#jace timeline: twenty one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eldrith · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ Silken Streets ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader words: 6.8k synopsis: "When they were young boys, Lucerys would often whisper at night some childish fear about spirits and phantoms roaming the unlit halls. Jace used to tease him for it, jumping out at his brother from around corners to make him yelp; Come now, there’s no such thing, Luke - But now, standing alone in the moonlit road, he's not so sure." requested: yes notes: hi!! here's, as requested, a smut (that has very little plot), but this idea came to me and i wanted to see how it turned out! lmk what u guys think, comments/reblogs/asks are my biggest motivation. follows a non-canon timeline/events (they remain at King's Landing, and none of the canon events have happened). Jace is aged to 22. this is so unedited its actually insane. warnings: canon-typical injuries, canon-typical treatment of sex work, drinking/slight intoxication, it's ambiguous if jace is a virgin or not but reader isn't, suggested/implied sex work (also ambiguous), size kink(?), jace has a big dick ok, also he carries reader for a split second, vaguely possesive!jace&reader, teasing, fairly vanilla, fingering, PiV, praise kink (its Jace ofc he has one), hair pulling. feedback is appreciated <3 requests open.

masterlist

JACE SHOULDN’T BE HERE.

Despite the excitement thrumming in his veins, the pleasure of escape, he should certainly know much better.

Around Jacaerys, people walk - stumbling drunk, laughing with pairs, or pulling each other into shadowy alleys and poorly lit edifices; an inebriated grunt from beside him that turns into a slow drawl. For the hour of the bat, the quarter is rather boisterous.

He does not pay his uncle Aegon mind when the man murmurs something, sluggish steps rolling to a stop and knocking on a large wooden door.

There is a slow trickle of liquid that finds its way spreading through the cracks between the cobblestones - upon closer inspection, Jacaerys is unsure if it is water, ale, blood, or any other unpleasant liquid that could possibly have found its way flowing down the street.

Despite this, his senses are filled with rather pleasant scents: roses, highly perfumed oils, incense - lights range from dim to bright within the buildings that line the narrow street, partially occluded by the hood pulled low over his head. A cacophony of laughter in the distance.

It feels illusory, to walk unassisted (forget the staggering drunkard beside him) through a world he had only ever heard of in whispered tales and drunken boasts; dim lanterns cast flickering shadows on the cobblestones, illuminating faces of women and men who lounge in doorways or called out to passersby with suggestive glances.

He avoids them all, the warmth that’d spurred this pilgrimage all but subsiding from his blood.

That last cup of ale had done him in, but that had been an hour past; foolishly convinced by his boisterous, cruelly smirking uncle. Twenty and still haven’t tasted the true pleasures of King’s Landing?

The specific thought had rather irritated him; he grew up in the very same keep Aegon did - though he’s never ventured to this specific road before, Jacaerys has become well-adept at finding his own kinds of pleasures.

Though the prospect of sneaking anywhere had seemed utterly thrilling in the safety of the Red Keep after many cups celebrating another year; now, standing amidst the chaos, Jace feels a rising unease.

Jacaerys keeps his gaze low, eyeing the flicker of any cloak that seems too white, avoiding the gaze of any whose lingers too long; despite his disguise, the fear of being recognized gnaws - and the Red Keep watches from high above, its imposing silhouette a stark reminder of where he should be sleeping now.

He does not follow either when Aegon disappears into a particularly rowdy establishment, laughter echoing behind him as the door slams. The light that had illuminated him momentarily is diminished within a breath, and he turns to eye the winding cobblestone before him.

Aemond had similarly slinked into the shadows long before - his movements as silent and unsettling as ever; Jace feels rather relaxed to be rid of their presence.

For a moment, Jacaerys considers how safe he is, unarmed and alone; yet the increasingly sober part of his mind cringes at the fear of seeing something he would be unable to scrub from his eyelids should he follow his uncle inside.

Instead he remains, now by his self, head taking a double as a flash of familiar hair pops through a crowd down the street.

He blinks.

What an odd vision; he has not had too much to drink as to incite any kind of hallucinations of the mind - yet he could have sworn…

When they were young boys, Lucerys would often whisper at night some childish fear about spirits and phantoms roaming the unlit halls.

Jace used to tease him for it, jumping out at his brother from around corners to make him yelp; Come now, there’s no such thing, Luke - But now, standing alone in the moonlit road, Jace feels a shiver run down his spine.

He takes a step forward, squinting against the clashing of ale mugs, the shoving of two men in a brawl, and the flickering light; he swears he just saw…

It’s not possible.

He knows better, yet his feet move anyways.

Weaving through groups of rowdy men and painted women, he keeps his eyes locked on the figure - the cloaked head is shorter than himself and he finds his head raised over crowds to follow.

He winds through a maze of distractions; boisterous laughter, clinking coins, the seductive calls of courtesans - but he presses on, his heart pounding with a mix of dread and hope. It can’t be.

The figure slips through the crowd with a grace that stirs memories long buried - gliding in and out of rooms, watchful eyes and bright smiles.

Jace quickens his pace, desperate to keep up.

It cannot be, but…there’s something unmistakable about the way the figure moves, the tilt of a hooded head.

…Perhaps he is still slightly inebriated.

It isn’t until the figure disappears down a narrow alley that leads to a winding stair that he becomes aware. He’s chasing shadows; feeling flushed and a fool, Jace stops just as the figure begins an ascent towards a small tenement above a tavern.

Then, in a fleeting moment, he sees it: a small scar on the hand, catching the light. His stomach lurches - only one person he knows has such a scar.

His breath catches; without a moment to consider, Jace pushes forward, heart thundering in his chest.

Hiding as he can in the shadows, he climbs up the narrow stairs, watching the end of his ghost’s cloak slip around each corner as he follows.

He does not look up until he finds himself at the very top of a narrow spiraled stair corridor; much too late.

He stops short, blinking in disbelief at what he finds in the small entryway at the top.

You.

It’s as if you’ve been waiting for him; standing against the opened doorway, your arms crossed, eyes a mix of expectant and hopeful. Your voice whispers and is nearly lost to the wind, falling through the narrow halls and spilling onto the dirty street below.

"I thought that was you, my prince."

Your cadence, still so familiar - were he not so on edge, he might have stood dumbfounded in the stairway until someone jolted him awake.

Knowing better than to speak openly about his identity, you slink back into the doorway behind you, figure illuminated in the flickering candlelight.

Jacaerys is numbed with sheer disbelief as he follows you; he enters the room, removing his hood now that he is away from prying eyes. Most of them, at least.

"You recognized me?" He asks, rather unable to conjure up the words of bewilderment at seeing you again.

The wooden door is latched behind him; he watches, eyes circling as you move around him, coiling around him like a snake in grass. "Even in disguise, my prince, you’re hard to miss." You smile faintly, a touch of mischief in your eyes. “Though it has been quite a few years. You’ve grown your hair.”

He cannot help the huff of disbelief from his lips; When he last saw you, you were a girl. Just a mere girl, wearing those plain dresses, with a quick smile and an even quicker wit.

Yet now you stand before him, cloak draped bewitchingly over curves; hair that was once pulled back dutifully now cascades freely. The softness of youth has all but left your face, leaving a sweet femininity, eyes flickering with maturity.

He finds you now - a woman, standing in her own room - nearly impossible to associate with the girl who once bowed each time he entered a room, who attended his aunt dutifully but was never afraid to speak freely with him and the others when the other adults weren’t around.

Though he cannot deny the thundering relief to see you, his stomach has hollowed; you act as though you left for a mere few weeks - that you’ve only been gone, and not gone. Ignoring the wounded part of him, he shakes his head.

"I thought you dead.”

You barely bat an eye at his words. His voice is more angry than he intends as he adds, “Everyone said so."

Your smile nearly unnerves him, your eyes flickering. "Maybe I am."

He doesn’t laugh.

"Many mourned your loss," he says, this time more softly - he remembers; a thing of youth, a sadness that had perturbed the court and echoed in your absence from your halls. Even Aegon and Aemond attended the ceremony held in your honor, though likely by their mother’s pinch of their ears.

You cross the room to pour wine from a pitcher, removing your cloak and laying it atop the meager mattress. The motion causes his traitorous eyes to glance over; dipping below the lines of your gentle face, over other gentle parts of you; A heat through him that he steadfastly chastises himself for. He’d be no better than the men out in the brothels lining the streets.

He can see the playfulness soften and leave your expression. "I am sorry, Jacaerys. I had no choice."

He finds himself relieved he does not have to request you address him by his name and not his title - but your words settle a stale taste as they leave your lips. You had no choice?

“I don’t understand.” He states, brows furrowed, “Why would they say you were dead?”

Your eyes flicker. “People believe what they want to.”

Something tugs at his mind; you’re far too secret - you’ve suddenly come back from the dead, yet you jest as if this was just another evening. Night, he reminds himself - the moon tracks across the sky with a mischievous wink; It must already be near the hour of eel.

You shift slightly, the playful air fading for a moment. “I didn’t want to leave, Jace. But I suppose the Gods chose for me a different path.” You say gently.

“A path that led you to this?” His gaze sweeps the room again, concern etching on his features though he tries to school it. You hand him a cup of wine that he takes with shaky fingers.

He follows you when you gesture further into the small room, to the table which rests between the small hearth and the meager straw mattress. “This place,” His eyes flicker out the window, out to the street below. “It's not for someone like you."

You tilt your head, crossing your arms. "Oh, and what kind of place is it for then? Someone like you, perhaps?”

His cheeks flush bright red.

"Hiding from your uncles and the cloaks has become second nature to me, Jacaerys, but I've never encountered you here. So tell me, why might a prince like you find himself on such a street?" Your voice has never purred as much as it does now, in the low light. “Chasing for trouble, perhaps?”

The effects of the ale have long since worn off, yet he is a stammering fool before you. "I- my uncles…" He clears his throat, watching as you move to lean against the small table. “It’s my nameday.”

As if that should clear it up.

You nod slowly, a slow grin that looks nearly wicked in the light as you take a sip of your wine.

"Well, happy nameday, my prince," a hint of amusement in your sweet voice, "Your uncles certainly know how to show you a good time."

Jacaerys shifts uncomfortably under your gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and interest at your tone. He clears his throat, searching for words. "It's not what you think. They insisted…"

You raise an eyebrow, teasing, and he feels himself lose track of his thoughts; Shifting his weight, the cloak around his shoulders becomes rather warm. "I wanted to leave the Keep." He admits honestly.

You lean forward slightly, a playful smirk on your lips. "And of the whole city, you happened upon the Street of Silk?” Your head tilts, “Surely you must be enjoying it a little."

Jacaerys runs a hand through his hair, torn between frustration and fascination. "I came to escape, not to... to indulge in this."

Another mistake of words.

Your brow lifts, eyes flickering around the humble accommodation. “This?”

He is growing used to your teases, and wishes he’d be less easily flustered this late into the night. He gestures with his chin towards the rowdy yells of the street below,“That.” He corrects with a dutiful glare.

You hold your hands up, a small surrender; the scowl on his face melts into a small smirk. The wine you poured is surprisingly pleasant - spices, currants. He takes another sip, eyes roving over the room - humble, with meager belongings. Have you really lived here, just under the looming watch of the castle, for six years?

Jacaerys shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "What brought you to such a place?” His eyes flicker out the window, out to the street below, where an indecent man is being thrown from a brothel, women screaming and throwing a plethora of detritus at him.

His brows furrow. “You’re not…” He doesn’t finish his question; He cannot imagine how he’d reacted had he stepped into the threshold of a brothel and seen you; Gods, if Aegon had seen you-

You raise an eyebrow. "Do you think me a common harlot, my prince?"

He blinks. “Am I supposed to assume otherwise?” He counters. A flash of a smirk upon your lips at his sharp tongue; he never has been able to control his temper well when provoked.

“I just… can’t imagine it.” He says, unsure if he means you, a whore - or you, alive at all. After all, both remained completely unfathomable until a quarter of an hour ago. It grows a sense of shame upon his neck to think of such things.

“Why?” Your tone swims between warm and cold waters, “Do you think me unable to be successful in such a profession?”

Panic; He’s caught off guard, brows furrowing as he swallows a dry throat, not wishing to offend you. “No, I imagine you’d be great, I just-” He stops himself, but the damage is done; a grin spreads across your face. Gods, you sure enjoy watching him squirm.

You step closer, your voice low and challenging, “You imagine I’d be great?”

He cannot help but bite his tongue, staring down at you somewhere between excited and maddened. His brows draw low, eyes leveled in sternness as you tilt your head up at him.

“Do tell, Prince Jacaerys, what makes you think so?” You purr.

Seven hells. It’s like torture; gritting his teeth, he’s not sure if he might kiss you or snap at you. He allows a deep breath into his lungs, watching the way you press your lips together, eyes flicking down to his own lips. His stomach flips at the prospect.

Perhaps his rationality is clouded by the lateness of the hour and the prostration of your sudden reappearance; The night is already deep - he may have a better chance of slipping back to his chambers unnoticed if he lingers until the last candles are snuffed and the whole castle goes dark.

And you stand so close - your gaze burns with poorly-concealed desire; he’s not naive enough that he cannot recognize the looks many send him, yearning glances and hungry stares. But with you…

You are ravishing; and though he is bound by duty and honor, the allure of your presence weaves a spell around his senses.

Perhaps yielding to this temptation, just once, would not be so wrong.

Your cheeks are heated, a darker color than normal - hands still wrapped around a cup; his own is nearly empty, and he holds it out to you silently.

He shouldn’t play such power tricks on you, not after all that’s been lost and suddenly regained, not when his palm risks trembling under nerves; though the way your eyes flicker down to the cup and back up to his own gaze sets an arousal deep within him.

In the catch of your breath, the shakiness of your hands, Jace already knows: You like such games.

When you reach for the pitcher of wine, leveling him with eyes much less than modest, his voice comes lower than expected. “I can imagine such things,” He watches your eyes widen at his candor, “But I wouldn’t wish to provoke you with such thoughts.”

Something in your eyes flicker in delighted amusement, biting your lip; his arousal coils around his abdomen when you stare up at him.

“YOU SPEAK AS IF I DON’T WISH TO BE PROVOKED.”

You’re relieved to find that your words come out less than shaky as you pour wine for the prince; a charged silence following your admission as he towers over you in plainclothes that look quite unusual on his regal chest. His lips curl, some sort of power play that he’s just found in the dark of this night; as if you don’t see his trembling fingers, hot cheeks. It’s quite absurd, how warm you burn for him.

But you wouldn’t dare let him off so easily.

“If I may remind you, my prince, you’re the one stammering after the slightest incitement.” You muse, grinning as you set down the pitcher.

His lips are so full; in the dim light, he wettens them. You wetten your own, bringing your eyes to that jaw - sharper than those years of youth, more handsome than you’d care to admit. It’s rather unsurprising, yet you feel astounded by how incredibly striking he’s become in your years apart.

You know better - Jacaerys is by nature polite; respectful, kind. You knew he’d never make an advance that he wasn’t sure was clear; so, you made it clear.

And yet his response, lower than a secret, rumbling with desire as he grins boyishly down at you.

“You’re so sure I can’t find a way to make you stammer?”

He’s suddenly close to you; breath just over your cheek as he leans, eyes boring into you, to set the cup down behind you on the table. You find it suddenly hard to breathe.

You’re not so sure, now; not as he leans and you can smell the riches upon him - bathing oils from Dorne, soaps from the Vale. Some whisper of a forest, of that dragonsmoke you so often wondered of in your days in the Keep.

Perhaps his shyness was a symptom of the rendered shock of earlier. You, too, had been more than surprised when you’d seen those eyes - below a hood which concealed those dark locks, a palpitation of your heart at seeing such a friendly face after all this time.

He doesn’t seem any bit shy anymore.

Hands encircle your waist, warm and possessive, drawing you nearer. The discarded cups on the table behind you seem like distant memories, fading into the background as your heart hammers, desire pooling between your thighs as you lean against the table, pulling him between your spread thighs.

“Perhaps I’ve underestimated you, my prince,” you whisper, your voice low, teasing; though your hands threaten to shake with desire.

He smirks back at you, head declined to watch your own expression. Heat consumes you.

The slope of his nose, the freckles across the bridge, the depth of his eyes below full brows - a face written about in stories, a face one could remember for years, lifetimes.

“I should prove you wrong.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and the distance between you dwindles until there's barely any space left to navigate; your own palms come to rest upon his chest, fingers tracing over the clasp of his cloak.

Anticipation coils tightly around your heart as his gaze drops to your lips, a silent question lingering in the air.

“Perhaps you should.” you agree breathlessly, a whisper into the night - It seems enough for him.

He wastes no time with the tenderness of a first embrace; when his lips meet yours, they are hot, wanting. You are not shocked - after all, he found himself on the Street of Silk for a reason tonight, didn’t he?

A lick of pride and relief that he chose to follow you instead of finding himself surrounded by countless painted women and whores this night; a possessive streak causes you to push up against him, pressing your chest to his own.

His nose slides against the bridge of your own when he deepens the kiss; tongue sliding against your lips, roving shivers down your spine. Your fingers flex against his chest, feeling the heart that beats strong below his cloak.

He tastes golden in the blanket of night; warm, dripping like honey and earthy from the wine that remains in your cups. He's hard and strong against your body, tugging you impossibly close as you surge, lips fitting together just so; you nearly forget to breathe.

His tongue slides along your lip like velvet; warm, hungry, desperate. You melt into Jace's touch, breath hitching as his hand slides over your hips and lower, grasping suddenly at your arse cheek. Heated desire courses through you, pumping along the veins which have long yearned for a body so close to you.

The low hum he lets out against your lips sends goose-pimples across your body, your fingers soon sliding to fumble with the clasp across his chest.

He takes pity on your hungry touch; rising to help you, he makes quick do of his cloak, stepping towards you as it falls to the ground.

You’re backed against the table; the surface digging into your behind, you let him crowd your space with a tug on his chest towards you.

The boisterous street outside remains loud; fading as it does in the background of you and Jacaerys’ breaths, your lips sliding messily together under the pressure of time and circumstance. You cannot believe the stroke of luck, to find him once again.

His fingers shake just slightly when they find your tunic; pulling back, you’re struck by his sheer beauty in the low light. Eyelashes, dark and long, frame those pretty eyes - expressive, wondering, begging. Seven hells, what you’d do to hear your name from his lips again.

You nod so smally you’re almost unsure he notices; but he’s soon tugging your tunic over your head, eyes falling to your bare chest with a groan. “Gods,” His voice is dangerously low as you stand, eyes wide and pooling with desire.

A finger, tracing from your arm over to your breast; a shiver from you, swallowing as his knuckles graze your pert nipple, his eyes hungry, wide, exploring. Your palm cups his neck, threading through the curls as you tug him towards you, too impatient; teeth clash slightly, though you can only let out a breathy whine as his hands find your breasts, arousal flooding your senses.

Gasping, your back arches when his fingers find your bud and pinch gently, cascades of arousal shivering over you from the sensation.

You begin to tug off his own tunic; it falls to the floor near the bed as he tosses it, but your eyes are too preoccupied with the sight before you.

He has grown, indeed.

Chest, broad and panting as he stands before you; your nails slide over shoulders and down his chest, eyes taking in each part of smooth skin awarded to you - the muscles of his torso, refined from what you can only imagine is constant training in the castle yards.

An overwhelming desire; to see him fall apart, cheeks flushed, lips parted as he looks down at you - you must have him, now. And so you allow your hand a bold move towards the waist of his trousers, watching to ensure he remains enthusiastic. His breath is choked when you grasp his hardening manhood; shyness having melted off the two of you, all that remains in the air of your apartments is the desire, strung thin and hungry with anticipation.

Gently, you tilt your head, watching him with innocent eyes, knees weakening at the feel of him firm beneath your palm.

Your name comes from his lips in a breathy moan before they attach themselves to your neck - a bite, soothed with a sharp tongue. You are dizzy with desire, hand slowing as his own palm creeps, sliding down your chest and pressing below your stomach.

“Jace,” You nearly whimper; his eyes, molten, find yours.

A beat; two pairs of eyes flicker to the corner of the room and back to each other before his hands grab your thighs, coaxing you upwards into his grasp.

You nearly yelp as he grabs you so intently - lifting your legs, you let out a sharp moan when his clothed arousal presses firmly to your own.

He takes only a few steps before dropping you as gently as possible on top of the thin furs which lie on your bed; your hands around his neck drag him atop your own body, lit with the excitement of forbidden desire.

A gentleman, he is - undoing your trousers, your stomach flutters when he presses gentle kisses along the exposed bare skin of your thighs, fingers dragging heat along wanting flesh.

You watch with bated breath as he pulls back, fingers fiddling with his hands- then he’s dropping several bands of dark metal from around his fingers onto the table.

