#so i imagine that magnus immediately apologized for that once they landed

[burntoutwaxwings]

Magnus and Alex, sitting in a tree

R U N N I N G

First comes the squirrel,

Then comes the quests,

Lastly there's the Valkyries nest!

Magnus: WILL THIS SQUIRREL JUST SHUT UP?

Alex: Well maybe if you stopped being a sorry blonde boy, it would!

Magnus: hey! It's not like I was kicked out by my dad!!

Alex: YOU LITTLE-

Magnus: HIT THE DECK!!!

The two proceed to land in Magnus' Room. Why? Because it was funnier that way. Magnus fell on top of Alex, and TJ just walked in.

[draconic-ichor]

A Painting II

Magnus and Matilda

Warnings: strong language, angst, slight mentions of trauma

Summary: The demigod twins have a dance and talk together in the Hall of Demigods.

Feedback appreciated, 18+. They are adults in this dabble

Matilda stood in the Hall of the Demigods: a grande room dedicated to all the demigods that have walked the Lands Between. She felt small, standing before the wall with the most coverage. Only being able to see the blur of colors used, she glanced over them. Red or gold was the majority…colors of passion and victory…holiness.

Looking down her thoughts went to her own, what her descendants would think, standing in the same place as her now. Her eyes fell on the outlier: a painting of black and crimson. She swallowed.

A whisper tickled her ear, downing out the world for a fleeting moment in its honey garbled tongue

“Admiring the paintings?” Came a voice.

Matilda jumped a bit, too engrossed to hear the footsteps; shaking her head to clear away what she thought to be her imagination. She recognized his smell and holding immediately, sighing, “You know I can’t, Magnus…”

“Then…” he padded closer, breath ruffling her silver curls as he spoke, “What are you doing?”

“Just thinking.” She answered simply, “You should make a habit of it as well.”

He snorted, stepping to her side to look over the portraits. After a long moment he spoke, “Our paintings will be up there soon, too.”

Silence answered him, he turned slightly to see her face downcast, hands worrying her skirts like when they were children. Magnus huffed, deflating as he offered out a hand, close enough for her to see the blackness, “Care to dance?”

She jumped a bit at the offer, smirking nervously, “You know I can’t dance!”

“I won’t judge.” He soothed, taking her hand.

They fell into step, Magnus slowly swaying to a silent melody. Matilda was stiff, worry silting her movements. She couldn’t quite reach his shoulder so she settled on holding his upper arm, other hand clasp into his own.

She giggled a bit as he led her steps, “When did you learn to dance?”

“It comes in handy.” He smiled, “Women love it.”

“Oh course.” She smiled, allowing him to guide her. As he moved more swiftly she stepped on his food, quickly apologizing.

“Don’t worry about it.” He hummed, “Just think of the dance.” He went smoothly along.

“And what song are we dancing to?” She asked with a giggle.

“That one that they played the last Winter Ball.” He mused, “You know the one!”

She nodded.

“Goes like: Dun, Dun, Duuuuuuun, Dun, Dun, Dun, Duuun.” Magnus poorly tried to imitate the sound of an piano, flashing a toothy smile when Matilda laughed at his antics.

As they looped the hall his eyes were drawn to the portraits once more, murmuring questions, “How many visitors do you think will pass, and only see the faces of those that came before on us? All the terrible things done, stained in the rich paint?”

“There’s been good too..” she pointed out.

“Not enough.”

“You’ve always been pessimistic.”

“I come by it naturally.”

“I suppose so.” There was no judgement to her tone, far from it; the words were almost light, striking his heart.

They twirled around the hall, color and lights all blur, footsteps falling into place together. For every way they were different there was just as many ways they were alike, two halves of a whole, hewn together in the same womb.

Had time truly put a steak through their closeness? The thought made Matilda’s step slip, missing him even as he stood right before her.

“I…don’t want to loose you. Iv never lived without you.” Her voice cracked, steps faulting further.

Magnus slowed, asking honestly, “And what says you will?”

Matilda swallowed, words she wanted to say not finding their ways to her tongue, instead settling on, “I worry for you, if you keep chasing shadows.”

His steps ceased then, back to the portrait of Mohg. The dark crimson and onyx of the painting like a looming shadow around his silhouett.

“Have you ever thought of if we would of been born in a different time?” His voice was distant, orange eyes downcast, “Thought of living, as they did?”

Matilda’s bangs parted, cloudy eyes glassy as she looked up at her twin, “More than you know…” her gaze flicked upwards, to that single orb of golden orange behind him, a small sun in the swirling darkness the painting was to her vision. “I don’t want you ending up like him.” She all but whispered.

He wavered a bit then, flashing a smile as he asked lowly, “Would it be so bad?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed quickly, softening to add, “I don’t want to repeat past mistakes. Are we doomed to be the same tragedy?”

He closed the meager distance between them more. She didn’t shy from him, never had she feared him.

“Do you ever wonder what’s wrong with us? Why we crave the touch of human hands? Why we can’t hug our father?” His voice sounded raw, large hands carefully raising to cup her smaller face. She could feel the slight tremble, the worry that she would reject the gesture.

Matilda looked up with unseeing eyes, pain fraying the edges of her tone, “Magnus…”

His furred nose wrinkled a bit, hint of a growl as he pressed, “You know it’s true…why do we shutter at a clawed touch? That this world is so fucked that we can’t find solace in our own kind….Look at me.”

She swallowed, “I can’t.”

Magnus bent forward, pressing his forehead to her own, eyes starting into hers. Her heart hammered in her ribs, glassiness of her clouded gaze spilling.

He clutched at her a bit more desperately, a beg on the tip of his tongue, “Look at me…”

Matilda blinked, wetness gathering on her lashes, she nodded in his hold, “I see you.” For the first time in years she saw his eyes, every detail of the deep shifting oranges. All the pain, all the silent pleas.

“I see you.” She whispered, pressing her forehead into the contact more.

Magnus cracked a bit, head-bumping her back, eyes closing against the threatening sting.

[matthewfairchilds-lil-bitch]

The Truth, Part II

James finds out about Cordelia and Matthew. 

This is about 3100 words and kind of a crusher (emotionally). Set about a month after Part 1 (linked here). Tagging @mirageofagirl because she was the first one to tell me to write more, which meant a lot! Hope you all enjoy (and please don’t hate me I just want James and Cordelia and Matthew and everyone to be happy all the time). 

“James, are you quite alright?” Lucie asks, studying her brother. 

She almost doesn’t recognize him. He certainly looked like James. Same midnight black hair, same pale golden eyes. But his face is entirely relaxed. His expression is bright and clear, as if he just emerged from an icy lake on a chilly English morning. 

Lucie had seen her brother happy before, but never so invigorated. 

“Of course I am,” James beams at his sister. “It is the most wonderful time of the year, after all.”

He gestures to the ballroom they’re standing in with the bustling crowd. The Institute has been lavishly decked out in the brightest reds and finest greens. Dozens of twinkling golden stars hang from the ceiling, gently swaying in a magic breeze that Magnus insisted would add the final touch to the annual Christmas party.

“Yes but you’re radiating with…well I don’t know what,” Lucie says, sounding upset. She was a proud writer, surely she should be able to describe her bewildering brother.

Jamie laughs and attempts to ruffle Lucie’s hair, but she swats his hand away before he can ruin her soft brown curls. His eyes roam the busy room and his smile stretches impossibly further as his gaze lands on someone.

She follows his stare and spots Cordelia removing her cloak. She’s sharing pleasantries with Lucie’s parents at the entrance to the room, her brilliant red hair shaking as she tilts her head back with laughter at something Will says. 

When Lucie side-eyes James she sees that he’s transfixed by his fiancé, and she can’t really blame him. 

Cordelia is positively glowing in her forest green gown. The gossamer is embroidered with delicate roses that tumble down the back of her extended skirt, appearing to flow in a wind as her dress moves with each step she takes. The bodice clings to her full figure to compensate for the loosely ruched sleeves that hang around the tops of her arms. 

“It’s almost insulting that you haven’t rushed to your bethrothed’s side yet, Jamie,” Lucie reprimands him despite the smile on her own face. 

James blinks a few times to clear his fog. He doesn’t bother saying anything else to his sister before he starts striding through the crowd with purpose. Lucie cannot help but laugh when he elbows Charles in the side in his haste, and she has to cover her mouth with the back of her hand to keep from snorting when he doesn’t stop to apologize to him.

“Something funny?” a deep voice asks close to her ear.

Chills pass over her in response to the familiar voice she loves to hear. Jesse stands to her left with his arms crossed politely behind his back, ever the gentleman. His lips are quirked up in a heart-warming smirk and his pale skin nearly shines in the starlight from above them. 

Lucie knows better than to reply to him out loud while surrounded by company. Instead, she bats her lashes at Jesse with an innocent smile then lifts her chin. She lifts her soft pink skirts enough to not step on them as she turns and walks towards the balcony.

The soft cold brush of air against her arm confirms that Jesse is following next to her, and she has to drop her head so that no one can question the proud smile on her lips.

*******

Cordelia knew the Institute would be overflowing with guests for tonight’s holiday party, but she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the mass of dancing couples and groups of people chatting. The ballroom felt even bigger than she remembered.

Her eyes roam the crowd and she admires the way friends roar together with laughter, the way children chase each other in pursuit. Cordelia’s focus lands on her brother across the room. 

Alastair sits on a low, plush bench with Thomas. She notices that the pair is sitting so close that they’re nearly touching, although there’s plenty of room left on the bench on Alastair’s left side. Her brother laughs at something Thomas says and rakes a hand through his dark hair. Cordelia is somewhat astonished to see her brother laughing, especially with the current unsteady state of their father’s presence at home.

