenly the entire loft swarmed with children of varying ages, all crowding round them for hugs and all chattering at them. Magnus moved out of the way of them, mildly alarmed, as his future self simply conjured another table and more champagne.

“Reinforcements,” sighed future-Magnus and Izzy together.

More noise as Clary, Jace and Simon spilled out of the kitchen to greet them, and Magnus turned to look at Madzie when he noticed the runes on Simon.

“The Mortal Cup,” Madzie told him. “Isabelle said she’d find a way and she did.”

“That’s amazing,” Magnus said, so happy for them. And then he looked up as his husband, temples flecked with grey, came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, followed by an unknown Nephilim teenager. Alec looked as beautiful as ever, more lines round his eyes but still full of the brightness of soul that had drawn Magnus to him in the first place.

“Papa,” the boy said, and Magnus watched to see which adult turned around. He looked Hispanic and spoke with a slight accent. He must be an orphan taken in by one of them, he assumed. Magnus admired his dark painted nails. Bold, for a Nephilim. Probably Izzy’s child.

His future self turned. “Yes, Raf?”

Everything inside Magnus stopped. He felt frozen, blinking rapidly to try to work out what was happening.

The youngest child broke away from the crowd by the door and ran back to Alec who dropped and swung him up into his arms.

“Daddy, can we open our gifts from Grandma and Grandpops?”

“Of course you can, Max,” Alec said as he bopped the boy on his horns, the boy flaring a bright blue as his glamour dropped and Magnus clutched at the wall behind him.

“Papa, presents!” The child cried out victoriously at future-Magnus, who was deep in conversation with Raf.

“What.” Magnus said faintly. “What.”

“Breathe, Magnus.” Madzie said, not unkindly. “Did you not think that this was a possibility?”

Magnus shook his head, avidly watching the scene in front of him as if he could commit it to memory. "We have sons. We have sons." The Clave had allowed them to adopt a Nephilim, for Raziel's sake. And a Warlock. And everyone was acting as if this was normal.

Raf held his arms out for Max and Max jumped down from Alec’s embrace and ran to his brother. “C’mon Max. We’ll put the presents under the tree and you can make sure everyone has one and then we can open them together.”

Alec looked approvingly at Raf’s words and dropped a kiss to the top of his head as he joined them, casually slinging his arm around Magnus as if this was a everyday occurrence. Them, and their kids. Their family .

Magnus let out an astonished wheeze while Madzie patted his arm in consolation, looking highly amused.

“Rafael’s finished basting the turkey and it will be about an hour,” Alec said as the boys ran off to drag Maryse and Luke into the living room, both of them stopping to kiss Magnus and Alec. “So we have time for presents and then everyone has to wash their hands.”

“Yes dad,” Clary said impishly as she moved past them and Alec stuck his tongue out at her which she immediately returned, both of them smiling at each other in a way that would be impossible in the present.

“This feels like the Twilight Zone,” Magnus said, looking at Madzie with wide eyes.

“Clary and Alec get really, really close after Max - Lightwood Max, not Lightwood-Bane Max - nearly dies. Again.”

“What happened?”

“He was defending the LA Institute. You and Alec are very popular but there’s a small faction of the Downworld and the Nephilim that really don’t like the two of you together. Call you race traitors. They went after Alec’s family. Alec of course blamed himself, because he always does. But Clary actually did kill her brother. They weirdly bond and I think she helped him to see it wasn’t his fault.”

“But he’s ok?”

“Yeah. He’s not here this year because he and his wife are on duty.”

Magnus nodded, still watching everyone settle down around the Christmas tree, ripping into presents - or in his and Alec’s case, taking the opportunity to make out behind an open book Magnus held up in front of their faces.

“Ewwwwww,” chorused Raf, Celine and Hannah while the adults laughed, Jace throwing a wadded up ball of wrapping paper at them.

“That’s enough, you two.”

“We’re missing date night tonight,” protested future-Magnus, flicking the ball away with magic towards Max, who did the same thing back at him, making it smack against Magnus’ forehead with a giggle.

Magnus drew in a sharp breath. “Please tell me I’m the cool dad.”

Madzie laughed and shook her head. “Actually you’re the over-protective one. Alec lets them run wilder than you’d prefer. But then he’d been holding a sword since the age of six, so it’s understandable he sees nothing wrong with them going on adventures. You just want your boys around you. It’s sweet, Magnus. They loved you both so much.”

“I hate that you keep using the past tense.”