The rings make a small noise when they hit the wood; you open your mouth but he’s suddenly back against you, palm cupping your heat and swallowing your gasp with his own lips.

His fingers over your smallclothes sends a keening arch of your back; his own arm slips under your spine, pulling you to him as he presses his tongue against your pert nipple.

Pleasure spills over you as he flicks his tongue, wet and hot; fingers, rubbing lazy over the apex of your thighs, nudging gently against your clothed pearl as you sigh in pleasure.

He is an attentive lover; Bites and kisses upon your chest, whispers against your skin, teasing for as long as you can stand it. You know Jacaerys can feel the moisture of your desire seeping through the seat of your smallclothes - you know, because a smirk has grown upon his regal face.

The waiting becomes agonizing; with a panting breath, you grasp his forearm. He halts, eyes searching for a problem. You ease his worries simply. “Jacaerys. I cannot bear any more teasing, I want to feel you.”

His lip catches between his teeth - an expression you’ve never seen, yet enjoy thoroughly; you wonder how he’d moan against you if you were to bite him like that.

“You’re tired of the teasing?” He mocks - you roll your eyes, about to mutter that it is different to tease with words than with hands - when he speaks again.

“I was told..” His cheeks are a sweet burgundy, eyes flicking down. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” He insists, “And I want you to feel good.”

You can’t help the heat of your cheeks as you follow his gaze, to the admittedly large bulge of his trousers. It had not occurred to you until now the innocence of the man before you; with a blink, you smile. “Always a gentleman.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips, “As you wish, my prince.”

He lays you down, at this; between kisses and shared breath, fingers slowly slide over the hem of your smallclothes, dipping and spreading the syrupy desire that spills from you.

“Fuck,” His lips whisper - a shock of arousal at his touch, more so at the lewd word you’d never imagine the Prince ever uttering to you. “You’re-” he chokes, though, as your hips buck; he’s found your sensitive pearl - inexperienced as he may be, he’s incredibly attentive.

He always was a quick learner.

Your legs quickly weaken; your nails, tracing over the planes of pale skin, the freckles that peek over his shoulders. When he slides a finger inside you, he watches your expression with a heat you’d never seen before.

His name falls from your lips in a whimper; fingers long, deft, capable - and he watches with kiss-bruised lips, a reverence within his eyes that warms both your chest and your core.

You whine, he shushes you; as if born to lie with you, he finds the spot that makes your head fall back against the flat mattress, his finger beginning languid pumps.

The stretch when he adds another digit has him groaning along with you - a whisper, against your ear. “Are you okay?”

You nod, resisting a moan. “Don’t stop, Jace-”

He must like the familiarity of the nickname; a short breath from him, watching in awe as you writhe below him. “Do you know how intoxicating you are?” His breath is hot against you; ecstasy clenches you around his fingers, hands sliding down his own bare abdomen, feeling the muscles which lie below.

“You must know,” He adds, voice laced with desire, heat. Your head tosses back as he hums, palm brushing against your sensitive center. “Looking at me like that,” He’s in his own world, eyes stuck on his hand beneath your smallclothes, the sound of your desire between you. “Teasing me.”

The coil of pleasure is so close to snapping, your hand begins to push against his chest; heat, you feel hot - you’ve never been driven to such ecstasy so quick; the feeling is overwhelming.

“Jace-” You fight not to writhe against the feeling, his fingers deep, dragging perfectly against the spot that has your vision blanking. He whispers your own name back to you, a prayer.

You find your release not soon after; his other hand soothing over the hair that sticks to your forehead - a moan echoing in the walls of the small quarters. His own shaky breath, muttering in a language you’d only ever heard those of dragonblood use as you drag nails over the warm skin of his back.

When his fingers leave you, it is a scandalous sight; sitting up above you, knees upon the mattress and backlit by the flickering firelight, your prince watches you. Slowly, he raises his glistening digits, imbued with your arousal, between his lips and groans at the taste - salacious and nearly sacrilegious to watch.

You might pass out.

Instead, your hands tug him over - with wide eyes, he watches you straddle his thighs, eager to let him feel the throbbing pleasure he’d just shown you.

An indescribable heat; roving your hips over his, feeling his cock against your slick - his own head rolls back, though he suspends himself on strong arms. You kiss the column of his throat, whispering - “Would you let me feel you, my prince?”

His hands find your hips, pushing your hips over his own, his size sending tingles of anticipation through you. “Yes,” He murmurs against your lips, “Please.”

You aren’t one to deny your prince’s wishes.

His own trousers are tugged off rather sloppily, discarded with you still in his lap; he kicks them off his feet and then you’re both in your smallclothes, staring at each other with heat.

Your lips find his - wet, eager, perfect.

A string of saliva remains when you pull away from his wanting lips, your heart hammering in your throat. Jacaerys’ eyes are wide, pupils dark and blown with desire as your hand trails its way, dragging light nails from his neck, down a heaving chest. Over the ridges of his stomach, you find yourself grasping his cock once more through his clothing - his groan is quiet, eyes rolling lightly as you slip off his lap.

When you push his smallclothes off, you cannot help but stare. He’s glorious; bare, skin glowing in the light - cock hitting the low of his stomach, the tip of him is flushed and leaking with his unrestrained desire - you slide your own remaining garment off until you are similarly bare, sliding back onto his lap.

His hands slide over your bare thighs, inciting small goosepimples in his wake as he finds comfortable purchase on your hips. There is no worry in his eyes, no hesitation - only hunger, if not impatience, and he murmurs your name with a small, please.

When he pulls you to him, one hand sliding up the warm skin of your spine, you feel his cock against your slick - both moaning, your lips find each other in a succession.

You waste no more time - one hand around his length, you guide him, lifting your hips just so you hover above him; with eyes pleading and clouded in lust, Jacaerys’ lips part.

You sink onto him slowly, agonizingly.

Both letting out a gasp - he, eyes widening with pleasure, you with the similar warmth yet struck by the stretch of him spearing you. “Gods,” You whisper against the hollow of his throat, damp with exertion, “G-gods, Jace.”

His hand moves to push hair behind your shoulder - a tenderness that has your heart fluttering as you slowly relax, letting him fill you.

You can hear the strain in his voice, but there is a genuine concern. “Are you okay, darling?” The name has your throat drying up; unable to stop at the wave of desire the simple petname spouts, you feel yourself clenching with desire. He lets out a choked moan, fingers tightening around your skin.

“Yes-” You sigh, kissing his lips with fervor. His eyes flutter shut and you sink lower, legs trembling. The candle beside your bed has nearly burnt through its wick, the wax spilling and dribbling to the stone floor.

Your arms tighten around his shoulders as you finally seat yourself fully with him inside you; a deep, warm feeling of ecstasy as you breathe, the sharp stretch soon melting into a burning need, fullness. A breeze through the window, but it does nothing to calm your hot skin.

“You’re- you feel so tight.” He whispers; a flush on his cheeks as your eyes shut, nodding. You cannot wait much longer; slowly, you left yourself up again, relishing in the sweet pleasure coursing through you at the feeling of his cock dragging through you.

His sigh is one you will never forget. There are no more noises elsewhere; the city is gone, no calls nor shouts nor distant songs - it is just you and Jacaerys.

His palms are large, warm as one cups the side of your jaw, tilting your head back to watch you, all of you, in the light.

His lips find the marks he’s already peppered about you as you begin to rock yourself, so full and following that bright stirring of ecstasy within. Palms slowly find your breasts, squeezing the pliant flesh as your pace quickens; a rhythm you settle, arms locked around his shoulders, one of his at your hip and the other holding himself up.

“Jace, you feel so good,” You whimper - he groans at this; you feel him throb with pleasure, hips bucking up suddenly. You keen loudly, gasping at the extra bit of pleasure; his own eyes are cast down in desire, watching your bodies meet, a quickness in his breath.

He’s rendered nearly speechless; breaths puff from his plush lips, jaw clenching as he bucks up against you - your thighs soon tire, though you cling to that simmering feeling, the approaching release that his touch coaxes you towards.

He says your name - once, twice; a hand on your jaw, strong as he coaxes you look to him in the throes of your passion. A thrill in the commanding look on his face.

“Lie back.” He orders, voice surprisingly confident - or desperate, perhaps - as his hands pull you. You let him move you, whining at the absence of him when he removes himself from your wet heat; yet he doesn’t let you get too far, as he crawls atop your body, pressing heated kisses to your clammy chest.

His arms propped beside your head, caging you in, you let your fingers thread into his hair. With strong hands, he lifts your legs; your eyes widen as he places them upon his narrow hips, lip caught in concentration. His hand pumps his cock, sliding over your cunt and nudging your pearl; you yelp in pleasure, toes curling as you push down with fists against the mattress.

When he pushes into you again, he buries his moan in the crook of your neck. You, unable to do anything more than whine at the angle, the stretch of him in you; your legs hook around his hips, pushing him deeper, deeper.

He’s somewhere between frantic and patient, some inexplicable combination that has your head spinning. Your fingers tug at his hair when he soon finds a pace that hits your spot repeatedly, toes curling in euphoria.

“Feels so good,” You can’t stop - he grasps at your breast, toying with your nipple as he rolls his hips into yours; The man above you is attentive, passionate, his hips striking deep within you, lips pressing hot kisses on every exposed bit of skin. Groans and short breathy moans in your ear, his lips slide over your throat. Lovemaking, you might call it - the thought spurs heat within you, clenching as you near your high.

His hand falls to your hip after you begin to arch; pushing you down, you realize you’d begun to writhe in ecstasy. “Fuck,” he hisses again; Your eyes nearly roll back at the ease in which he holds you down, conscious or not to his own effects on you.

“Please I’m-” His voice is nearly ragged, a broken desire for you that nearly drives you to madness. You wish to consume him, for him to consume you.

“I’m close.” He whispers your name, hips picking up pace; your eyes roll back, one hand dragging down the expanse of his back, unable to stop yourself. He hisses in sharp pleasure, head falling back as he groans, “Where-”

You swallow, curbing a moan, “My st-stomach,” you stutter, rendered similarly unable to speak cohesively through the muddled ecstasy of your impending spend.

It’s when his hand, shaking and desperate to see you finish, falls to rub against your sensitive pearl; your hand flies to his forearm, the muscles flexing below your nails. “Jace!” You nearly squeal, unable to hold off any longer.

You nearly lose consciousness; in your peak, your hips spasm, cunt clenching around your prince, coaxing a choked moan from his lips. Pleasure rolls over you in waves, breathing heavy as he whispers into your ear, hips not ceasing.

Jace lasts only several more thrusts before he pulls out of you, sweat sticking a light sheen to his forehead, lips pink and plush and parted. He can only pump himself with his fist a few times before he’s spilling his seed upon your heaving stomach.

Your voice is a whisper against his clammy cheek, watching with arousal at his sweet bliss, the glisten of his spend against the soft skin of you.

He collapses, breathing heavy and heart pounding as hard as yours; the action bouncing you slightly on the bed. The noises of the street below return to your ears once more, but all you can do is pull his hand to you, pressing gentle kisses to the tips of his fingers as you both recover.

A breeze, thick with warmth, curls through your room - he turns, eyes meeting yours with a small look of embarrassment. Your own face must mirror it - lingering in the distance is the castle; you know he must return there soon, but a selfish part of you wishes to remain with him for longer.

After all, it’s been far too long. You have much to discuss.

“Would you…” you trail off, unsure if it would cross a line undrawn to ask such a foolish thing. But his eyes are so wide, pools of warmth; he looks as though he would say yes to anything you might ever ask of him.

“Would you hold me, for a moment?” You ask, avoiding his eyes, “Before you return.”

His brows furrow, though he says nothing - pulling you to his warm, glistened chest, he grabs a rag from the bend of a chair beside you, wiping himself off your stomach. “Of course.” He says gently.

You pretend not to notice the pang in your chest, remembering the life you could have now; pouring wine for lords and ladies, spending time with Helaena, and sneaking off to see Jacaerys in your free time. Sometimes, even after all this time, you wish you never had to leave the Keep.

Jacaerys presses a kiss to your hairline as his arm, heavy and intent, circles your bare waist.

You allow yourself to simply exist in the moment with your prince, listening to his heart beat against your cheek.

“WILL I SEE YOU AGAIN?”

Jacaerys’ voice is soft in the night as you smile at him. His hands run over your shoulders, slipping the strap of the sleep gown you’d just donned back over your shoulder gently. “I can’t help but worry I won’t.” he murmurs.

He could swear there is a warmth upon your cheeks in the faint light.

“Worry? For me?” You smile, a hint of vulnerability breaking through the teasing smile, “You’ve grown into quite a man these last years,” You hum, “but you’re still the sweet boy I remember.”

The warmth spreads through him, his hand caressing your jaw. “And you’re still the girl who I find difficult not to worry about.”

You laugh, a sound he thought he’d forgotten; he’s suddenly two-and-ten again, watching with shock as you present the burn scar upon your hand to he and his uncles - I burned it, you had boasted so proudly, do you think I’ll have it forever?

His hand catches your own - warm, small in his own palm as he turns it over. You’re quite close - he can see the smile lines on your face, the flutter of lashes. You’re beautiful.

You’d burnt your hand while serving tea to Helaena when you were a girl of one-and-ten; the pain hadn’t made you weep, but gasp, watching in interest as the skin bubbled and marred.

He watches your skin under his touch, recalling the emptiness of the halls once you’d gone; the same emptiness he’s about to return to.

You laugh softly, your eyes sparkling. “You flatter me.” You say earnestly, your free hand brushing a strand of his curls from his forehead. “I have missed you very much, my prince.”

He smiles faintly, as you pin his cloak tighter against his chest - old habits must die hard, even after all this time.

“You know where to find me.” You whisper, “I’d not go anywhere if I knew I may one day see you again.”

Your voice lingers like a sweet echo, even when he’s walking back up the street towards the Keep, watching your silhouette disappear from the upstairs window.

taglist ; @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley requests open. chat with me.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace velaryon #jace smut #jacaerys smut #facaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys x reader smut #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys x you #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #hotd x reader

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salmonskinrolltf · 2 years

Text

Anniversary Present - Pt. 5

Click here to read Part 4 and see how Jace and Levi ended up in 1980. Or start over at Part 1.

Twenty minutes later, Jace came downstairs again, a sheepish look on his face.

Levi looked up at him, recognizing a different light shining behind his eyes. “You remembered too? I did too, just now.”

Jace sat down on the couch with a whump, sighing. “We’re related again in this timeline. This situation just gets more and more fucked up.”

Levi rubbed Jace’s back. “OK, so I have a theory. I think when we’re fighting we have a tougher time remembering ourselves. We should probably resolve this while we’re still cogent.”

Jace poked Levi in the ribs. “Now there’s a ten cent word if I’ve ever heard one. OK, I’m game.” He tweaked one of the rings in his lower lip. “Well, I can’t speak exactly to what happened in the past, because it’s technically the future and I don’t remember it.” He made himself go cross-eyed, and Levi laughed warmly. “But it seems to me that it’s very frustrating that you never put in the same effort that I do in order to maintain our house, and I feel like that means you won’t put in the effort to maintain our relationship, if it comes to that.”

Levi sighed. “I’ll admit I can be lazy sometimes. But half the time, when you want me to do something, I’m perfectly willing to do it, but by the time I get there you’ve already gotten to it and you’re giving me the stinkeye.

Jace steepled his fingers. “So it sounds like I could be a LITTLE more forgiving and in touch with your emotions. I can do that.”

Levi nodded. “And I need to put in more work to lighten your load. I can do THAT.”

Jace snuggled into the crook of Levi’s arm. “Hey, we did it! Our first big marital spat! Let’s make sure we remember in the morning so I don’t ever have to use the bathroom at that disgusting punk club ever again. The Misfits were totally worth it though.”

Levi frowned. “The Misfits? I thought you went to see… oh, nevermind, I can’t remember.”

Jace yawned, which made Levi yawn. The two of them were asleep and drooling on the couch cushions within minutes. As they slept, the face on the watch slowly began to tick down, one digit at a time, until it reached 19:75.

Jace’s lip twitched as a thick blonde mustache began to sprout, stretching so far that it nearly spilled out over his cheeks, his deep snores causing the thick hairs to ripple. In response to the sheer magnetic force of the mustache, the blue began to leach out of his hair as it deflated and settled into a messy mop over his head, the sides growing out into a short ‘do that curled slightly at the ends. As if it was feeling left out, the indentation between his clavicles churned with motion as the follicles worked into overdrive, sprouting a dense thatch of hair that didn’t spread far, but formed a mat of hair that would be sure to poke out of any collar he wore.

Still asleep, Jace scratched at the side of his stomach, where Levi’s arm rested. It was being tickled by the feather-light texture of Levi’s arm hair, which was getting longer and darker, becoming a poofy, unmanageable forest. Levi’s clean-cut jaw began to sprout a thick beard that matched the darker color. The hair on his head began to darken too, but the effect was lessened as his hairline pulled back once again, exposing more and more of his forehead.

Neither of them awoke until the sun came streaming through the living room windows. Jace gave his husband a peck on the lips, wrinkling his nose at his morning breath. “Yikes, did we fall asleep on the couch?” He stretched and looked around. “Um… Levi?”

Levi rubbed his bleary eyes, scratching at his beard with his other hand. “What’s crackin’, Jace?”

“Honey… Does our pad look different to you?” Levi stood up and looked around, taking in the shag carpet, lava lamps, and funky-patterned wallpaper. “Oh no. It happened again, didn’t it?” He picked up a framed photo from the mantle. ”At least we’re married again. Well, not legally. But the hash sure smoked the same! And you sure looked cute in them jeans…”

Jace frowned. “This shouldn’t be happening. We set it to go back, but it shouldn’t have sent us back further on its own. I think we keep slipping backward in time. He held up the watch and noticed that the backward dial wiggled slightly when he moved his wrist. “This dial is loose, it must be sending us backward in incremental jumps, and we only notice when the decade changes too much to support our current forms. Shit! We need to figure this out quick, before we end up in the fucking Ice Age!”

Levi patted him on the back. “Chill out, man. We’re gonna figure this out! We’re getting better at remembering ourselves. That’s the first step. Now we need to use the resources we can, while we can, to figure out how to get back to our own time. First, we should see if we can fix the watch and stabilize the time flow, you dig?”

Jace nodded. “I dig. I actually seem to recall having a job at the local library, so maybe I could see if there’s anything helpful there.”

Levi smiled broadly. “There we go! Look at us, we’ve got this handled. And I’ll go to the hardware store to see if they have any toolkits for fixing it! Meet you back here in two hours?”

Jace grinned shyly. “It’s a plan, babe. They shared a quick peck on the lips before stepping out into the bright sunlight and taking off in different directions down the sidewalk.

Levi had just disappeared around the corner when Jace had the thought to double check his watch and make sure they actually had time to get everything done. As he looked down he saw the display tick down from 19:67 to 19:66. “That’s… probably not good,” he muttered.

He reeled back with a sudden dizzy spell that forced him to lean against a nearby mailbox for support. Once the feeling passed, he stood up, but he still felt hazy and disoriented. He kept shaking his head, but the feeling refused to abate. He suddenly felt claustrophobic, constricted. He removed his shirt and tossed it to the ground, not noticing as it suddenly vanished. “Now, that’s better…”

He scratched his chest. “Now what was I…?” He spun around to look down the street, trying to figure out which direction he was meant to be going. He saw his house and realized he must obviously have been heading there, so he started to drift in that direction. As he walked, the concentrated ball of chest hair on his clavicle seemed to dissolve, lazily drifting into a more diffuse pattern draped between his tan nipples, each one growing longer and scragglier as they fell into their new positions.

His mustache became a mirror image of his chest hair, becoming more scraggly and unkempt, activating all the follicles across his face as they worked overtime, pushing out long auburn strands that quickly got tangled up into one another. His curly hair straightened out and kept going, spilling down until it reached his shoulders. A pair of rose-colored glasses materialized on his face once he reached the front yard, but he was too distracted by a creeping vine on the house’s siding to notice. He traced it with a finger, following it around to the backyard.

————-

Levi didn’t notice as all the cars on the road started to change. He didn’t notice the movie theater marquee letters slowly rearranging until they advertised A Man for All Seasons. He was too focused on getting to the hardware store.

He DID notice when his beard started to recede into his face, making it entirely bare and clean as a whistle. He was obviously perturbed by the feeling of time slipping around him, but he felt relieved. He could think better when everything was precise and orderly. He couldn’t get distracted by an itchy face. As his hairline began to descend back into place, his jaw widened to give him a handsome, hale and hearty visage. He felt confident. Powerful. Alert. His pulse quickened as his brain felt sharper, more keen, more able to notice details. Well, now THIS was handy. Better make use of it while he could. He stepped into the hardware store as his clothing started to bubble and shift on his frame.