She’s in the middle of pondering what Thomas could have possibly said to make her brother smile that wide when a strong hand grips her wrist. Cordelia resists the urge to jerk free of the grasp when she looks up and sees James standing in front of her.

“Daisy,” he sounds a little breathless, complimenting the soft blush on his cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Cordelia smiles and furrows her brows a bit. “But where else would I be?”

“Right, the party,” James shakes his head and continues to smile at her. 

She drops his gaze and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Cordelia used to dream of nights like this with James. Nights where she would wear a beautiful gown and he would watch her as if she was an illusion. Nights where they would hold each other and feel like they were floating together as they danced through a crowd. 

But those dreams weren’t as real as the new life she’d found in London. Now she had no trouble imagining the feeling of strong arms around her waist, the intoxicating touch of soft lips against hers, the silky caress of blonde strands twirling between her fingers.

Cordelia looked back up and half-expected to be met with the deep green eyes she was currently envisioning. When instead she’s met with James’ inquisitive golden stare she does her best to hide her disappointment. 

Thankfully James doesn’t seem to notice. He extends one hand to her and bows ever so slightly.

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?” he asks. His voice was a little shaky to Cordelia’s surprise. He’d never been nervous to ask for her hand. They were engaged, after all.

She takes his hand in response, letting him pull her towards the circle of dancers. James places a tentative hand at the small of her back and the other guides Cordelia’s hand to rest on his shoulder. Soon they’re moving in time with the crowd, and Cordelia feels James’ chest quiver with a small breath.

“Are you alright, James?” Cordelia considered his expression. 

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since the moment he approached her, which was a bit unusual. In most cases, his eyes would have already been searching for Grace. A fact that wasn’t as painful now as it used to be for Cordelia. 

“I am more than alright, Daisy,” he smiled, causing his eyes to crinkle. 

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Cordelia can’t help but smile up at him, too. 

She knew she still cared for James, and she knew that she always would. His happiness was important to her. James had proven time and time again that Cordelia was a dear friend to him, and she would always be grateful for that friendship.

A twinge of guilt pulled at her gut as she considered the truth she must tell him. Cordelia knew James would be supportive of his friends when she revealed that she and Matthew had grown to love each other. 

They were parabatai and as close as brothers, surely James could only be happy for the both of them. Nevertheless, Cordelia worried he would feel as if he’d been deceived since they had kept this from him for nearly a month. 

The music swelled around them and James pulled Cordelia closer. She could see the dark ring of honey around his pupils and feel the warmth of his breath across her cheeks. A black curl fell into his eyes and he hurriedly flung it away with a jolt of his head, as if he couldn’t bear the intrusion on his vision. 

“I would like to speak with you, Daisy,” James said quietly.

“Of course,” she said. “I would like to speak with you, too, but I insist you go first.”

“Well, I would prefer we talk in private,” his eyes flit back and forth between hers.

Cordelia is about to agree but James lifts their joined hands above them and spins her smoothly. She lets out a small gasp as he twirls her once more before pulling her to face him, then lowers her backwards with an arm securely around her waist. 

“I really am glad that you’re here with me,” James breathes. 

Cordelia is too shocked by the uncharacteristic move to say anything or notice his bare wrist between their chests as he pulls her back up to stand.

His arm is still firm around her waist, and Cordelia is sure that the nearby guests are eyeing them curiously. They’re no longer moving as the crowd continues to swirl around them. James squeezes Cordelia’s hand and his eyes roam her face. They travel down her neck, making Cordelia’s blood buzz in perplexity. 

His stare lands on the bronze pendant at the base of her throat, and Cordelia automatically reaches a hand up to cover it.

“That’s...a lovely necklace,” James says, sounding unsure for the first time tonight.

“Thank you,” Cordelia drops his gaze. She grips the pendant as if to hide the engraving, a carnation centered between two faerie wings. “It was a gift.”

James’ smile falters slightly at one corner. He shakes his head and loosens his arm around her back, resting his hand instead on her waist. 

Cordelia lifts her face to look at him but her head turns to the right, feeling another gaze on her. Matthew is leaning elegantly against a doorframe across the room. His arms are crossed comfortably over his chest, his azure blue coat complimenting his halo of blonde hair perfectly.

Matthew’s green eyes are locked on hers as a small grin threatens to spread across his face. He tilts his head to the side, signaling the exit he’s about to make and the escape he hopes she’ll take. Cordelia has to remind herself not to follow him immediately.

“...and I have so much to tell you,” James finishes a thought that Cordelia didn’t hear him start. 

“That would be lovely, Jamie,” Cordelia says distractedly and steps back from him. “But I do need to excuse myself, only for a moment. I shall be back soon.”

She doesn’t give him the chance to question her departure as she glides easily between dancers. When she’s past the door that Matthew just vanished through it only takes her a moment to figure out where he’s gone. A dim light escapes from a room down the hall. 

Cordelia pushes the door to the library shut behind her. A pair of large hands land on her waist and turn her around hastily. She isn’t startled at all, familiar with the feeling of his hands on her by now.

“My beautiful Layla,” Matthew purred against her ear. Cordelia couldn’t hide her indulgent smile whenever he used that pet name.

“I knew you’d love that story,” she says as she brings her hands up to his shoulders.

Matthew pulls her against him as he takes a step closer, pressing her back to rest against the wall beside the door. He leans down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. Cordelia savors the way he smells of spices and fresh air. 

“The version I’m reading now is far better than the English one you lent me, though,” he laughed. “But I should have assumed the Persian original would be much more seducing.” 

Cordelia felt her cheeks warm with blush as he winked at her. She loved the way he would find charming and meaningful ways to surprise her. Matthew had mentioned he wanted to learn the Persian language, but she hadn’t gotten around to teaching him yet.

“Boosam kon,” Cordelia says softly. Matthew’s eyes narrow slightly as he translates her command.

To show her that he understood, Matthew tilts his head down to brush his lips against hers. Cordelia’s pulse flutters at the brief contact, and her hands slide down to grasp the lapels of his coat. His mouth trails down her face in kisses to her jawline.

“That was the first phrase I taught myself,” he admits, smiling against her neck.

“I’m impressed, Matthew,” Cordelia says.

“Delighting you pleases me,” Matthew breathes as he traces the tip of his nose up her throat. “But I do have a lot left to learn.”

Cordelia wraps her arms around his neck and pulls his face down to hers, impatient to kiss him again. Matthew’s hands tighten around her waist and he pushes fully against her. Only a few layers of clothes separate them, but that’s not enough to hide the rapid beating of her heart. 

“It seems I have a lot to learn, too,” a tense voice says from the open door.

*******

Matthew pulls quickly away from Cordelia, but leaves one hand on her waist as he turns. James’ blood runs cold at the sight of his flushed parabatai and fiancé. He’s not surprised they didn’t hear him enter given the way they’re both still breathing heavily. 

“James,” Matthew drops his hand and clears his throat. “We- Cordelia and I- we wanted to tell you-”

“Tell me?” James laughs quietly. He notices Cordelia stiffen. “I assure you there’s no need to tell me anything, not now.”

“You have to understand,” Matthew raises one hand in defense. “We had to keep this private, for both of your sakes.”

“How long?” James clenches his fists and drops his gaze.

“It has only been a month,” Cordelia’s voice is barely above a whisper. 

James grits his teeth and doesn’t look up at them. He had known that Matthew and Cordelia had grown much closer over the last few months. At first, it had made him happy to watch his friends grow to care for each other the way he cared for them. Now it felt like a cruel prank at only his expense.

“Your new necklace gave you away, Cordelia,” James doesn’t recognize his flat voice. “The Fairchild faerie wings surrounding Math’s signature carnation. But tonight wasn’t the first time I sensed it.”

“We know that you’re hurt because we didn’t tell you sooner,” Matthew sighs as James meets his stare. “We are so sorry, we never wanted to leave you in the dark.”

James is on the verge of breaking the skin of his palms, his nails digging in painfully further every time Matthew uses the word we. Never had he dreamed that Cordelia and Matthew would be a we. At least not the kind of we that would crush his heart. 

“I was going to tell you tonight,” Cordelia says. She takes a step forward so that she’s beside Matthew once again.

“I had hoped you might be happy for us, once we told you,” Matthew’s eyes are searching his friend’s face for any sign of acceptance. He finds none.

“Happy?” James scoffs, taking a step towards them. “Happy that my betrothed has been lying to me? Happy that my brother has betrayed me?”

Matthew flinches as if he’s been slapped. Cordelia lets out a disbelieving breath, nearly glaring at James when his eyes snap to hers.

“So I am the only one who has lied?” she asks, voice not faltering at all. “Forgive me for finding your anger ironic, James.”

“What do you-”

“I am sure Grace will be thrilled to learn you are entirely hers now,” Cordelia fumes. “She no longer needs to worry if your deception insults me. Though I doubt she ever did.”

He doesn’t want to hear the hurt in her voice, he doesn’t want his heart to constrict at the thought of her being upset. But he is the cause of that pain and he won’t deny that truth.

“Our engagement was always a lie,” her voice is quieter now, still tinged with pain. “I will hold you to it no longer.”

It’s James’ turn to flinch in response to her words. He opens his mouth to question her, but Matthew beats him to it.

“Cordelia, don’t risk your reputation over this,” he says gently, taking one of her hands in his. Her face tilts up to give him a soft smile.

“Will you love me anyways, Matthew?” Cordelia asks. A single tear slips down her cheek. Matthew’s thumb comes up to stroke it away.

“I always will,” Matthew whispers, cupping her face.

James’ vision goes black around the edges. He fears he might slip away into the realm of shadows if he has to keep listening.

“You are free of me, James,” Cordelia says. She walks forward and for a wild moment James wonders if she’ll shove him away from her, away from them.

