#'magnus kneeled but it was an empty gesture'

[melishade]

Attack on Prime New Age Anthology: Examination

Main Story

Aftermath

Quarantine

Chaos

Annie and Ymir were pulled through that massive portal, but the two had realized that they were immediately separated from the rest of the Survey Corps when they saw the interior of a massive purple hallway, filled to the brim with panicked humans and other humans with strange military uniforms.

"What the hell is this thing?" Ymir demanded.

Annie and Ymir turned their attention upward to see a red titan looking down at them. "These the humans with powers?"

"Yeah, where does the Autobot want them?" One of the suits asked.

"I'll take them from here." Ymir yelped and Annie grew tense as the red titan picked them up and stepped over the humans to get to a closed door. The red titan pressed the button on the wall, and Annie and Ymir gasped at the sight of it opening automatically. The red titan stepped into the empty room full of medical equipment no doubt meant for titan and set them both down on a high table before walking back to the door.

"Wait, you can't leave us here!" Ymir shouted at him, causing the red titan to sigh.

"Listen, there's a lot going on right now," the red titan explained, "What with the humans, Ratchet and Knockout trying to save Optimus, there's scrap going on with Megatron, you just need to wait here for a while."

"Wait-!" Annie tried to reach for him, but it was too late. The door had automatically shut behind him. Annie immediately pulled out her ring, opening the needle hidden away.

"Annie, wait!" But Annie had cut her thumb on the needle, ignoring Ymir's cries. She expecting lightning to consume her and for her titan body to appear, but...all she felt was a stinging pain in her thumb. She looked at the appendage, seeing blood dripping down her wound and smelling copper. But...it didn't heal. It didn't regenerate at all. Was she...was she actually free from the power of the titans?

Annie and Ymir heard the door open and turned their attention to a blue titan stepping into the room. It was the same blue titan that was piloting the ship they jumped off of. Ultra Magnus was his name. And in Magnus' servos, he was carrying someone ever so gently. Ultra Magnus walked over and gently placed the body down on the table.

"Pieck!" Annie gasped at the woman's unconscious body before kneeling down to examine her. It looked like she was still alive, and her limbs were still intact, but she could still see bruises on her skin.

"Her wounds did not finish healing by the time I had retrieved her after the Colossal Titans fell," Ultra Magnus explained, "The good news is that she is still alive. And we will have someone come in to look her over to make sure that she heals normally."

"Why don't you take her to an actual human doctor instead of making us wait here?!" Ymir demanded, "What about our comrades?!"

"The situation is complicated right now," Ultra Magnus explained, "This power that we were just introduced to and has now disappeared is something that needs to be confirmed destroyed. We need to run examinations on the three of you and a few healthy humans to confirm that it is gone."

"My wound hasn't healed!" Annie gestured to her thumb, "Pieck is still injured!"

"Wheeljack is providing information on this power as we speak," Ultra Magnus proclaimed, "Once Ratchet is available, he and Knockout will start performing research on the three of you."

Annie grew tense at that. Research? Experiments? Were they going to poke and prod at her until she lost so much blood that she passed out?

"For now, I need you to trust me and wait for the time being," Ultra Magnus declared, "That is all I ask."

Ymir grimaced before sighing in defeat. "Fine."

"I need someone to look over Pieck," Annie ordered.

"That will be arranged." Ultra Magnus stood up fully before exiting the room.

===

A few days later

Pieck slowly opened her eyes when she felt a green light trying to go past her eye lids. She blinked when she saw the orange and white titan, Ratchet, examining her body without even touching her. She tried to speak but realized that there was something covering her mouth. She lifted her hand to feel that it was plastic, with a long tub coming out of it and connecting to something else. She could also feel some needle stuck in her arm, connected to a smaller tube. And...were her legs wrapped in some sort of cement? It also felt like something was wrapped around her waist to support her spine. There was also something on her finger and another object wrapped around her upper forearm.

"Pieck." She shifted her head to see Annie kneeling right by her side.

"Annie." Her voice was slightly muffled by the mask on her face. "What's going on?"

"They're running tests on us," Ymir told her, walking up behind Annie.

"Tests?" Pieck questioned.

"To see if you have this 'power of the titans' or if it is gone for good," Ratchet explained as he transferred Pieck's bodily scans to a much larger screen, "We're comparing information that we've acquired from Wheeljack to confirm that the power is gone."

Pieck narrowed her eyes at the screen closely and saw different samples of blood on a microscopic level. Much more advanced than that of Marley. She couldn't help but marvel at it despite her weakened state.

"How long...?" Pieck croaked.

"A few days, I think," Annie answered her, "We've been stuck on the ship with you too."

"You humans have to go through quarantine protocol because of your diseases," Knockout explained with a shudder, "Didn't DeadEnd explain that to you?"

"The other red titan? No he didn't," Ymir snapped at him.

"How long do we even have to be quarantined for?" Annie demanded.

"At most, a month," Ratchet explained as he typed away on a keyboard.

"A month?!" Ymir exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, but it is standard," Ratchet declared, "You will be provided your essential and will be given fresh clothes. Once you are cleared from quarantine, you'll be able to meet with your friends and loved ones."

"Li...Liberio." Pieck spoke the name of her hometown.

"U.S. Military and Autobots are still searching for any possible survivors. That will take time," Ratchet answered her, "For now, save your strength. The research we are doing is not invasive, so you will rest comfortably."

"What about her injuries?" Annie asked.

"She sustained heavy injuries when we found her. It was a miracle that she was able to regenerate at all before her powers disappeared," Ratchet explained, "The medical assistance the humans provided her should provide her with the proper bodily corrections to heal her body. But it is hard to say if there will be any long-term effects. She might need to use crutches to walk from now on."

"That's...fine...," Pieck proclaimed, "I'm still alive." She turned her attention to Annie. "Gabi...Colt...are they?"

"Those two are still alive," Ratchet informed her.

Pieck breathed a sigh of relief, finally noticing the strange taste on her mouth that was coming from the mask on her face. There were still concerns that she had, but she was in no position to really make demands. She decided not to ask any more questions and let herself close her eyes once again.

(Next part of the Anthology will be Jack, Miko, and Rafael getting an explanation on Optimus and Megatron being on the AOT world.)

[carelessflower]

I did something here:

Would you do anything for me?

Before Shinyun could act, though, Alec was moving. He was reaching out, and he was wrapping his hand around the blade of the Svefnthorn, and he was grimacing with effort and resolve, and he was thrusting the Svefnthorn into his own chest, piercing his own heart. From where he knelt, Magnus could see the thorn run all the way through him, emerge through his back, and remain there. Alec’s eyes were still open, still wide, still staring right at Magnus. - Red Scrolls of Magic

Buy a big diamond ring for me?

Emma was glad of her Night Vision rune. With it, she could see that the rings were Lightwood family rings, etched with the traditional design of flames on the outside, and with words inscribed on the inside. “Aku cinta kamu,” Magnus read out, gazing at the interior of the ring, and he smiled at Alec, a brilliant, world-spanning smile. - Queen of Air and Darkness

Would you get down on your knees for me?

Magnus knelt first. Clary would never have guessed that. Magnus was so proud, but then it was a pride that transcended the emptiness of gestures. She doubted it would shame him to kneel when it meant nothing to him. He went down on his knees, gracefully, and Alec followed him down.- City of Heavenly Fire

Lyrics from Primadonna by MARINA

Magnus here is obviously the Primadonna Girl

anon i hope your pillow is cold on both side tonight your research paper has contributed significantly to the analysis of the ultimate character

[magnusxfelthambrown]

HALLOWEEN PARTY - closed starter for @atouchoftiago​

Magnus had not expected to find himself enjoying, let alone looking forward to Halloween. Usually, he found the day tacky overall. People running around in horrendously cheap costumes, finding excuses to dress as slutty as possible without showing actual taste, or indulging in some perverse lust for horror while pretending to be oh so pure the rest of the year. Costumes and this whole inauthentic parade was usually not Magnus’s style. But somehow the Haus had managed to set up an event that intrigued even him. Of course, he’d refused to dress up like some horny teen at a highschool gathering; instead, his chosen costume was sexy, but still classy. An actual bejeweled crown on his head, he sat in the Kings Club waiting for his escort for the night to pick him up. Wearing the elegant custom suit jacked with no shirt underneath, the Evil King’s chest was on display as he sipped a drink, legs stretched out and resting on the back of a staff member Magnus had turned into his footstool for the moment. “My glass is empty”, he noted with a raised eyebrow as he downed the rest of his drink, gesturing another staff member to approach and take the empty drink from his hand. He was about to order another one when a smirk showed on his lips. “Ah, there comes my executioner”, he mused, noticing Tiago entering the club. “You can leave”, he waved the staff away, taking his feet off the one kneeling before him. “You too. Shoo, before I change my mind and have the hangman execute you.”