“I can only show you the future I know.” Madzie tugged on his sleeve. “We have to move on, Magnus.”

“But I don’t want to go. I want to see how the lunch turns out.”

“Raf’s a great cook. But that’s not why we’re here and you know it.” She made a circling motion with her fingers and the scene in front of them sped up so that Magnus could only see flashes of life in the loft. Him and Alec holding a baby with a proud Rafael beside them. Another family Christmas with more young children, streaks of grey in Isabelle’s hair. A soft morning for just him and Alec, a cane nearby, Alec writing furiously on a tablet and Magnus reading.

The scenery around them changed. A sombre crowd in white inside the main hall in Alicante, Clary’s faded head bowed with sobs. Their bedroom with Alec, thin and asleep with Magnus reading aloud next to him, stealing glances at his husband. Magnus in the same position, staring bleakly at an empty, neatly-made bed, with his book fallen to the floor.

“No,” he whispered, clutching at Madzie’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut so hard it hurt. “I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to know.”

“You have to face this, Magnus. You have to know why the Angels gave you this gift.” Madzie’s voice was firm but full of sympathy. She motioned again and the scenes continued.

He saw himself surrounded by his family, Raf older now while Max looked young still, faces drawn and sad. Then a new apartment, somewhere sunnier than Alicante, Madzie and Max and Rafe hanging pictures. A dinner with young people whose faces contained echoes of Magnus’ present. Another white funeral, Max propping up a grieving Magnus. Raf, Magnus guessed, his stomach churning. Then another new place, smaller, darker. Magnus in a bar, at first alone, then with Catarina, then with strangers. Never the same face twice. Max and Madzie again, arguing with Magnus in what looked like a study. Madzie again, alone this time. Then Catarina again. Then Magnus alone, staring out the window, his back to them as they watched. Fire messages came and there were sharp raps on the door, but he remained alone.

The image didn’t change and he tore himself away from the pathetic view in front of him and turned back to Madzie.

“What are you telling me, Sweet Pea? That losing people hurts? I know that one. That’s not a good reason to irrevocably change someone's life.” He tried to sound dismissive but his hands trembled by his side and he clasped them together before Madzie could see.

“We all know that, Magnus.” She fixed him with her gaze. “The Downworld and the Shadowhunters - we worked in harmony for a long long time. You and Alec were figureheads - the leaders, there to calm things down when tensions rose, there to fight for what was right and fair, not what was based on tradition. And with Alec gone… you locked yourself away from everyone. Even with darkness coming. You tried for a while. For Max. For us. But....” she trailed off and bit her lip.

“What, Sweetpea? You can tell me.”

“You became what you always feared - alone and untouched by anything. You simply faded.”

“No,” Magnus whispered, shaking his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I haven’t before.”

“You deserve so much happiness, Magnus. You deserve to be in the world. But it’s like you decided the world wasn’t worth it if Alec’s not with you. And our world needs you, Magnus.”

“That’s still not a reason to ask him to stay with me!” Magnus cried. “I want him to be with me because he wants to, not because without him I give up!”

“How are you going to know that if you don’t ask him?” Madzie shot back, folding her arms and looking unerringly like Catarina.

Magnus opened his mouth to answer her and realised he had nothing. He looked at her, shocked, his mouth hanging open.

“Well, damn,” he finally managed, completely taken aback at how well he’d been played. “I’m going to have to ask him, aren’t I? It’s the only thing I can do.”

Madzie broke into a huge smile, her eyes alight with happiness. “You’ve always told me to fight for the future that I wanted, Magnus. Finally you’re taking your own advice.”

Chapter 5: Christmas Day

Magnus woke up when the bed dipped, and opened his eyes to the wondrous sight of Alexander crawling into bed with him.

“Mmmmm, what time is it?”

“Nearly midday. You’re sleeping Christmas away.”

“Merry Christmas,” Magnus yawned sleepily and pulled Alec closer, burying his nose in his neck. “Brr, you’re all cold.”

“Yes, it’s December,” Alec replied dryly, and then started to laugh as Magnus began to tug off his clothes.

“That’s not going to help me warm up.”

“Oh no?” Magnus grinned, and kissed him thoroughly. “Challenge accepted.” He proceeded to demonstrate exactly how wrong Alec was about that, kissing every patch of cold skin revealed until Alec’s fingers were twisting in his hair and begging Magnus in a broken voice. He drew him into his mouth, only stopping when Alec was a spent sweaty mess, panting against the sheets.