Her right hand moves to cover her left, and she’s twisting off the Herondale ring. She holds it out to him. James can’t look her in the eyes, knowing she’ll see the water pooling in them.

Cordelia drops the golden circle into his palm and turns away, but not before she says, “Thank you for the sacrifice you made for me, James.”

He suddenly wishes he had faded into the shadow realm. Any horror he found there would be far better than hearing those words from her.

Cordelia’s green dress billows out behind her as she strides from the room. Matthew lets out a torn breath, head swiveling back and forth between the exit and his frozen parabatai.

“You have to know we never meant to hurt you,” Matthew pleads.

James has known Matthew his whole life and despite the agony settling in his heart, he believed him. His friend would move heaven and earth for him, just as James would do for him. They had never failed to protect each other.

But Matthew could not protect James from this. He could not save James from the monstrous crack splitting his soul in two. 

“Just go,” James manages to say, turning his back on Matthew. “Please.”

James can’t say anything else to him. He can’t tell Matthew about the enchantment he’d broken only hours earlier, freeing himself from Grace’s manipulative bracelet. He can’t tell Matthew that he has loved Cordelia for a lifetime, and loves her still. 

“I won’t lose you, James,” Matthew’s voice is shaky, nearly silent. 

James shuts his eyes tightly, not daring to let any tears fall before he’s alone. He can feel Matthew’s tension, caught between comforting one half of his soul and racing after the other. When he finally hears the door click shut he collapses onto the rug.

His knees hit the plush tapestry and his palms land hard on the floor in front of him. The ring beneath his right hand stings his flesh with the impact, as if it’s meant to burn away the promise it gave to Cordelia.

James sits back on his heels and flings the band into the fireplace. It clinks against the brick and disappears into the flames.

[lynne-monstr]

strange partnership

Written for Tentacletober Day 2: Under the Sea

ao3 link

“Walk the plank, Lightwood.” The tip of Hodge’s blade prods Alec between the shoulders.

Alec squints against the sun, his rage burning hotter than the unrelenting heat of midday. He could beat Hodge with his hands tied behind his back. Unfortunately, he can’t say the same for all the rest of his traitorous crew.

“You’re all dead men,” Alec says. It’s bluster but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. When Isabelle and Jace hear what happened to him, there’s nowhere far enough this group of scoundrels will be able to hide from their wrath.

With that, he jumps.

There’s time for one last desperate drag of air before the water closes over his head.

“So long, Captain Lightwood.” The mocking words of his first mate echo in his ears. Alec hopes Hodge chokes on them.

In the shadow of his own ship, he sinks like a stone, weighed down by the heavy chains around his wrists and ankles. It isn’t the way he wants to die– in the back of his mind, he always assumed he’d be hung by the Crown, punishment for breaking from his parents’ cruel legacy to become a pirate—but there’s something appropriate about finding his final resting place in the ocean he loves so much.

Plunging deep into the sea’s embrace is surprisingly peaceful. Or it would be, except for how Alec’s chest begins to burn. Still, he clings to his last shred of comfort. At least Isabelle and Jace aren’t here to share his fate.

It’s pure chance he sent them away on a scouting mission over a week ago. Their absence may have helped Hodge stage his mutiny, but it also ensured that Alec can bear this last agony alone without regret. It’s them he thinks of as the fire in his chest blooms into an all-encompassing inferno.

At first, he thinks the prodding against his lips is a hallucination, a fever dream brought on by his own impending demise. He ignores it, too consumed with the agony spreading through his limbs, the need for relief that will never come.

The gentle prodding is back, and something soft and pliable slips past his lips and into his mouth.

Instinct takes over, and he thrashes against the intrusion. Even if Alec wins, he’s a dead man, but at least he’ll die fighting and there’s comfort in that. His hands clench into fists where they’re bound and useless at his back, his legs kicking out at whatever sea creature wants a piece of him. Black spots devour his vision even as the last of his breath escapes him in a stream of bubbles.

He gasps, bracing against the inevitable rush of water.

“Breathe, pretty boy.”

The astonishment of hearing another human voice, warm and faintly amused, is nearly as shocking as the sweet relief of breathing fresh air this far below the sea. Alec is too consumed with filling his chest to wonder. He takes a long, greedy breath from the object in his mouth, and then another.

When his heart is no longer in danger of pounding its way out of his chest, he cautiously studies his surroundings. At this depth the water is a rich blue, with enough light to see that the object in his mouth is connected to something else.

Someone else.

Alec lets out a muffled gasp. A kraken, is his first, terrible thought.

But it’s no mythical monster whose tentacles have both ensnared and saved him. It’s a man. Well, half a man. Half a very muscular man. Despite his dire situation, Alec can’t help but stare. He’s laid with his share of men over the years but no one as beautiful as this. His eyes rake over broad shoulders, shapely arms, and a defined abdomen. Where there should be legs, the man’s tanned skin gives way to a mass of writhing, golden tentacles.

One of which is currently in Alec’s mouth.

It feels odd on his tongue, slippery and textured. It brings to mind a different activity entirely, and Alec has to wonder if that’s what this half-man-half-creature expects from Alec in return. Or if there’s a different reason he saved his life. He hasn’t felt this wrong-footed since the day he left home after learning of the atrocities his parents committed in the name of the Crown.

He can’t speak his endless questions aloud and so he tries to convey his thanks with his eyes. It must work, because the creature’s face softens and he swims forward until he’s nearly close enough to touch. Or would be, if Alec’s arms weren’t still bound. He pulls against the chains, hoping his rescuer will get the hint and free him.

“Eager to leave already?” The creature asks, a glint in his eyes.

Alec raises his head towards the surface, a silent affirmative.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to keep you here, but I can’t take you back either.” A sense of dread settles over Alec. If this man takes him captive, there’s not much he can do. Hodge had taken Alec’s cutlass and his pistol before pushing him overboard. He doesn’t even have the set of thin metal rods that have gotten him out locked rooms before.

He swallows around the tentacle in his mouth, his throat suddenly dry.

The man must sense his fear, because he rushes to explain. “No, no, not like that.” Another tentacle comes up to brush against Alec’s shoulder and Alec flinches away. He shouldn’t care about the flash of hurt that flickers across the strange creature’s face but he does. Alec's mouth is half open in apology before he remembers himself and clamps back down on the only source of air he has.

The man’s face settles into a cool mask as he asks, “If I take you back up, am I to assume that whoever tossed your down here into my home will still be there?”

Slowly, Alec nods. Idiot, he’s an idiot. It might seem as if he’s been drowning for ages but barely a few sparse minutes have passed. The moment Alec shows his face above water, Hodge will kill him, with a gun instead of a watery grave this time. And if Hodge doesn’t, the rest of Alec’s traitorous crew certainly will. Alec’s heart sinks into his feet.

He has nowhere to go.

“You can come with me, I have a home on the surface.” the man says, and Alec imagines he sees the faint stirrings of hope behind his heavily lined eyes. Perhaps he’s lonely and wants the company. “I’ll even share my collection of human tools. I’ve amassed quite a large number over the centuries, you know. We can find a way to get you free of those pesky things.”

A tentacle pokes at the manacles and leg irons Alec is still wearing, and he’s more than a little relieved at the confirmation that he’s not going to be some kind of prisoner. He takes a last glance up towards the surface. The shadow of his ship looms large, a massive cloud across the blue of the ocean and sky.

He’ll get it back, but not today.

The man must see the despair on Alec’s face because his voice is soft when he adds, “Don’t worry, no one will find you if you don’t want to be found. You have my word.”

Alec nods, and this time doesn’t pull away when a tentacle winds itself snug around his waist. The man begins to swim, the mass of tentacles around his waist propelling them quickly through the water. At first Alec is terrified that it’s going to dislodge the tentacle allowing him to breathe, but after several minutes without catastrophe, he begins to relax.

His morning began with a betrayal by a man he considered family. It should be too soon to trust another, yet that’s exactly what he’s doing. Perhaps Isabelle is right after all. His heart is too soft for his own good.

The further they travel, the more the excitement of adventure stirs in Alec’s blood. He lost his ship but he still has his life. Looking over at the impossible man holding him pressed to his side, he considers that perhaps he’s gained a new ally as well.

A new ally whose name he doesn’t know. Alec still can’t use his hands, and so be bumps his shoulder into his rescuer. Who stills immediately, halting their progress through the water. “Are you okay, pretty boy?”

There’s that name again. Alec’s grateful for the chill of the water hiding the flush that would normally rush into his cheeks. He’s been called far more lewd things in his life, but none of them with such honesty. Alec’s usual response to those kinds of words is as quick as it is brutal. He doesn’t tolerate disrespect, not to himself and not to his crew. He knows how to react to insults, but this kind of open appreciation is new. A beautiful man who saved his life is calling him pretty. Alec don’t want him to stop.

But first he has a more pressing matter to deal with. How can he convey that he wants to know—?

He bumps his shoulder into the man’s chest again, willing him to understand. He looks down at himself before flicking his eyes back towards the man. All he gets in return is a blank look. Rolling his eyes, Alec does it again, this time making sure to point his chin directly at him.

“Oh!” The man says, a grin lighting up his face that Alec can’t help but echo even with his mouth occupied. “If you’re asking for my name, it’s Magnus.”

Alec grins as much as he can around the tentacle between his lips. Magnus. It suits him.

Magnus keeps up a steady stream of conversation the entire way towards his hideaway on the surface. It helps keep Alec’s mind off the indignity of his situation.

Then again, it’s hardly the worst predicament he’s found himself in since making a name as a notorious pirate captain. He once had to sneak out a window of the governor’s son’s room at dawn when the local militia caught wind of his location. There wasn’t even time for him to dress, or he'd risk a hanging. Jace has never let him forget that particular folly.