[waitingforminjae]

making this to remind myself to record the vp blood types scene later bc i have thoughts

[entities-of-posts]

*swishing sounds from the corner of the room*

oh, hey mx. archivist! we're working on the cleanup now!

*gestures a hand to my assistants. the big one, Spurius, is holding several large buckets full of earth. the smaller one, Alulus, is on the floor with a scrub brush an a bucket of water, cleaning the floor.*

we're basically done... what should we do with the dirt? seems a real shame to toss it... hmm.

oh! I know! *snaps fingers* the tunnels! we could take the dirt down to the tunnels! it's the perfect environment for Buried people to be! in fact, i bet we could get a little setup going down there! we've kinda been in your hair lately, so we could be both on call and out of the way down there!

*Alulus makes a complaining grating noise*

yeah, yeah, you hate cleaning. well, i can't very well help yet! i'm not healed enough yet to be carrying heavy buckets or kneeling like that!

what'daya say, archivist? c'mon, it'll be fun!

Well, I’m afraid we don’t have quite the sprawling network boasted by the Magnus Institute, but you can certainly move into the basement if you want. It’s bare dirt and empty, but there’s a few different rooms, though no lights; I don’t think any of that is much of a problem for you, is it?

[echo-bleu]

no. 13 pretty please? 😢 feeling super angsty 😅

My brain went straight to 3x10 and my frustration that Alec's near death wasn't even mentioned in the next episode, and then to 2x20 and the time Jace did die. It’s a canon divergence where Magnus didn’t go to Edom but got Lorenzo and the other warlock to help free Jace instead. I swear this was meant to be a short fill, but as usual, it got out of hand so it’s 3.8k.

This is heavy angst with a happy ending so head the warnings.

(and yes it’s Malec, thank you for sending me another ask to clarify :) it’s the only ship I write anyway)

Thank you so much to pinstripedJackalope for betaing!

[temporary character death (I swear it doesn’t stick), major injuries, blood and death]

Read on AO3.

13. “I thought you were dead.”

Magnus’ stomach drops as he finally catches sight of Alec and Jace. He went as fast as he could, absorbing the power of a dozen warlocks, but it wasn’t fast enough. Jace — or the demon controlling him — is kneeling over a prone Alec, slowly, cruelly driving an arrow into his chest.

“They say the worst pain a Shadowhunter can feel is the loss of his parabatai,” he growls, his voice distinctly not Jace-like. “It's time for Jace to finally feel it.”

“Jace,” Alec murmurs, struggling to breathe, as Magnus lurches toward them. “It wasn’t you.”

It’s just like Alec, to use what may be his last words to give his parabatai absolution, to try and prevent more pain and guilt. But Magnus can’t let it happen. He can’t let Alec die.

He doesn’t let himself consider that he may already be too late.

The overwhelming magic inside him reacts to his every thought, his every emotion, and it uncurls before he can even command it, roaring in his chest. Magnus throws his hands in front of him and it rushes out, burning through his body, coming out of his palms in an explosion of blue and yellow light. It heads straight to Jace, and Magnus can only pray that it won’t kill his body as well as drive the demon out.

Jace is thrown back and hits the wall with a force that would have instantly killed a mundane. But he rises to his feet immediately after falling, his whole body shaking as something dark and slimy escapes his mouth. He throws up violently, as if ejecting everything evil inside him is making him physically sick, too.

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs. Magic is still humming under his fingers, but it’s useless now, after that uncontrolled pulse of pure power. He’s still linked to the other warlocks, he can feel their energy, but his own body is too spent to use it. He stumbles to Alec, his legs giving out from under him.

He crawls the last few feet on his knees, desperate to get to Alec.

“Mom...said you’d...make a dr–dramatic entrance,” Alec chokes out, blood running out of his mouth. His breathing is ragged and painful, and he starts coughing, his whole body wracked with agony. Magnus grips his shoulder and stares at his ashen face, at the arrowhead sticking out of his chest. “Alexander.”

“’t’s okay,” Alec murmurs. He coughs up more blood. Somehow, his hand finds Magnus’, and his weak grip shakes Magnus out of his shock.

“No, no, don’t you dare die on me,” he squeezes Alec’s hand tightly, tears running down his cheeks.

He hovers his other hand over Alec’s chest, but he needs more time, time to replenish his magic, time he doesn’t have. All he can get out right now is sparks. He tries to send them to the other warlocks who have joined the fight against Lilith, to call for help, but he doesn’t think they make it that far.

Jace falls to his knees on Alec’s other side, one hand clutching his hip where Magnus knows his parabatai rune is. “Alec,” he murmurs. “Come on.”

“Don’t...blame yourself,” Alec sputters around a mouthful of blood. He tries to inhale, but he chokes instead. “I...don’t...blame you,” he still manages to tell his parabatai.

“Don’t speak,” Jace murmurs. “Magnus, you gotta do something.”

His face is a mask of pain, while Alec’s is lax, like he doesn’t even have enough energy left to react to the agony. Magnus swallows back his tears. “I can’t. I’m all out.”

“Magnus, he’s gonna—”

“I know,” Magnus chokes on his tears.

Jace cries out as Alec’s body grows lax, his weak hold on Magnus’ hand slipping. Magnus scrambles to look for a pulse, but he can’t find one. “Alexander—”

“No, no, no,” Jace murmurs, sobbing. “I can’t feel him.”

“Alexander!” Magnus cries out, forcing magic into Alec’s body, but it putters out before it can even leave his hands. Alec doesn’t move, doesn’t react, doesn’t—

“He’s gone,” Jace murmurs, sagging.

“NO!” Magnus yells.

But raging doesn’t help. It doesn’t change reality. And the reality is that Alec is dead under his fingers.

“No,” he sobs, lying his head on Alec’s chest, against the arrow still sticking out. “No.”

His voice breaks.

“Please. No.”

*

Hands grip his shoulders, lifting him up. “Magnus.” It’s Jace’s voice, and then another. Catarina. “Magnus. Come on.”

“No,” Magnus resists. “Alec—”

“He’s gone, Magnus,” Catarina murmurs.

“The fight is over.” Lorenzo. “Lilith is gone.”

“Clary?” Magnus hears Jace ask.

“Safe. We got her and her vampire out just in time.”

Magnus doesn’t let go of Alec’s body. It should matter, that they made it, they succeeded. That the threat is gone. But he can’t get past Alec’s unmoving form in his arms.

Jace’s warm, muscled body is against him now, hugging him, while Catarina pries his hands off Alec. Magnus lets her, his strength spent. He can’t stop sobbing. It comes out in hiccups, tearless sobs of agony as his heart cries out for Alec to wake up, to move, to open his eyes. But Alec stays still, cold and pale under the streetlight, the red of the arrow fletching in his chest burning Magnus’ eyes.

Jace shakes against him in another rhythm, shivering like his body is giving out now that it’s no longer connected to Alec’s. He doesn’t sob — he doesn’t even cry, eyes dry and unfocused and empty. Magnus bites his fist hard to stop his uncontrollable sobs, not caring when he tastes blood, and grabs Jace’s hand, wordlessly trying to get a reaction out of him.

“Jace?” he manages to croak out after several tries, words refusing to come out.

Jace turns his eyes to him, but he’s still not there, his reactions sluggish and aimless. “Alec,” he murmurs. Then something else, indistinguishable.

Magnus looks back at Alec’s body, and another hiccup wracks his body. He can’t contain this pain. He’s lost many people in his life, held a few of them as they died, but never—

Never like this. It wasn’t supposed to be so soon. He knew Alec would die eventually, but—

No.

No.