Magnus flopped back onto the bed and stretched lazily, looking smug.

“Yeah, okay,” Alec said in a dazed voice. “Merry Christmas.” Magnus laughed and curled around him, watching with fondness as Alec’s eyelids drooped until he was sure Alec was asleep.

Then he got up and made breakfast. Well, summoned brunch. There was a lightness to him now, his decision made. He could only remember parts of his dream, the love of his friends filling him with a buoyant warmth, the sheer delight at the possibility of having a future together. A long future.

He could recall enough to know that he had to ask Alec. Ask him if he’d stay with him. It was Alec’s choice, and while everything inside Magnus twisted at the thought Alec would say no, somehow he knew that Alec wouldn’t.

It was a feeling that made him merrier than usual over brunch once Alec woke up again, pulling him into the living room and dancing with him to old Rat Pack Christmas Songs as Alec laughed and stumbled over his own feet.

“I missed you,” Magnus told him and Alec rolled his eyes but smiled.

“I was gone for a night.”

“Still missed you.”

And then there were presents and a perfect Cavalli jacket Magnus assumed Izzy had picked out, even if Alec assured him he had seen it first and she’d only approved, and a little later Magnus conjured a traditional Christmas feast for the both of them and got Alec quite tipsy on a delightful Cabernet.

In the dwindling light, as the glow of Alicante grew outside their window, Magnus summoned a fire and a large, fluffy sheepskin run big enough for the two of them in front of it and beckoned Alec closer, his nerves growing.

Alec went willingly and wrapped his arms loosely around Magnus’ waist, pressing a kiss to his lips and then leaning back for what Magnus presumed was a longer kiss, but Magnus stopped him. Alec looked confused and drew back.

“Magnus? What is it?”

Magnus cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "So I have one final gift. But I don't want you to think it's just for you. This is the most selfish gift I can give.”

Alec raised an eyebrow and threw a pointed - and unimpressed, which Magnus would take a moment to be unhappy about later - glance at Magnus’ crotch. He swatted him on the arm.

“Hush, this is serious.“

“The king-size fur rug suggests otherwise, Magnus.”

“Will you please let me talk?” Magnus huffed at Alec and felt better when he’d settled down and schooled his face into a least a facade of listening, taking Magnus’ hand in his own.

“Yesterday I saw an Angel,” Magnus started and then winced when Alec narrowed his eyes at him. He held up two fingers in front of Alec’s mouth. “No, I don’t mean - that’s not a weird pick up line or that I saw someone beautiful, I mean. Literally. The Archangel Michael was over Lake Lyn.”

Alec’s eyes widened and he grabbed Magnus by the shoulders, looking panicked. “Are you ok? What did he want? What’s coming? Do I need to get Jia?”

“No, no…” Magnus sighed. He was doing this all wrong. “Nothing’s wrong. He gave me a gift - a reward. For my closing the rift from Edom.”

Alec’s eyebrows drew together. “But that was ages ago.”

“I know. I’m very aware that this gift most likely benefits them in some way as well. But. I can’t ignore it.”

“What the hell is this gift, Magnus?” He was getting impatient; Magnus could tell by the ticking muscle in his jaw and he instinctively cupped Alec’s face to soothe him. His stomach flipped over and he forced himself to state it plainly.

“He gave me… he gave me a chance to make you immortal. To live forever. With me. If you’d want that.”

Alec inhaled swiftly, looking blindsided, while Magnus searched his face for some indication of emotion other than shock.

“What?” Alec asked faintly, his hand rising to grip Magnus’ wrist. “Wait, say that again.”

“Michael gave me a way that I can bind my life with yours. It would make you immortal. But we have to perform the ritual by midnight tonight.”

Alec remained silent, his eyes flickering over Magnus’ face as if he was expecting Magnus to start laughing and tell him he was just kidding. Magnus’ heart sank.

“Alexander?” Magnus prompted. “Please say something.”

“Is that… no, wait, why would they do that? What do they want in return?”

Magnus frowned. That certainly wasn’t what Alec was originally going to ask. “I don’t know, but it’s safe to assume they’ll have a use for you or us in the future.” He thought about mentioning his dream again, but that on top of an angelic visitation was probably pushing it. And the way Alec was reacting… suddenly he was seized by the conviction that Alec would say no, that he’d rather be normal and mortal than be with Magnus and be seen as something different.