The moment Magnus hauls them both onto land, his tentacles fade into long, muscled legs, including the one feeding Alec air while underwater. With his mouth freed, the first thing Alec does is offer his name. Tit-for-tat was his first lesson all those long years ago after leaving his parents' home. He still needs to find a way to repay this man his kindness but at the very least he can offer his name. And try not to stare at the hard, unclothed lines of Magnus’ very human-looking body.

Later, once Alec is released from his bindings, the rush of relief he expects never actually comes. It takes him a moment to understand it’s because he never doubted Magnus’ word or his intentions. He tries not to dwell on what that means and instead works the ache of out his shoulders, his mind occupied with plans of revenge.

A set of heavy footsteps comes up beside him. Magnus has changed into a set of black pants and a loose linen shirt with a deep neckline. In his hands is a sheathed sword attached to a thick belt.

He looks like a pirate captain and Alec can’t help but stare.

“I used to be one, almost a century ago,” Magnus admits, “but I tired of it and I missed the sea, so I returned to my old home.” Instead of buckling the sword around his waist, Magnus holds it out. Alec blinks, not understanding. “If you’re going to take your ship back, you’re going to need a captain’s weapon.”

“What about you?” Alec asks, and winces at his boldness. He can hardly expect Magnus to keep helping him. He’d already done far more than his share.

Magnus blinks, something like wonder in his eyes. “Me?”

“You saved my life. I could use an ally in this.” Alec pauses, remembers the fleeting glimpses of hope on his face when Alec first accepted his offer of sanctuary. He takes a chance. “I could use a friend.”

“I suppose I have nothing else to do.” Magnus’ strong shoulders sway as he closes the distance between them.

The sword hangs between them, and this time Alec takes it, his grip firm and sure.

“As long as you don’t mind…” Magnus trails off, and when Alec blinks he can see the translucent outline of tentacles around Magnus’ hips.

He reaches out with the hand not holding the sword, surprised when the tentacle feels solid in his hand. His thumb traces a line around one of the raised ridges and for a split second, Magnus’ mouth falls open, his breath hitching. He recovers so fast Alec almost thinks he imagined it.

Almost.

“I don’t mind at all,” Alec says, and means it. He doesn’t bring the tentacle to his lips but he hopes one day he’ll have that right.

Their strange partnership is just beginning and Alec doesn’t know what it will entail, but he’s looking forward to finding out.

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #51, the birth of Mina Carstairs.

It is an early spring morning in March of 2013, when Tessa awakes to intense cramps in her lower stomach. Tessa winces and pushes herself up in the bed, grasping her swollen stomach as the pain intensifies. These last few weeks she has been having fake contractions, which caused a false alarm at first, Jem had gotten everything set up and ready for the baby’s birth but then the pains stopped and Tessa realized they had been pain fake contractions, which she never experienced with James or Lucie. However this time she recognizes the pain and knows it’s the real deal.

When the pain passes, Tessa reaches over and shakes Jem awake. 

“Jem, Jem wake up, it’s time.” Tessa quietly says, her heart fluttering with excitement and joy. Jem immediately sits up right and looks at Tessa with wide brown eyes. 

“For real this time?” He asks in an unsure tone. Tessa nods as she swings her legs out of the bed and pushes herself up. Just then she feels a popping sensation in her lower abdomen followed by a gush of water from between her legs. 

“Well unless Mina has some odd water powers, I think it’s really time.” Tessa lightly says, placing a hand under her bump, wincing as she feels another kick from her daughter. “Oh Mina love you don’t need to kick mummy to let me know your coming, you could give me a break now.” Tessa coos to her stomach, looking forward to not having little feet kicking her all day and night, Mina is an extremely active baby and the only thing that calms her is the sound of Kit’s voice, Jem’s only makes her more excited. 

“Should we stay up here?” Jem asks, getting out of the bed and making his way to his wife’s side. Tessa shakes her head, some of her hair falling into her eyes. 

“No, I hated laboring in a small stuffy room with Jamie and Lucie, we probably have hours yet before anything serious happens, I want to go to the conservatory, I want you to play for us.” she says, breathing through another contraction.

“Of course, I’ll contact Magnus first and let Kit know what’s going on, do you want me to ask him to sit with you in the conservatory while I contact Magnus?” Jem asks, slipping on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie over his pajamas. Tessa laughs lightly and says

“I love Kit but I don’t think he would want to sit with me while I’m in labor, I don’t think any teenage boy would, I’ll wait here while you contact Magnus.” 

20 minutes later Tessa is pacing the length of the conservatory, stopping each time a contraction hits, listening to Jem playing the cello, which he had learned shortly after leaving the Silent Brotherhood. The sound of the music is extremely calming to Tessa, it reminds her of the music some of her patients who practiced hypno-birthing would listen to while in labor, when she had worked as a midwife. 

As another contraction hits and Tessa stops by Jem’s chair, doubling over and clutching the back of the chair tightly, she hears the door creak open, but doesn’t open her eyes to see who it is. 

“Goodness you don’t look too good Tessa.” She hears Magnus say in a teasing tone. She smiles weakly, glad that Magnus is here to help her, while Jem is wonderful at keeping her calm and level-headed, Magnus will be able to make her laugh and distract her from the pain. 

“Forgive me, I forgot to do my hair and makeup when my water broke, I’m very sorry.” Tessa answers in a light tone, straightening up as the contraction eases. 

“So you should be, what kind of example are you going to set for little Wilhelmina?” Magnus says, making his way to Tessa’s side and slipping his hand into hers and giving it an encouraging squeeze. “Do you want me to give you a pain killing spell?” he adds. 

“No, when Cat gave me a pain killing spell when I had Lucie I felt so out of it and awful, I barely remember giving birth to Lucie because of it, I want to remember this, all of it, everything about her.” Tessa says in a strained tone, as she thinks of the fact that one day she will loose Mina, like she lost James and Lucie. She wants to remember every second of her life with her daughter, even the painful times. 

“Is there anything else you would like love?” Jem softly asks, looking at his wife with eyes full of concern and worry, he hates seeing her like this, though it will not stop him from delivering his daughter, he has delivered hundreds of babies before, including James and Lucie, he does not want to miss out on delivering his own baby.

“No, just keep playing, please, it keeps me calm.” Tessa says, clutching Magnus’ hand as another intense pain washes over her.

Two hours later the pains are a lot stronger and getting much closer together, Jem is still playing his cello and Tessa is still pacing the room, while Magnus has gone to get herbs to brew into a tea that Tessa had asked for, to help the pains.

“James make your daughter hurry up.” Tessa says in a tired tone, leaning against a wall with her hand, clutching her back with the other and wishing desperately that the baby would come out already. Jem sets the cello bow down and makes his way over to his wife, kneeling before her and resting his head against her swollen stomach. 

“Wilhelmina Yiqiang Ke Carstairs, my little Mina mine, I can’t wait to meet you baby girl, I love you.” He whispers, earning a kick to the cheek from Mina. “Goodness Mina that was an almighty kick! Are you practicing your techniques on mummy?” Mina kicks again, though this time Jem has the sense to move his face before getting another blow from his daughter, who already seems to be quiet the Shadowhunter. 

Just then there is an almighty crashing sound and shards of broken glass rain in on them. Jem immediately pulls Tessa closer to him, covering her as much as he can with his own body, until the shower of glass stops. Jem pulls back and quickly looks over Tessa, relieved to see not a single cut on her. 

“Are you alright? Is Mina okay?” Jem asks in a worried tone, even though he can see that Tessa is unharmed. Tessa nods, her face pale with shock. 

“I-I’m fine, are you?” Jem nods and helps her to her feet just as Magnus comes into the room. 

“What happened?” He asks, looking around in astonishment. 

“I don’t know all the glass just shattered out of nowhere, should we be worried? Do you think it’s demonic?” Tessa asks in an anxious tone, holding her stomach protectively. Magnus’ eyes land on the spirit of Livvy Blackthorn, and he immediately knows what happened here, though of course he won’t tell Tessa and Jem.

“No no it’s nothing to worry about, the wards I put up here are unbreakable Tess, I imagine it was just the wind or something, it is picking up out there.”  Magnus calmly says, glancing out the window, where it has begun to storm. 

“Are you sure?” Tessa asks,as Livvy apologizes and tells Magnus she didn’t mean to do it. 

“Of course I’m sure, come have your herbal tea, and then perhaps you’d like to try and get some sleep or lie down for a while? Clearly you can’t labor in here anymore.” Magnus says, intending to clean and fix the conservatory with his magic before he rejoins Tessa and Jem. He’ll have to speak with Livvy later, he had promised Tessa he would be there for the baby’s birth and he was not about to let his best friend down.

Once the shock of what happened in the conservatory fades, Tessa feels a wave of exhaustion wash over her, so she asks Jem to bring her herbal tea up to their bedroom to her, where she wants to go lie down and try and sleep for a while before Mina arrives. 

Several hours later after drinking her tea and managing to sleep for half an hour, Tessa feels the intense familiar urge to push. While Jem sits on a chair at the bottom of the bed, Magnus takes a seat next to Tessa and once again slips his hand into hers. Tessa’s labor is long and painful, but finally after almost 2 hours of pushing, she feels like she is getting somewhere. 

“You are doing so well Tess, I can see her head.” Jem tells his wife in a tone of amazement and awe, trying to stop himself from shaking with excitement. 

“Oh God I can’t believe I said no to pain relief! Why did you let me say no to the painkillers Jem?” Tessa weakly asks, trying to rest and gather her strength between contractions. Jem smiles lightly, he had heard so many mothers blame their partners for their pain or for allowing them not to take painkillers, during his time as a Silent Brother, he had always found it amusing and now it was happening to him, and he could not be happier. 