The sobs are violent and painful, making him retch, like his body doesn’t even know how to deal with the emotions coursing through him. His magic, weak as it is, responds with fire and ice, coursing through his veins and erupting around him in ephemeral flames that have Catarina jerk away.

“Magnus! You’ve got to control it!” she shouts.

Magnus can barely hear her. He can’t feel anymore, the agony overriding his senses until there’s nothing left.

Alec is gone.

He half-wants his magic to destroy him, to let him pass along with Alec, but it’s too weak even for that. He feels like his body is dying from the sheer agony of his heart, but it will hang on, and force him to live another day.

Another day that won’t have Alec in it.

*

Magnus shatters.

He’s only vaguely aware of what happens next. It feels like hours, hours of him and Jace hanging on to each other in one last bid to avoid their broken souls scattering altogether, refusing to let go of Alec’s body. Catarina gives up on shaking him after a while and moves away, and Magnus loses track of her, of everything that isn’t Alec and Jace.

Isabelle’s heartbreaking scream is what shakes him out of it. “Alec!” she cries as she crumples over her brother’s body, Clary at her tail.

She shakes him to no avail, sobbing, until Jace reaches out and puts his hand over hers. “He’s gone,” he murmurs brokenly.

Isabelle collapses in Clary’s arms, as Clary kneels on the floor, in shock. Alec remains still and ashen between them and Magnus, and Magnus realizes he’s still crushing Alec’s limp hand in his. He doesn’t let go.

“Ave atque vale,” Luke breathes, and Isabelle looks up at him, shaking her head in denial. Magnus chokes and buries his head in Alec’s chest again, willing time to stop, stop until he can figure a way out of this. Isabelle grasps his shoulder hard, her grip bruising and anchoring.

Magnus sobs anew, throat and face and heart burning. He can’t hear these words. He’s not ready. He’s not ready to make this real.

“Ave atque vale,” Jace murmurs, and Magnus can’t breathe.

*

“Wait,” Jace says, and everyone freezes.

Magnus doesn’t know how long they spent sitting there. Minutes. Hours. Too long. Not long enough. His legs hurt and his lungs burn and his head is full of cotton.

Alec’s hand is cold in his.

The warlocks are gone, except for Catarina. Isabelle is still kneeling beside them, though Clary has stood up and she’s shivering in Simon’s arms now, Luke hovering close to them.

Magnus doesn’t really know how he’s aware of all that. He can barely keep track of what’s going on within his field of vision, and his eyes haven’t left Alec’s still face, and the insulting blood red of the arrow’s fletching.

Why red? Why does Alec use red arrows? Magnus has never asked. He should have.

He never will, now.

Fuck.

Jace slowly, awkwardly untangles himself from Magnus, pushing him with his elbows. Magnus lets himself be handled like a puppet with its strings cut — that sums up how he feels. He can barely hold himself up on his own, once Jace’s support is gone.

Jace is pointing at something, gesturing, and things are moving. Magnus wills himself to focus, even though he wants to never have to think again. He wants to lay down beside Alec and let himself drift off to sleep, and maybe never wake up.

He wants to wake up from this nightmare and find Alec alive and well beside him, eyes full of sleep, morning light kissing his face and making his skin golden.

He wants Alec.

“Magnus,” Isabelle calls him, and he shakes himself. He follows her finger and looks down, at Jace, at Jace’s parabatai rune — the space on his hip where it should be — and it’s…

It’s there. Black on pale skin, the pattern unmistakable. It’s still there.

It should be gone.

“How?” Magnus croaks out.

“I don’t know,” Jace says. And for the first time in however long this nightmare has been, there’s something beside agony in his voice. “I can’t feel him, but it’s still there.”

“That means he’s not dead,” Clary says, coming closer. “Right?”

Magnus looks back at Alec’s unmoving body. “But then—”

“I don’t know,” Jace murmurs.

“Alec’s rune disappeared,” Isabelle says. “When you died,” she points to Jace. “His rune was gone.”

“But mine isn’t.”

Magnus looks between them, then at Alec again. Jace was dead. Jace was dead, and now he isn’t, because he was resurrected by—

“Catarina!” he calls, struck by a sudden thought.

Catarina is at his side in seconds.

“Cat, I need you to restart his heart,” Magnus says.

Catarina moves uncomfortably. “Magnus, he’s gone.”

“I don’t think he is.”

She looks at him with something like pity in her eyes, and at any other time, that would have angered him. But he’d have to be able to feel something beside numbness for that.

Numbness and the nameless, pulsing hope taking roots at the back of his mind. What if—

“Please,” he begs. “Just do it.”

Catarina looks ready to argue, but she looks at the others, and she sees the same budding hope in their eyes. Jace points to his rune, and Magnus can see the moment she understands, her eyes widening.

She places her hands on Alec’s chest carefully, one on each side of the arrow, and sends out a pulse of magic. Alec’s body responds violently to the shock, his back arching, but he doesn’t otherwise move.

“Again,” Magnus pleads.

Alec’s chest glows white. Again. His body jerks up. Again. Magnus holds his breath.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Nothing changes.

Catarina lets her hands fall, her magic sizzling out. Magnus wants to scream, to throw something, to destroy, but he just sags and Isabelle lets out a sob. Jace lets out a slow, controlled breath, hand on his still present rune.

“One more,” he murmurs.

Catarina shakes her head. “It won’t do anything.”

“Please.”

Magnus doesn’t let her argue. He places his own hands on Alec’s chest and wills his magic out, what little isn’t burning his body from the inside out.

The shock sends him flailing backward into Jace’s arms, but his eyes never leave Alec’s face.

Please, he begs silently.

Wake up.

“I’ve got a pulse,” Catarina breathes out, fingers pressed to Alec’s neck.

“He’s alive,” Jace says, like he doesn’t really believe it himself. “He’s alive.”

Magnus breathes for what feels like the first time in hours.

*

“He’s alive,” Jace breathes. He keeps repeating that, so much that the sentence loops in Magnus’ head. It’s good. He needs the reminder.

Alec is unmoving and pale in the infirmary bed, the whiteness of the sheets and the harsh neon lights accentuating the ashen quality of his skin. At least the red arrow is gone, though it still haunts Magnus’ nightmares. Instead, Alec’s chest is bare but for the thick bandages holding him together, a tube still coming out of his lung to drain the blood. The small oxygen cannula under his nose is a welcome change from the respirator that breathed for him for the last two days, though Magnus now finds himself regularly checking with his hand that Alec is still breathing.

His heart keeps skipping beats in fear, every time he forgets for a second that Alec is safe and finally on the mend.

For all that Alec was alive once Magnus revived him, getting him stable has been an uphill battle. Catarina poured every bit of magic she had left into repairing the lung pierced by the arrow, while she drained the blood out the mundane way, so Alec would stop drowning in his own blood. The injuries were too severe for iratzes to be of much use, even when drawn by Jace.

It’s been almost sixty hours, and Jace hasn’t slept. Magnus dozed off in his chair a few times, his head resting on his and Alec’s linked hands — powering through the magic overuse-induced crash has proved impossible, however much he wanted to stay awake in case Alec—

In case Alec woke up, Magnus tells himself firmly. That’s it. He’ll be okay.

“He’s alive,” he murmurs back.

Jace has been burning through stamina runes one after the other. There’s a shadow in his eyes that matches the one in Magnus’ heart, a hole in the shape of Alec that has filled itself with inescapable dread. He was dead.

Magnus wonders if that’s how Alec felt when Jace died. He remembers sitting with him on the floor of the ops center for nearly an hour, his heart constricting the longer Alec remained there motionless, eyes empty like he couldn’t even see the world around him. He wonders if Alec has been carrying this fear ever since, that Jace might die again, if that was what Magnus couldn’t put his finger on when they argued about his immortality.

Alec was dead for half-an-hour, and Magnus wonders if they’ll ever heal from that.

*

“I thought you were dead.”

Alec stares up at Jace, unimpressed. It’s not the first time he’s woken up, but it’s the first time he’s off the painkillers that made him too loopy to hold a conversation. His hand twitches in Magnus’ as he looks at his parabatai, propped up on pillows, the oxygen cannula slightly crooked under his nose. His other arm is splinted and resting on a pillow, the broken bones only partly healed.