——

Jace wandered through the back garden in a blissed-out haze. “Peace and love, man…” he mumbled to nobody in particular.

His reverie was interrupted by Levi clearing his throat behind him. He turned around to see his handsome astronaut lover, back home once again. Levi’s face split into a grin. “Babe, I have a plan.”

Continue to Part 6

#Era #Astronaut #Scientist #IQ Change #Hippie

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beclynn-herondale · 3 years

Note

Haiii so I’m reading ur secret treasons AU and it’s sooo cool to read into your interpretations of all the characters, especially Céline and Rosemary - she’s totally badass

Anyway it prompted me into reading the wicked ones and I think I always interpreted it as Céline’s parents were horrible but they were actually THAT bad

But it’s almost a bit of a theme isn’t it? Céline was abused, then Jace was abused

And she must have been sooo young you can’t blame her for any of it honestly it was so traumatic for her

Heya!

Forewarning, this ended up kind of long lmao.

I hope you're enjoying it, I'm going to try and update it again on Thursday probably.

The interpretation of these characters has been both fun and difficult. We don't have much content of them, let alone enough POVs. So I took certain aspects of their personalities and added a few others but build off of that. It does give way for a lot of freedom though. Eliza and Madeleine are pretty much from scratch, we have the smallest amount of Madeleine and nothing really about Eliza.

Rosemary is the designated badass of the group (Maryse too).

I went through the same thing when I reread the whole thing again. It 1, made me love Céline even more. 2, made me realize Céline's parents were terrible, maybe not Valentine terrible but they were up there. Even Stephen said in his letter that they had brutalized her, and that she only wanted to be safe and loved (which really is all she actually wanted).

I also think the reason I (and maybe you) didn't fully realize it the first time we read it; is because abuse victims (speaking from my own experience) tend to downplay the actions of their abuser, could be because some of it is blurry and we think we're just remembering it wrong or we try to convince ourselves that they wouldn't have said that/done that, especially since all too often there's love for the abuser.

So, if we think about how even though Céline wanted to get away, some part of her probably still wanted to stop disappointing her parents and wished they'd love her. As angry, and bitter, and hurt Céline was (rightfully so).I think part of her didn't fully acknowledge it. And I related to the part where she didn't ask for help or tell anyone, because that would only make the abuser angrier.

There is definitely a parallel between Céline's childhood and Jace's. Another one I find interesting is that Céline was often called "the sweet obedient daughter of Jules and Lisette" Montclaire. Valentine said often that Jace had once been so "obedient" and Sebastian called Jace "Valentine's sweet boy" more than once.

There's many other parallels as well, they just are overlooked because people often narrow Jace down to just having Herondale behavior.

Yes! Exactly. Céline was very young and extremely lonely. She was 15/16 when Valentine first approached her, 17 in The Wicked Ones, around 18 when she finally married Stephen, probably 19 when she got pregnant with Jace. Her wiki says she died at 20 but I wonder if it was more 19 since some of Cassie's timeline has some flaws in it (understandable tho, it's not easy).

I often see people put a lot of the blame on Céline, the girl who was still technically a child, barely a young adult. but all the others were in their twenties already by the time Céline was in the picture. She was the youngest circle member, and the others often commented on this.

Personally I can't find it in myself to pin all the blame in her, because she had absolutely nothing, the others had friends and family and significant others, Céline had no one but the circle.

and when Valentine offered her something she was young, impressionable, and desperate for love. And Valentine waved what she wanted in front of her face and manipulated her, saying "It's yours if you make the choice" but there was no actual choice.

Personally, it's forgotten that she also didn't get the chance to make up for any of it because she died, her flower card says "regret" and I don't think that's just for one thing, I think she regretted a lot.

Luke, Amatis, Jocelyn, Robert, and Maryse all did the same things Céline did (except the whole situation with Stephen). so I don't get why everyone is kind of forgiving towards them but not Céline.

She was so, so young and hurt and lonely. not to mention, Valentine also abused her and experimented on her, and worse.

Also everyone always says "Poor Amatis." And I get that, I do, but they act like Céline just ripped Stephen away from her and as If it was for purely malicious reasons or something. She just wanted a chance to be loved even a little, and sadly that's what both Valentine offered and took away.

If in her position, I probably would have made the same decision. Especially since when you're 17 you don't make the best ones, I sure didn't at 17. Even 18 has been full of some bad decisions.

And fact is, Valentine convinced Stephen to leave Amatis, Céline could have told Valentine to not do it but that's really the only part she played in it. Stephen (despite also being manipulated) was the one who listened to Valentine and chose to leave.

Mostly I blame Valentine, though. people need to blame Valentine more. Blaming Valentine is always the best option.

Sorry this got so long, also I'm fiercely protective of Céline 😂

#the secret treasons college au #tsc #celine montclaire #tw abuse

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years

Text

The Great Marriage License Mystery

Read on AO3

Magnus groans, back feeling like hell. He lifts himself up and immediately falls off the couch landing directly on his back onto a stack of red solo cups.

“Fuck,” he shouts out as he rolls to the side to lift himself up, a party mask on a stick digging into his side.

“Stop being so loud,” a female voice he knows well grumbles from above. Magnus finally lifts himself up into a sitting position to see Isabelle lying face down surrounded by a nest of multi colored feather boas on the couch opposite the one he’d just fallen from.

Magnus finds the inner strength to stand looking around the room. It’s his apartment, not that he remembers coming home at all, and it’s a wreck. Cups, half empty bottles of liquor and an array of party favors from the evening’s festivities cover every surface. His paintings on the walls are crooked, the strip of photobooth pictures that he and Alec had taken on their trip to Tokyo for their one-month anniversary are sitting sadly in a puddle of something. He walks over squinting his eyes against the sunlight streaming in and pics up the photo strip shaking them out best he can.

He sniffs them confirming the liquid to be vodka and not something worse. He pins them back up on the corkboard where they belong smiling at the happy looks on their faces despite the fact his head feels like there’s a tiny gnome with a hatchet running around inside of it.

Isabelle shifts on the couch lying on her back now.

“Did we die?” she asks eyes still closed.

“Unfortunately not,” Magnus says picking up a pink cowboy hat from the chair nearest to him and plopping down into it heavily.

“What time is it?” she asks pulling a few of the feather boas around her like a blanket.

Magnus looks down at his watch about to answer when his bedroom door suddenly slams open. A flash of long red hair streaks across the apartment headed straight for the bathroom.

Clary shuts the door behind her and an unfortunate heaving sound follows. Izzy sits up quickly eager to get to her fiancée, a decision she clearly immediately regrets if the way she woozily lies back down is anything to go by.

The bathroom door swings open a moment later, Alec steps out looking disheveled as hell wearing a Hunter’s moon t-shirt he definitely hadn’t been wearing when the night before had started.

“I don’t recommend sleeping in a bathtub when you’re 6”4,” he says voice gravelly from misuse. He squints his eyes grabbing a pair of sunglasses laying on the table as he walks past it and slips them on. “You might want to check on your fiancée, she’s throwing up half her body in there.”

Alec sits down heavily on the couch beside his sister patting her on the shoulder. She nods, takes a deep breath and centers herself standing up slowly. This time she makes it picking her way through the trash littering the floor her 8-inch heels somehow still secured to her feet.

“Your weddings in like four hours, just a reminder!” Magnus shouts and wishes he hadn’t. Judging from the way Alec plugs his ears and Izzy flips him off no one else does either. Hangovers all around it seems, a sign of a good bachelorette party.

Magnus listens for a few moments to Isabelle softly reassuring Clary, heels clicking on the tile of the bathroom floor. He looks over at his boyfriend once again heaving himself to stand and flop down beside him on the bed of boas.

“Good morning baby,” Alec grumbles lifting his arm and wrapping it around Magnus’ shoulders. Magnus hums reaching up and entangling his fingers with Alec’s. He shifts enough to toss his legs over Alec’s and looks down noticing a piece of white paper sticking out from his pocket.

He raises his eyebrows leaning back enough to pull the paper from his pocket. He unfolds it and practically jolts up from the couch. In looping script that looks like Isabelle’s is his name and what appears to be one half of a marriage license.

“Ummm Magnus!” Isabelle yells rushing out of the bathroom and directly to them on the couch. Alec shifts seemingly having fallen back asleep. She shakes a piece of paper in his face almost identical to his half. “This was in MY pocket.”

Magnus takes it from her lining it up with his. A piece of the full sheet is still missing only the last name Lightwood on Isabelle’s section the first name missing. She falls beside him seeing the almost full document.

“There’s no way,” he says laughing nervously. There’s no way.

Isabelle is just as alert as he in now, eyes in a panic. Alec sits up taking off his sunglasses. He looks from the papers to Magnus’s eyes, his eyes just as wide as his sisters.

“I also have this,” she says holding up her left hand revealing a diamond band on her thumb. “It’s stuck.”

“That’s one of mine,” Magnus says looking down at one of his empty fingers. “Oh, shit that’s one of mine.”

Alec falls back into the couch, no longer pressed into Magnus’ side.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Isabelle says dropping her head into her hands.

Clary comes out of the bathroom, eye makeup resembling a raccoon with a huge bottle of mouth wash in her hands. Chairman Meow appears circling around her socked feet trying to trip her up, she takes it in stride and steps over him easily.

“Just in case,” she says when she notices Alec judging the bottle. “So, I’m guessing from those repetitive oh my gods it’s not us that got married last night.”

“No,” Isabelle moans dramatically throwing herself on the ground, arms tossed over her eyes. “I married my brother’s boyfriend probably as a dumb joke or something the night before my wedding. Jace will never let me live this down.”

“We don’t know that. It just says Lightwood, it could be us!” Magnus argues looking at his boyfriend uncertainly. Alec looks a little bit like a deer in the headlights so Magnus scrambles. He’s not really sure what’s the better option: accidentally marrying your boyfriend of two months in a drunken stupor or marrying your boyfriend’s sister as a joke in a drunken stupor. At least he hopes it was a dumb joke if it’s the latter, the former well he’s not sure if he and Alec are ready to get into that no matter how quickly their relationship has progressed. “Or you know it’s fake, fake is an option.”

Clary steps over inspecting the paper.

“Paper’s too high quality for a fake,” she shrugs sitting down on the coffee table. Magnus gives her a pointed look, making it clear she’s not helping this situation.

The four of them sit there silently for a while. Alec is the first to speak up.

“Okay, what does everyone remember from last night? Let’s piece this together,” he says reasonably opening the floor to whoever wants to start.

It takes about twenty minutes but they get a vague timeline from memory and other evidence pulled from their pockets. They scour the apartment as they talk making hangover remedies while desperately searching for the missing piece of the license.

So far they’ve determined things started here, pre-gaming with cocktails and dinner then it was the Hunter’s Moon where Magnus absolutely demolished Alec in a series of pool games. That’s when Alec lost his shirt as well, a beer spilled on him by Jace who’d already had far too much to drink. Magnus had forgotten the detail, but Alec recalls it with annoyed clarity.

After the Hunter’s Moon, Jace had been sent home in a cab, Maia, Bat and the rest of their friends had come along with them to Pandemonium and that was where things got blurry. By 11:30 their friends had all called it a night, but the four of them had hit the dancefloor. Dancing then turned into competition when Izzy had challenged Magnus and Alec to a couple’s tequila shot off. Magnus assumes they won considering how Clary handles her liquor.

Then it all goes well and truly blank for them all. Clary’s phone is missing entirely, Alec’s is dead and seemingly has been since at least midnight. Izzy’s phone is just a series of back and forth drunken texts with Jace that are increasingly sarcastic and misspelled.

Magnus is the only one with a possible lead. There’s evidence of a Lyft being called that took them to the venue where Izzy and Clary are getting married in mere hours and a 15-minute call with Raphael somewhere around one in the morning.

Magnus dials his number immediately hoping for answers.

“You asked me to go through the whole ceremony,” Raphael says after five minutes of making fun of them all. Magnus’ childhood best friend never did finish the process of becoming a full-blown preacher, not finding it for him in the end, but he’s ordained for weddings and had happily offered to do the ceremony when Clary and Izzy still hadn’t found someone two weeks before.

“Why?” the four ask in frustrated unison.

“Dios, I don’t know. You were all trashed but you insisted, so to get you to leave me alone because some of us who are involved in this wedding wanted to get a good night’s rest, I went through the whole thing, start to finish,” he explains.

“Did vows get exchanged or anything?” Alec asks.

“Not really, but you did all say ‘I do’ at some point I couldn’t tell who though, I’m pretty sure you were all outside,” Raphael answers. “Which in theory I guess would mean someone got married, but not that it matters I mean ordained or not without a license it’s not legally binding.”

They all sigh.

“That’s the problem,” Magnus grumbles. They end the call after that saying goodbyes and see you soons.

“Alright,” Alec says sounding the level headed big brother and leader he always is. “Here’s the plan’ everyone needs to shower first. We’re short on time so that means couples, no funny business though. Raphael said we were outside, so that probably means we couldn’t get into the venue when we decided to go. Magnus and I can ask around while the two of you get ready since we have to be there anyways.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement.

“And what do we do if it was us that got married?” Magnus asks gesturing between him and Izzy.

They’re all silent. Clary is the first to pipe up, taking this whole situation surprisingly well. Maybe throwing up half of one’s body weight brings clarity.

“I mean only the four of us saw it, it hasn’t been officially filed, just signed and if we give Raphael permission to mock us about it for the rest of our lives he won’t say anything,” she reasons.

She grabs Izzy’s hand pulling her to the shower leaving no room for argument.

Magnus blows out a long breath leaning against the kitchen counter where they’d all gathered. Alec joins him, crossing his arms.

“Are you mad I may have accidentally married your sister?” Magnus says quietly.

Alec snorts.

“No, we were all beyond drunk last night and knowing you and Izzy it was some competitive dare that went a step too far.”

Magnus chuckles, that does sound like them.

“And what if,” he pauses a little worried. “What if it was us that accidentally got married?”

Alec turns reaching up to pull a piece of confetti from Magnus’ hair. His hand slides down brushing Magnus’ cheek.

“Then we got married,” he shrugs.

Isabelle’s phone rings breaking the moment, on today of all days he’s fairly certain she’d appreciate them picking it up. It’s the caterer and the call takes long enough that he and Alec have barely five minutes for a shared shower before calling a cab to get to the venue. They don’t get to talk about Alec’s casual shrug about them being married like it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Once they’re at the venue people start filing in Maryse and Maia take charge of Isabelle while Clary is drifted away by Simon and Jace. They both lock eyes with Magnus and Alec trusting them to get answers or burn the pieces of marriage license before the days over.

Alec is the first to be fully ready so he heads around to ask the staff some questions. He eventually is led to the night security guard who simply shrugs saying he’d fallen asleep on the job. The only evidence that they were even there is in the form of Magnus’ Lyft history and a feather boa exactly like the ones in Magnus’ apartment tangled in a bush outside. Alec sends him a picture of it attached with the message, ‘I have a feeling we’re going to be finding these around New York for the rest of the year.’

Everything goes by in a rush after that. Magnus never gets the chance to bring up anything to Alec as they take their places as groomsmen.

The wedding is beautiful, Raphael does an excellent job so much so that Clary’s stepdad bursts into tears only two lines in. Clary and Izzy exchange vows that make everyone else cry and Izzy dips Clary as they kiss to everyone’s delight. They look the happiest they’ve ever been, clearly no longer thinking about the possible mistake marriage that was.

Magnus however can’t think of anything else. The sun has fallen and the cake has been cut by the time he gets a moment alone with Alec. He steps outside for some fresh air just beside the bushes where the feather boa still flaps in the wind and Alec slips out behind him. Two long arms wrap around his waist and Magnus leans back into a strong chest.

They stand there quietly, the muffled sound of music behind them.

“You know,” Magnus says eventually. “You were pretty casual about the concept of us being accidentally married this morning.”

Alec once again the picture of nonchalance just shrugs.

“I mean at first it was a lot, but once the worst of the hangover subsided I realized if it was us well, that’s not the worst thing. I love you; I have intentions to be with you for as long as you’ll have me so that works.”

Magnus shifts so that Alec is standing in front of him eyes a little glassy. Alec takes the tears to be a bad thing.

“I get it though if it’s way too soon to be thinking or saying anything like that, or,” Alec freezes as Magnus puts a finger in front of his lips.

“I feel the same way,” he smiles. “I mean it’s not ideal and like Clary said it’s not official till it’s filed, but I do feel the same way. I have no doubt in my mind we’re heading that way one day.”

Alec smiles kissing the tip of Magnus’ finger where it still rests against his lips. He pulls Magnus into a hug. Magnus rests his chin on Alec’s shoulder eyes still open and that’s when he spots it. The feather boa shifts in the wind and a small white piece of paper is revealed skewered on the prickly end of the bush.

He pulls back from Alec leaping down the two small steps to pick the piece of paper from the bush.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he says snatching up the sliver of paper and flipping it over. The missing piece of the license. Alec steps over, joining him.

“Is that?” he starts looking over Magnus’ shoulder.

Magnus nods holding it up for Alec to read. Alec smiles, pulling the Lightwood piece he’d been holding onto from his pocket as Magnus does the same with his part.

Alexander the missing piece reads in Isabelle’s looping script.

“Guess your stuck with me now,” Magnus says with a smirk.

Alec rolls his eyes fondly.

“Technically it hasn’t been filed, so not officially,” he jokes, pulling Magnus in by the waist. “Plus it’s in three pieces I don’t think the courthouse is going to accept it.”

“Pfft, just needs a little tape,” Magnus says gathering the three pieces of paper and folding them carefully before placing them in the inner pocket of his wine-red jacket a compliment to Alec’s black one and Isabelle’s deep red dress. “Plus, Clary’s stepdad is the Mayor, we can totally get some strings pulled.”

Alec laughs shifting to drape his arms over Magnus’ shoulders.

“You mean it?” he asks.

Magnus nods. “We have to have a party bigger than this one at some point though,” he says gesturing back to the reception hall. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Of course,” Alec says seriously. “So we’re gonna be Mr. and Mr. Lightwood then?”

Magnus hums tapping a finger to his chin in thought.

“I was thinking Mr. and Mr. Bane actually.”

“I like the sound of that,” Alec says before pulling Magnus into a kiss.

They never do piece together the night exactly. Eventually Izzy gets the ring off her thumb and it fits Alec’s ring finger perfectly they discover, Magnus in turn realizes he has an exact double of it that he starts wearing himself. Why Isabelle filled out the license or if they kissed after they said I do or even actually said it is never truly answered.

Their actual marriage will be a mystery for the rest of their lives, but Magnus does get his party an acceptable six months after Clary and Izzy’s.

#my fic #malec #clizzy #shadowhunters #malec fic #clizzy fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #raphael santiago

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alidravana · 3 years

Photo

Welcome to my re-posting of my SEAL Team fics (primarily Clay/Trent) in chronological order! Here’s the 13th fic in the timeline:

Title: Talk to you with my hands tied (Ch.1/2)

Rating: M

Word Count: 1,582 (Ch.1)

Warnings: Discussions on past and recent non-consensual activities, referenced past child abuse

Summary:

Clay shares some of his secrets to help out a friend. And then he finally confides in Trent about his past.

Written for Day 10 (“I'm sorry. I didn't know") for FebuWhump 2021.

Can be read on A03. I realized that I hadn’t posted this to tumblr yet, so please feel free to read below!

*****

Blackburn shook his head, looking at the exhausted men in front of him. The countdown timer flashed bright red, showing that the team was five minutes late in completing the objective. Brock wasn’t even bothering to stand up any more, having slid down a nearby wall to sit next to Pepper. Sonny was so tired that he wasn’t even bitching about being tired, which was odd for the normally loud-mouthed Texan. The rest of the team just stood there, taking a few sips of water and waiting for a lecture from their commander.

Blackburn threw up his hands in defeat. Bravo Team had run this drill at least ten times, with various configurations and entry points and were unable to make it to the hostages in time. “Well, guys, I think we’ve run this course enough times to prove that this mission can’t be done within these parameters. I’ll toss it back to upstairs and let you know when we’ve figured something out.” He wrinkled his nose. “Now all of you, go hit the showers.”

No one was arguing with that order. Bravo Team slowly made their way to the showers and as the team members started trickling back to the cages, Jason’s phone started to ring. Purely by habit, all the other team members looked at their phones as well, surprised to not see a similar call.

“Hayes?” Jason answered his phone. “What? When?” Clay could hear him demand into the phone. Jason sounded concerned, which wasn’t a normal reaction for their leader. “Okay, I can be there in twenty.” He replied and hung up the call.