“You are your own person love, I don’t control you, I trusted you when you said you could do it without pain relief.” Jem calmly says. 

“Well you shouldn’t have! I can’t do this!” Tessa exclaims, groaning as another agonizing wave of pain hits her.

“Tessa Carstairs don’t be so ridiculous, you have not only done this twice before, but you have transformed into an actual angel and lived, you survived both mundane wars and all the shadow world wars and much more, you can give birth in your sleep.” Magnus firmly tells her, knowing that she absolutely has it in her to do this and bring her baby into the world, she is just loosing morale and energy at this stage, which he had seen in many of the deliveries he assisted Catarina with.

Before Tessa can reply she feels the urge to push again and does so, gripping Magnus’ hand tightly, causing him to bite his lip to stifle a shout of pain.

“Her heads out Tessa, do you want to deliver her the rest of the way?” Jem asks, knowing that some women like to be able to reach down and catch their baby after the head is born. Tessa nods, hope lighting up her eyes as Jem guides her hands down,holding them in his own so that they can deliver their baby together. 

“Once her shoulders are out it will be just one more push and she’ll be here, you can do it okay? I know you can.” Jem assures his wife, locking eyes with her. Tessa nods and pushes again, and just a few seconds alter she feels a weight lift from her and a high pitched wail pierces the air. Tears immediately start to run down Jem’s face when he sees his daughter, and he begins to laugh and sob at the same time. “You did it Tess, you did it, she’s here.” he chokes out, wiping his tears on his hoddie before wiping away some of the blood on Mina and placing her on a blanket. Before he can do anything else though, Tessa scoops Mina up onto her chest and laugs in delight as tears of joy run down her face.

“Oh hello, hi Mina, you are so beautiful, I love you.” Tessa coos to the baby, kissing her little forehead and cradling her close.

“Oh she’s beautiful Tessa, look at these little fingers, you’re going to be a musician one day with those long fingers Mina.” Magnus softly says, feeling himself choke up a little too. The minute he gets home he is going to cuddle his boys and never let them go again.

“She has your chin Tess.” Jem lightly says, tickling Mina under the chin, causing her to squirm away from him. He then bends closer to her and presses a kiss to her little cheek. “Mina mine, it’s daddy.” He coos, just as he would always do when Tessa was pregnant. And just as she would do in the womb, Mina stirs and squirms, kicking her little legs about, growing excited at the sound of her daddy’s voice.

“You look your daddy Mina, you’re a little Carstairs if I’ve ever seen one, your cousin Emma was hoping you would look like her with pretty blonde hair and brown eyes, but your dark hair is beautiful too, are you going to open your eyes and show us whose eyes you have? Did one of mama’s babies finally get her eyes?” Tessa coos to the baby, stroking her tiny eyelids in an attempt to get her to open her eyes.

“I think you might finally persuade Emma to leave France, Mina, she is so excited to meet you.” Jem says in an amused tone, reminding himself to text Emma and let her know that Mina is here and eager to meet her. 

“Do you mind if I take some pictures of this darling little one to show the boys and Alec?” Magnus asks, knowing how  disappointed Max and Rafe will be if he comes home with no pictures.

“No of course not, go ahead, you’ll have to bring them over to meet her soon.” Tessa says, adjusting Mina so that Magnus can get a good picture of her.

“Most certainly, though we’ll need to keep a close eye on Max or he’ll try and smuggle her home, he is constantly asking for a sister, we thought he would stop when we adopted Rafe but no, now he’s insistent that since has a brother he needs a sister, and a dinosaur.” Magnus says in an amused tone, his heart aching for his little blueberry, who he cannot wait to cuddle and kiss.

“I wonder if Mina will pester us for a sibling when she’s older.” Jem ponders, stroking the baby’s dark tufts of hair. 

“I hope so, because I want lots more, I want a big family now that we know for sure I can carry safely, that’s the only reason Will and I didn’t have more.” Tessa says, rocking Mina gently and stroking her little hand.

“Me too, what about you Mina? Do you want to be a big sister someday? Kit can teach you all about being a big sibling, he is going to spoil you rotten.” Jem says, smiling at the thought of seeing Kit and Mina together. He truly loves Kit as his own son and is extremely eager to see his two children together for the first time, already he knows he could just watch Mina all day long, he has no doubt he could watch her with Kit all day too. 

A few hours later once Tessa and Mina have been checked over and given a clean bill of health and Mina’s bassinet is moved into Tessa and Jem’s room, Magnus leaves the new family to themselves and goes back to his own little family. 

When Magnus arrives back in the loft, it is just past 8:00 A.M., an hour past the usual time that Alec and the boys wake up at. 

“Papa!” Magnus hears, followed by a blue blur knocking into him,before he can even takes his coat off. 

“Oh! Hello blueberry!” Magnus exclaims, scooping Max up and peppering his small chubby face in kisses.

“You came back!” Rafael exclaims in delight, walking into the living room, his face lighting up in delight at the sight of his father. Poor Rafe still struggles with separation and understanding that people can leave and then come back.

“Of course I did, you knew I would.” Magnus gently says, ruffling Rafe’s hair, as he wraps his arms tightly around Magnus’ waist. 

“Wasn’t sure.”Rafe mumbles into Magnus’ side. 

“I know darling, I know it’s hard for you to trust that just yet, but you will.” Magnus quietly says. 

“Hey, how are Tessa and the baby?” Alec asks, walking into the living room in his usual black jeans and t-shirt. 

“Tessa is doing wonderfully and little Mina is absolutely beautiful, one of the most gorgeous little babies I’ve ever seen.” Magnus says in a fond tone.

“Do you have pictures?” Alec hopefully asks, eager to see the newest family member.

“Yes I certainly do, oh Alec she’s such a little darling, you can’t help but fall in love with her sweet little face.” Magnus gushes, taking his phone out and showing Alec the few pictures of little Mina lying on Tessa’s chest. Alec’s heart melts into a puddle the moment he sees the photo and he is instantly hit with baby fever and a desire to hold and snuggle a little baby, missing when Max was that small.

“Oh my god she’s beautiful! Oh I so want another one, I want more than just one more, I want so many more.” Alec says, taking Max from Magnus and holding him close. 

“Papa that sister?” Max hopefully asks, pointing to the picture of Mina. Magnus laughs lightly and runs his hand through Max’s hair.

“No Maxie that’s your cousin Mina, Aunt Tessa and Uncle Jem’s baby.” he explains. 

“Can we adopt her?” Rafe pipes up, looking up at his parents with hopeful brown eyes. Magnus sighs and shakes his head, now both boys are harping at him and Alec about a sibling, it is going to be a long day.

Back in Devon, Jem is fast asleep in the rocking chair in his and Tessa’s room, by Mina’s bassinet, Tessa is fast asleep in bed and Mina is just waking up in her bassinet. Just as she begins to waken, the transparent figure of a tall man with unruly black hair appears by the bassinet and Mina immediately starts kicking her little legs and making a fuss, excited beyond belief to see her Uncle Will, who she had been able to sense in the womb. Will was able to talk to Mina a lot when Tessa was pregnant, so she knew him and his voice very well.

“Look at you beautiful Mina, what a perfect little girl you are.”  Will coos, reaching down to stroke her little hand. “I love you Mina, and I will always watch over you, you and your brother and your mama and daddy will always have me and your big brother and sister watching out for you,  you never have to worry when your Uncle Will is about okay? You go back to sleep now baby girl, let your mama and daddy rest some more, I’ll stay right here.” Mina relaxes and calms down at the sound of Will’s voice and soon drifts back off to sleep with her Uncle Will watching over her and keeping her safe.

Part 2 coming soon, which will be about all of Mina’s friends and family meeting her for the first time!

[wordsablaze]

Salt Is The New Mistletoe

Magnus' love advice doesn't always suit everyone but while his heart is singing and the shadowhunter is pining, Simon manages to cook up some mutual confessions and share his traditions with Jace... Written for the Jimon Secret Snowflake!

A/N: We’ve all been revealed so it’s about time i post this. I hope you all enjoyed your festivities!

Simon throws his hands up in the air as he finally, finally stops pacing the living room of Magnus Bane.

"Are you done, Sammy?"

"Magnus, I know you know my name. And this is serious!"

Magnus sighs deeply but then stands up so he's directly in front of the vampire and blinks slowly. "Love you as I do, Sally, my advice to you will stay the same no matter how much you wear down my carpet."

"Sally isn't even remotely close to Simon!"

"Who's Sally?" Magnus asks, feigning innocence.

Simon just glares at him. "I can't just tell him!"

"Then sing it to him!" Magnus replies, trying to hide his exasperation at the perpetually angst-ridden teen.

Said angst-ridden teen opens his mouth to argue but then falls silent, his eyes darting back and forth as he seems to plan something. Magnus raises an eyebrow at the look but smiles to himself, pushing Simon into a seated position on the beanbags before heading to his study.

It's hours later when Simon finally stirs from his contemplative state and searches for Magnus. He ends up only finding a note written in literally dazzling cursive, a note that tells him he can leave at any time because the wards on the apartment have been temporarily modified for him.

Smiling, he heads to the park so he can find a quiet corner where he can write this song.

Within minutes, he's immersed in his notebook, perched on his side atop one of the most peculiar boulders in the area, but that's nothing new - he's known to be crammed into the smallest nook or the strangest cranny with his glasses stuck to his face as if they've been superglued.

It's strange how naturally the words flow when he's picturing those mismatched eyes, those golden locks of hair in the sunlight, or that swing of a seraph blade. The lyrics piece themselves together like patchwork and his handwriting morphs into an almost illegible scrawl in his rush to get the words down. He can feel himself falling into a zone he usually doesn't leave until he has a completed first draft.