“Does that matter? I know you probably need time to think about it, or speak to your family. Or the Clave, they would probably have something to say about it. I can give you space if you need it -”

“Do you want this?” Alec asked abruptly and then winced, running his hand over his face. “I mean,” he continued in a softer voice, “is this what you want? I can understand if you don’t want an eternity with one person. Or - that’s probably presumptuous, right? That you would want to be with me forever even if I was immortal.”

Magnus all but melted, smoothing his arm around Alec’s neck and pressing close.

“Oh, Alexander. I meant it when I said this gift is a selfish one. I want you by my side for the rest of my life, not just the rest of your mortal one. You’re everything to me.”

“Are you sure? You can’t take it back.”

“Alexander.” Magnus was very firm as he looked up at Alec’s face, holding his worried look. “I can honestly say there is nothing I want more in this life than to have you in it for as long as I possibly can. I vowed to love you as long as I lived and I don’t think I can ever break that vow. It’s just not possible.”

“Magnus,” Alec said, his mouth working but nothing else followed, his gaze flickering over Magnus’ face as if he was a puzzle to be solved.

“Live with me,” Magnus said in a low voice, just above a whisper, his hand tightening on Alec’s neck. He willed him to see how much Magnus wanted this, willed him to find it in his eyes. “ Live with me, Alexander. Please.”

“Yes,” Alec finally said, his voice like gravel. “God, Magnus, yes. Yes. Always. I mean it. You have no idea…” he trailed off and to Magnus’ horror, shaded his eyes and let out a shaky sob, rubbing his hand over his face to wipe away tears. He groped around blindly to find the arm of the couch and then slid onto it gratefully, burying his face in his hands. Magnus followed him, nervously twisting his rings around his fingers. Saying yes but then crying wasn’t the exact response he’d anticipated.

“Fuck,” Alec said shakily after a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Magnus, you have no idea how much I want this, do you?” He finally looked back up at Magnus, his eyes wet and bright, but - oh, but his smile was wide and breathtaking. Something inside Magnus loosened and relaxed as Alec spread his arms open, inviting Magnus over. He promptly sprawled himself on Alec’s lap, causing him to laugh, and wound his arms around Alec’s neck, his nails scratching at the soft skin at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “You’ve never told me. It always was an impossible dream, Alexander, one I still can’t quite believe has been simply given to us.” He bit his lip when Alec hugged him closer and buried his face into Magnus’ shoulder, his fingers stroking through his hair.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to try to talk me out of it with tales of what a burden immortality can be and how it changes your views on everything?” Alec responded, slightly muffled by Magnus’ cashmere.

Magnus suppressed a small grin and looked at the fire, feeling a certain sense of deja vu from his dream. “Well. Yes. Not talk you out of it, but definitely warn you. You have to know what you’re getting yourself into. Watching most people you love die. Having to continue on. Then there’s putting up with the rest of the immortals - you’ll be sick of us. Sick of me.”

“Never,” Alec said immediately, pulling himself back up. “Magnus, look at me.” Magnus reluctantly pulled his gaze from the flames back to Alec.

“Magnus, I could never get sick of you. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, sure. Sometimes I still don’t understand you. You’ve lived for centuries and I barely know you and at the same time, know you better than anyone that doesn’t share my soul.” Alec cradled Magnus’ face in his hands and brushed his thumb against his cheekbone, wiping away the tear Magnus hadn’t been aware of.

“I want to stay with you. I want to experience everything with you - yes, even the pain of loss, because we’ll at least be together for it. You make the dark days a little brighter, enough to get me through, and you make the ordinary days completely dazzling.”

Alec wasn’t helping to prevent Magnus from crying more, the reality of the gift finally crystalizing into something definitive in his mind.

“Really?” he asked again.

“Now and for all time,” Alec said solemnly, quoting the traditional Warlock wedding vows. Magnus made a small choked noise and buried his face in Alec’s neck, squeezing him tight. The impossible man who always continued to surprise him.

“I love you,” he whispered into Alec’s skin, and could feel Alec’s smile.

“I love you too.” Alec kissed his forehead and then the side of his face, tracking down until he reached his lips, sharing the sweetest kiss with Magnus that he felt down to his toes.

“And we need to do this now, right?” Alec continued in a business-like tone when he pulled away. “Because I believe you and I have plans for that rug that might take longer than midnight.”

Magnus laughed and brushed at his eyes to wipe away his tears, clambering off Alec as he snapped his fingers for his bag. “We have instructions.” Alec made a pleased sound and started digging through the pouch, pulling out the necessary elements for the ritual.