“Jace, what’s wrong?” Trent asked, having shared a concerned look with Clay during the call.

“It’s Emma,” Jason said, grabbing his wallet, keys, and hat. “She’s been admitted to County General Hospital. They won’t tell me what happened over the phone.” He started to head for the door, intending on driving over there immediately.

Clay stepped in front of Bravo 1 and put his hand out for his keys. “I’ll drive,” Clay said, not willing to let his team leader get into an accident. “And I’ll come along, see what I can find out from the medical staff," Trent added. Jason looked at the pair and nodded reluctantly. He ordered Ray to update Blackburn and told the rest of the team to sit tight, and then they headed out.

XXXXX

Clay sat in a surprisingly comfortable seat, for a hospital anyways, and watched as Trent paced up and down the hallway. Jason was in with his daughter and talking to the medical team. Clay knew that Trent hated being in the waiting position. “Trent, why don’t you sit down for a few minutes?” Clay suggested, shifting over and making room for his partner.

Trent sighed and squeezed in next to Clay. Clay placed his hand on Trent's thigh and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Jason will give us an update when he's ready. Until then, all we can do is wait."

Trent nodded and placed his hand on top of Clay's. "Thanks," Trent said simply, glad that his boyfriend was next to him safe and sound. The last time they were in this hospital, Clay had to have surgery to stop the internal bleeding caused by a car accident. He'd hated this hospital ever since.

Clay and Trent jumped apart at the sound of Jason coming back down the hall.

"She's saying she was mugged," Jason said, looking like he wanted to either punch a wall or start crying, the former being a usual Jason reaction and the latter most definitely not. "Doctor says she has a fracture in her right wrist, which they've casted, and general bruising and cuts." He shifted his weight, rubbing his beard, his eyes going back and forth between the two men. "But they're concerned that she might have been…." Jason paused, his voice faltering at the thought of his little girl being hurt that way. He couldn't even finish his sentence before he collapsed on a chair with his head in his hands.

Damn it, Clay thought as he looked at their team leader fall apart. He clenched his fists, feeling like punching something in anger.

Trent went over and clasped Jason's shoulder. "Will she talk to someone?" Trent asked, also able to read between the lines of what Jason was unable to say. Jason shook his head no in response.

After a long period of silence as the men tried to take in what had happened, Clay finally spoke up. "Let me go in and see if she'll talk to me." He unclenched his fists and took a few deep breaths. He really didn't want to do this, but he felt he had a perspective that neither Jason nor Trent had.

At Jason's confused nod and Trent's worried one, he entered Emma's hospital room. "Hey Emma," Clay said gently, stopping a few metres from her bed. "Is it okay if I sit here?" He asked, setting his hand on the back of a nearby chair.

Emma nodded quietly and looked back down at her sheets. Her bright pink cast stood out against the plain white sheets while bruises were scattered across her pale face. Her quiet, subdued behavior was a stark contrast to the normally cheerful young woman.

"Thanks Emma," Clay replied and sat down carefully, trying to keep his movements slow and predictable. Looking down at his hands, he took a couple moments before starting his speech. "I'm not here to ask you a bunch of questions, and whatever we do end up talking about is strictly between us. I'd like to share something with you, that I hope might help, if that's alright with you."

At Emma's relieved but timid nod, he continued. "Last year, a few weeks after Trent and I started dating," he glanced over and saw her slightly surprised expression, and then continued. "We had an incident. Trent didn't hurt me or do anything wrong, he just came up behind me suddenly and placed his arms around me." Clay remembers the incident clearly. "I'm not sure he even knows how much it scared me, because I acted surprised and jumped out of his arms so quickly, that I don't think he realized how much I was shaking."

Emma was looking a bit confused at where this was going, so he jumped right to the heart of the matter. "I was sexually abused by an older foster brother for several years when I was younger and raped once in college." Clay said quietly. "I've had a court mandated therapist for years, but it wasn't until I started attending group and talking to other survivors that things started to get better. That I could have a relationship with the man I love and not be scared of him." Clay smiled briefly at the thought of Trent.

Emma had covered her mouth in shock as Clay shared his abuse. She knew, rationally, that men could be sexually abused, but she never thought it would happen to someone like Clay. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said softly, not sure what else to say.

Clay acknowledged Emma's words but then braced himself for what he had to say next. "I guess what I'm trying to say Emma, is that if something happened, it's better to talk about it. I know how hard it is to do". Clay wiped his eyes and then cleared his throat. "I wanted you to know that I'm not bullshitting. I've been where you are right now. It fucking sucks. But there is no shame in being sexually assaulted, and no matter what anyone says, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault and it wasn't my fault."

Emma was crying now in earnest, nodding her head in agreement. "Emma, would you like to talk to me some more or would you rather I send your dad or a nurse in?" Clay asked, hoping she would prefer to confide in someone else. He could feel his own composure slipping in the presence of Emma’s more recent trauma.

"My dad," Emma choked through her tears, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Clay nodded and stood up to go get Jason. Before he left, he could hear Emma whisper a quiet thanks. Trent and Jason were both waiting outside the door, a few meters away to give them privacy.

"Jason, she's ready to talk to you," Clay said, emotionally exhausted. Not caring what Jason thought or what anyone else thought for that matter, he then threw himself into Trent's arms and tucked his face against his partner's chest. Trent's arms instinctively tightened around him. The embrace of his two fellow team members didn't even register to Jason because as soon as Clay said his daughter wanted to see him he was on his way into her room.

"Can we go home?" Clay asked, his voice muffled as he was still tucked into Trent's chest, not wanting to let go.

"Yeah, babe, no problem." Trent replied, rubbing Clay's back. "I will just make a quick call to Ray to get someone over here for Jason and then we can head out, okay?" Trent had an uneasy feeling about what had happened in that conversation.

Trent made his couple calls and the two of them headed out, Clay still clinging to him. He may not have known exactly what happened in that room, but he had his suspicions. And he was so proud of his partner.

#seal team (tv)#slash fic #clay spenser/trent sawyer #emma hayes #whump #please heed the warnings #past child abuse #referenced noncon #minimal comfort

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iwhumpyou · 4 years

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How about the hero suffered temporary amnesia after got an accidental head injury while fighting the villain, and the villain is the one who feel responsible about this accident, they're willing to take care of the hero until their memories coming back? The amnesiac hero only consider the villain as their kindhearted caretaker while being treated, and the villain think it's not so bad to befriend them. After the hero got their memories back, they still maintain their friendship as frenemies.

Less hero and villain, but still ETC, so I hope this was what you were looking for, anon! Also caution for unrealistic depiction of amnesia but it’s my story and I can do what I want.

I was really struggling on writing a Mirai/Nerali interlude for The Cost (mostly because I suck at writing romance or relationships or flirting) and then this idea struck me and I decided it was a perfect outlet for my Mirai/Nerali feels so I could get back to the Aidan whump.

Takes place in an alternate timeline, diverging right before the start of The Price.

Masterlist. Wergild. (Tagging @whumps-the-word, @swordkallya, @whumpy-daydreams.)

~#~#~#~#~#~

Her head was ringing and something heavy was on her chest, pressing down, not letting her breathe. Nerali choked out a breath, her fingers tightening on thin, spindly twigs and dried leaves as she tried to stop the world from spinning.

When she managed to open her eyes, the blurriness faded, replaced with a view of sun-dappled leaves and trees stretching to block out a bright blue sky. A fuzzy figure resolved itself into a young woman who was leaning over her, concerned.

Nerali groaned and grabbed her head as the change in position threatened to split apart her skull. It felt like a thousand tiny hammers pounding in discordance and her stomach squeezed uncomfortably as she pushed herself to a sitting position.

Her entire body ached and she clutched at her side as she squinted at her surroundings. There were a lot of trees and several figures watching her. The young woman had crouched down next to her, and was giving her a faintly relieved smile. “That was quite the fall, Nerali,” she said.

“Where am I?” Nerali croaked. She didn’t remember falling. She didn’t remember going into the woods. “Who are you?”

The young woman stared at her, clearly taken aback. “How hard did you hit your head?” she asked.

Nerali’s attention was distracted – not by the revealing clothes the woman was wearing, though those were definitely distracting – by the sword in the young woman’s hand. “Why do you have a sword?” she breathed out, unsure if she should be terrified or fascinated. It looked like a real sword too.

“Oh, dear,” the young woman said.

~#~

Nerali didn’t want to go with the crazy sword-people, but she didn’t have much of choice. She still had no idea where she was or how she got there. The young woman – Mirai – said that Nerali had hit her head when she slipped off a tree. The headache definitely corroborated that story, as did Nerali’s strange clothing, the way she couldn’t remember the last thing she’d been doing, and the fact that Mirai knew her name.

Mirai did not elaborate on how Nerali had slipped off a tree, or what she was doing in a tree in the first place.

Also confusing was the sword that Mirai had handed Nerali after saying something about cleaning and bluebells. Nerali had tried to protest that it wasn’t hers – since when did she know how to use a sword? – but Mirai had raised her eyebrows and nodded at Nerali’s waist where there was, in fact, a sword sheath attached to her belt.

Nerali had handled the sword gingerly, and she definitely didn’t miss the way one of the others sidled up to talk to Mirai in a hushed tone, darting frequent, wary glances at Nerali. Mirai had waved them off and offered to escort Nerali back to her compound to check out her head.

Nerali wasn’t exactly sure she could refuse, surrounded as she was by five people with swords, but she went quietly. Her headache had increased in proportion to her confusion and it was taking all her willpower not to whimper with every step.

She had taken to rubbing the bridge of her nose by the time they arrived at Mirai’s compound – it was quite large, and surrounded by a tall fence. She could see houses and bridges nestled in the trees above.

She made a wordless groan. Her head was pounding and she couldn’t even properly appreciate this treehouse compound in the middle of the woods.

They passed through the fence – the guards on either side gave her sidelong looks and started muttering – to a large, dusty ground that felt strangely…flat. It was prickling at Nerali’s senses, an insistent thrum that grated against her throbbing head.

She followed the thrum, choosing the path of least resistance, and swayed in place until her eyes locked on…there. A massive boulder near the center of the compound. It felt –

“What are you doing here?” a displeased voice snapped and Nerali spun to see a man, tall and lean and muscled and decidedly not happy about her presence. He didn’t have a sword as far as she could see, but he looked like he could break her neck with very little effort or provocation so she shrank back anyway.

“I – um…”

“Jace!” Mirai said, skipping past her. Face to face, Nerali could see the similarities – were they related? “You’re home.”

“And you’ve brought in a stray,” Jace scowled, glaring at Nerali, “Why. Are. You. Here.”

Nerali swallowed. “I – Mirai said to follow her…”

Jace’s glare switched to Mirai. “Did you seriously just kidnap Clarissa’s baby sister?” he asked, and Nerali followed the kidnapping part, but –

“Who’s Clarissa?” she asked, her headache spiking, “And I don’t have any sisters.” They’d mistaken her for someone else. But then how did they know her name?

Jace stared incredulously at her before turning back to Mirai. “Mirai, what did you do?” he growled through gritted teeth.

“She hit her head,” Mirai said pleadingly, “I couldn’t leave her there by herself!”

Nerali tried to discreetly dig the heel of her hand into her cheekbone to relieve the pain, but Jace caught the movement. “And instead you brought her here?” he groaned, “Clarissa is going to be pissed.”

“She needs help,” Mirai said, eyes wide and glimmering – Nerali frowned, but Jace sighed in resignation.

“Take her to Irina,” he said, waving them along, “And get this fixed, Mirai, before Clarissa realizes her sister is missing.

~#~

“I don’t have a sister,” Nerali said as Mirai led her to a cot in one of the tree-cabins. Mirai patted her shoulder and turned to talk to a stern-faced woman holding several vials.

“She hit her head, Irina,” Mirai explained to the woman, who was examining Nerali’s eyes and then the back of her head. “She doesn’t remember me or her sister or where she is. She remembers her own name, though.”

“Hmm,” Irina said, pressing down on a sore part of her scalp and making Nerali yelp. “Did you notice any dizziness? Any confusion about other things?”

“No dizziness, at least not after she got up,” Mirai said, “She was confused about her sword.” She paused for a long moment before continuing, “There was bluebell nectar on it.”

Irina drew back sharply and eyed Nerali. “I don’t have a sword,” Nerali said meekly.

“Bluebell nectar,” Irina repeated, the words slow and measured. Nerali wasn’t quite sure how to categorize the look on her face, but she flinched back all the same. “And you brought her here?”

“Did you want me to dump an amnesiac elementalist on Clarissa’s doorstep?” Mirai retorted, heated, “This close to the peace talks?”

Her headache was not helped by the obscure references – she understood each word but not their meaning and they echoed in her head. “What’s an elementalist?” she asked, weary.

Irina looked at her. “Your wrist,” she said, which was cryptic of her and – how had Nerali not noticed the rainbow spiral?

“When did I get a tattoo?” Nerali asked, running a finger along the spiral to see if it would rub off.

Irina looked at Mirai. “How did she hit her head?”

“She fell,” Mirai said, “Nearly twenty feet.”

Nerali hissed because ouch and what the hell had she been doing twenty feet in the air?

“And how did she fall twenty feet?” Irina asked, her eyes narrowed.

“She slipped,” Mirai blinked. Irina’s gaze narrowed further. “It was an accident,” Mirai volunteered, which sounded more like the truth.

Nerali frowned, because she didn’t understand where she was but she could still recognize guilt. “Did you push me?”

Mirai twitched. “It was an accident,” she repeated.

“You pushed me off a tree and then kidnapped me! How is that an accident?”

“You had bluebell nectar on your sword,” Mirai said frostily.

“I’ve never seen that sword before, and I don’t even know what bluebell nectar is –”

“Poison,” Mirai said, her eyes cold, “Bluebell nectar is a poison with no cure and your sword was dripping with it. So yes, I pushed you off a tree to keep your poisoned sword from killing me.”

Nerali swallowed the rest of what she was going to say and dropped her gaze to her hands.

“Whatever else, I’m not comfortable letting her wander the forest with no memories,” Mirai said, turning back to Irina, “If you can fix it, let me know. Otherwise I’ll take her back to Clarissa and hope she doesn’t murder me.”

Nerali wanted to point out that she had plenty of memories, just none about her immediate situation, but she was missing a lot of time if she now had a tattoo and a sword. She sat still as Irina continued her examination – the older woman was perfectly professional, but definitely cold.

Nerali made a muted protest as Irina tried to thrust three vials into her hands – what was this stuff, it wasn’t even medicine, it was oddly-colored, foul-smelling, strangely-viscous fluid in unmarked vials – Nerali wasn’t going to drink anything so soon after that little tidbit about poison –

“Drink,” Irina said, her voice hard, “Or you will be made to drink.”

Irina didn’t have a sword. And Nerali still had hers – she might not remember how to use it, but she still had muscle memory, right?

She met Irina’s gaze head-on, balling her fingers into fists. “No,” she said, her heart pounding. Her voice didn’t shake.

Irina slowly raised an eyebrow. Nerali swallowed, and tried not to shiver. She didn’t know who these people were, and they certainly weren’t fans of her. Mirai had pushed her off a tree. She couldn’t trust them.

“The hard way it is, then,” Mirai said, slinking out of the shadows. Nerali scrambled back, but she hit the wall and the movement jostled her head – Nerali hissed as a spike of pain slammed through her skull, and she barely noticed as Mirai tipped her onto the cot.

Mirai was straddling her, her knees digging into Nerali’s elbows – heavy, in a way Nerali had not expected, and all the struggling was doing was causing pinpricks to explode across her vision, her head too tight, like it was being squeezed through a vice – and Nerali could smell something awful, just about make out Mirai’s face through her blurry vision as she brought the vial closer –

Nerali jerked hard, away from the vial, and the movement drove a shrieking white-hot spike through her skull. Everything became dull and too much at once, and she couldn’t do anything as Mirai’s fingers dug into her jaw and poured something into her mouth.

Nerali gagged on the foul taste, swallowing as the pain became blinding. The next one didn’t taste any worse, or any better.

The pain was easing, the hard spikes replaced with soft cotton, numbing her thoughts and cocooning her in a soft, warm blanket. Her vision was wavering, but she could see the soft curve of Mirai’s stomach, the tight lines of her short top, the outline of muscles along her arms as she tilted Nerali’s chin down and pressed the last of the three vials to her lips.

Nerali drank it and almost cried when the softness enveloped her entirely and the last vestiges of the pounding pain disappeared. It carried her off into the drifting darkness, leaving her confusion safely behind.

~#~

Mirai stilled as Nerali slumped, all the fight vanishing as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Was she supposed to do that?” Mirai asked, resisting the urge to shake Nerali until she woke up again.

Her heart had nearly stopped when Nerali had fallen, breathing impossible in those first few seconds when Nerali lay crumpled and unmoving, as Mirai’s head was full of panicked thoughts of ‘what did she just do?’.

And then Nerali had gotten up, and Mirai had sighed in relief, and then Nerali had proceeded to not remember who she was and Mirai nearly had a heart attack again.

It was Mirai’s fault that Nerali had a concussion, and her clan had better healers than the elementalists even if the curse stifled their magic, and it had been going great until Mirai was reminded of why she’d pushed Nerali off the tree branch in the first place.

Bluebell nectar. She hadn’t thought Clarissa’s innocent little sister had been quite so vicious, but that’s what Mirai got for chasing after a pretty face.

“I’m not sure,” Irina said, and Mirai resisted the urge to shake her. “She must’ve been in a considerable amount of pain for the potions to have a soporific effect.”

Mirai’s stomach twisted. Considerable amount of pain. And Mirai had forced her to walk back to her clan compound, and had yelled at her, and had pinned her down and shoved potions down her throat.

“I certainly hope there’s a good explanation for this,” Jace said dryly from the doorway and Mirai twisted to see his raised eyebrow and pointed gaze.

Mirai scrambled off of Nerali and hoped her face wasn’t as red as her brother’s smirking face implied.

“She definitely took a bad knock to the head,” Irina said, “She doesn’t seem to know she’s an elementalist. When did you say Clarissa found her? It might give me a general timeline to figure out how best to treat her memory loss.”

“A year ago was that shapeshifter wedding,” Jace mused, “And Nerali wasn’t there. But it’s definitely been some months. Maybe ten?”

“Had to be a while, if they were sending her out on patrols by herself,” Mira pointed out.

Jace hummed in agreement and turned fully towards her. “And speaking of patrols, Mirai,” he said, his voice level even as his eyes narrowed, “Any particular reason you went out on one right before the peace talks?”

Yes, and it was that Mirai was losing her mind being cooped up in the compound, but she didn’t think Jace would particularly appreciate the excuse. She had thankfully come up with a better one before she’d run into Nerali. “People are nervous and on-edge. All it’ll take is one small incident and everyone will blow up. I went out to make sure everything stayed calm,” Mirai said, blinking her eyes wide in the way she knew Jace was helpless against.

Jace didn’t look impressed. “One small incident…like, say, an elementalist with memory loss?” Mirai winced. He sighed and turned to Irina, “Can we even fix this?”

“There are a couple of things I can try,” Irina said, but the slant of her mouth was doubtful, “I can definitely heal the concussion. But our potions keep growing weaker. Nerali aside, Jace, I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

Jace’s expression tightened, like it always did at the reminder of the curse on their clan. “We’ll find a solution,” he said, like he always did. Mirai had once believed him, but the words now rang hollow with empty hope.

~#~

When Nerali woke up, the headache was gone. The healer – Irina – had probed around her scalp for another few minutes, and had asked her a bunch of questions, some of which Nerali could answer – how many fingers am I holding, what color is this, repeat these words, count backwards – and others that Nerali could not – what season is it, how old are you, names of your family members – well the last she did answer, but Irina didn’t seem to find it satisfactory.

She rattled off a bunch of names and checked with Nerali for familiarity, but they were all new to Nerali.

Irina had pursed her lips and rummaged through a cupboard before she found another potion and handed it to Nerali.

Nerali took it, because the thought of refusing led to the memory of Mirai straddling her, her bare stomach far too close to Nerali’s face, that tight shirt, those thighs –

Nerali swallowed the potion and nearly choked on it. Irina gave her a sharp look as she began coughing, but moved away once Nerali gave her a strained smile.

“I will need to craft the next potion – it may take a couple of days,” she said, and motioned to the door, “I’m sure someone will come to collect you and take you to your temporary quarters.”

Nerali took the unsubtle hint and got out.

Judging by the light, it was late afternoon and the breeze ruffled at Nerali’s hair as she stood on the walkway. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to wander around by herself so she stayed where she was, watching the leaves rustle and the low murmur of conversation drifting from the higher tree-cabins and –

The itch was back.