"Simon?" a voice asks, and he jumps, dropping his notebook, losing his balance, diving after said notebook despite his lack of equilibrium, and eventually falling on his side.

"Sorry!" the same voice exclaims, except now it sounds bashful and surprised, not to mention rather similar to someone he knows…

"Jace?"

'Naturally blond' hair flies up and settles once again as Jace nods quickly. "The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" Simon pushes his glasses further up his nose for no reason other than to avoid staring at Jace's perfectly mismatched eyes.

"I, uh, wanted a walk."

"A… walk?" Simon echoes, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, you know, moving your legs and lifting your feet?"

"Are you suggesting I don't know how to walk?"

Jace, to Simon's shock, flushes a deep cherry red and shakes his head. "Of course you know how to walk, that's how you get in all those impressive- I mean, crazy positions all the time."

Simon grins to himself but nods slowly, trying to act confused. It doesn't last long, however, because his phone rings and he jumps at least half a metre into the air, his notebook once again flying out of his hands only to land at Jace's feet. His eyes wide, he immediately grabs it back before the shadowhunter can blink, his heart racing.

"Trouble?" Simon asks as his greeting after picking up the phone with a silent, bashful apology to Jace.

"What do you think of me? I went to your parents'…" Clary trails off.

Simon can tell Jace is staring but dismisses the thought. "You did? Did they say anything about, uh, well… me?"

"No." Clary pauses, and Simon swears he can hear sirens but she continues, "Whatever you and Magnus did… worked… I'm sorry?"

His eyes close for the briefest of moments but he tries not to feel bad about it and instead reaches for the pride that should arise from a plan carried out correctly. He shakes his head. "Uh, thanks, I'll see you?"

"You bet," Clary responds; Simon hangs up.

He pockets his phone and runs a hand through his hair, sighing.

"Everything okay?" Jace asks. Simon had almost forgotten he was there.

"Clary's fine. I mean, I thought I heard sirens but there's usually sirens around there so I'm guessing she's alright and-"

"Simon," Jace interrupts, a bemused expression on his face. "I don't care about Clary."

Simon blinks.

"Wait, that's not what I meant; I do care about Clary." Jace looks like he wants to whack his head on the nearest wall. "It's just that I wasn't asking about her."

"Then who were you asking about?"

After a moment's hesitation, Jace answers: "The most oblivious vampire in all of history, apparently."

Simon's brows furrow in confusion as he considers this before he puts two and two together, so to speak. "You mean me? You were asking about me?"

Jace rolls his eyes but then nods as if worried about Simon's response. Simon shakes his head at the thought, knowing that there's no way someone like Jace could care what he thought... Sadly.

"What about me?"

"Is everything okay?" Jace asks, his voice as kind as the concern in his eyes.

Simon realises that he'd been biting his lip in anticipation of the reply but he clears his throat as Jace sends him a comforting smile. "I, um- yeah, I'm good. Not as good as Mike, mind you, but better than Joyce. I mean, those lights were quite the feat and I think-"

"Simon." Jace's clearly amused but still sharp voice cuts into his growing tangent, causing him to pause his answer. "I have no idea what you're saying, you nerd."

"Remind me to introduce you to Netflix," Simon mutters to himself before coughing. "Uh, I'm good."

"Sure? Do you want- do you need help with anything or...?"

Simon opens his mouth to decline but changes his mind and worries his lower lip instead

"So you do need help?" Jace asks, trying not to sound overly eager.

He can't even admit to himself that he'd gone out with something in his brain wanting to find Simon, never mind admit it to anyone else out loud, especially not the nerdy vampire himself. Luckily, something else clicks in his brain and he gasps loud enough to make Simon jump before apologising and declaring, "It's Hanukkah soon, isn't it?"

If Simon's frozen smile and arched eyebrows are anything to go by, he's astonished.

Jace doesn't know if he should feel proud of inviting such a beautiful expression onto the vampire's face or if he should feel guilty for painting himself as a person who wouldn't care about other people's celebrations.

"Don't worry about it," Simon says eventually.

No way is Jace having that. "How can I help? Do you want me to- I mean, should I buy ingredients or whatever?" He resists the urge to clench his fists. "Got nothing better to do anyway…"

He'd added the last lie to try and tone down his eagerness but the way Simon's excitement dims a little makes him regret it with every fibre of his being.

A strange silence floats between them until Simon nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"I could use your arms." He goes redder than a vampire should be able to. "I mean, an extra set of arms."

"What do we- you need?" Jace asks, confusing himself by wondering what's wrong with his arms then cursing at himself for overthinking Simon's words.

"I don't know yet, I'll have to check what I- oh. Um, actually, I have to check what the recipe is."

"You don't know it?" Jace asks, then digs his nails into his palms. "I mean, I thought you'd remember because you seem like someone with a good memory and this seems like another thing you could retain but it's absolutely if you don't because there's no pressure or anything…" He fizzles out as he sees Simon laugh.

"For someone who says 'I mean' a lot, you don't seem to be telling me what you really mean."

I can't, Jace thinks, because you would run away from me faster than you've ever run in your whole life.

"So, what do you need?" Jace asks, ignoring the twisting of his stomach and raking a hand through his hair.

"We probably need to take a trip to the supermarket or something," Simon says, "unless you have eggs and potatoes in your pockets?"

Jace snorts, then catches himself. "That's not funny."

"Are you sure?" Simon asks as he starts leading the way. "You seem pretty amused to me."

Following Simon, Jace decides not to reply at all, letting a strangely soothing silence fall upon them once again. The two of them walk in silence to the nearest shop before Simon freezes without warning; Jace crashes right into him and lets out a small yelp.

"I can't-" Simon's statement stops as abruptly as his movement a few seconds ago.

"What is it?" Jace asks.

Simon shakes his head, nervously wringing his hands. "These people… They all know me. I can't go in… I can't…"

Jace has never before acted upon his small desire to wrap an arm around Simon's shoulders but he swallows his anxiety and does so, sending the vampire what he hopes is a comforting smile. "I'll do it for you, they won't be able to see you."

"You will?"

"Yeah, I'll be able to see you," Jace replies, pulling his arm back after a small attempted pat of reassurance.

Simon smiles. "No, I mean, you'd do that for me?"

Oh. Jace can't form words that accurately describe how willing he is to help Simon and how long he's wanted to do something that shows he cares so he just nods, raising an eyebrow. "Like I said, I've got nothing better to do."

When he says that, he doesn't mean to say he's only doing this because nothing else has come up. He literally means that helping Simon and trying to show he cares is the most enjoyable scenario he can imagine but, sadly, Simon doesn't seem to understand what he's trying to say. A part of Jace wishes he could explain but his fear of the endless potentially catastrophic outcomes stops him from doing so.

They sort out the runes and things needed for their arrangement, Jace swallowing the deep regret in his chest that doesn't seem to make sense but he can't find a way to stop it, to explain it, to unravel it.

"Right, what's first?" Jace asks, making sure his voice doesn't give anything away.

"Uh, potatoes," Simon answers, so the two of them enter the shop, Jace confident and full of smiles, Simon jittery and nervous.

"Why are there six different kinds of potatoes?" Jace mutters under his breath.

The woman beside him almost crashes into Simon with her violent jump of shock. She squints at Jace as if analysing him, then smiles. "What is it you're making, dear?"

Jace blanches, looking to Simon with a bemused expression. Simon laughs for a second but then mouths 'potato latkes' to him, which he then repeats, almost certain he's pronouncing it wrong. Luckily, the woman smiles at him and pats his head. "How kind of you."

"Sorry?"

"Well, you're making this for someone special, right?"

"Uh…" Jace considers her expression and decides it's best to agree. "Yes."

With a soft smile, the woman starts explaining potatoes to him in such detail he can't help wondering why she's not written a book on them yet. Nevertheless, he listens to her explaining about the vegetable for almost five minutes, then politely thanks her and goes to the till so he can pay.

"There's more to buy, you know?" Simon speaks up for the first time since he'd agreed he was making the latkes for someone special.

Jace waits until the potatoes are in a bag and he's out of the shop before replying. "I am not spending another moment in the vicinity of a woman obsessed with potatoes."

"Wouldn't want to ruin your perfect hair, would you?" Simon mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You think my hair's perfect?" Jace questions, his ego fluttering with happiness.

Simon snorts. "As if."

Simon doesn't know if he regrets saying that or not. Something inside of him is glad to have gotten away with such a remark where most people would be glared at or punched but another part of him decides that the diminishing amusement – or whatever it is in Jace's alluring eyes – isn't worth the snippet of satisfaction.

"So, where else?"

"That's all we need actually, Magnus said I can use his kitchen until… well, forever."

"What about him and… you know, Alec? Won't they be, uh, busy?"

Simon chuckles at how awkward Jace sounds talking about something he's no stranger to but shakes his head anyway. "Nah, they're in Brazil or something."

"Brazil? Alec didn't tell me they were going to Brazil…"

"He wouldn't have known." Simon waves a hand. "Magnus planned it as a surprise."

Jace nods, visibly relieved, but then frowns. "How do you know?"

Choosing not to reveal his song-writing decision or his pretty open but probably not as open as he thinks friendship with Magnus, he shrugs. "Overheard some stuff."

Despite being evidently suspicious, Jace accepts that answer. "Are we going to Magnus' place then?"

"You're coming?" Simon asks, shocked.

"I don't have t- If you're not comfortable or-"

"No, no, I just… I thought you'd be busy or something." Simon winces at the weak excuse but keeps his eyes on the shine in Jace's eyes, not wanting to miss a second of it.

"Nothing better to do, remember?" Jace smiles and Simon can tell he isn't saying what he truly means but he doesn't think it's his place to point that out.