Magnus caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and wheeled around, ready for anything, for Angels to try to retrieve the gift, anything at all - and only coming face to face with his reflection in the living room mirror.

But he wasn’t alone. Behind him were Ragnor and Dot and even Madzie, all smiling at him - or at least in Ragnor’s case, not scowling. Madzie gave him a thumbs up and Magnus laughed, looking over his shoulder at nothing, and then back at his friends in the reflection of the room.

When Magnus laughed, Alec looked up from arranging things on the coffee table.

“What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Magnus said, turning back and smiling at Alexander, his soul soaring as he looked at the best decision he’d ever made, ready to start their eternal life together as soon as possible.

“I was just thinking we need a toast.” He summoned two glasses of champagne and handed one to Alec, clinking their glasses together and then reaching out for Alec’s hand, his heart brimming over with joy.

“Merry Christmas to all.” His gaze flicked back to his friends in the mirror’s reflection. “And to all, a good night.”

#cardiamachina #malecsanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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sophiehattcr · 6 years ago

Text

when i watch the world burn (all i think about is you)

Read on ao3 here

Like a good warrior, a good Shadowhunter, Alec Lightwood will die on this battlefield. He will die in a world where he is no longer loved by Magnus Bane, where he no longer walks in a bright, beautiful universe which so obviously was not meant for him - and that’s okay.

Both of them raw, heartbroken and bleeding, surrounded by destruction and terror, they find their way back to each other.

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

Alec can feel himself flagging.

Above, the sky is sliced open – angry and red, bleeding with demons that don’t seem to stop spilling from the mouth in relentless numbers. The air is hot, stale, smells of burnt flesh and ash, smells of decay and terror. It’s putrid.

“Alec!” Izzy yells, in time for Alec to notice the demon soaring at close range from his side, spinning to latch an arrow and turn it to dust seconds before its claws tear his head from his shoulders.

He notches arrow after arrow, sweat dripping from his brow, the cracked skin on his knuckles stinging: but the demons don’t let up. He feels barely conscious. Desperate. Hopeless. Alec tastes blood on his lips, his muscles are tight and scream at him. They lost Jace and Clary what seems like days ago, the parabatai rune beating against his skin his only sign that the former is still breathing.

“There are too many of them.” Izzy gasps, her voice tight with dread.

“Keep going!” he barks, although he knows with increasing hopelessness that she’s right. He feels cruel warmth on his fingers as they drip with blood.

If I die now, an unwelcome thought swirls through his mind, Magnus will never know the truth. He will live the rest of his life believing that I didn’t love every part of him, that he wasn’t enough for me. He will live the rest of his life hating me.

The thought brings the pain in his chest to the surface, rising like stones in his throat, and it’s worse than the pain in his hands and arms. Worse than the heat of the air on the back of his neck, worse than his mortality biting at his heels.

Good. Let him hate me. As long as he can be happy tomorrow, let him resent me today.

A demon, crawling on his belly, rounds on Alec from behind. He turns, almost losing grip on his bow as he rushes to tug a blade from his thigh, throwing it between the demon’s eyes. It dies with a gurgling shriek.

Better to die today, his heart – his broken, withering, weak heart – tells him, then live another day in a world where I can never see Magnus Bane again.

The demons somehow grow thicker in the sky above them, and his hands begin to tremble. Izzy draws in a shaky breath beside him.

He notches five arrows, and points steadfastly towards the great black sea of creatures descending through the blood red sky.

“I love you, Izzy.” Alec says.

“I love you too.” Izzy replies, strength and sorrow in her voice.

Alec thinks of Magnus’ golden eyes glowing in the dusk beside him. He thinks of the warmth of his hands against Alec’s face and the lovely melody of his laugh. He thinks of Magnus’ lips, his chest, the silhouette of his shoulders against the sunset, and the flutter of his eyelids after he is kissed. He thinks of Magnus sagging in his arms, muffling his sobs against Alec’s shoulder. He thinks of the ring in the drawer of his desk that he couldn’t bear to touch again.

He thinks of that last desperate, searing kiss that Magnus pressed against his mouth before Alec walked away and shattered his own heart into pieces, and how that’s the last time Alec will ever know Magnus’ touch.

But it’s alright.

The demons descend, and Alec is ready. To fight. To die. To lose, once and for all.

His fingers loosen their grip, and his arrows are released into the wall of death in front of him. After that, everything seems to happen in slow motion.