Things have started to settle into a routine. Magnus has still barely left the infirmary — the advantage of magic is that he doesn’t even need to go home to shower — but he’s let Isabelle put him a cot in a corner of the room to sleep. Jace crashed once Alec woke up the first time and slept for twenty-four hours straight, and now he’s back, as annoying as ever. The others come and go, bringing books and food, as Alec spends more and more time awake.

It’s been five days. Magnus doesn’t need to check that Alec is breathing every other minute anymore.

“I was dead, apparently,” Alec mutters. “Anyone figure out what happened with that?”

Magnus shifts in his seat. “I think I may have. I talked about it at length with Catarina and we are of the same opinion.”

Catarina has come by for an hour every day to check on Alec and help along his healing. This kind of delicate work isn’t Magnus’ strong suit despite his superior raw power, and he prefers to let her do it as long as she’s willing. It’s given them the time to have in-depth conversations.

“And?” Jace prompts.

Magnus shakes himself, realizing that he’s zoned out. Focusing on anything has proven difficult. “And this is just another proof that you two don’t do things by halves,” he says. “The last time I really looked at your bond with my magic was when Alec got lost trying to find you, Jace. Back then, it was a simple soul bond, anchored by the runes on your bodies.”

“Do you mean it’s changed somehow?” Alec asks. Magnus studies him, to see if he should put off this conversation until later. Alec’s face is drawn with lines of pain, but he’s more alert than he’s been since that night. He frowns in worry, and Magnus knows that despite his state, he’ll insist on hearing it now.

“When I looked at it again, there was a third component,” Magnus says. “Beside your two souls. A tether, of sorts.”

“What do you mean?” Jace asks.

“I think…” Magnus hesitates. “I think that when Biscuit made the wish and resurrected you, Raziel didn’t just bring you back to life. He tethered your soul to this realm. And because of the soul bond, that extends to Alec.”

“So it...kept me here, even when my body died?” Alec asks.

“Yes. That’s what I think.”

The parabatai exchange a look, one that Magnus can’t completely decipher. “Does that mean we can’t die?” Jace asks as Alec lets his head rest back on his pillow, exhausted.

“Quite possibly,” Magnus says. He doesn’t know yet what to do with the relief he feels knowing that. The Alec-shaped terror in his heart has quietened until it’s barely there.

But there are other consequences to this, and he doesn’t know how Alec will take them.

Alec coughs painfully, his good hand slipping from Magnus’ to clutch at his chest. Magnus immediately slips a hand behind his neck to help him sit up until the fit stops.

“Do you need more painkillers?” Jace asks when Alec leans back, spent.

Alec shakes his head, his eyes closed.

“Alec. I can feel your pain.”

“I’m good,” Alec refuses stubbornly. “Magnus.”

“Yes, darling?” Magnus leans closer.

“That tether… It means we’re immortal, doesn’t it? That’s what you’re not telling us.”

Magnus swallows. “I think it might,” he admits. “Nothing’s certain, but—”

“Immortal,” Jace sighs.

Alec’s hand finds its way back to Magnus and he wonders if ‘I’m sorry’ is an appropriate response. Like immortality is an illness of some kind. Some days, it feels that way.

*

They don’t talk about it again until Alec is released from the infirmary. He’s still weak and in pain, but Isabelle and Maryse have caught him twice now trying to smuggle paperwork to his room to work, and he’s declared that he can’t stand the thought of staring at the same four walls any longer.

Magnus immediately volunteered to take him home and take care of him.

“Can you help me with this?” Alec calls from their bedroom, sounding disgruntled. As Magnus has learned in the past week, Alec hates asking for help. Really really hates it.

Given that he has no other choice, Magnus has been trying to make it as painless as possible. He finishes putting on his robe and walks out of the bathroom.

“What is it?”

Alec is sitting on the bed, stuck halfway through taking off his tee-shirt, with his still splinted arm getting in the way. His sling is lying on the bed beside him along with his pants. Magnus rushes over and simply banishes the tee-shirt, hand slipping underneath Alec’s arm to support it through the pressure change. “There,” he smiles.

“Thanks,” Alec grumbles. “I hate this.”

Magnus kneels in front of him and strokes his cheek. “I don’t,” he says.

Alec raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I hate that you’re in pain,” Magnus elaborates. “But I’m really, really glad you’re alive. And I get to take care of you, which is a nice bonus.”

Alec leans into his touch, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he says.

“Scared doesn’t cover it,” Magnus sighs. “For a while there, I—” he chokes on his words, the memory raw in his mind. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were dead and I realized that I’ve never loved like I love you. That I can’t lose you.”

“I feel like that, too,” Alec says.

Magnus bites his lip. “The life I’ve lived, Alec… I’ve learned that we can survive anything. The pain, it stays, but… We live on. When we got together, I knew that you were going to die one day, that I was setting myself up for a lot of pain, down the road. I fell in love with you and I decided that it was worth it. And then you died. And it was...worse than anything I’d imagined.”

Magnus feels a tear run down his cheek. Alec leans forward to rest his forehead against Magnus’, burying his hand in Magnus’ hair. “I don’t know what I feel about being immortal yet,” he says. “But I know that I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

Magnus lets out something that sounds almost like a whimper. He’s not sure if it’s retrospective fear or relief. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too,” Alec whispers. “I think...if I had been given the time to decide, the ability to choose...I’d have chosen to become immortal with you. To love you forever.”

“And now?” Magnus asks.

Alec stays silent for a moment, thinking. “I still get to do that,” he says. “It’s not my choice, and it’s going to be a little more...complicated, but I still get to be with you forever. And that’s an incredible gift.”

Magnus lets out a sob and leans forward to meet his mouth, kissing him gently. “Forever,” he murmurs.

[megs-readstoomuch]

Newest installment in my “Shadowhunters: Parenthood Edition” stories. The rest can be found on AO3 HERE!!!

Happy Birthday Reesa!

Jace woke up earlier than usual. He stretched and immediately turned his head to check on Clary, as he always did when he awakened. She was still asleep, red hair fanned out on her pillow and the quietest of snores coming from her mouth. Jace grinned. She never believed him when he said she snored, but honestly, he found it adorable, so he didn’t complain that much. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment to breathe her in. He smiled and gave her one more quick, light kiss.

Jace slid quietly from the bed and went about his morning routine of shaving and dressing. As he sat to put his socks and boots on, he heard her. She was humming the lullaby Jace had played her last night before bed, as he did every night. The song his Mom had sang to him and his siblings when they were young. With a smile, Jace went into the nursery and found his daughter standing in her crib, the morning sun slowly turning the room a warm gold. Reesa’s strawberry blond curls were wild from her night’s sleep and stood out like a cloud around her head. She had a thumb in her mouth and was still humming their song, but broke into a smile when she saw Jace.

“Hi Dada!” She waved her hand excitedly as if they were seeing each other again after a long journey. Jace lifted her from the crib, kissing each cheek. She laughed and patted his face.

“How is my girl?” Jace said as he proceeded to change her sleeper. He picked out one of the bright, colorful rompers Magnus and Clary kept her closet filled with and started dressing her. She wiggled as she waited on him to finish the snaps and buttons. “Guess what Reesa?”

The little girl blinked at him in response, as he tried to tame her curls a little with the tiny hair clips Clary bought. “Today is your first birthday. It is a big day. You’ve been here with Mama and Daddy a whole year. You are one.” He surveyed his work. Dang, he was getting good at this hair thing.

“I’m one.” Reesa said, watching as he proceeded to put her shoes on. He let her fasten the Velcro tabs herself. “All done!” She held her hands out.

“Excellent work.” Jace complimented her, lifting her down off the changing table and stood her on the floor.

“Where Mama?” Reesa asked as Jace careful put her favorite old stele of his in the pocket of her romper.

“Mama is sleeping. It’s just you and me this morning.” Jace answered her. “Shall we have breakfast?” He held out his hand. She slipped a tiny soft hand into his callused, scarred one and Jace felt his heart swell again with joy over having this little girl in his life.

“Mama sleeping.” Reesa said. “Ssssh.” She twisted her face into a comical shush and pressed a finger to her lips. Jace grinned at her.

“Exactly.”