Nerali’s gaze swung back to the boulder. It was rubbing her the wrong way, like a thread out of place. It wasn’t supposed to be here but it was and it was messing up everything – she could almost sense the way it coiled around the healthy flow and choked it – but it didn’t want it, it wasn’t to blame, it was chained and angry but mainly so, so sad –

“Nerali!” Mirai’s sharp voice broke through Nerali’s concentration and she paused, hand outstretched, centimeters away from rough stone. How odd. Hadn’t she been up on the walkway?

“What are you doing?” Mirai said, and her voice was sharp and angry but her eyes were terrified. She grabbed Nerali’s hand and tugged it back down.

“I was just…” What was she doing? “It was calling to me,” Nerali said finally, aware that it sounded like the stupidest thing she’d ever said.

But Mirai didn’t look at her in confusion or laugh. She gave the boulder a frightened glance and pulled Nerali away.

“Don’t go near it again,” she warned. Nerali stayed silent.

~#~

Mirai checked in with Jace after she’d shown Nerali to her room and had found him glaring at several wadded up pieces of paper.

“Having trouble?” she asked, rounding his desk to read what he was writing over his shoulder.

‘Dear Clarissa’ it started and Mirai stilled.

“Trying to figure out how to get us out of the mess you dragged us into,” Jace said, sighing as she leaned on him.

“Did you want me to leave her there?” Mirai asked.

“I didn’t want you to kidnap her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” Mirai said, and ignored him choking out ‘next time?’ in favor of nudging the several failed drafts. “Why is this so difficult?”

“Because I’m having a hard time coming up with a diplomatic way to say ‘my sister pushed your sister off a tree and then kidnapped her and oh, yes, she has amnesia now’,” Jace grumbled.

“Well, you should probably clarify which one of us has amnesia,” Mirai said, and ducked when Jace swatted at her face.

Mirai crept back as Jace sighed and picked up his pen to scrawl another line on the letter.

‘There was an altercation today between our clans. In the course of it, Nerali hit her head. She is currently receiving treatment at my compound.’

“I spoke to Irina,” Jace said, his voice heavy, “She said that Nerali’s concussion should be healed.”

Mirai hummed in agreement.

“She said…if her memories don’t return soon, it’s possible they never will.” Mirai stiffened. Jace sighed, “There are spells and potions – but they’re not strong enough. Not anymore.”

“You’ll find a solution,” Mirai said softly, wrapping her arms around her brother’s shoulders, “And once you do, we’ll get Nerali’s memories back.”

Jace leaned back and rested his head against her chest. He didn’t contradict her. But he didn’t agree with her either.

~#~

It was late. It was far, far too late to be awake. In fact, Mirai didn’t even know why she was awake, but she had opened her eyes to the sudden alertness of danger.

Was someone attacking them? This close to the peace talks?

Mirai stayed still and listened. There was a soft, stuttering footfall against wood – too quiet to not be someone up to no good.

Mirai silently rose from her sleeping pallet, pausing to grab her sword sheath before she stole out of her room. It was a new moon night and it took some time for her eyes to adjust enough for the starlight to make a difference. There was a figure at the end of the ground ramp and Mirai quietly stalked after them.

Strangely, the figure wasn’t going up to the rooms, nor out to the wall and the guards. Instead, they headed towards the center, towards the boulder –

Mirai threw caution to the wind and ran forward, grabbing Nerali before she could touch the boulder.

“What are you doing?” Mirai hissed, her grip tight on Nerali’s arms.

“Mirai,” Nerali said, her soft smile visible in the starlight, “You’re very pretty in dreams.”

Mirai firmly told her mind to put a pin in that, because she had other priorities.

“This is not a dream,” she said fiercely, tightening her grip as Nerali swayed back towards the boulder.

“Of course it is,” Nerali murmured, blinking at her, “It’s soft and fuzzy and –”

Mirai slapped her, hard.

“Ow,” Nerali wrenched herself from Mirai’s grasp and scowled at her, one hand rubbing her cheek. “What the hell was that for?”

“You thought this was a dream,” Mirai said, her heart still caught in her throat. Her mind was stuck on that open, trusting smile. “It’s not a dream.”

“Got that loud and clear,” Nerali grumbled. Her cheek had turned bright red. “Couldn’t find a more violent way to make your point?”

“You need to stop coming here,” Mirai said. She was jittery and her breathing was too fast. “It’s not safe.”

“It’s a rock,” Nerali said, turning around to look at it. Mirai stumbled between her and the boulder.

“It’s not safe,” she repeated.

“It is,” Nerali scowled, “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine,” Mirai said, grabbing Nerali’s shoulders and pushing here away from the boulder, “It’s a curse. You need to stop going near it.”

Nerali didn’t argue, but her expression became thoughtful. She let Mirai pull her back to her room, but she darted frequent glances at the boulder.

She went inside her room willingly. Mirai reminded herself that there were no windows in the guest quarters, and took up a guard position outside the door.

~#~

A curse. So that was what it was. It made sense – curse was the name to those chains. The chains that had to be removed, because they were digging in tightly and it was so sad, so hurt, so alone.

She was aware that Mirai was right outside the door. She could hear her breathing. So she had to wait.

It was difficult. So, so difficult to lie awake in the darkness and feel it itching against her, rubbing her the wrong way like a grain of sand in wet clothes, chafing and chafing until she burned with the urge to –

In the darkness, her fingertips lit up with fire.

Nerali didn’t scream. She closed her hand into a fist, and they snuffed out.

Nerali took a deep, ragged breath, and still didn’t scream. She held onto it, onto surprise and fear and warmth and let it out with a breath.

She was warmth but it was cold and it was leeching at her. She had to help.

She pretended she’d slept through the night, grumbled something about sleepwalking and slaps, glared at Mirai all throughout breakfast, and waited and waited and waited until Mirai left to go talk to her brother.

There were several other clan members finishing breakfast, and none gave her a second glance as she got up from the table. A couple shot her glances as she left the area, but she felt their pressure ease after she passed the ramp and continued forward.

The boulder was there, the center of the wrongness that infected the whole place. It was like it was a weight, crushing the air around them until everything was flat and dull. She stepped up to it, felt the aching misery and pain and anger, and gently placed her hands on cold, smooth stone.

‘Who lays claim to the sacred stone?’ a voice echoed in her mind. The world was suddenly alive again – the stone was warm under her fingers and she could feel the sun’s heat on her back. Water was gurgling somewhere close by. Her feet felt rooted in the ground, strong and steady, and she could feel the air filling her lungs.

‘My name is Nerali,’ she answered in kind.

‘What is your purpose, Nerali of the rainbow clan?’

Nerali took a deep breath and let it out. ‘I want to help.’

The presence uncoiled, suddenly interested. ‘Do you?’ it hummed, pressing down on her. Nerali could feel her fingers seal against stone. ‘I have been forsaken.’

‘I can help you,’ Nerali pressed, ‘Let me help you.’

‘I can only be helped by the willing,’ the spirit said.

‘I am willing,’ Nerali promised.

Something warm and heavy pressed against her back and arms twined around her own, fingers lacing between hers. ‘No,’ Mirai snarled inside her head, ‘She’s not.’

‘What are you doing?’ Nerali thought, bewildered, but was cut off by Mirai’s rage.

‘I told you it was a curse, I told you to stay away, and you ran here the second I looked the other way!’

‘You call me a curse, spring child,’ the spirit said, settling around them both, ‘When it is your fault I’m here.’

‘I did nothing to you,’ Mirai snapped, ‘And you’ve poisoned our clan.’

‘You brought it upon yourselves. You failed to honor me. You defiled me. And so you reap your sorrow.’

‘I didn’t do jack shit to you –’

‘It’s hurting you,’ Nerali pressed, ‘It’s hurting them. Please let me help.’

‘I will not. I cannot. I will only relent once I have taken my due.’

‘What due?’ Nerali and Mirai thought in unison.

‘My due in earth, water, fire and air. The due that has been owed for all these years. The due that can only be settled by one willing to pay it.’

Nerali’s heart ached – it was in so much pain, twisted in upon itself, power leashed inside instead of out, hurt and alone and –

‘I’m willing,’ Mirai said, determined.

‘Are you certain, spring child?’ the spirit murmured, ‘None of you has ever tried to take the dues before. Are you willing to make up for your mistakes?’

‘None of us has ever had an elementalist before,’ Mirai snapped, ‘I’m certain. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to lift this curse off my people.’

Nerali felt pain and sadness and, rising above them all, rage. She had the faint thought she may have made a mistake.

‘Very well,’ the spirit said. ‘First, my due of earth.’

Nerali opened her eyes and watched earth crawl over her fingers and onto Mirai’s, creeping up, inch by inch – Mirai snarled as the stone forced her arms down, pushing Nerali flat against the stone as Mirai pressed into her back.

Nerali had the abrupt, horrible thought that the stone was never going to stop.

‘I’m willing,’ she mentally shouted at the spirit, and the stone stilled.

‘What –’

‘I’m willing to break the curse. It’s my due too.’

‘Nerali, no –’

‘Very well, rainbow child.’ The stone surged around Nerali’s arms, trapping them both to the stone, hands and forearms pressed together.

And then it constricted.

Nerali felt the breath explode out of her and Mirai stiffened against her back. “Oh, spirits,” Mirai breathed out loud as Nerali tried to blink back tears – that had hurt, this was going to hurt, she had never once broken a bone in her life and now she’d shattered them all from fingertip to elbow.

‘Next, my due of water.’ Water surged from the stone and Nerali stared at it, still half in shock, watching it climb over her hands and Mirai’s and –

Water turned to ice so fast Nerali barely registered it. She definitely registered it when the spikes began moving, slicing through muscles and scraping against shattered bone. Nerali choked out a panicked sob and pressed her face against the stone, this wasn’t real, this couldn’t be happening –

‘Next, my due of fire.’

“Oh, fuck,” Mirai hissed and Nerali squeezed her eyes shut. There was cold stone pressing against her face and Mirai’s warmth around her back, soothing and comforting and she just had to focus on that, she just had to focus on Mirai’s heartbeat underneath her shoulder blade and –

Her arms were on fire. Her arms. Were. On fire.

Nerali didn’t even realize she was screaming until she choked on the lack of air. Mirai was as silent as the grave, but Nerali could feel her shuddering.

‘Last, my due of air.’

Her arms felt like they were being ripped apart – bone, muscle, blood and skin. Nerali didn’t have the breath to scream so she focused on Mirai’s heartbeat and told herself that it would be over soon. It would be over soon. It would be over –

‘I am surprised. Rainbow and spring, working together. No one has accepted my dues before.’

Nerali started sobbing. She just wanted it to be over. Please, please let it be over –

‘Is it done?’ Mirai, half-choking on a scream.

‘I have taken my due of earth, of water, of fire and of air,’ it said, ‘The curse is broken, rainbow and spring.’

There was a loud cracking sound and Nerali unpeeled her face from the stone right before it crumbled to pieces. The movement unstuck her fingers and she fell back in surprise – Mirai groaned as they sprawled on the ground.

“What the hell did you do?” Jace almost screamed, and Nerali flinched. She turned to roll off of Mirai, but she automatically brought her hands out to support her and she was screaming as soon as she moved them, bone scraping against burns and blood leaking out.

Someone helped her to the side, careful to curl their hands around her shoulders, staying far away from her arms as they lay limp in her lap. She could barely see her arms through her tears but they looked ruined, mangled wrecks of blood and blisters and –

“The curse?” Mirai asked weakly, “Did we – did it break?”

The itch was gone. Nerali’s arms were ruined and she still couldn’t stop sobbing but that awful, insistent itch was wrong. Something still tugged at her, but quieter, more peaceful, and Nerali twisted to see the ruins of the boulder.

There – the water she’d heard, burbling out of the ground.

“The spring,” Jace breathed out, “I thought it was lost forever.”

“The spring,” Mirai said, her voice faint, “Will that help Nerali remember?”

“Uh…probably,” Jace said, darting a glance at her. Nerali could barely see him, she was focused on sucking in faster and faster breaths.

“Good,” Mirai said, her voice dropping – or was it Nerali’s hearing? “I want her to remember everything when I yell at her for wandering straight into a dangerous situation after she’d been warned to stay away.”

“I feel like I retain all yelling rights here,” Jace said, his voice coming from far away, “Both to amnesiac guests and idiot little sisters.”

Nerali didn’t hear Mirai’s reply. She was too busy drifting.

~#~

Nerali opened her eyes to an unfamiliar thatched roof and a whole lot of pain. Her arms seemed to be on fire, but she could’ve sworn she hadn’t messed up training that badly –

The patrol. Mirai. Falling. The curse.

Nerali whimpered.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a familiar voice chirped from her right. Nerali turned her head and was met with Mirai’s unamused expression.

Nerali groaned and turned away.

“Shall I assume you remember everything?” Mirai asked, still sounding way too perky for someone who had half their arm pulverized, flayed, and burned.

“Please shut up,” Nerali entreated the ceiling.

“Oh, no,” Mirai said, “Composing this lecture is the only thing distracting me from the fiery pain eating my arms and I’ve made sure I covered all the points, starting from –”

“I didn’t know,” Nerali cut her off. It was suddenly difficult to swallow, because she hadn’t known – it was a simple mistake, but it could have so easily become a fatal one.

“I’m aware of that, but being amnesiac doesn’t give you a free pass on not listening when someone gives you a direct warning –”

“No,” Nerali interrupted, “No, not that. The bluebell nectar.” No one had told her bluebells were poisonous. No one had – no one –

She remembered swinging her sword at Mirai, remembered the flirtatious smile dying and panicked fear as Mirai contorted herself to avoid Nerali’s sword.

“I didn’t know it was poisonous. I swear. I’m so, so sorry, Mirai, I didn’t know.” She swallowed, choking back further pleas because Mirai could accept it or she could throw Nerali’s apology aside because what did sorry even mean? What would it have meant if Nerali had managed to cut her?

Had managed to kill her?

“Well,” Mirai said after a pause, “I’m glad you weren’t trying to poison me. I’m still very pissed over you trying to give me a heart attack –”

~#~

Reluctant Bedrest.

#whumpfic #wergild #amnesia #enemy to caretaker #burns #broken bones #blood #magical curse #pinned down #request fill #medical accuracy what medical accuracy #guilt

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rhosyn-du · 4 years

Text

Title: A Wonderful Institution Artist: @bidnezz Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, various background pairings Word Count: ~53k Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, discrimination against Downworlders, reference to rape, Clave-typical homophobia, implied character death, minor character death Summary: Magnus doesn’t have time for this bullshit. Warlocks are disappearing in New York City—five people in less than three months—and Magnus is determined to find them and protect the rest of his people from whatever took them. He doesn’t have time for politics, and he certainly doesn’t have time for whatever nonsense the Clave is proposing about marrying a Shadowhunter to a Downworlder as part of the new Accords. He doesn’t really have time for a pretty Shadowhunter who’s surprisingly kind to warlock children, either, but, well, he’s always been good at multitasking.

Alec always knew he couldn’t have what he wanted, but he’s spent the nearly four years since the newly-appointed Consul recalled his parents to Idris without explanation making the best of what he can have. When life suddenly offers up almost everything Alec actually wants on a silver platter, he can’t quite bring himself to trust it, especially when it comes with a million caveats and a side of impending disaster. But he knows how to handle disasters, even if the return of the Circle on top of Clave secrets that could destroy the Accords is way beyond the disasters he’s used to fielding. Hope, on the other hand? He doesn’t know what to do with that.

This fic was created for the @malecdiscordserver Mini Bang 2020.

Chapter Six

“Knock knock, big brother,” Izzy said, opening the door to Alec’s office.

Since their parents’ departure hours earlier, Alec had hidden himself in his office, citing the need to fill out all the paperwork required to officially install him as Head of the Institute and to plan a wedding that was apparently happening in less than a week. In reality, he’d gotten almost no paperwork done, as lost in thought as he was, and he’d only considered and then immediately abandoned the idea of texting Magnus about the wedding planning at least a dozen times.

“Come in,” Alec said, sounding just as exhausted as he felt.

“I didn’t realize paperwork could be quite so taxing,” Izzy said, entering the office and shutting the door behind her. “I thought you’d be happy to finally have some recognition that you’ve been running this place for years. Or is this just what wedding planning does to you?”

“I wish that’s all it was.” It wasn’t a decision he needed to think about, not really. There were two people in the Institute he knew without question weren’t working for Valentine, and Jace was too caught up in his new obsession with the redheaded mundane for Alec to trust his judgment at the moment.

“That sounds ominous,” Izzy said, perching on the edge of his desk. “What’s up?”

“Valentine Morgenstern is alive and searching for the Mortal Cup in New York. The Consul believes the Circle may have already infiltrated the Institute.” He considered telling her the rest, about Consul Dieudonné and about their parents, but he was still too angry to talk about it. “We need to keep that last part quiet, because I don’t know who we can trust, but we have to find the Mortal Cup before the Circle does.”

“Then we’d better get to work,” Izzy said. “Do you think this could have anything to do with the Circle members who came after Clary Fray?”

Alec wanted to say no, because the last thing he needed was for Jace to think he’d done the right thing in bringing the girl to the Institute without even consulting Alec first. “I don’t know,” he said instead. “It would be a pretty big coincidence if they’re unrelated, though.”

“Then we should talk to Clary,” Izzy said. “She just woke up. That’s what I was coming to tell you. Jace is with her.”

“What has she said?” Alec demanded. “If she is involved, it’s possible she’s a spy for Valentine.”

“That would be a really complicated way to send a spy,” Izzy pointed out. “And I doubt she learned much while she was unconscious.”

“She still showed up out of nowhere right when we got word the Circle is in New York,” Alec said. “And she was supposedly raised as a mundane, but she can bear runes and use seraph blades? That’s all kinds of suspicious. There’s no such thing as new Shadowhunters.”

“Maybe there is now,” Izzy said with a shrug.

“All right, let’s find out what this not-a-mundane has to say for herself.”

They found Jace and Clary Fray along with yet another mundane in the ops center.

“Why is there another mundane in my Institute?” Alec demanded.

“Please excuse my brother’s lack of manners,” Izzy said, stepping forward. “This is Alec.” She held out her hand to the new mundane. “And I’m Isabelle.”

“Lewis,” the mundane said, looking more than a little dazed. “Simon, Simon Lewis. Two first names. Am I still talking?”

“Unfortunately for all of us, yes,” Alec said. He looked at Jace. “What’s going on here?”

“There was a Circle member outside looking for Clary,” Jace explained, “and the mundane saw. He’s her friend, or whatever.”

“Of course there was,” Alec muttered. If the girl was a Circle spy, this was a good way for Valentine to give her cover, pretending the Circle was after her. If she wasn’t, though, that meant the Circle really did want her, and if the Circle wanted her, then Alec was going to do everything in his power to keep them from getting her. And then there was the matter of what his parents said about Circle members looking in New York for someone who knew the location of the Mortal Cup.

“I need to find my mother,” Clary said. “Jace said you guys could help me.”

“If the Circle really is hunting you,” Alec said, “then our first priority is keeping you out of their hands. Do you know why they’re after you?”

“The thing at our apartment, the demon, it said something about a cup?” Clary answered. “But I don’t know anything about any cup.”

Dammit, dammit, dammit. But this put them one step ahead of Valentine, at least, because they had Clary, and that meant the Circle didn’t. Assuming she was telling the truth.

“And what is this Circle you all keep talking about?” Clary continued. “Why would they want to take my mom?”

“A group of rogue Shadowhunters,” Jace explained. “Almost twenty years ago, a man named Valentine Morgenstern led the Circle in an Uprising to stop the signing of the Accords between the Clave and the Downworld.”

“The Circle didn’t just want to stop the Accords,” Alec added. “They wanted to wipe out the entire Downworld.”

“That’s horrible,” Clary said, “but I still don’t understand what that has to do with me or my mom.”

“The Circle is looking for the Mortal Cup,” Alec said. “And if what that demon said is anything to go by, it sounds like they think you know where it is.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Clary said. “I don’t even know what a Mortal Cup is, let alone where to find it. Why would the Circle think I do?”

“That’s what we have to figure out,” Izzy said, putting a hand on Clary’s shoulder. “But if the Circle wants you and your mom, then we’re going to keep you safe and get her back.”

“I had a dream about my mother,” Clary said, as if suddenly remembering. “But I don’t know if it was an actual dream, or… I have dreams sometimes that I think might actually be memories. I’ve had a bunch recently, some of them with a man who my mother tells to take my memories. And this was like that, but different. I think… I know this sounds crazy, but I think maybe I was seeing my mom as she is now. She was asleep, and there was a man I didn’t recognize. And Dot was there, but she was in chains, and I think she and my mom are in serious trouble. You have to help me find them.”

“A man taking your memories could have been a warlock,” Jace suggested. “They have spells that can take a person’s memories. That might be somewhere to start.”