His arrows are launched for half a second before they turn to dust before his eyes. As do the sea of creatures before him, following a great, blinding stream of clean red light that leaves him blinking dazedly. Alec feels electricity kiss threateningly at his skin as every demon in sight is wiped from the sky. His heart registers its familiarity before his mind has the chance to catch up, jumping into his throat and sucking the air from his chest.

“Magnus!” Izzy cries. He sees her sag in relief out of the corner of his eye as he whips around, breathless and hopeful and heartbroken.

Because Magnus is there. Beautiful and powerful and terrifying, his hands outstretched menacingly at his sides as he stares at Alec with fire in his stunning, glowing yellow eyes.

He has his magic back. Alec thinks with joy, his fatigue and fear forgotten for a brief, shining moment as he gazes at Magnus in all his glory. He looks like a Prince of Hell. He looks like his saviour, like an avenging angel. He looks like everything Alec has ever wanted.

“Izzy.” Magnus says, sparing Izzy his sharp gaze even as his voice softens a touch. “Retreat and regroup with your reinforcements.”

Her eyes flick to Alec’s, before she nods firmly. Her grip on her whip is as strong as ever as she marches with determination away from one battle and towards another, into the dust and out of sight.

“Magnus.” Alec whispers, and his knees buckle before he can quite comprehend what is happening. He finds himself kneeling in the dust before Magnus. Worshipful. Terrified.

“You stupid Nephilim.” Magnus spits. His eyes are burning, angry and raw as they bore into Alec’s. “You stupid, idiotic Shadowhunter.”

Alec says nothing, his mouth suddenly dry, his thoughts suddenly empty apart from a lovesick mantra of Magnus. Magnus. Magnus. Magnus.

Magnus begins to step closer, and Alec feels every inch he shortens the distance between them like a fist squeezing at his heart.

“You went to my father?” Magnus scoffs, looming closer and closer. “After everything I told you about him? A prince of hell? A creature that thrives on pain, on suffering and manipulation, who lives and breathes to draw me back to his side for the rest of eternity? You went to him?”

“I-“ Alec can barely think. He feels blood drip down his arm, dirt and sweat matting his hair against his forehead. “He told you?”

Magnus stops then, a metre from Alec, glaring with fury down at Alec as he stares up from his place on the ground, gormless and awed.

“Of course he did.” Magnus says, hands curling into fists at his sides. “Once he realised I wouldn’t be his pet again, he couldn’t bear another second pretending to be the caring father whose only concern is to ease his dear son’s pain. He thrives off suffering, but god forbid anyone not realise he is the orchestrator of that suffering. A proud creature, is Asmodeus.”

Alec feels shaky, untethered.

“But, Magnus.” Alec mutters, “Your magic. The deal…”

“Yes, a fantastic job you did there, Alexander.” Magnus sneers, even as his eyes shine with unshed tears. “You really held up your end of the bargain beautifully. Consider my heart entirely shattered.”

“But. Now you know, and-“

“He can try and take my magic from me again.” Magnus snaps. “But he’ll have to get me where he can reach me first, and I won’t make it easy for him when he does. This time, I’ll know better than to fall into his poisonous embrace again.”

Magnus’ body is taut, what Alec recognises as unconcealed pain swirling in his eyes and tightening his shoulders. He’s as raw as Alec has ever seen him, as dangerous as he’s ever seen him, with his battered heart on full display and his magic barbed and ready to destroy.

Alec did this to him.

“I’m sorry.” Alec says, because it suddenly becomes paramount to him that Magnus knows this. He doesn’t know how much time they have before the threat of death descends upon them again, but if he dies in the next minute, he needs Magnus to know this. “I never wanted to hurt you. Never. You, you were just so unhappy and I couldn’t bear it, and I knew that if I could give you this, if I could find a way to give you your magic back you could be happy again, you could be whole again. Even if it meant losing me, I-I know you could move on from that. You have before. He was the only way I could think of, and I couldn’t bear it, Magnus. I couldn’t bear seeing you so unhappy because I love you, I love you so much and I knew that you would spend your life resenting me if I didn’t, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Alec is trembling now, and he suddenly feels everything rise to the surface as his eyes heat with tears and the lump in his throat swells. He knew that walking away from Magnus, that throwing Magnus’ hurt and his love back in his face, was the biggest mistake he’s ever made – but now he really feels it, deep in the pit of his soul. It’s worse than breaking his own heart, because it’s Magnus’ heart he’s broken. Magnus’ gentle, wise, strong, beautiful heart; crushed into the dirt.