———

There were only a handful of people in the dining hall this early, as it was barely 5 o’clock. Jace liked it this way though. Mostly those present were coming in late off of patrol, bleary eyed and exhausted. But despite that, each one perked up a little at the sight of the toddler in her bright pink romper, with the butterfly clips in her hair. She always waved at everyone as she and Jace moved through to find a table to sit at.

Reesa refused a high chair on the grounds she was “nota baby”, instead kneeling in the chair next to Jace, happily eating her bacon. Jace nursed his cup of coffee and just watched her. He couldn’t believe it had been a year since she arrived. He still remembered it, he had never been so scared and happy. And now look at her. One year old.

He pushed away the ever present worry about her “Angel gifts” as the family called them. She was just one, but she functioned more like a 2yo. She was quick and smart, speaking in small sentences already. She could jump and run faster than your average child, quick with all her reflexes and motor skills too. She was also taller than average. Aside from all this and a predilection for being found constantly leaping off of the top of Jace’s baby grand and landing perfectly every time, she had yet to exhibit any other manifestations of her pure Angel blood inheritance. Jace still wondered if she would have any of Clary’s gifts. Tessa often hinted that there would be more to Reesa than she had shown them so far.

“More please.” A tiny voice cut into Jace’s thoughts. Reesa had finished her bacon and eggs and was looking expectantly at Jace. “More bacon.”

“Alright, but just two more, ok?” Jace answered her, raising up from his chair.

“Okey doke,” she said, picking her orange juice up with both hands. He chuckled.

———

Clary found them in the office after she had woken and had her own breakfast. Jace at his desk and Reesa on his lap, as usual. He was flicking through night patrol reports on his tablet and Reesa was concentrating on drawing runes on a notepad, her tiny tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Hi Mama!” Reesa cried, wiggling off of Jace’s knee to run around the desk and into Clary’s arms.

“Hi, my baby,” Clary kissed her on the cheek and then blew a raspberry against the soft skin. Reesa giggled. “Happy Birthday!”

“I’m one!” Reesa held up one finger proudly.

“Yes, you are! And we are going to have a party for you,” Clary kissed the outstretched index finger.

“A party?” Reesa crinkled her forehead in confusion.

“A party?” Jace made the same face.

Clary smiled at the resemblance. “Uncle Magnus is planning a party for your birthday. With cake!”

The one year old’s eye lit up. “CAKE!” She yelled, wiggling to be put down so she could run around her mother in a happy gallop while continuing to yell about cake.

“It will be at 5 this evening,” Clary told Jace over Reesa’s yells. “I already asked Underhill to cover your patrol so the whole family can be there.” Jace frowned a little. He hated to ask favors of the other Shadowhunters, even if he was the Co-Head of the Institute. Clary walked around the desk and sat on the arm of his chair. “It’s for Reesa’s birthday. Underhill was happy to do it. And you can cover his next patrol to make up for it, he said.”

Jace’s brow smoothed out. “Well, that does seems more fair.” Clary kissed his cheek and then leaned against him as they watched their daughter dance happily around the room.

———

“I think Magnus made the apartment bigger to fit everyone,” Alec whispered to Jace as they walked into the living room from the kitchen.

“You think? Because I don’t remember there being two bathrooms in the hallway,” Jace pointed out. “Or that hatrack. Tell me that’s not anyone we know, by the way.”

“Dang it, you’re right,” Alec agreed, ignoring the query about the hatrack and sipping from his plastic cup. He made a face. “What is this?”

“Something called punch,” Jace eyed his own pink drink warily. He didn’t like pink drinks in general . “Jocelyn insisted it is what mundanes drink at birthday parties.”

“By the Angel, why?” Alec muttered, quickly dumping the rest of the drink in the ficus behind him (that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there this morning).

“No idea,” Jace said, tossing back the last dredges in his cup and swallowing.

“You still drank it?”

Jace raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever known me to reject food or drink?”

“Fair enough,” Alec said.

Clary came over with two bottles in hand. “Here. Have some water. That punch is as gosh-awful as it was when I was kid.” The two men gratefully accepted the drinks.

A crash came from the kids’ room. The parents all turned, waiting for any cries of distress.

“Everything’s fine!”shouted Rafe. Alec raised an eyebrow.

“I think I’ll check anyway,” he shook his head and went down the now extra long hall to his sons’ room where Rafe and Max were “fighting demins”, according to Max.

Clary slid her arms around Jace’s waist and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. They looked around the room.

Jocelyn, Kadir, and Maryse were chatting in the corner, the every present dried paint visible on the back of Jocelyn’s hand and around her nails as she made a gesture in the air. Maryse nodded to whatever was being said and politely sipped from her cup, making no face but Jace knew his mother enough to see in her eyes what she thought of “punch”. He bit his lip to keep from smiling. Kadir was very focused on Jocelyn’s story, his own hands suspiciously empty.

Luke and Simon bookended the sofa, a 4-month pregnant Isabelle with the start of a baby bump sitting between them. All three were discussing a new weapon the Iron Sisters had sent to the Institute this week. Simon was particularly excited, waving his hands about. Isabelle rubbed her bump and watched him in amusement.

Tess and Jem were sitting on the loveseat, Reesa sitting on Tessa’s lap and talking with them. She was making some of the same gestures with her hands that Jocelyn was making and Tessa nodded encouragingly at her. Mina was sitting in the floor, leaning against her father’s legs with a surprisingly content Chairman Meow on her lap, bedazzling his fur with sparks of magic from her fingers.

Magnus was busily waltzing around the dining room, flashes of magic visible as he finished placing copious amounts of purple, pink, and blue streamers and balloons around a banner that said, “Happy Birthday Baby Biscuit”. Alec had gently pointed out no one else called Reesa that but Magnus had merely kissed him firmly and said, “I make the party rules.” Alec had said nothing more and left him to his decorating.

“You know,” Jace mused. “I never had family around for birthdays until I my 11th. And that wasn’t even my birthday, as we now know. And really by the time you get your first rune, it’s downplayed. Shadowhunters don’t do parties much. Just a cake if everyone is around. But the Institute was always empty. And of course I didn’t have anyone else...before. I got a gift or a wish as you know, but it wasn’t the same as this. I like this. Except maybe the punch.”

“I do too. I like birthdays. I had my first kiss on my 16th birthday, you know,” Clary gave him a saucy grin. Jace shot her a look that made her stomach flip. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“You better stop, Mrs. Herondale. I’m not a well-behaved man.” Clary giggled.

“Alright you two, stop it,” Alec rolled his eyes at them, coming down the hall with his son’s following behind him like baby ducks, each carrying a fake weapon of some sort, the two boys in their miniature gear jackets that they played in. Both their cheeks were red from their “battle” but they looked pleased with themselves.

“And the crash?” Clary asked.

“Bookshelf. Magnus will have to sort it,” Alec shook his head. Rafe and Max looked properly contrite, although Clary knew them enough to know they weren’t really. She winked at them.

“Time for cake!” Magnus announced and everyone gathered in the dining room. Reesa was given the seat of honor and a rounding chorus of “Happy Birthday” was sang. She sang along, much to everyone’s amusement.

She carefully blew out her candle, and Max relit it so he could blow it out too. Reesa found this hilarious, so Max and Mina kept relighting it until everyone had blown out the candle and Magnus finally had to remove the stub from the cake before a second round of candle blowing was started.

The cake was, of course, delicious. Magnus hinted strongly that it had came from France.

“I left money in the till,” He hastened to add before anyone said anything. “But our babies have to have the best cake.”

Clary watched as Reesa picked up her plate and licked the frosting off. “I think you chose well,” she said. Jocelyn shook her head in amusement and cleaned the chocolate off of Reesa’s nose and eyebrows.

“Bapak! Present time! Present time!” Max was bouncing in excitement as Rafe carried in the gift.

Magnus placed the brightly wrapped present in front of a wide-eyes Reesa who looked at him expectantly. “Magic?” She asked.

With a smile, Magnus snapped his fingers and the paper and ribbon unfurled to reveal a tiny gear jacket of her own. Reesa squealed. “On! Now!” She demanded.

Clary complied, slipping it over her bright pink romper and zipping it up. Reesa rubbed her hands over the jacket in amazement. Jace squatted next to her chair and adjusted the collar.

“Can you say thank you to everyone?” He prompted her gently.