“For that, we’d have to find the warlock who took her memories,” Alec pointed out. “And if the Circle is looking for her, it could be dangerous to go looking. Especially if the Circle is somehow involved in the recent warlock disappearances.”

“Maybe another warlock could at least tell if it was a warlock who took Clary’s memories,” Izzy said, looking at Alec. “You could ask Magnus.”

“I’m not going to just start asking Magnus for favors,” Alec said. “That would set a bad precedent.”

“Wait, Magnus?” Clary said. “In my dream, my mom called the man who took my memories Magnus.”

Izzy gave Alec a long look, as if to say I told you so.

“Fine,” Alec said. “I’ll talk to Magnus and see if he’s willing to help. But not at,” he checked the time on the nearest screen, “four-thirty in the morning.”

“But who is Magnus?” Clary wanted to know.

“Magnus Bane is the High Warlock of Brooklyn,” Alec said, at the same time Izzy said, “Alec’s fiancé.”

Alec shot his sister a fierce glare.

“Oh,” Clary said, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Um, congratulations?” she offered Alec.

“I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep,” Alec said, ignoring her. “You two, keep the redhead out of trouble and inside the Institute.” He looked at the other mundane. “And do something about that one, while you’re at it.”

Magnus had been surprised but not displeased by the text that he’d gotten a few hours earlier— I need to see you, are you busy? He had, of course, been busy, as he always was these days, but he was able to finish up what he was doing sooner than he’d anticipated, giving him nearly two hours to wait back at the loft to wonder what Alexander wanted.

It was probably about the drastically shortened timeline for the wedding. Magnus hadn’t been pleased at all when he’d received a fire message about that at some ungodly hour of the morning. And what a way to be woken up. He both hoped and feared that with the wedding suddenly impending, Alexander was having second thoughts. It would, of course, cause a bit of a scandal, and might delay the signing of the Accords if one of them were to pull out now, but Magnus was fairly confident that he could smooth things over with the Clave.

He hated that a part of him was disappointed by the prospect.

Magnus was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when a knock came at the door. He took a moment to straighten his waistcoat before opening the door wide.

“Alexander!” he greeted with a wide smile. Then he took in fact that Alec was very much not alone, and his smile faded into a confused frown. “And friends. This is a surprise.” He stepped back into the loft, gesturing the group inside.

A short, redheaded girl stopped in front of him and glared up into his face. “So you’re the one who stole my memories.”

“Who—” Magnus started, and then recognition hit him. She was older than last time he’d seen her, but there was no mistaking that face, especially not with her chin raised in defiance in a posture so like her mother’s it was uncanny. “Clary Fairchild,” he said. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“Clary Fray,” Clary corrected, and Magnus simply nodded. Jocelyn’s secrets weren’t his to tell.

“Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression when I texted,” Alec said. “We’re here about Clary’s memories. We have reason to believe she might know where the Mortal Cup is, and the Circle is hunting both Clary and the Cup.”

“I had heard something to that effect,” Magnus said. “I hadn’t realized you were involved, Alexander.”

“Can you two catch up later?” Clary asked. “I need my memories back so I can find my mother.” She turned to Magnus. “What will it take for you to give them back to me?”

“I wish I could retrieve your memories,” Magnus said carefully, “but I no longer have them.”

“What?” Clary demanded. “Where are they?”

“I fed them to a memory demon for safekeeping,” Magnus explained.

“And why the hell would you do that?” Jace demanded angrily.

“To protect Clary and the Cup,” Magnus said with forced patience. “If the Circle ever captured me, they could torture Clary’s memories out of me.”

“And if you give them back to her, they can torture them out of her,” Alec said. “It wasn’t a bad plan, but now we need to know where the Cup is so we can keep it safe. So, is there a way to get the memories back?”

“We could summon the demon I fed them to,” Magnus said, “but it would be dangerous. Summoning such a powerful demon could be lethal.”

“I’ll do anything to save my mother,” Clary broke in. “Where is the demon?”

Magnus regarded her for a long moment. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea, and he in no way liked the idea of handing the Mortal Cup back to the Clave, but if there was any Shadowhunter he was willing to trust with it, it was Alec, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to deny Clary’s desperate request. He knew what it was like to lose a mother, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“Get your team ready,” he told Alec, then turned to Clary. “Come with me.”

They could use the guest room for the summoning. His office might be better equipped, but Magnus had already started to clear out the guest room in case Alec really did move in, so the space was relatively empty, while his office was most decidedly not.

“A lot of people want the Mortal Cup,” Magnus said as he led Clary into the guest room. Once he was sure the Shadowhunters weren’t paying attention to the conversation, he added, “Don’t trust anyone, especially not the Clave.”

Clary looked at him in surprise. “Don’t trust the Clave? I thought you and Alec were—”

“Alexander is not the Clave,” Magnus interrupted her, and he wondered when exactly he’d come to that conclusion. “But just because I trust him doesn’t mean that you should.”

Clary considered that. “Then why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” he told her. “Only trust yourself.”

“I don’t understand you,” she said, shaking her head. “You tell me not to trust anyone but myself, but you admit to trusting Alec. If it’s so dangerous for me to trust anyone, wouldn’t the same be true of you? You helped my mother hide the Mortal Cup by taking my memories.”

“Who I do and don’t trust isn’t your concern,” Magnus told her. He picked up the set of chalks he used for drawing sigils and handed it to her. “Let’s get to work.”

Summoning the demon that had Clary’s memories proved both easier and more difficult than Alec expected. Easier, because the danger Magnus had warned of never materialized. More difficult because each of them had to give up a memory of the person they loved most, and the feeling of having given up something that precious but not being able to remember what he’d given up was distinctly unpleasant. Not to mention that the entire process left Clary delirious and barely conscious.

Alec watched Jace hover over Clary on the couch, reflecting on how much more difficult this would have been a year or two earlier. Before he’d taken over the day-to-day operations of running the Institute, before he and Izzy had really grasped that their parents weren’t coming back from Idris, at least not in any kind of permanent sense, he’d thought he was in love with Jace. It had been easy to believe. Jace had been—still was—beautiful and intense and a highly competent Shadowhunter. It was easy to mistake an adolescent crush for love, especially with how close the two of them became as they trained to become parabatai. But then Alec’s parents had gone away, and suddenly he found himself with the responsibility of running an Institute, and effectively acting as a parent figure to Izzy, and he was able to start seeing his infatuation for what it was.

His younger self would have no doubt been jealous of the attention Jace paid to Clary. Now, at least, he only had to worry about his parabatai’s obvious feelings for a girl who was at best someone being hunted by the Circle. He didn’t want to think about what it would do to Jace if Clary turned out to be a Circle spy.

He felt Magnus step up beside him. “You should sit down while Clary recovers from having all those memories dumped back in her mind,” Magnus said. “A summoning like that can take a lot out of you.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking your own advice?” Alec asked, turning to look at him. Magnus somehow didn’t look nearly as drained as the rest of them. It was possible he really was less tired, but Alec suspected it was just his uncanny and deeply unfair ability to look good in any situation.

“I do this kind of thing all the time,” Magnus said with a shrug. “The rest of you aren’t used to it.”

“I’ll sit down if you do,” Alec offered.

“Fine,” Magnus said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “If you insist.”

They made their way over to two empty armchairs in the living room, seated close to one another. Izzy was already seated in one of the other chairs, closer to the couch.

“This gives us the opportunity to talk about the wedding, anyway,” Magnus said as they sat down.

“Do we have to?” Alec asked with a pained face. “I think I’m suddenly feeling that exhaustion you were talking about a minute ago.”

“Alec spent half of last night looking over the Clave’s proposals for the wedding,” Izzy chimed in. It wasn’t exactly true, but he had looked them over briefly, and it felt like he’d done it for hours. “You should have seen his face.”

“Always a lovely sight,” Magnus said, and Alec was too tired to fight the flush in his cheeks.

“What did you want to talk about?” Alec asked, hoping to change the subject from his looks. If it meant talking about the wedding, so be it.

“Mostly that it’s happening so soon,” Magnus said. “When you contacted me earlier, I assumed that’s what you wanted to see me about.”

“I would have contacted you about that,” Alec said, “but I got a little distracted by Clary Fray.”

“Fairchild,” Magnus corrected. “She’ll remember this now, I’m sure, but her name is Clary Fairchild. Her mother is Jocelyn Fairchild.”

“Fairchild is a Shadowhunter name,” Izzy said, and she shot Alec a smug glance.

“Indeed, it is,” Magnus agreed. “Jocelyn was a Shadowhunter. Is a Shadowhunter. She was unfortunate enough to at one time be married to Valentine Morgenstern, and when things got bad during the Uprising, she left him and went into hiding. Even after the Circle was vanquished, she stayed hidden. I don’t think she was ever as confident in Valentine’s death as the Clave was.”

“Even if she thought he was probably dead, she might have been afraid at even a chance he wasn’t,” Izzy said. “If Jocelyn knows where the Mortal Cup is, that could be why she never came out of hiding.”

“Or perhaps she merely wanted to protect her daughter,” Magnus said. “I’m not sure having me take Clary’s memories was the best way to do that, but Jocelyn did seem very concerned for the girl’s safety when she brought her to me.”

“We’d better hope Jocelyn doesn’t know where the Cup is,” Alec said, “because from what Clary saw in her vision, it sounds an awful lot like the Circle has her.”

Magnus frowned. “Clary’s vision? What vision?”

Alec and Izzy gave him a quick rundown of what Clary had told them back at the Institute about her dream that didn’t seem like a dream.

“And she saw Dorothea with them as well?” he asked. “This is bad. Dot stayed with Jocelyn and Clary to protect them. If she’s been taken, as well, then we really are all that’s left to protect Clary from the Circle.”

“Clary did say Jocelyn was sleeping in her vision, though,” Izzy reminded him. “And it seemed like the man was trying to wake her up. Maybe she did something to herself, to keep the Circle from being able to force her to reveal the location of the Cup.”

“Perhaps,” Magnus said. “If so, let’s hope it was nothing permanent. I’d hate to think Clary has gone through all of this to find her mother only for her mother to be unreachable when we finally do find her.”

“I don’t realize this would hurt so much.” Clary’s voice, soft and trembling from where she lay on the couch, was more unsure than Alec had ever heard it. “There’s so much here, and it’s so hard to sort through it all.”

“Take it easy, Biscuit,” Magnus told her, rising to join Jace by the couch. “Don’t push yourself. It’s good that you’re as lucid as you are so quickly. The rest will come in time.”

“I can't—” Clary shook her head. “I can’t remember anything about the Mortal Cup. I’m trying to remember, anything at all my mom said about a cup, but I’m coming up blank.”

“Take your time,” Jace told her.

“I don’t have time!” Clary snapped. “I have to find my mother before something terrible happens to her!”

Jace made a placating gesture, but Alec spoke before he could say anything.

“What about Valentine or the Circle? Do you have any memories of your mother mentioning them?”

“I think,” Clary said slowly. “I think she did mention Valentine. More than once. Never when she knew I could hear, but I remember her talking to Dot. Not enough that I could understand. I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t realize it was important. But there was another time when she was talking to Luke, and she thought I was asleep and—” She stopped, suddenly pale. “Oh no. No no no.”

“Clary what is it?” Jace asked, resting a hand on her arm.

“It’s all right, Biscuit,” Magnus soothed. “Tell us what you remember.”

“It’s Valentine,” she whispered, looking up at Jace as though he could fix whatever horror she’d discovered in her own memories. “He’s my father.”

Clary looked absolutely crushed, but Magnus nodded like he wasn’t surprised by this information. Which, maybe he wasn’t, Alec reflected. If he’d known this whole time Jocelyn had been married to Valentine, maybe he’d already suspected Clary was Valentine’s daughter.

Alec’s mind was racing. Clary being Valentine’s daughter should have made it more likely she was a Circle spy, but Magnus corroborated her story of lost memories, and Alec didn’t believe for a second that Magnus was working with Valentine. Which meant that the Circle really was hunting Clary, even though it turned out she didn’t know anything about the Mortal Cup. But maybe that didn’t matter to Valentine. Maybe he wanted his daughter as much as he wanted the Cup.

“There’s something else,” Clary said. “Another time I remember Mom talking to Dot about Valentine. Dot said she couldn’t make the potion Mom wanted, that it wasn’t her area of expertise, and Mom said she needed it in case Valentine found us.”

“Jocelyn never asked me for any potion,” Magnus said, frowning.

“Dot said she knew someone who could help, and she mentioned a name.” Clary’s brow creased as she fought to remember. “Ragnor Fell.”

“Ragnor Fell?” Magnus asked, looking affronted. “He’ll ignore my invitations for over a decade, but he’ll do jobs for a Shadowhunter? I see how it is.”

“I don’t really think that’s the most important thing here,” Jace commented.

Magnus threw him a withering look. “Which just goes to show how little you know. But I’ll contact Ragnor and see if he made a potion for Jocelyn. If it was some kind of protection against Valentine or the Circle, it might give us some clue to finding her or the Mortal Cup.”

“Or if we’re lucky, both,” Izzy added.

“We can’t count on luck,” Alec said. “Now that we know who Clary’s mother is, we might be able to find something useful in the Clave’s files.” Or maybe his parents would know something about Jocelyn that could help find her. He wasn’t ready to talk to them again, but if they’d been in the Circle, surely they’d have known Valentine’s wife.

“And Clary will be safer back at the Institute,” Jace said, earning himself a dirty look from Magnus.

Privately, Alec agreed, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“Thank you for your help,” he told Magnus instead. “We wouldn’t have Clary’s memories without you.”

“I’d do a great deal more if it meant keeping the Mortal Cup out of the Circle’s hands,” Magnus said.

“If you’re not too tired from the summoning, would you make us a portal back to the Institute?” Alec asked. “Under the circumstances, it’s the safest way to get Clary there.”

“Alexander,” Magnus said, “a little summoning of a greater demon isn’t enough to keep me from creating a portal.”

“We appreciate it,” Alec said. “And if you send your bill directly to me, I’ll see that it gets paid. I’d rather keep this quiet for now.”

“Of course,” Magus said, as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world that Alec was keeping secrets from other Shadowhunters at his own Institute. “And I’ll contact you as soon as I’ve had a chance to talk to Ragnor.” He paused, eyes flickering away for just a moment in what Alec almost thought might be nervousness. “And maybe we can discuss the wedding then?”

“Yeah,” Alec agreed. “If we don’t talk about it, then the whole thing is just going to be what the Council wants, and I doubt either of us wants them writing our wedding vows.”

Magnus made an exaggerated wince, but he seemed more relaxed. “I shudder to imagine what they might include.”

After portaling back to the Institute, Alec helped Jace get Clary set up in one of the empty rooms. If she was going to be staying at the Institute for a while, it only made sense that she have her own room. Jace offered to stay with her while she continued recovering from having her memories returned, and Alec couldn’t think of any reason to tell him not to that wouldn’t start a fight, so he agreed.

When he returned to his office, Alec was unsurprised to find Izzy leaning against his desk. He closed the door behind him.

“Are you convinced yet that she’s not a spy?” she asked, tone almost teasing.

“Yes,” Alec said, “but that doesn’t mean she’s not trouble.”

“Are you talking about the Circle, or the way Jace looks at her?”

“Both,” Alec said, dropping into his favorite chair. “Plus, you know, that whole thing where she’s Valentine’s daughter.”

“Jace is a big boy,” Izzy said, easily pinpointing what he was most worried about. “He can take care of himself. Besides, you should be happy Jace is interested in someone besides himself for once.”

Alec made a noncommittal noise, not wanting to talk about it any further. Izzy walked over and sat on the arm of his chair, leaning against him in a gesture of support. Alec leaned back, grateful for her presence.

“So,” Izzy said after a few minutes of silence, tapping his leg with the toe of her boot, “Magnus looked nice today.”

“Magnus always looks nice,” Alec said without thinking, then immediately tried to cover it. “I mean, he’s very good at dressing himself.”

Izzy burst out laughing. “He’s very good at dressing himself, really?” Her laughter faded to a soft smile. “It’s okay to think your fiancé is hot, Alec.”

“It’s not like that,” he protested, looking away. “This marriage is about the Accords. That doesn’t change just because the person I’m marrying is Magnus.”

“Doesn’t it?” she asked, and he hated how unsure he was of the honest answer.

“It can’t,” he told her. “Whatever is or isn’t between me and Magnus, it has to be separate from this marriage. I can’t let my feelings jeopardize the Accords.”

Izzy looked like she wanted to argue, but she just leaned over and kissed his temple before standing to leave. “Just don’t forget while you’re busy doing things for everyone else that it’s okay to do things for yourself sometimes.”

Alec didn’t have the heart to tell her he didn’t even know what it meant to do something for himself anymore.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic

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bytheangell · 5 years

Note

I need the crackfic of Alec who, after having emptied his heart to Jace about his wedding stress and Jace mentioning inverted Alec as a joke, goes and somehow gets inverted Alec over to help him plan his wedding and inverted Alec is all o.O at first and then he cracks his knuckles and it's the wedding of the century and he goes home with a lot of fashion ideas for his boyfriend.

Help Myself(read on AO3)“Jace, I think this was all a huge mistake. I can’t do this.” Alec finally says, collapsing onto the bed in his room at the Institute. He’s been at this for hours now, magazines spread out on every flat surface, his laptop full of no less than twenty tabs with search results for venues and themes and colorings. He can’t remember the last time he closed his eyes without seeing images of tie patterns and cuff-links behind his eyelids.

“You want to call it off?” Jace asks, eyes wide at the prospect of Alec having second thoughts about the wedding.

“What? No! Not the wedding, the planning. I’m not cut out for all of this.” Alec groans.

“Just let Magnus do it, then. I doubt he’d mind,” Jace suggests, but Alec is already shaking his head back and forth stubbornly.

“No way. I promised I could handle half of the work, I’m not going back on that now. I just didn’t realize how much went into it. Raziel, it’s a lot. How do people do this for a living?”

“Have you considered–”

“No, Jace, I’m not hiring a planner for my half. Magnus will know. He wants us to both have a say in this, to both be represented instead of the whole ceremony just being what he wants. I just… Don’t know what I want.” Alec didn’t care about his first almost-wedding - that was something he did out of duty and necessity which was why he let Izzy and Lydia do whatever they wanted with it. But this is different.

This is him and Magnus, and Alec wants it to be perfect.

“Too bad you can’t just snap your fingers and turn into that party planning version of yourself from that alternate universe,” Jace says, laughing. It’s such an off-handed comment, one he’s already moving on from the moment it leaves his lips, that it’s obvious he didn’t mean for it to be a serious suggestion.

Except Alec’s head snaps over and he bolts up from the bed, sitting upright and staring directly at his brother. “Jace, you’re a genius.”

Jace, who’s already in the middle of saying something else, stops talking with a look of uncertainty. “What? I mean, I won’t argue with you, but why specifically this time?” Jace bounces back from the moment of confusion with his trademark smart-ass remarks.

“The other Alec. He’s still me, after all. Just a better coordinated me. It’s perfect!” Alec buzzes with excitement but Jace looks skeptical.

“I don’t know, man. There’s a reason we didn’t try and go back there after the first time. We nearly lost Clary, and-”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll just convince the other me to come back here for a day or two, make as many plans as we can, then send him back.” It sounds so simple when Alec says it like that.

“…I don’t think that’s how it works.” Jace starts, but when he realizes that he doesn’t actually know how it does work to counter, stops again.

“I’ll figure something out. Can you ask Meliorn if he’d be willing to show me to the portal in the Seelie Realm?” Alec asks, smirking at the look of startled indignation on Jace’s face over the request.

“Me? Why me? What makes you think he’ll listen if I ask him?” It’s about two questions too defensive to not sound paranoid and suspect.

“I know the two of you have kept in contact since the Alliance rune. You do know you’re allowed to make friends that aren’t me and Izzy, right? It isn’t the worst thing to have friends who aren’t Shadowhunters.” Alec actually sounds relieved to know that Jace is friendly with Meliorn these days. He, Izzy, and Jace always had one another… but for too long, they only had each other. Seeing all three of them branch out and start to lean on other people in their lives is a good thing, even when it seems more than a little terrifying at first.

Jace looks like he might double down on denial again, but just sighs instead. “Yeah, alright, I’ll ask him.”

“Thanks,” Alec says, walking back over to the computer on his desk and facing the never-ending lineup of tabs with a renewed sense of hope that he might find a way through this after all.

—

Later that night Alec runs the idea by Magnus - first, to see if he’d consider it cheating by way of wedding planning, and secondly to see if he could see any reason why the other Alec wouldn’t be able to come here the same way Jace and Clary had gone over there.