Magnus is silent above him, and Alec turns his face to the floor and away from Magnus’ face, unable to bear the hatred he will undoubtedly find there.

He hears a crunch and a shuffle, and he finds his face being turned upward by two warm hands as Magnus draws Alec’s eyes level with his, the two of them now kneeling in the dust. Alec can’t withhold the shudder that rocks his body at Magnus’ touch.

“You stupid Nephilim.” Magnus whispers this time, and Alec feels Magnus’ breath against his skin. Magnus’ eyes still glow yellow, but the anger has dimmed, and there is no universe where Alec isn’t helpless to their pull.

“How can you not know,” Magnus says lowly, “that losing you carved a bigger hole in me than anything I have ever experienced in all my centuries of living?”

Alec can only swallow and tremble beneath Magnus’ palms.

“I thought that losing my magic was breaking me.” Magnus murmurs, close and quiet and secret. “But when you left….when you left me, Alec, I couldn’t bear it.”

Magnus licks his lips and shifts minutely closer, seemingly preparing himself.

“I have loved before. Many times. I have loved and lost so many, had my heart broken by so many. I have healed before, learnt from my mistakes, learnt from the wounds other people have dealt me. But with you, I…” Magnus’ eyes dip from Alec’s gaze for a moment and he shivers. Alec barely supresses the urge to wrap him into his arms, blood and confessions and the looming threat of mortality be damned. “It’s different. You’re different.”

Magnus leans back slightly, and while his body is still tense from head to toe and his eyes still glow golden, Alec can see the righteous rage has bled from him, leaving behind the raw, vulnerable man cupping his bruised heart in his palms for Alec to see. The last time Magnus bared his hollowed-out, aching heart to Alec, he had taken it and crushed it beneath his foot – and yet here Magnus is again, offering it before Alec’s eyes. Alec is more terrified now than he has ever been.

“I wanted to remove you from my life. I wanted to tear my memories of you from my mind.” Magnus whispers. Alec’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest. “Never... never have I wanted to do that with anyone else. Never have I felt the need to. Not even with Camille, I-I just, the pain of losing you, thinking you didn’t love me anymore, it was agonising.”

Magnus swallows, loosens his grip on Alec’s face and slides his hands down until he’s cupping Alec’s neck instead. The part of Alec’s brain that isn’t reeling from Magnus’ words, the part of his soul that isn’t drowning in the throbbing hurt that exists between them, marvels at once again having Magnus’ hands against his skin, at seeing his beautiful eyes shine in the desolate air and the shape of his jaw against the seared orange sky.

“I couldn’t do it, though. I wanted to, I wanted to so badly but I couldn’t. And that’s what Asmodeus wanted.” Magnus eyes once again flash with anger at the mention of his father’s name. “He wanted me raw and in pain, so he could draw me into his arms once again, so he could convince me that I had no other choice than to take my rightful place at his side again.”

“I’m sorry.” Alec says, quieter than a whisper, and Magnus shakes his head.

“But he was wrong.” Magnus says with resolution, his voice firm with anger and grit and a fire that makes Alec’s blood hot and goosebumps prick at his skin. “He thought that I loved you, and having you walk from my life would leave me small, broken and weak.”

Alec can’t breathe.

“He was wrong. I am stronger now than I was when he first found me. I am a different man. A better man. And that’s not the only thing he grossly misunderstood.” Magnus sucks in a breath. “Because in reality, you’re the love of my life, and I’m not going to let you go without a fight.”

Alec’s eyes spill over with tears, and in that moment he loses every thought in his head, every sensation in his body other than the need to reach up and drag Magnus by the shoulders towards him, until their mouths meet in a kiss that destroys Alec and puts him back together all over again. Alec feels Magnus’ lips move against his, and it feels like rebirth. Magnus kisses him, and Alec is whole again.

They part only to gasp and press their foreheads together, Magnus’ fingers skimming across Alec’s neck and shoulders as Alec grips desperately at the back of Magnus’ jacket.

“I don’t think I can live without you, either.” Magnus breathes, and Alec is lost.

“I love you.” Alec says, voice trembling, tears like red hot rivers streaming down his face. “I love you, Magnus. I’m so sorry. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. Everything I’ve ever done is to try and make you happy.”

“Shh.” Magnus whispers. “I know.”

He kisses Alec again, soft and sweet and far too quickly.

“I’m still angry at you, you know. Really angry.”

Alec manages a smile, and it’s crooked and apologetic and painful but his heart has been knitted haphazardly together for now, and it’s enough.