“Thank you Unca Alec and Unca Magnus,” she whispered, still in awe. “And Nana and Papa and Gran’ma and Kad and Unca Simon and Ant Izzy and Max and Rafe and Jem and Nonna Tessa and Mina.” The adult all smiled as the little girl listed her whole family.

Alec smiled and knelt next to Jace. “Look,” he showed the little girl the pocket for her stele, tucking it in for her.

“You’re ready to fight now, Baby Biscuit,” Magnus said.

Max and Rafe bounced around her. “Yeah, we are all ready now!”

“Me too,” Mina cried, sending golden sparks through the air as she jumped down to dance with the boys.

“Well then, how about you all go train outside,” Magnus directed, snapping his fingers to cover every surface of the spacious balcony with large soft training mats, a low balance beam, and wooden swords. Reesa gave a suspiciously high jump off her chair and landed next to Rafe. He grabbed her hand and the four children ran outside.

———

The grownups sat down to enjoy decent, less sugary food (courtesy of Simon’s sister Rebecca’s restaurant, which Magnus used as often as he could) and watch the kids through the large windows. The punch had mysteriously disappeared (Jace wasn’t going to point fingers, but he suspected his mother had instigated a punch-removal directive to Kadir), so Magnus produced “adult drinks”.

Jace stood next to the window, watching the children play. Reesa was observing Rafe, who was showing Mina how to balance on the balance beam while holding her hand. When they were done, Reesa tried too, but refused assistance. She managed to walk it as easily as if she were on the ground and even did a large jump at the end.

“She’s good.” Jem had come up beside him, his eyes on his daughter who was comparing magic colors with Max. They were shooting little sparks in the air, and Reesa was laughing as they landed on her hair and arms.

“She is,” Jace said, a mix of pride and worry in his voice.

“Having a child with a gift you can’t exactly understand, it’s not easy,” Jem admitted. Jace looked at him, realizing Jem was a former Shadowhunter, with a half shadowhunter-half warlock wife and a child with an odd mix of warlock and shadowhunter blood.

“I don’t care about her gifts so much anymore, I just want her to be happy,” Jace said quietly. “I wasn’t, as a child. I want her to be more than just her gifts.”

“I remember you,” Jem mused. “You were the quietest, most composed, well-trained, and polite 10 year old I had ever met.”

“The ship. The attack by the werewolves on that ship the night I came to live with the Lightwoods.” Jace looked surprised. “I had forgotten, that was the first time we met, wasn’t it? I used your staff. The one with WH carved on it.”

“Yes. Your gifts were very visible that day, I just didn’t see them clearly. I’m sorry you weren’t happy, though.”

“I was later. I found part of my happiness with the Lightwoods. And the rest,” Jace’s eyes searched out Clary, laughing with Tessa and her mother near the fireplace. “The rest with Clary. And now with Reesa.”

“I understand,” Jem replied. And he did. He knew the fulfillment of happiness that came with love. With Will, with Tessa, with Mina and Kit. He saw that same completion in Jace now, what had been missing all those years ago when he had been the solemn and determined child with those golden eyes and that Herondale recklessness that had reminded Jem of Will even then.

The two men watched as Mina and Reesa joined hands to run away from Max and for a moment, it seemed like Reesa’s eyes glimmered and Mina’s fingers sparked a brighter gold and they seemed to be moving faster than they should have been. He blinked and it was gone. Jace’s brow was slightly furrowed , as if he had seen something as well.

“I think...those two may be trouble together,” Jem said.

“A Herondale and a Carstairs? Definitely. I’ve heard the stories from Tessa.” Jace laughed and Jem joined him.

“Oh yes. Will and I.” Jem smiled at the memories. “Will and Tessa’s daughter Lucie, her parabatai was also a Carstairs. Their son’s was a Fairchild.”

“Herondales, Carstairs, Lightwoods, and Fairchilds. Chaos and mayhem since the beginning, is what you’re saying?” Jace queried.

“Yes,” Jem confirmed. The two men stood in silence for a moment, watching the children play.

“Mundanes have gifted children too, you know.” Jem murmured. “But I think it means they are better at things like math and reading.” Jace looked bemused at this. Reesa turned and saw him watching her. She waved. He waved back.

“I can’t wait to see what they do,” Jace said softly. Jem nodded in agreement.

“I think,” Jem paused as Reesa and Mina joined hands again, their black and golden-red heads bent together to listen to Rafe and Max. “I think they’ll change the world.”

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 19

Chapters: 19/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18]

"It’s skew.”

“Come and straighten it, then.”

“I’m spotting, you’re hanging.”

Gerry growls at him. Jon looks rather pleased about it.

Martin, who doesn’t want Gerry to hit their infuriating lover with a hammer, goes over to where he’s hanging the massive painting and tilts it minutely to the left. “Better?”

“Perfect!” Jon pronounces, clapping his hands.

Through some sort of witchcraft, the artist has hung the painting in such a position that it emulates where a window would be in a traditional room. It opens up the space in such a way that it seems less like a store room, and far more like a creative space that someone would actually enjoy spending time in.

The lightning helps too, warm light filtering from the ceiling and corner lamps, and LCD strips illuminating the bookshelves from inside.

All in all, considering this was a utilitarian storage space just a few weeks ago, it seems like a downright miracle.

The three of them lean back against Jon's desk, free of clutter for the first and only time in its life. The bookshelves are empty, and except for his new painting, so are the walls.

The piano occupies one wall, and Gerry hopes to hear it being played often.

Jon reaches out and takes Gerry's hand, drawing them close together affectionately. "How long have you been planning for us to move in?"

"Well, I wasn't planning, per se. Only considering the possibility." Gerry smirks confidently. "I know we're all a little bizarre, but this is the course of most relationships, and we could only spend so much time sleeping over before paying for three flats became superfluous."

"Besides," Martin continues for him. "There's no harm in planning for something you hope will happen eventually. Especially when your new flatmates will be this wildly good looking."

He gestures to himself dramatically, doing a small turn in place. Gerry and Jon laugh with him happily, until he stumbles back into Gerry's side, where he gets wrapped up under an arm.

"So do you like your new space, Jon?" Gerry cuddles around him, twisting the three of them into an odd sort of snuggle pretzel.

"I absolutely adore it." Jon utters happily, sighing in contentment as they all lean there together.

***

At the end of June, Jon hands over his keys and the three of them officially live together.

There's still a lot of settling to be done, even though they've been moving in together for almost six weeks by that point. The boxes are unpacked, but they still need to make it a comfortable home for all of them, a certainty that comes only with time.

Martin and Jon both love their studies, a matching pair that look and feel completely opposite.

Martin opts for a small bedroom, keeping the bed from his old flat, his painting hung opposite. He finds an antique writing desk at a charity store, and installs it for writing poetry or working on his laptop in the evenings.

He adorns the walls with pictures and posters, and random pieces of poetry and music that he loves.

It's a cozy space that he adores, even though he opts to sleep in the master bedroom almost always. The option makes him feel like he has his own breathing room, even if he rarely needs it.

Jon's is more of a true study, with a large desk taking up the majority of the space. His walls are lined with shelves, and he promptly fills them with books and knickknacks. The odd collection includes first edition classics, next to mass market paperbacks and music books, with non-fiction nature and animal books scattered throughout. These are interwoven with seashells, tiny mechanical statues and several flowers preserved in resin, gifts from Martin throughout their relationship.

On the wall above the piano, he hangs framed photos of his parents, himself with Gerry as a teen, and all three of them together as adults. The photo he once took of Martin, Gerry and Tim hangs right in the centre, all his favorite humans in one frame. He hangs the sketch of him and Martin in the park from when they were all courting, as well as the others he has stolen from Gerry over time.

Gerry embraces the chaos and upheaval as if it's all he ever wanted, and really, it is. A home, with the people he loves, noisy and frenetic, loving and comfortable.

In the middle of July, he quits his job at the bar in the middle of a shift, with very little contemplation or preamble.

He smiles at his lovers radiantly when he comes through the door several hours early to find them watching a movie.

"What happened?" Martin queries, clear concern lining his expressive face.

"I quit." Gerry flops down between them, snuggling down immediately.

"But why?" Presses a sleepy Jon, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.