And so, with a touch of tension and heaps of curiosity hanging between them, they make their way to Magnus' apartment, Jace carrying the bag of potatoes so he has something to clench his hands around.

"Wait, doesn't Magnus have wards around his apartment?" Jace asks as they climb the stairs in his building.

Simon bites his lip for a moment, considering. "Yeah… But let's try anyway…"

Jace looks mightily dubious but nods, the two of them knocking on the door together.

Simon's eyes widen as the door opens without any trouble; Magnus must have anticipated the two of them coming back together. No wonder he's the high warlock of Brooklyn.

"Well, shut the door, would you?" Jace calls to Simon as he walks into Magnus' kitchen, opening the bag of potatoes.

"How do you know your way around this place?" Simon asks after shutting the door and staring at Jace's hair for an entire minute.

Jace stays silent for the longest two minutes of eternity before shrugging almost nonchalantly. "Alec."

"Alec?" Simon echoes, turning behind him, half expecting to see said shadowhunter.

Chuckling, Jace shakes his head. "No, I mean- I mean I'm usually the one who has to come and find Alec when he's stayed here…"

Simon nods understandingly even though he doesn't understand. He can't tell if he's crazy or kind but it doesn't really matter, the only important thing being Jace and his rather flimsy explanation. A large part of him would love to believe Alec is the only reason to visit Magnus' but a small part of his heart can't stop nagging his brain, saying that Jace himself may have been in trouble, Jace himself may have needed Magnus' help.

He shakes his head, killing the thought. Turning to Jace, he smiles. "Right, do you want to beat the eggs?"

Jace blinks. "Beat them at what?"

There's a second of shock before Simon bursts out laughing, doubling over and one hand flying to his glasses to make sure they don't fall off and break. He doesn't even know why he wears them anymore – he doesn't need them – but it's probably something to do with sentiment and he'd rather not explore that anytime soon.

"You don't know how to beat an egg?" He breathes, his hysteria died down considerably.

"What am I supposed to beat them at?" Jace repeats as if asking the question a second time can make it any more acceptable and not completely wrong.

"You don't know…? Never mind. I have a new plan: sit back and watch," Simon orders, shaking his head.

"Sit and watch? Have you met me?"

"Unfortunately."

Jace groans loudly, rolling his mismatched eyes and lifting himself onto the counter. It wouldn't be a problem but he just watches as Simon dances around the kitchen and grabs the ingredients Jace passes him, doing whatever he has to do with them. He doesn't know what it is about the shadowhunter watching that makes him nervous, but he has butterflies nonetheless.

"Is there something on my face?" Simon asks as he stops to take a breath he doesn't really need. "You've been staring at me for the past six minutes."

Jace jumps and hits his head on the cupboard, immediately wincing and sliding off the counter only to overbalance and crash into Simon, both of them groaning as they beeline to the floor, landing with two soft thuds and the potential for a matching set of bruises.

"Sorry, Lewis." Jace coughs awkwardly, pulling himself up. "My bad."

"That doesn't make it any better," Simon groans, grabbing the bar stool and propping himself up on the counter. "In fact, that almost makes it worse."

Jace smiles, a genuine smile that lights up and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

Simon finds himself smiling at Jace in return without having to force the gesture. It's just something about Jace's bright eyes and hopeful aura that you can't refuse – it's basically a crime to turn away from him. It's a crime Simon would love to commit because it would save him the ache in his chest.

"Pass me the onions?" he asks, trying to change the atmosphere.

"Which ones?" Jace points at the basket of onions. "There are at least four different types here."

"The ones that look easiest to chop?" Simon suggests, making a note to inquire why the High Warlock of Brooklyn needs so many different onions.

He hears Jace mutter something but there's an onion in front of him before he can complain so he just salutes in half-mocking gratitude and carries on preparing the dish.

"You have flour on your face!" Jace informs Simon, already moving forward to get rid of said ingredient.

Simon flinches ever so slightly but leans into Jace's touch as the offending flour is wiped away. Without missing a beat, the two of them lock gazes, their eyes reflecting the confusion and concern they're both feeling. There's a hesitation in Simon's eyes that Jace hasn't seen before, a hesitation he'd never expected of the nerd.

"Why aren't you celebrating with your family?" Jace asks softly.

"They don't remember me," Simon replies eventually, just when Jace has decided he should give up on his curiosity.

Jace must frown because Simon steps back, shaking his head. "It's stupid, I know, I just couldn't stand them..."

"Thinking you weren't yourself and needed fixing?" Jace suggests.

Looking back up at him with a smile, Simon nods. "Yeah, exactly."

Something beeps before the conversation can become any more emotional and Simon moves to stop the infuriating noise so they don't both pull their hair out in desperation. Jace watches, rubbing a finger over the courage rune on his wrist, and smiles as Simon expertly manoeuvre his way around the kitchen as if it was his own house.

Once everything is safe and silent – aside from the gentle hiss of the stove – Simon turns back to Jace and Jace genuinely feels his heart lighten at the thought of someone immediately turning to him just because they can.

"They're not really my family anymore, you know?"

"Huh?"

Simon swallows and carries on. "My parents… they're not really my family. They're the old Simon's family, the human Simon's family. And um- they, uh, they wouldn't want a vampire for son- for a son."

Jace's heart melts and freezes simultaneously. He can't decide if he wants to hug someone or punch something so he chooses to do nothing, letting Simon breathe deeply.

"I don't even need anyone that- anyone to need me, you know? I just… I just want to celebrate with a people- with people that accept me?"

"I accept you," Jace whispers softly. "I will always accept you."

Simon's smile could illuminate a tunnel of despair.

Jace coughs, unsure of himself for once, "And don't you worry, we'll find your pretty face a partner."

"What?"

"There must be someone you like, right?" Jace raises an eyebrow as he pretends not to be cursing himself internally.

Simon blankly stares at him for a few seconds, then chuckles. "Are we really doing this?"

Unfortunately, they have to wait until Simon takes the potato latkas off the stove before the conversation can continue. Even as the vampire does something as simple as removing a pan or whatever it's called, Jace wants to scream his appreciation and do something to wipe the underlying sadness away from him.

"I'm not good at talking about this kind of stuff," Simon says immediately, "but I can sing it for you."

"Sing it?" Jace questions.

"Sure." Simon shrugs. "It's just like performing at Hunter Moon, but with less of an audience."

"I count for at least ten people, right?" Jace winks.

Simon's smile might be small but it's still a smile and Jace is happy to see it there. He follows Simon into what he assumes is the guest room and waits as he assembles his performing equipment.

There's an uncanny lullaby hidden in the melody of Simon's music, one that evokes a happiness inside of him he didn't know he had. Despite the foundation of bliss in the beats, Simon's words are heartfelt and touching, speaking of loves and pains and impossible decisions. Jace doesn't recognise who Simon is singing about in his gentle voice until there's a verse talking about the mysterious person's eyes: it would be hard not to recognise someone describing his own.

He waits for Simon to finish, his mind whirling and his heart just hoping.

"You wrote a song about me?"

Simon shakes his head and for one, chilling moment, Jace thinks he's messed up big-time but the vampire's action is accompanied by a shrug and a whisper: "Obviously."

Jace doesn't know what to say. He's heard a plethora of love confessions in the past but never from someone he's willing to sacrifice his beauty sleep for.

"You think my face is pretty?" Simon asks before Jace can form words in response to the song; speech is never usually a problem for him but music has never been so beautiful.

"The prettiest."

Simon smiles, apparently finding out all he needs from those two words.

He takes a small step forwards, smiling slyly. "You, uh, you have salt on your face."

Apparently, sodium chloride can now be used as an excuse to reveal and display affection; Simon leans forward and plants a small, gentle kiss on Jace's cheek.

Jace almost shivers and swallows before shaking his head. He sees Simon look worried but decides to carry on instead of trying to explain. "You can't get away with that."

"I'm sorry, I thought yo- oh!" Simon practically squeaks as Jace makes his move, this time landing a tiny kiss on Simon's lips with a classic Herondale smirk.

Simon doesn't know how to describe the emotions bubbling inside of him so he just grins widely, pushing his glasses up onto his face and trying not to literally bounce off the walls in excitement.

"Your, uh, potato things?" Jace coughs, flushed.

Raking his slightly shaking fingers through his hair, Simon nods and clears his throat, trying not to focus on his tingling skin. "Right. The Latkes!"

Five minutes later, there's a plate of potato latkes sitting on a plate in between the two of them.

Simon offers Jace the first one, purely to try and exile the tension in the room, but Jace shakes his head. "I think there's something missing."

"What?" Simon asks, alarmed.

Jace winks again, giving Simon a chance to lose himself in the colours of his eyes, and stands up, moving to grab something from the counter behind them. He genuinely has no idea what the shadowhunter is doing until the bottle of salt is placed in front of him.

"I think it needs a pinch of salt, don't you?"

It's hard to contain his grin as he nods slowly. "Maybe more than a pinch?"

Then, both of them completely ignoring the salt despite its existence being the trigger to their current situation, they kiss once again. This time, it's all out and proper, tasting of salt and warmth, potatoes and joy, relief and love.

When they pull away to catch their breath, Jace beams. "Who needs mistletoe when you have salt?"

"Definitely not us," Simon replies, still breathing heavily.

Their interlocked fingers and matching smiles are more than worth the awkward silences and tense moments they'd had to experience. As they share a lovingly sly look, Simon decides he couldn't possibly ask for anyone better to celebrate with, anyone better to share his traditions with, anyone better to love.

Jace coughs. "So, uh, for the record, I might- well, I probably don't really hate you…"

Simon just smiles fondly. "I love you too."

He's going to have to thank Magnus' salt for this one.

like/reblog but don’t repsot, thanks!