“…I have to admit, I am curious to see what this other universe’s Alec is like, especially after what Clary told us. But if he comes back it’d be in your body, same as it was for Clary and Jace.”

Alec hadn’t considered that. “Well… that’s still fine, right? I mean, it isn’t like it’ll be a stranger taking over my body. It’s still just me.” He shrugs. “Listen. Somewhere out there is a version of me with some knowledge of patterns and textures and I think I deserve access to that knowledge right about now.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh, turning over onto his side in bed to bring a hand up to the side of Alec’s face. “You know I would marry you in a black and white room if it’s what you want.” “How convenient then. Because that’s what we’re going to get if this doesn’t work out. But I have to admit, this is as much for me as it is the wedding. I’ve been curious, too, ever since Clary discovered it. How life could’ve been in some other timeline where things aren’t… where I’m not…” Alec can’t quite get the words out, but Magnus’ expression softens from his teasing one a moment ago.

“Well then. So long as you know what you’re doing, I don’t see the harm in it. And I’ll try not to grow too attached to the other you once you get him here, but no promises. Tell me, is it considered cheating if it’s still technically you–” Magnus starts, right back to teasing (at least, Alec is pretty sure he’s just joking…), which earns Magnus a pillow to the face and a patented Alec Lightwood eye roll of exasperation.

—

“Remember,” Meliorn says, and Alec notes the Seelie sounds surprisingly concerned. “You’ll need to remain anchored to your own thoughts to not get lost in there. If you aren’t back in three hours I’m closing the portal. Please don’t make me have to be the one who explains why the Head of the New York Institute is missing in another dimension.”

“Don’t worry,” Alec says. “I’ll leave that up to Jace, you’re in the clear.”

Meliorn shakes his head, a small, amused chuckle leaving his lips despite his worry.

“Ha-ha,” Jace replies sarcastically. “Sure you don’t want me to go with?”

“No, it’ll be easier with just one. And I have all the anchor I’ll need,” Alec adds confidently, twisting the engagement ring on his finger.

Wearing the portal shard around his neck Alec steps through the archway Meliorn just finished opening and out into a lavishly decorated room, full of golds and oranges and crimsons, with statues by a window of thick red curtains and a long table with a ring of candles around a crystal ball.

Alec jolts forward before he looks down at himself – he sees the sleeves of a baby blue polo, khakis, no runes, and most horrifyingly (which is certainly saying something), no engagement ring. Of course it couldn’t come over with him. This sets off more anxiety within him than he cares to admit, not just because he already feels incomplete without the weight of it but because he was counting on that to ground him here as it had in Edom.

Alec catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror and his eyes widen at the sight. He looks ridiculous. The first thing he does is reach a hand up to mess with the strange part in his hair when Magnus (not his Magnus, he reminds himself) comes up behind him. Alec immediately gets flashbacks of his Magnus in the Infirmary without his magic - no makeup, hair down, the slight hint of wrinkles around the corners of his eyes - and freezes at the touch of arms around his waist.

“Alexander? What’s wrong?” Magnus asks, leaning in for what Alec assumes is about to be a kiss - he doesn’t know for certain because he steps out of the embrace with startling speed. Magnus only looks more worried as well as a little hurt now, but takes a step back as well instead of moving toward him. “Alexander?”

There’s a silence that stretches on too long to be comfortable but Alec can’t help it. This Magnus, the one who very clearly owns that crystal ball and tarot set-up, is a far cry from the Magnus Bane he’s used to. But there’s that same kindness behind his eyes, the same concerned frown, the same hesitating rise-and-fall of hands that want to reach out but are forced back down to his sides for now… all of that tells Alec not everything about his Magnus and this Magnus is different.

“I’m not Alec,” he says, then pauses. “Well, I’m not your Alec. I am Alec, it’s just…” Alec sighs, knowing he isn’t getting anywhere anytime soon if he keeps rambling on like this. He’s starting to sound like Simon when he’s nervous. “I came here with this.” Holding up the chain around his neck Alec watches Magnus’ eyes widen at the sight of the purple portal shard.

“That again,” Magnus curses. “The last time one of you came here you let demons in. So excuse me for the poor hospitality, but I think you should go.”

“I’ll go… but I need your Alec to come with me.” Alec says, but doesn’t get any further before Magnus chimes in again.

“I’m sorry, you what?” That is very clearly not a condition that Magnus wants to agree to. In fact, there’s a small crackle of magic at Magnus’ fingertips, one he looks just as surprised to see there as Alec does.

“Please, Magnus, hear me out. Can we just sit and talk for a few minutes? I’ll explain everything.” Alec pleads.

“You get five minutes.”

—

Explaining everything is not as easy as Alec would like. Five minutes turn into ten, which turn into twenty, and by the end it takes him nearly half an hour to convince this Alternate Magnus to stop going “absolutely not” every time he speaks, and another 15 minutes to even humor the idea of conveying everything Alec just told him to this world’s Alec.

“The decision to come back and help me needs to be him, or else I’ll just go back through the portal as myself, and he’ll stay here.” Alec explains.

Magnus looks justifiably concerned - whether over the plan itself, or the idea that he thinks his boyfriend has lost his entire goddamn mind, it’s difficult to tell.

“I can’t say I’m fond of the idea of my boyfriend portal hopping to other universes…” Magnus frets, worrying a bit at the hem of his sweater.

Alec still can’t get over the drastic change in both himself and Magnus in this world. He expected a few differences, obviously, but what he found throws him for such a loop he almost loses himself in this world just to get a better understanding of it, and of himself in it. But he remembers before it’s too late, running his fingers along the space where his ring should be, thinking of the engraving on the inside and hoping it’s enough to get him through this.

“It’s perfectly safe, I swear. He won’t be going out on missions or anything, just giving a few pointers. If he even wants to. I’m not about to kidnap him or anything ridiculous.” Alec points out.

“Of course he’ll want to,” Magnus says with a fond sigh. “This is the sort of thing he’ll drop everything else to jump at.” Magnus’ eyes drop down to the spot his ring should be, where Alec’s attention keeps drifting to. “I still can’t believe we’re getting– I mean, you’re getting married.”

Alec grins the sort of wide, dopey grin that almost hurts it’s so wide. He can’t help it. “Neither can I, honestly.” He admits. “So you’ll help me? I have to give over control to your Alec so you can explain it to him, but I need you to remind him - and me - that I’m here after a few minutes so I don’t get too lost. Please?”

Alec looks at Magnus through those thick lashes, eyes wide and pleading, knowing how well that works on his Magnus and hoping that some things are still the same here. He’s rewarded when he sees Magnus practically melt at the sight.

“Fine. Just… hurry up so we can get this over with. Not that you aren’t lovely and all, but this is getting a bit too strange for me.”

“Great. Let me just… figure out how to switch this off, I guess?” Alec hadn’t thought this through, honestly. He closes his eyes to focus, trying to feel out through his thoughts for this world’s Alec, wherever he may be trapped in there. After two minutes of increasingly frustrated concentration he’s interrupted by the sound of Magnus’ voice.

“…did you, uh, switch back?”

Alec’s eyes shoot open. “No, I didn’t. This is harder than it looks, okay?”

“…might I make a suggestion?” Magnus offers, slowly. When Alec says nothing he continues. “I don’t think it’s something you can force. You’re trying too hard. It’s about giving over control… giving it up, for lack of a better phrase.”

Hating that Magnus has a point, Alec frowns. He doesn’t like giving up control of anything, let alone himself. He had this thought in his head that even when he allowed the other Alec to take back over, it would be on his own terms somehow. Alec is only now realizing how impossible and naive that was.

“Right. Giving up control. I can do that.” He tries again, but all he can think about is why he’s here - the wedding, the ring that should be on his finger, Magnus waiting for him back–

Magnus. That’s it. Alec opens his eyes again and looks at the man in front of him. Magnus, but not his Magnus, and allows the love and memories for this version of the warlock begin to flow through him. It doesn’t take long for those emotions to become overpowering, and for Alec to lose himself to this world’s Alec again through them.

—

“…Alexander?”

It feels like waking up from a deep sleep, the way he blinks his eyes open and shakes his head to clear the hazy fog that settles over his thoughts trying to tug him back under.

“It’s you again, isn’t it? The other you?”

Alec blinks his eyes a few times at the sight of Magnus, hair down, no makeup, and wearing a button-down sweater of all things, before he remembers where he is.

Before he remembers who he his.

“Yeah. How long was I-”

“About an hour. Sorry, the explaining took a little longer than I anticipated.” Magnus looks Alec up and down before the concern on his features starts to ease up. “Not going to lie, I was a little afraid we lost you in there.” Magnus laughs but there’s an edge to it that Alec doesn’t like.

“What did he say?” Alec asks, fearing the answer he’s about to get based on the look of apprehension on Magnus’ face.

“Full disclosure: I tried to talk him out of it. I don’t like this at all but he’s going to do it. On one condition,” Magnus continues quickly. “I think I have a spell that can temporarily split the two of you… so he can go to your world as himself, not trapped inside your body.”

That… that isn’t something Alec prepared for. “Won’t two of us mess with, I don’t know, the balance of the universe or something? Simon made me watch exactly one strange sci-fi thing with him and Clary, and timelines are definitely a thing you don’t want to mess with.”

“Take it or leave it.” Magnus says. Alec hesitates. He wishes he could go back and talk to his Magnus about this, to make sure it wouldn’t break some fundamental law of universe hopping, but he knows that isn’t how this works. Meliorn isn’t just going to keep risking that portal on a whim of his and Alec knows the longer it’s open the more danger this world is potentially in as well.

“I’ll take it.”

—

Another hour later and Alec is standing in front of, well, himself. And while it’s refreshing to look down at his arms and see his runes again (and also the black shirt, jeans, and engagement ring he was wearing when he left the Seelie Realm, thank the Angel), actually getting to look at the Alternate Alec is more unnerving than he imagined it would be.

“You look ridiculous,” Alternate Alec says immediately, and Alec laughs.

“Funny, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw myself - or I guess saw you - in the mirror earlier,” Alec says.

“I would just like to go on record a second time with both of you to state that I really think you should reconsider,” Magnus tries one last time.

Both Alecs roll their eyes at the same time, exchange a carefully guarded look, and then smirk.

“Oh my god,” Magnus sighs, exasperated. “Fine. Hurry up and go before I change my mind about helping.” Magnus says, opening a portal to the basement of the Institute where Alec, and Alternate Alec, are able to access the portal out of this universe and into the Seelie Realm.

—

The look on Jace and Meliorn’s faces when both Alecs stumble out of the portal is absolutely priceless. Only Alec sees it, however - Alternate Alec trips on his way out of the swirling vortex of magic and lands on his knees in the mud on the ground.

Alt-Alec looks mortified as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to control his frustration, ignoring Alec’s offered hand to help him back up. “These were very expensive loafers. You could’ve warned me that I was about to walk into a mudpit.”

Jace laughs. “Well, at least we won’t have any trouble telling the two of you apart,” he comments, earning a bark of a laugh from Alec and a glare from Alec’s Alternate Universe counterpart.

After another moment of self-pity Alt-Alec finally accepts the offered hand to help himself back up, brushing the worst of the mud off of his pants.

“You cut it extremely close, Lightwood,” Meliorn points out. “Or should I say, Lightwoods.” He’s eyeing the second Alec warily, concerned over the balance of nature he may have upset by allowing this to pass through one of the Seelie portals.

“You wouldn’t have actually closed it right away, would you?” Alec challenges.

Meliorn only looks behind him at the now-sealed portal. “I suppose we would’ve gotten that answer had you arrived three minutes later than you did.”

It’s impossible to hide the look of unease that both Jace and Alec share at the prospect of Meliorn following through with that promise. Alternate Alec, on the other hand, appears almost disappointed for a moment.

“Maybe that would’ve been for the best,” Alt-Alec mutters under his breath, looking down at his dirty palms and ruined clothing.

“Alright, let’s get poor Other-Me back to civilization,” Alec says, nodding the opposite direction of the portal they just came through.

—

“There are two of you.” Magnus says, tone as casual as if stating that Alec’s shirt is black. “How are there two of you?”

“Magnus-” Alec starts before catching himself. “The other Magnus had a spell, and it was the only way to get them to agree.”

Magnus walks over and takes a dramatic look up at the sky. “Well, the heavens haven’t decided to smite you down for it, and I don’t feel any temporal shifts in the universe, so I suppose you’re in the clear for now.”

“…is he always this dramatic?” Alt-Alec asks in a hushed tone.

“Oh, this is nothing,” Alec confirms.

When Magnus turns back around they both notice the way Alt-Alec stares at the warlock.

“…don’t they have manners in your timeline?” Magnus challenges, shooting Alt-Alec a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Sorry, I don’t mean to- you’re just… not at all what I was expecting.” Alt-Alec finishes. “Your fashion sense is exquisite. So bold, but it suits you perfectly. I never would’ve imagined…” Alt-Alec trails off again, admiring, and Alec can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

“What do you say we shelve this until dinner tonight, and focus on the wedding planning first?” Alec suggests, not-so-subtly refocusing them to the task at hand.

“Sure,” Alt-Alec agrees easily. “Lead the way. But later I’m getting a look at that closet.”

—

Alec’s positive that this has to go against some serious rule… at the very least it has to be highly frowned upon. There probably isn’t an actual rule about it because they probably never thought anyone would be foolish enough to try and bring a second version of themselves back to this world.

They hadn’t met the determination of Alexander Gideon Lightwood planning his own wedding.

They sneak Alt-Alec into the Institute and up to Alec’s room with a glamour, courtesy of Magnus. Alec, Magnus, and a handful of other people can see the other Alec for who he truly is, and everyone else can only see someone with a striking resemblance - someone clearly related but probably a close cousin or something.

“So, here’s what I have for ideas so far,” Alec says, showing the pages he printed out, a few notes jotted down, and tabs opened up on his computer.

Alt-Alec clicks through three tabs before closing out of the window entirely.

“Hey! Do you have any idea how long those took me to–” “There’s a reason you brought me here, correct? You didn’t risk getting trapped in an alternate timeline so I could show up and agree with everything you thought of so far. Though honestly, given the state of things, I’m not even sure I can fix this in enough time.” Alt-Alec says with a heavy sigh. “Please tell me you didn’t order anything already, at least?”

“No, but–”

“Then you’re lucky I’m up for a challenge.” Alec wants to punch Alt-Alec in his smug smirk and wonders if he’s ever this insufferable. He certainly hopes not. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us, so let’s get to it. I’ll need to see the venue first.”

Alt-Alec takes in the room slowly after they arrive. “You do know you’re marrying a Warlock, right? You could go quite literally anywhere. And you’re choosing… this?” He eyes the room disdainfully.

Alec doesn’t admit how uneasy that critique leaves him, especially when it’s the same gut reaction Magnus had at the suggestion of the Institute, too. Maybe they’re both right and this is a terrible idea, and he should just leave all the planning to the two of them and keep his mouth shut.

“…the stained glass has a nice effect when the sun hits it just right, though. It could add some spectacular lighting if I can frame it right…” Alt-Alec continues, bringing his hands up in front of him in a square shape, looking through them like a camera lens while he squints one eye shut. He then drops his hands and spins around to the side. “Some banners… floral arrangements… what did you say the color scheme was?”

“Blue and gold,” Alec says, cursing the tentative tone his voice takes now that he’s doubting every decision he made so far.

Alt-Alec scrunches his nose. “I can work with it, I suppose. Heavy on the gold, and it should fit the room well enough.”

“So it isn’t all a terrible idea so far?” Alec asks hopefully.

Alt-Alec considers him for a moment before shaking his head. “No. You’ll be relieved to know you aren’t entirely hopeless.” Alt-Alec gives him a pitying glance. “I won’t have to scrap everything you were going for, but I am going to make some heavy adjustments. I’ll map some things out, gather some samples, and I should be able to have a solid idea in place by tomorrow evening. Which is good, because if I’m gone much longer than a day or two I’m not sure Magnus will let me back into the apartment… and after how much work it took to move my stuff in, I really don’t want to be kicked out already.” There’s a definite shift in Alt-Alec’s tone as he starts to speak about Magnus and for a moment that confident, smug grin softens into something much lighter.

It’s a look Alec knows well.

“Then I guess we better get to work,” Alec agrees. “After all, we wouldn’t want you kicked out before you get the chance to plan your own wedding.”

Alt-Alec starts, opening his mouth as if he wants to argue that of course he isn’t thinking about marriage, he’s only just moved in with him, but then he remembers who he’s talking to and knows there’s no point in lying, not to himself.

“No, we certainly wouldn’t,” Alt-Alec agrees instead.

—

The planning goes well… until it doesn’t.

“I’m not changing the time of the wedding for the sun.” Alec declares, the words harsh as he repeats them for the third time in a row.

“Then what’s the point of having a stained glass window if there isn’t going to be sun hitting it!?” Alt-Alec sounds exasperated, as he should be considering they’ve been at this for hours now.

“I didn’t pick the Institute for the fucking window! It’s meant to make a statement for-”

“You know what makes an amazing statement? A stained glass window with sunlight pouring through it.” Alt-Alec cuts him off.

Alec throws his hands into the air, turning and taking several steps away from him before stopping and spinning back around. “I already agreed to the absurd amount of flowers you insisted on-”

“-which is good because I already ordered them and they arrive tomorrow at 9am.”

“And the frilly bow things down the aisle-”

“It’s just ribbon. Don’t pretend you don’t know what ribbon is.”

“We’re not shifting the entire ceremony back 4 hours so that the sunlight will be at the right angle.”

“Why not just have it at midnight and make the whole theme black, since that seems to fit your dark, edgy persona so well–”

Izzy, who came in at the tail end of the argument, strides right between the two of them without hesitation.

“Now, now, boys. Let’s just take a deep breath and maybe walk away from this for a minute. How does coffee sound?” She suggests, looking between the two of them.

“Not right now, Iz. This is important and-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion, Alec. We’re all stopping for a few minutes, you’re caffeinating before you rip someone’s head off,” she says pointedly at him, before turning to Alt-Alec. “And you and I are going to have a quick chat. Which is also not a suggestion,” she adds quickly when it looks like Alt-Alec is about to argue with her. He only raises an eyebrow instead before following her off, leaving Alec alone.

Deciding he’d rather force himself to take a break for some espresso rather than face the wrath of Izzy, he leaves and comes back thirty minutes later with three drinks - a second cup for himself, and one for Izzy and the other Alec.

“Apology drinks?” He offers, holding the carrier out towards them.

“Thanks,” Izzy and Alt-Alec both say in unison.

“I’m sorry, too. I still stand firmly by the fact that I’m right,” Alt-Alec starts, but quickly corrals his tangent back in with a look from Isabelle. Alec wonders how much of this is actually from him and how much is from Izzy, but he’s grateful for it either way. “But I should be working with you, not against you. Most times I’m hired to plan things outright, it’s pretty free reign given my reputation for being, well, the best in the city if I may toot my own horn.”

“I never want to hear those words in my voice ever again,” Alec says, frowning. “But I get it. And the flowers and ribbons will look great.”

“So will your poorly backlit window.”

“…good enough. My work here is done.” Izzy declares, taking her drink and walking back off to deal with the seating charts.

The rest of the day goes surprisingly smooth, with Alt-Alec listening a bit more to what Alec wants, and more actual compromises occurring rather than one eventually tiring of the other’s stubbornness and giving in. And, by the end of the day, the ceremony is shifted by two hours, at Alec’s request.

He’s positive there’s a look of pride on Alt-Alec’s face when he does.

—

Alt-Alec stays for the ceremony. It’s more than a little strange for Alec to see himself in the audience of his own wedding, but the look on the other Alec’s face watching all of his planning come together is the very least he could do.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Alt-Alec says, coming up to greet him and Magnus before he and Meliorn take an early leave to return to the portal.

“Thanks,” Alec says. “I had a lot of help from one of the best in the city, or so I’ve heard.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Magnus chimes in. “Thank you for making me aware that Alexander in pastel polos is a gift our reality has been denied for far too long.”

Alec looks mortified at the idea of Magnus actually following through on buying him those shirts, while Alt-Alec laughs. “Then consider us even. I have quite a few wardrobe additions to shop with Magnus for when I get back. You have impeccable taste, Mr. Bane.” They look like they might hug goodbye for a moment, but after a moment opt to shake hands instead. It’s still a little too weird being affectionate with an Alec, or a Magnus, that isn’t theirs.

Meliorn clears his throat loudly from the side. “Shall we? The hour is growing late, and the earlier we activate the portal the safer it will be for all of us.”

“Yes. My work here is done.” Alt-Alec declares with finality. “Maybe we’ll meet again, sometime.”

“You know where to find us,” Alec says, and Alt-Alec touches the outline of the purple shard of portal on the necklace hidden underneath his shirt. It’s their agreed-upon payment: Alec knows he shouldn’t be using it again, and it’s only fair since Alec and Clary both went there for help that Alt-Alec’s world has the same option in return.