Gerry shrugs. "I got the job because I was bored, essentially. I wanted to interact with interesting people and I didn't know anyone in London anymore. But tonight I realized how badly I wanted to be right here, with you two." He smiles at them, trying to explain without conveying too many of his sappy emotions. "l honestly couldn't think of one reason to be working at midnight on a Saturday, instead of at home, or out on a date, or literally anything else we could be doing together. So I quit."

"Oh Gerry." Jon whispers, both of them carefully tuned to his moods, regardless of his attempts at seeming unconcerned.

"I don't feel the need to fill my time and chase inspiration anymore. I just want to be with you. Both of you." He kisses first Martin's hand, then Jon's, grinning at them all the way.

"I love you. I'm happy you're home." Jon whispers to him, sleepy and content.

Martin hums an agreement, squeezing his hand and smiling down at him lovingly.

They watch their movie and then go to bed all together, and Gerry knows he's made the best choice of his life.

***

Gerry finds himself with an odd amount of time on his hands while his partners go to work during the day, like normal people.

He decides to take on several art commissions from clients he's actually interested in working for, which thrills Gertrude. He doesn't think it entirely makes up for his boyfriend hitting Peter Lukas in the middle of a showcase, but it's a start.

He also indulges himself and buys a new tattoo machine.

He's not really interested in taking clients again, but… well, he wants it and so he gets it. If it's only to use on himself or the occasional visitor, then that's fine by him.

"You have everything you need to give tattoos now, right?" Martin asks him one early morning.

Gerry is still mostly asleep, clutching a cup of tea and petting Saturn where he perches on his lap. He blinks at Martin, confused.

"I think so. I mean, I haven't used my machine yet, but there's really only one way to test it out." Gerry tilts his head curiously, sunlight glittering in his hair, dyed back to its original black. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you want to give me one?" Martin grins at him a bit shyly.

Gerry sits up straight, instantly wide awake. "Yes. So much."

Martin laughs warmly. "You have the same look on your face that Luna gets when we take out the catnip toys."

Uncaring about how eager he might look, Gerry shoos Saturn to go over and kneel by Martin. "I would be honored to have your tattoo virginity. Do you want me to draw something?"

"Yes," Martin tells him with a grin, "that's exactly what I want. A Gerry Delano original, right on my skin."

"What do you want it to be?" Gerry's teal eyes are bright and slightly manic, and Martin glories in the sensation of producing a new reaction in his lover.

"It's entirely up to you." He responds, pressing a firm kiss to Gerry's mouth. "I want to see what makes you think of me."

"Oh, I like it." He declares, jumping up and going off to find a sketchbook.

Martin sips his tea and smiles to himself, very pleased indeed.

***

"You're just going to let him give you whatever he wants to?" Jon blanches when Martin tells him.

"Relax Jon, it's Gerry, not some evil mastermind. He'll draw something I like. And if I don't, it's not hard, I just tell him no."

Jon, who rather considers that Gerry is an evil mastermind, does not look convinced. "But…"

"Hush, love." Martin tells him firmly.

Gerry, drawing under the window nearby, takes no notice of them. He has a focused frown on his face as he concentrates on the careful lines appearing on his page.

Martin considers it a rare pleasure to just watch him draw, and tries to guess what might be forming on the page before him.

He completely trusts that Gerry knows him exactly well enough to draw him the perfect tattoo. And then he can have his own piece of Gerry, inked right into his skin.

When he sits back down with Jon and Martin a little later, he has a smudge of charcoal above his eyebrow, and Martin gently rubs it away before Gerry has a chance to start talking. He blushes quite uncharacteristically, and Martin knows it means he's been swirling in the frantic rush of his own creativity.

"So I have a proposal for you." Gerry starts, body humming with excitement. "A tattoo in two parts, if you will."

"Yeah?" Martin encourages him, just as interested.

Gerry collects Martin's hand in both of his own, running a thumb over a spot on his wrist. It's the same place that Jon has his own tattoo, which immediately makes Martin pleased. "A small crescent moon, right here. The placement to match with Jon, the symbol for Luna."

Gerry pushes a scrap of paper forward, an elegant crescent moon filling space.

"For the other…" Gerry turns over the larger page, handing it to Martin.

There's an immeasurable beat of silence as Martin contemplates the design before him. A set of waxing and waning moons, connected by a series of dots, lines and more dots making a background of geometric shapes.

He… feels it. He understands now, what Jon had meant, when he described seeing the inspiration for his own tattoo for the first time. It's a representation of some inner part of himself, normally hidden from the world, but carefully unearthed for his lovers, over the course of many months and endless intimacy.

"Martin?" Gerry entreats, leaning minutely closer to him.

"I love it." He whispers, pulling the goth over to kiss him fiercely. They tangle together pleasantly, for several moments, everything else falling away as they get absorbed in each other.

"Not that anyone asked me, but I like it as well." Jon informs them pertly.

"Your opinion is as important to us as ever, baby." Gerry replies, grinning proudly. He turns back to Martin. "Where do you want it?"

Martin considers for a moment, before getting up and pulling off his shirt and jumper, leaving himself bare from the waist up. He still feels a small pang of shyness to be naked in any way, but confidence born of time and perspective drown most of it away now.

He and Gerry stand facing each other. Martin lifts the other man's hand, placing it on his sternum, over his softly pounding heart.

"Right here?" Gerry asks, voice soft.

"Right here." Martin affirms.

***

In the end, Gerry takes them over to Melanie's tattoo shop to work on Martin. He lists a number of reasons, but really, he finds a certain amount of comfort working under the stark lights and amid the buzzing of other machines.

They do the small tattoo first, and Martin sits for it exceptionally well.

Before Gerry starts the sternum piece, an endeavor of several hours, Georgie arrives and drags Jon off to drink coffee and catch up in a nearby coffee shop. Melanie goes into the next room to take another client, and Gerry and Martin are left alone together.

"Ready, love?" Gerry asks as he finishes placing the stencil, bisecting his chest.

"I'm nervous," Martin confesses softly.

Gerry doesn't move his gloved hands, not wanting to contaminate them, but he does press their foreheads together gently, taking a moment to sooth Martin with his companionship.

"Do you want to take a break? You can just sit with the stencil for a while." Gerry leans forward and places a swift kiss on Martin's nose, before retreating from his personal space.

"No, I'm ready." He smiles, biting his lip a little. "I just- I feel like this is a big moment, you know?"

"It is. You're embracing who you really are." Gerry runs a finger along one of Martin's chest scars, considering. "You're choosing to love yourself instead of just tolerating him."

"How can you always tell?" Martin whispers the words, voice heavy with emotion. "How can you put things into words like that, so simply."

"I know you. You think I don't see when you avoid looking in the mirror. You hope I don't notice that you used to hate being naked, even with Jon and I." Gerry pauses, tripping Martin's head up with the tip of a finger, minimizing contact still. "But I see you, Martin. I love you just the way you are. And I want you to love yourself just the same. I'll tell you everyday, show you constantly, if I need to."

Martin is crying for real now, tears streaming down his face. Gerry abandons his sterility, pulling Martin into his arms. He rocks his lover gently, and they are just together for a moment, no need to rush, no distractions. Just them, and the comfort they find in each other.

"I love you too." Martin tells him simply, when they pull apart.

"Good," Gerry grins, kissing him thoroughly, the taste of salty tears on his lips. He stands, pulling off his ruined gloves and going to wash his hands again.

Martin takes a sip of the tea Jon made him before he left, smiling because Jon always makes it with a little more sugar than he allows himself. "I'm ready."

When Jon returns, they're just finished up, the last few moments of buzzing filling the air. He watches them together, artist and canvas, and loves them fiercely.

"How was coffee with Georgie?" Martin queries, taking his offered hand.

Jon relays the details as Gerry finishes, and then cleans up.

Jon and Gerry stand on either side of Martin in the mirror as he looks at it for the first time. Martin nods wildly, when Jon asks if he likes it, and they hug him from either side as he sheds a few more tears.

Jon had once thought that tattoos seemed very boring in comparison to Gerry's normal work, but seeing the design come alive on Martin's skin, full of feeling and depth, he can't help but think of it as the best thing his lover has ever done. Gerry can't help but agree.

"Let's go to the park!" Martin exclaims as they leave, after saying their goodbyes to Georgie and Melanie.