[amemixfan]

Zugzwang (3/?)

Unfortunately, I do not wake up in Chicago.

The next morning, I awake in the same blue bedroom from the night before. My headache is completely gone and my muscles feel slightly less sore. I stretch my arms above my head before climbing out of bed.

As I finger comb my hair, I realize that someone has dressed me from before. My T-shirt and jeans have been replaced by a simple white sleeping gown that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

I bristle and immediately head to the dresser while my cheeks burn.

Someone dressed me while I was out. Someone saw me naked without my consent.

The thought violates me and makes my cheeks even redder. I at least hope it was Helena or some other female and not one of the men from before.

Pulling open the dresser, I have to bite back a groan.

The entire wardrobe in the room consists of dresses in various shades of blue and white that look even more revealing than the last. Whoever these belong to must have a high self esteem.

It takes me more than I would care to admit to find something shoved at the very bottom of the pile that isn’t some skimpy Halloween costume wannabe.

The clothes I find are a plain shirt and pants in various tan and brown shades. Mercifully, and rather oddly, they fit me perfectly to the point where I wonder how they seem to be tailored to me.

Sighing, I decide just to chalk it up to dream logic and head out the door.

Unlike last night-or whenever I was last awake-the halls seem to be empty. There’s no sign of Helena or Alain or anyone else nearby. It takes me several wrong turns and dead ends to finally find someone.

A servant who turns white when they see me mumbles out half directions to some place before scurrying away like a startled animal. I try to ignore how odd that is before following their instructions through the labyrinth that is the building.

Eventually, I make it to some sort of dining room. From outside, the smell of food wafts through the air and my stomach makes a dying whale noise.

I blush for the second time again before pushing the heavy door open.

Immediately, chatter stops. The room turns dead silent upon my entrance. I hesitate for just a second before continuing towards the people from earlier.

“Morning,” I mumble out.

My voice seems to jolt something into action because Helena and Alain jump to their feet. Alain haphazardly lunges for a chair next to him and pushes it out for me. His face schools into another half-obsessed half-creepy smile.

“Good morning, My Queen, I trust you slept well?” He pushes my chair in as I sit.

“Like a log,” I answer back.

My hands fold into my lap nervously as I take in the room around me.

The five from before surround me on a large table. There’s several chairs in between them as if the thought of sitting close to one another disgusts them. Alain and Helena take the left side of the table on opposite ends while Lennox sits near the center four chairs away from Helena. Jinhai and Magnus take the right sitting opposite of one another.

Each of them stares at me as if I were something dangerous. Alain and Helena have the same looks of blind devotion on their faces, Lennox stares at me as if I were a marathon of his favorite tv show on tv, Jinhai gives me half interested looks over his plate, and Magnus stares at me with something cold in his eyes. His stare is the most suspicious and appraising.

I bristle and clench my hands underneath the table. Something I’ve always hated was to be stared by men like a specimen. Schooling my face into a glare, I meet his gaze evenly. A look of shock crosses his face and he looks down at his drink.

Feeling satisfied, I turn my attention back to the table as someone deposits something in front of me.

Helena sets a plate of eggs and bacon. I stare at my favorite dish in confusement before she gives me an adoring smile.

“The kitchen was instructed to make your favorite meals once more. We figured you would like something nice to eat after being hit in the head by a certain disloyal and pathetic General,” she explains. At the end of her sentence, she throws a fierce glare at Lennox.

The General meets her glare evenly before rising to his feet and schooling his features back into his best attempt at a charming smile.

Remembering that he was the one that knocked me out, I feel my body go into defensive mode as he approaches me.

“I apologize once more, My Queen, for my rash actions that night. You were in a state of shock and I figured rest was what you would need. My actions were rather unplanned, but at least you were able to sleep after your ordeal with Wolfson. May I give you your favorite?” He extends a glass of something white and alcoholic at me.

I stare at it with contempt, not really inclined to take something from Jim Jones’ reincarnation, before Helena swipes the drink from his hand.

“I would not accept offerings from someone beneath you, your Majesty. Who knows what Lennox could have done to it?” She dumps out the drink into an empty glass nearby and discards the glass.

“Beneath her? You’re one to talk, Witch. You and Alain spent so much time beneath her that-“

Lennox begins to fire back at Helena before I put an end to it. My headache from before is starting to return and the last thing I want to hear is two people arguing.

“Enough, both of you,” I growl out. My voice sounds more cutting than I had expected and the hall turns dead silent.

It seems that my voice has shocked everyone. Alain, previously openly gawking at me, turns away from me as if frightened. Helena and Lennox take a half step back, their rivalry temporarily forgotten, and the other two suddenly become more interested in their plate.

Feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, I clear my throat and stab my fork into a piece of egg.

“I don’t like arguing during a meal. Sit down and pretend to be civilized for a minute,” I mutter our. The order reverberates through the room and the two obey.

“Apologies, My Queen,” Lennox bows his head as he retakes his seat. Helena echoes him and pretends not to notice his existence as she takes a languid sip of her water glass.

The meal is quiet for a second before someone clears their throat.

Magnus.

He sets his empty wine glass down in front of him and leans forward in his seat. His eyes are still distrusting as he appraises me, but he seems to be forcing it down.

“Your Majesty, may we talk about your return now that you are rested and fed? Your return has sent rumors throughout your lands that must be addressed. Your troops, watched by me in your absence, grow restless at the prospect of having their Queen back. I believe we must make a public appearance soon. To test morale and loyalty,” he says.

There is a pause in his words for a few moments. I realize that he is expecting an answer but I am still confused. I’ve been asking since yesterday about what is happening, and why they continue calling me a Queen, but no one has provided me with an answer.

I open my mouth to ask once more before stopping myself. Magnus and Jinhai seem to be sizing me up. Out of the five in the room, they seem the most suspicious. Something tells me that letting them know their doubts are true is not the best idea.

Despite how much I want to know what is going on, I realize this isn’t the time. If I let Sherlock Holmes and Watson think there is something wrong, it can only come back to bite me.

So, I school my features into my best Queenly look and wave my hand as if disinterested.

“Not now. I still need my rest and time to be my old self. Wait for further instructions,” I voice out. My voice sounds confident and strong.

Thank you theater major, I knew you weren’t a total waste of money.

Magnus opens his mouth to protest, eyes hardening in frustration, before Alain glares at him.

“Your Queen has issued an order, Magnus. Stand down and follow it. Her Majesty is still recovering from bringing brought back and needs time to gather her bearings. In the mean time, tell the troops that their Queen has returned and they will see her when she deems fit. Now, I propose we begin gathering intel on Wolfson and his army before making hasty choices. Retaliation is in order for their involvement in Her Majesty’s disappearance. Is that alright with you, My Queen?”

I start in my seat and make a half noise of approval at the back of my throat. That seems to be enough for Alain because he settles back into his chair looking content.

Magnus growls something under his breath about him being in charge and not Alain but shuts up.

Good. Now if only he and pointy-ears would stop scrutinizing my every movement.

“My Queen,” a familiar voice sounds out. I turn to look at Lennox who is done with his timeout. “While you rest and recover, why don’t we begin planning what to tell your followers? Magnus’ troops may need to wait, but your believers have already seen you. I don’t think there is anything wrong with you helping me come up with a statement to them-“

“The last thing she needs is to spend time with the one who raised a hand to her. If anything, I should cut it off right now,” Alain interrupts him mid-proposition and reaches for his sword.

“I’d like to see you try,” Lennox grits out.

Jinhai makes an amused sound at the back of his throat and leans towards Magnus. “Finally. Something amusing this morning. I bet you a drink Lennox walks away with a black eye.”

Magnus, to my surprise, doesn’t admonish him. Instead, he raises an eyebrow in utter interest and watches the scene. “I wager he won’t even live through it.”

The two seem content to watch this play out but I don’t. Feeling like I’m back in my babysitting job from high school I stand.

“Enough! What did I say about fighting?!”

My voice once more cuts trough the room and it gets quiet. Alain lowers whatever his double blades thing is and mumbles an apology. Lennox offers none this time and instead stands to walk out.

“My offer still stands, My Queen. Perhaps helping me write a statement will jog your memory? Come with me and we shall see you restored to your magnificence.”

Helena and Alain stand before I can make a choice.

“Nonsense, Your Majesty. Lennox has already proven himself to be a traitor by harming you. Come with Alain and I and we can look through the library for something to aid in your recovery,” Helena proposes.

I wait for another option. One where someone proposes to send me back home or leave me in peace until I can puzzle things out but none come. Magnus regards me with his ever present suspicion and Jinhai looks bored with the whole ordeal.

Great. So my two options are between Romeo and Juliet and Charles Manson.

I stand and take my time pushing in my chair as I think.

On one hand, Helena and Alain are the most hospitable of the Death Eaters, but on the other hand, their creepy stares scream danger. I have a feeling that, if given the option, they’d get me in their bed. While being fought over by an older woman and a handsome guy has been a fantasy of mine for a long time, i think I’m already living enough fantasy in this revenge of Dungeons and Dragons dream.

So it looks like my choice is made.

Lennox makes my skin crawl, everything about him reeks creepy and dangerous, plus my headache is a constant reminder of just how spot on that is, but at least he isn’t giving me bedroom eyes.

Winner, winner.

I pretend to look totally confident and not off put and raise my chin.

“Let’s work on that statement,” I tell him.

Lennox grins triumphantly at Alain and Helena who begin to argue, but my mind is already made. I begin to follow him out of the dinning room as the others begin to clear out.

Once I’m outside, I start to feel uncertain.

Hanging out with Marshall Applewhite is the last thing I wanted, but maybe I’ll be fine if I don’t drink the kool-aid.