“Maybe one day I’ll be inviting you to my own wedding,” Alt-Alec suggests hopefully. “I’ll try not to show this one up too terribly.”

“You know that’s a lie,” Alec counters.

“Of course it is. My wedding is going to be spectacular. I was just trying to be nice but you had to ruin the moment.” And with that Alt-Alec shakes his head, turns, and takes his leave with Meliorn.

Alec sighs contently watching him leave, easing his weight against Magnus’ side. “Do you think he really will?”

“What? Have a better wedding than us? Probably. Now there’s an Alec who would rent out the Taj Mahal.” Alec takes a step back in offense; Magnus manages to hold a serious expression for approximately five seconds before his lips curl up into a smirk and Alec hits him on the shoulder.

“I meant invite us, and you know it.” Alec clarifies, unnecessarily.

Magnus grins at the rise he manages to get out of his husband, but considers the question. “I don’t know. He has the necklace, so… I suppose that’s up to him now.” Magnus holds a hand out to Alec, pulling him towards the dance floor as he takes it. “But for the record? Nothing could be better than this, right here, with you.”

And Alec, after all the nervous and stress and uncertainty, allows himself to breathe easy for the first time in weeks. “I couldn’t agree more.”

#alec lightwood #magnus bane #Malec #Alternate Universe Malec #shadowhunters #lakritzwolf #ask rune #longfic #long post #long fic #this got away from me and I never meant for it to be this long #but it was so much fun to play with and we're all going to suspend belief for a bit for this one okay #i hope you like it!!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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katy-krazy-xoxo · 6 years

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Things we know about the lost Herondale timeline

Spoilers if you haven’t read The Wicked Ones

1828: (The Lost Herondale) Catarina saved Tobias Herondale’s son (which will become the lost Herondale line)

1936: (Learn About Loss) One of the descendants of Tobias Herondale’s son became involved with high Fae and produced descendants with fae lineage and whoever that fae was, she was very important (enough to have the fae searching for the lost Herondales)

1940: (A Deeper Love) Basically proof that the faerie woman was important

1989: The line continues down to Rosemary Herondale*

~1997: Kit was born (and by Lady Midnight he would be 15)

*Rosemary was described as “younger than Crow” in the Wicked Ones and Crow looked “barely into his twenties”. But they also know how to change their appearances. So how old exactly is Rosemary Herondale in 1989? Because the time gap (which is at most ~11-12 years) sure is not large enough for Rosemary to be a grandmother if she was really as young as she looked. So that leaves four explanations (that I can think of):

1) Rosemary was much older than she looked which means she could be old enough to be Johnny Rook’s mother. Kit’s mother’s identity was still unresolved.

2) Rosemary was as young as she looked and Johnny could be her sibling or something (I mean, it’s not like it’s impossible to have two children). Again, Kit’s mother’s identity was still unresolved.

3) Rosemary was as young as she looked, and she was actually Kit’s mother but that would leave Johnny’s Herondale lineage unexplained (Or even Shadowhunter lineage, because it’s not the first time the Shadowhunters fail at keeping family records straight. I mean just look at Jace’s many last names throughout TMI and that hugely misleading family tree in Clockwork Princess. He could honestly be anyone)

4) A combination of Rosemary being Kit’s mother and Johnny being her sibling, but that would mean Jem and Tessa either didn’t know and just assume Johnny was his father (because he would also be a Herondale), or they deliberately let Kit believe Johnny was his father when Johnny was his uncle or something. And then it becomes the question of who Kit’s father was...

Feel free to supply more information (or scenarios) if I missed any :)

#the-wicked-ones #the-wicked-ones-spoilers #ghosts-of-the-shadow-market #gotsm #gotsm spoilers #rosemary-herondale #johnny-rook #kit-herondale #learn-about-loss #a-deeper-love #the-lost-herondale #jack-crow #lady-midnight #lord-of-shadows #queen-of-air-and-darkness

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hewn-city-couriers-den · 6 years

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Timelines for General Lore and FLTW

General Lore Timeline

* The Council is formed

* Rei founds the Armory

* Moriva creates her labs

* The Tactician is elected head commander, Origin in second, Rei as head engineer and Moriva as head scientist

* Moriva disappears, twenty years pass

* Flower is born

* Lockwood takes Moriva’s place

* Spice and Griff create the Den

* Flamme joins the clan

* Rune joins the clan

* Eros is born

* Cateye joins the clan

* Electro, Arrakis, Spitfire, Varel join the clan

* Marva joins the clan

* Charna is found and adopted

* Alastrom and Mazagran are found and adopted

* The mutiny aboard the USS Methodia occurs (Year 1)

* Wheeljack, Lexine, Alidae, Nautica join the clan

* Nautica finds Simon

* The Den and the Armory form a alliance (Rei, Lockwood, Moriva, Siobhan, Jace)

* The Tactician and Origin are implanted into the Den and build their farm

* Lacuna’s pod crash lands

* The Pair find Lacuna’s pod

* Leon kidnaps Jacob

* The Tactician and Origin investigate Lacuna’s pod

* JC is created

* The Pair, Simon, and Lacuna go to rescue Jacob

* JC and Jacob join the clan (Year 2)

* Cosmo, Snapdragon, Mina, Farkas, Sparrow, Snart, Alise and Nadia join the clan

* Alidae finds Shorzu

* Aldebrand, Calida, and Emyr join the clan

* Thirteen and Sundog join the clan

* Charna raises the Shade and bone construct known as Axel

* Lemegeton joins the clan

* Aquarius joins the clan (Year 3)

* Alpha Squad goes on their mission

* Flower, Siobhan, and Moriva join the clan

* Siobhan and Flower rebuild the Armory, Flower takes it over in her dad’s name

* CONCIOUSNESS is found and brought into the clan

* The first DRONE of CONCIOUSNESS appears

* Two more DRONEs of CONCIOUSNESS appear

* A defective DRONE takes refuge in the Tactician and Origin’s barn

Fate Leads the Willing Timeline (contains spoilers)

* Alpha Squad (Ages, Quinton, Moralis) is activated by the Council

* Alpha Squad reaches the Focal Point

* Alpha Squad investigates Moriva’s lab and recovers the files and the vials

* The files are stolen by Leon, the Armory is destroyed (Rei’s status unknown), Alpha Squad + Flower pursue the trail

* Alpha Squad is captured by Shade tainted Beastclan members and are nearly killed

* The Shade tainted Beastclan members take Flower as a sacrifice, effectively kidnapping her

* Alpa Squad has to detour to rescue Flower

* Alpha Squad rescue Flower, fight through Shade tainted Beastclan to escape the sacrificial area

* Ages suffers structural damage from the fighting with the Shade tainted Beastclan members, Alpha Squad seeks a way or a dragon to repair it

* Alpha Squad passes through HCCD on the hunt for repairs, Tactician and Origin take in Flower

* Alpha Squad comes across one of Moriva’s Shade creations, wound it

* Ages contracts a virus of sorts from the Shade, begins to become more ‘alive’ but with side effects

* Alpha Squad find Moriva and Siobhan, get repairs for Ages, send both back to the Den, fight the Shade creature again

* Alpha Squad corners Leon, stops his plans to use Shade tainted transformation serum and recover the files

#flight rising #original #fr #original post #fltw #flght rising lore #fr lore

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salmonskinrolltf · 2 years

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Anniversary Present - Pt. 4

Click here to read Part 3 and find out how Levi and Jace ended up in 1994. Or start at the beginning with Part 1.

“What the fuck do you mean I’m grounded?! I’m twenty-five fucking years old!” screamed Jace, his lank hair swinging in his face as he angrily jabbed his finger at his father, who sat across from him in the living room.

“I don’t care! Young man, you can’t expect to live under my roof and not follow my rules!” Levi shouted back. He clapped a hand on Jace’s shoulder and a shudder went through his body. “Oh shit… Jace.” He snapped his fingers in front of the grungey young man. “Remember who you are, Jace! Snap out of it!”

Jace’s eyes seem to unfocus for a second, then they snapped to attention. “Shit. The watch must have done something again.”

“It made you my son? Ew! It can do that?” Levi shivered with revulsion.

“We don’t know ANYTHING it’s capable of, really. But wait, why did it send us back? I thought we decided to stay in… whenever we came from. I can’t remember anymore.”

“I don’t know, maybe you jostled it when you were doing the dishes last night?”

“Well if that’s the case, then we wouldn’t be in this mess if you cleaned up after yourself for once in your life! You said you’d clear the table!”

“I was going to! I needed to recharge! I don’t have the ability to just up and do chores a second after fucking, you gotta cut me some slack!”

“You sure had enough energy to sit down and… whatever it is you were doing. I only remember you watching TV, but I KNOW I was mad about you doing something for yourself.”

“As if! You’re just mad I don’t do everything YOU want, WHEN you want it!”

“OK, OK. Let’s both just take a breath. We clearly need to resolve this issue, but we should probably do it in a timeline where we’re not fucking related. Also I can’t take you seriously when you’re dressed like that.” Jace pointed at Levi’s pink and blue shorts and hyper color tee.

“What’s wrong with these? I just bought them!” Levi complained.

“Focus, Levi! We can’t go forward, but we can go backward! What if we just jog a couple years backward and hope we end up the same age so we can talk about this like adults.”

“…Fine. But I still don’t see what’s wrong with fish. You LIKE fish.”

Jace tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sure. It’s great. Keep wearing that forever. So when should we go to? 1991?”

Levi shook his head. “No, let’s go back to before T2 came out so I can see it again for the first time.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “Let’s do 1988 then. And then we can sort everything out and try to get us back to our real time.” He turned the dial back on the watch until it read 19:88.

FLASH

As if he had just stuck his fingers in an electrical socket, Jace’s long blonde hair began to stick straight into the air. The straw-yellow color began to fade to green, as if he had been swimming in an overchlorinated pool, before settling into an unnaturally bright snow cone blue. The strands hanging down at the side of his head vanished one by one as if invisible shears were running along them, rendering them into nothing but short stubble. The same thing happened to his face, as his mustache and goatee vanished as well.

He blinked and his eyes brightened to a cobalt blue, almost as dazzling as his new hair. He felt two pinpricks of pain as two spider-bite piercings poked their way out of his lower lip, giving him a tough, in-your-face look. One by one, the white stripes on his shirt filled in with dye, becoming a fully black shirt that blossomed with the logo for a punk band. His wrist suddenly felt heavy as a studded bracelet encircled it. He expected his thoughts and emotions to change somewhat, marking the final part of the change, but they didn’t. He still felt a deep well of rage in his chest, and he turned to look at Levi, ready to give the new him a piece of his mind.

Levi had taken off his shirt to better scratch at his chest, on which his copious fluffy mat of chest hair was slowly vanishing. As the individual hairs wriggled their way back into his skin, the fat on his torso drained away, leaving the faint shadow of abs and pecs on his skinny frame, only present because there was nothing to obscure them than rather than because he actually worked them out. Suddenly his torso vanished as a green Lacoste polo wrapped itself around him, the collar popping as the center stitched itself up in an unbroken line. His mustache also pulled itself back into his upper lip, the hair seeming to relocate to the top of his head, as his receding hairline pushed forward, his follicles working overtime to produce a gravity-defying quiff.

He grinned cockily and gave Jace a punch on the shoulder. “So, bro, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Jace rolled his eyes. He wanted to smack that cocky grin off his brother’s face, the preppy fuck. “I just wanted to ask if you could give me a ride to the Bad Religion show tonight?”

Levi grinned, clearly relishing the power he had over Jace. “Sorry bro, no can do. I’ve got field hockey practice all afternoon, you know that.”

Jace sighed. “Fine. I’ll take the fucking bus, you prick.” He exited the room, flipping Levi the bird as he grabbed his leather jacket from the hall table on his way out the door.

———

That evening, Jace bummed a ride from a friend he made at the concert.

As he walked back into the house, reeking of sweat and pot smoke, he noticed Levi sitting on the couch doing homework. He had changed into a knit sweater that made him look like he was an 80-year-old retiree. Jace was about to crack a joke about his outfit, but stopped when he noticed something. “Hey fuck-o, since when did you have chest hair?”

Levi looked at him suspiciously. “Since high school, man. It’s a Burt Reynolds thing. Guys dig it.”

Jace shook his head, confused, but not wanting to admit it. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.” As he walked up the stairs, the light glinted off the face of his watch, which now read 19:80.

Continue to Part 5

#Era #Punk #Preppy

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thesithdiaries · 7 years

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Betrayal (Jonathan Morgenstern imagine)

Pairing: Jonathan Morgenstern/Sebastian Verlac x female!reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: part 2? / Yes, I do know what he has done in the books

(The timeline is all over the place, let’s just imagine they met way before he met Izzy)

You decided it was a good idea to go demon hunting by yourself. Of course, you were wrong. Instead of demons, you encountered foresakens and they put up a huge fight and you were drained and hurt. One hit you hard on the head before you finished them off.

Your phone and your stele were destroyed, therefore you couldn’t call for help or even heal your wounds. Your vision was blurry and your head was pounding. You were in an alley, filled with lit up trash cans and old cars. You were stranded.

You felt a hand grabbing your arm, pushing you against the wall. Trying to focus, you noticed it was three guys. Their fangs were showing. “We smelled you from a mile away, sweetheart. We couldn’t let you go to waste.” They laughed. The one that was in front of you, grabbed your hand before you punched him and exposed the huge cut you had.

“Dinner is served” another one said, while the guy leaned in a bit you. You screamed and attempted to push him away but you were getting weaker by the second. The vampire was ripped away from you, and all you hear were groans of pain.

“Are you okay?” Someone said, making you turn your head. You saw a tall guy with blonde hair. He was approaching you slowly, looking at you beat up body. When you were about to answer, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You fell back, unconscious but the guy grabbed you just in time.

Two days went by and you finally woke up.

“Fuck” you groaned, resting your hand on your forehead.

“You’re awake” you got up quickly, running to a corner of the room. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you” the guy said, flashing you a kind smile.

“Who are you? Where am I? What did you do to me?” You asked hysterically, looking down at your body. You had a blue sweater on and pajama pants. “You undressed me!” “Please calm down” he pleaded. “Your clothes were all torn up and bloodied when I saved you. I had to heal your wounds and the rune wasn’t working with some of them and I had to take care of them.” You stayed quiet, looking at him. “I’m Sebastian Verlac.

“I’m Y/N…” you stammered. You looked at him better. He was wearing a grey sweater and black jeans. He also had a long simple necklace. His blonde hair was messy. You had to admit he looked really good. And his damn accent. “Do you want breakfast? I can make you pancakes” he offered, pointing towards the kitchen. You shook your head and frowned. “I need to leave” you mumbled, walking towards the door. “Thank you for helping me but I have to go back home.” “Hold on, please let me take you back” he told you. You bit your lip. Alec wasn’t going to be too happy about it, but he would have to deal.

“Okay, come on then.”

It has been almost five months since you and Sebastian met. And honestly, you couldn’t ask for more. He was kind, funny, attentive, protective. Sebastian was a perfect in your eyes.

Right now, you were both sitting on a bench in the garden inside the Institute. Your head was resting on his shoulder, while Sebastian was battling his inner demons. Even though he was psychotic, cruel, vindictive, he did care about you. You made him feel different.

He felt guilt for lying to you, for not telling you who he really was. Or show you how he really looked and why. He was scared of telling you about Edom. He just couldn’t tell you anything. But he had to tell you soon.

“Darling?” He called, sitting up. “Hmm?” You looked at him, he seemed nervous. “Are you okay?” “Just nervous” he laughed a bit. He pulled out a black box from his pocket, making your heart skip a beat. He took a breath before talking. “I know we have known each other for less than six months and maybe it’s too soon, but I haven’t felt this way about anyone before. Y/N, you changed me… Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked you. You smiled brightly, nodding your head quickly. Sebastian opened the box. You gasped.

Inside, it had a round sapphire necklace, surrounded by diamonds. You felt your eyes tearing up. “Sebastian… this is too much. I can’t accept this.” He frowned.

“Come on beautiful, you can’t do this to me. This is especially for you” he told you, practically begging. “Baby please.”

You sighed, not wanting to ruin it for him. “Okay, but don’t spend money on me” you lectured him. Sebastian chuckled and put the necklace on you. “It looks beautiful. Just like you” he stated, making you blush. You straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you so much.” “I love you too” you replied, kissing him. His lips felt soft against yours, one hand was behind your neck and the other was on your back. He tasted like just honey. The wind was flowing around you both, making it a little bit chilly. The leaves were ruffling softly, making you both feel relaxed

You pulled away and opened your eyes, taking a breath. Sebastian smiled and opened his eyes as well. They were completely black. You screamed, jumping off of him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asked you, standing up.

“Y-y-your ey-es” you stuttered. Sebastian’s heart stopped. “Why were your eyes black, Sebastian! Tell me!” You demanded an explanation.

“Love, listen to me. My eyes are fine” he assured you, taking small steps towards and reaching out to you. “My eyes are still the same.” “I swear your eyes were black. Like demon eyes. Explain it to me, please” you begged him. “It wasn’t a mistake, I know there’s something there.” “Maybe I’m coming down with something, I don’t know. Please believe me” he begged again. You were still doubting him, you know what you saw. But you still gave him the benefit of the doubt. Sebastian wrapped his arms around you, comforting you. But deep down, he was terrified. He lost control and almost blew off his cover. He had to be more careful.

The Institute was on high alert because Jonathan was inside under a disguise. And he also hurt Max and now he was dying.

You were getting ready for bed early, because you had been watching over Max all day and now you were really tired. Then you heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” “Hey darling” Sebastian greeted you with a smile. You ran towards him and jumped. He acted quickly and wrapped his arms around your body. “I missed you, baby.” “I missed you too” you told him, giving him lots of pecks. He smiled at you, and sat down on the bed with you on top of him. Sebastian brushed the hair out of your face and placed a hand on your cheek. You leaned on it, closing your eyes.

“Are you tired?” He asked quietly. “Do you wanna go back to my flat?” You nodded. “Pack you bag, I have to do something before we leave.”

“Okay, don’t take too long. I wanna cuddle” you nagged him playfully, before standing up to pack. “I’ll be right back” he reminded you and walked outside the room.

Twenty minutes later, Sebastian opened your door and walked in. “Ready?”

“Yes sir” you answered and he picked up your bag, putting the strap around him. He grabbed your hand and walked to the elevator. Reaching the lobby, you both walked out. There were guards everywhere and everyone was being interrogated. You saw Clary and walked up to her.

“Has the lockdown been called off?” Sebastian asked her. “If we can prove you’re not Jonathan” she replied, as if it was obviously.

“Sorry, what?” He said, letting out a quiet chuckle.

“We figured out a way to blow his cover. Jace remembered reading in Valentine’s journal that Jonathan can’t tolerate electrum.” “Right, because of the demon blood” you told her, she nodded. “Valentine wrote that he’d scream in pain the second it touched his skin, it burned straight to the bone. So I extracted some electrum from Izzy’s whip and we’re having everyone hold it to see if they react.” “Well I’m very impressed” Sebastian commented, “seem like Jonathan met his match.” “Don’t take this personally” she said, walking over to a guard to grab the electrum. “If you have to leave, just hold this for a few seconds” Clary held it up and you grabbed it. You held it in your hand for five seconds and handed it back to her. “I hope you can catch him, he has to pay for what he did to Max” you hissed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if anything happens” you kissed her cheek and walked to the front door. In less than thirty seconds, Sebastian was right behind you. “Let’s go cuddle” he whispered in your ear, making you giggle.

“Sebastian, hey!” Clary called out, jogging towards us. “Hey, you forgot something” she told him, grabbing his hand and showing his palm. It had blood and a big spot in the middle. Sebastian hit the red button on the wall, causing sparks to fly everywhere. The doors closed.

Clary stabbed him in the stomach. “Clary, what the hell!” You yelled, she punched your jaw hard, making you fall like dead weight on the ground. The last thing you remembered was Sebastian grabbing her neck to choke her. Then, you fainted.

You woke up with a massive headache. You moved around the bed you were on and realized it was Sebastian’s bed.

“Babe?” You called him, realizing he wasn’t next you. You sat up and saw someone sitting on the table. “Seb?” “Sweetheart, he went out to run some errands” a man said and turned around to face you. Valentine. “What are you doing here!” You yelled, backing away from him and hitting your back against the bedframe. “It’s time you and I have a little talk about Jonathan” he smiled, walking towards you. “The man that you share those happy memories with, the man that you gave everything to, is a demon and a killer. He is Jonathan Morgenstern, my son.”

You closed your eyes. You were in big trouble now.

Part 2

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