“I know.”

There’s a distant, blood-freezing shriek, and both Alec and Magnus look up to see the angry wound in the sky spill more demons, the masses of their black shapes against red hurtling towards the ground at a frightening pace.

They both rise to their feet, and their hands find each other, fingers tangling together where they belong.

“It doesn’t matter how much we fight as long as that rift is still open.” Alec says with dread.

Magnus fingers tighten in his.

“It would seem that way.” He says, but he doesn’t sound hopeless. He sounds determined.

Alec turns to him, brow furrowing.

“Magnus…”

“I’m going to close it.” Magnus says simply, not meeting Alec’s eyes. “I know I can.”

“Magnus, no, it’s-“

“It’s the only way.” Magnus turns his gaze to Alec’s then, and his eyes burn with resolve, purpose, and something that looks a lot like love. “You know it is. It’s the only way we can end this.”

“I’ll come with you.” Alec says hurriedly, and it’s desperate and flailing and childish but he can’t lose Magnus again. He can’t.

Magnus smiles sadly at him.

“No.” Magnus says. “They need you. The city needs you.”

Alec can barely speak past the lump that swells in his throat, past the hot tears that tremble in his eyes and the feeling of urgency that rises ever prominently inside him, because he knows Magnus is right. Magnus is always right.

Instead, he draws Magnus closer to him until they’re chest to chest again, eyes skimming over every inch of his beautiful face.

“You’ll come back.” Alec murmurs, soft and reverent. Pleading. “Won’t you?”

A tearful smile crosses Magnus’ lips, and he lets go of Alec’s hand to cup his face once again, warm and loving and sad.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He whispers. “Look what I have waiting for me.”

Alec’s heart skips a beat. Magnus’ eyelashes lower and his chin tips upwards as he expects to be kissed, but instead:

“Will you marry me?” Alec says suddenly, startling himself with the words as they cross his lips. He hadn’t meant to say them – not here, not now, when there’s an axe hovering over both their necks and they’ve only just collided with each other again - yet he can’t take them back. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want another moment to pass where Magnus doesn’t know that Alec loves him, that he will love him for the rest of his life, that Magnus is his earth and stars and everything in between.

Magnus jaw falls slack as he stares at Alec, stares and stares with his fingers still against Alec’s jaw and his brows lifted in innocent surprise.

“Alec-“

“I love you.” Alec says. “If-when we make it out of this – and this isn’t how I wanted to do this I swear – I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are my world, Magnus. I don’t want there to be any more doubt.”

And as they stand together in the dust, hands on each other’s skin, surrounded by death and desolation and dread, Magnus smiles at him.

“Yes.” He says, and Alec never knew that such a simple, common word could fix every crack in his heart, balm every ache in his soul. “Yes, Alexander Lightwood, I will marry you.”

Alec can’t not kiss him then, their mouths coming together familiar and brand new at once. He kisses him and kisses him for as long as he dares, and feels the world unfold anew behind his eyes.

“I have a ring.” Alec gasps against Magnus’ mouth, “I have a ring, I had everything planned out, I didn’t mean-“

Magnus shakes his head slightly. Alec feels Magnus’ hair brush against his forehead with the movement before Magnus slides his hands into Alec’s hair and kisses him harder.

“After.” Magnus says, the word almost lost between their lips. “After. We’ll do this after. We still have so much to talk about, just…after. I have to go.”

He moves away then, and Alec grips his arms harder even though he can still feel Magnus’ breath on his face, the tip of his nose brushing against Alec’s.

“I have to go, Alexander.” He steps back, eyes finding Alec’s, hands moving from Alec’s hair to his neck to his shoulders before they fall at his sides. Alec’s hands follow suit, and they feel empty and wrong twitching at his thighs.

“Come back.” Alec says. A plea.

Magnus takes another step back, and another, his fierce gaze never once leaving Alec’s. His beautiful face curves into a smile.

“We always find our way back to each other.” Magnus says, and it sounds a lot like a vow.

He reaches an arm back, opens a portal with a graceful curl of his wrist (and how Alec has missed that, even if his entire body is screaming at him to reach out and take Magnus in his arms instead).

“I love you, Magnus Bane.” Alec tells him. He could tell him every minute for the rest of eternity and it would never be enough.

“I love you too.” Magnus says, soft as a prayer.

Then Magnus steps backwards and disappears.

#fic #malec #shadowhunters #coda #3x20 #malec reunion #malec fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #mine #my writing

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