"The park?" Jon asks, laughing. "It's so windy."

"I don't care, I want to feed the ducks and eat ice cream with my boyfriends." He insists, giddy with happiness and adrenaline.

"Okay, but you're picking the flavours this time." Gerry says, taking one of Martin's hands. Jon takes the other.

"Deal."

***

Jon and Gerry find themselves watching Martin once again feed ducks as they sit beneath a tree, more than a year after the very first time.

"Why don't we come to the park more often?" Jon asks from where he reclines between Gerry's long legs.

His arms snake around his waist, and Jon feels very content and comfortable, despite the cutting wind.

"Because," Gerry kisses under an ear softly, "we live in England and it rains more than 100 days a year."

"He looks so happy here." They watch as Martin stoops to offer a piece of bread to a curious toddler. The child is inordinately pleased, and her mother watches on gratefully from nearby as they feed the rowdy birds together.

"Are you happy?" Gerry asks him, unexpectedly serious. "With your life, with me?"

"Gerry! Of course I'm happy with you." Jon sits up, turning in the tangle of Gerry's limbs to face him.

"I'm only checking on you." He runs a gentle finger down Jon's face, then cups his cheek affectionately. "I know how much stress work puts you under and I hate that for you."

Jon looks away from his intent gaze, fiddling with his fingers nervously. "Well, yeah. My job sucks. The worst part is, I love being a librarian! Being surrounded by books, helping people choose something to read or guiding them with their research. But that's so little of my job now, and Elias just finds new and interesting ways to put pressure on me. But I'm not qualified and I know I probably won't get another job in a library, especially not without a glowing recommendation from Elias-"

"And we both know that's never going to happen." Gerry finishes for him.

Jon nods and they just sit together a moment. Gerry lifts one of his hands and kisses each of his fingers and then his palm, until Jon blushes and smiles at him.

"I know you think it's annoying, so you keep your feelings about work inside, a lot of the time. I don't want you to do that anymore, okay? If you have a terrible job, then we all carry that."

"But-"

"Nope, no buts. We are all partners. That means more then dinner dates and living together and sex."

"And punching rich fuckers who hurt our Martin."

Gerry laughs, still reveling in Jon's unexpected protectiveness- and the violent manifestation of it. "Yes, that too. There will be other jobs, for all of us, probably. But our relationship, the three of us. We're forever."

"Like those tattoos that you gave Martin today?" Jon asks, pert glint in his eye.

"Yes, much like that." He smirks brazenly back. "And the one I gave you, and the ones I've given myself, over the years."

Gerry continues, squeezing Jon's hand, "I know that the idea of not being able to provide for yourself scares you, but we're in this together now. You don't have to cling to a job that you hate in case you're left without one at all."

"I-" Jon looks away, uncomfortable to be so well understood. Gerry stits with him, energy easy between them, just holding his hand, loving and supportive.

"I have been considering, that is, maybe becoming a school teacher." The confession is halting, and he offers it with a small shy smile.

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Gerry responds, gentle encouragement colouring his voice.

"I would probably have to go back to school for a year. Get a post-grad in Education. I wouldn't be working for most of that time, and my savings will only go so far, even without having to pay rent." Jon whispers, as if the words will be any less offensive to him if they are quiet.

"You know I can float you, especially for just a year. And Martin too."

"It just doesn't seem fair to burden you with that."

"It's not a burden, it's a part of life. You think you're so old, that you should be settled, but you're barely 30, Jon. You still have time to make new life choices occasionally, and the point of being in a relationship is that you let us support you every now and then." Gerry is earnest and focused, and Jon can't help but believe him, long fingers cupping his face and teal eyes holding his gaze.

Martin arrives then, plonking down next to Jon and giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"What are we talking about then? Such serious faces."

Gerry nudges Jon, who haltingly offers Martin the same idea he told Gerry.

“Oh, I think that’s a great idea.” He says, eyes alight. “Like, high schoolers, right?”

“Yes, of course. Anyone under 10 is an alien and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

They laugh at him, their contentment surrounding him warmly.

"You don't have to quit right away." Martin offers. "There are plenty of part time degree programs, and you have to apply first. It all takes time."

"You seem pretty clued up about it." Jon observes, narrowing his eyes at Martin suspiciously.

"Well, if you must know. I've been thinking about getting a business degree."

"Oh my God! Martin, how is this the first we're hearing about this?" Gerry demands, sitting up straight.

"I didn't want it to be a thing until I was sure, and the move was over." He confesses, "It's gonna take a lot of my free time and I wanted to discuss that with you both carefully."

"I'm gonna be living with two thirty year old students." Gerry mutters, shocked. He leans back against the tree again, running his fingers through his long hair.

"I haven't agreed yet-" Jon starts.

Martin speaks up at the same time. "You could get a degree too. We could all be students together."

"No, but thanks anyway." Gerry shudders, grimacing. He perks right back up. "I'll be your sexy study partner though."

"Gerard!" Jon cries, scandalised.

Gerry shakes his head. "As if I've never felt you up while you were trying to study for a test."

"Exactly!" Even Jon struggles to keep up his prim expression at that, and they tumble into pleasant laughter together.

"So," Martin hazards, "are we gonna do this?"

"Well, if you're going to. I suppose we should both get it done at the same time." Jon responds, still hesitant but clearly warming to the idea. "You're really okay with this, Gerry?"

Gerry beams at them both, a soft, special look in his eyes. "I'm more than okay with anything you want to do with your lives. In case you haven't noticed, I'm really very fond of you both."

Jon leans forward in the circle of Gerry's legs, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss, before turning back to lay against his chest.

Martin shifts around to lean into his side, and Gerry tucks one arm around him, the other around Jon. Jon reaches out to take one of Martin's hands, and the three of them sit wrapped up together.

As ever, their own mutual magnetism draws them forever closer and closer, binding them to one another in an inexplicable tangle of love and affection.

"Do you think it will always be like this, between us?" Martin whispers gently, as the sun begins to set and the landscape sets ablaze before them.

"Probably not," Jon responds, voice warm and content. "Life will keep shifting like a tide, and we'll move with it, but the great thing about us is- we're moored together. Nothing can keep us apart, because what we have is stronger than whatever shifts and eddies might try to take us away."

"The gravity between us is fiercer than any storm, any disaster that might try to shake us." Gerry picks up Jon's train of thought, pulling them both minutely closer.

"Good," Martin says simply, fiercely in love and the happiest he's ever felt.

They watch the sun as it drops below the horizon, sometimes quiet and occasionally sharing some errant thought or another.

They eat ice cream on the way home, holding hands and laughing.

It's warm, and soft and peaceful.

And they're all, finally, home.

[thekisforkeats]

An Avatar No More (Let All the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Three)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Character death (mentioned), character injury (mentioned), body transformations, birds, sacrifice (sort of, I mean, everyone lives) 

Summary: Jon is a warlock who thinks they're a druid, and they're finally meeting their patron. Well, their original patron, not the nasty Watcher that tricked them into ending the world, that guy's a jerk and we have no truck with him.

Avatar powers or no, Jon will yell at eldritch beings to protect Martin because they need their tea-making poet alive and well, dammit.

——————————————————-

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Jon wakes to a world that looks as if it’s had all the color leached out, all blacks and whites and grays. Martin’s arms are still around them, holding them, but not as tightly as they dimly recall from before.

Martin seems to be asleep, his expression pained and his breathing shallow. He is vibrant despite the lack of color, standing out from his surroundings, almost verging into sepia rather than mere monochrome. Jon, too, seems almost as vibrant though perhaps not quite as much so.

There is a nip of cold in the air, and that by-now familiar feeling of being watched.

Jon slowly disentangles themself from Martin’s grasp, doing their best not to wake the sleeping man. They can see, and that is odd--didn’t Martin stab them in the eye? Eyes? They can barely remember, everything after stepping into the Panopticon is a blur except the conversation with Martin, as though the words were somehow burned into their memory while all other sensations faded during the trip to wherever they are now.

They take a moment, blink slowly, press their hands gently to their eyes. And yes, they have eyes, and there’s no blood on their face, and now that they look there’s no scars on their hands, either. No burn marks on the right hand, no worm scars on either one. Their skin is whole and unblemished.

This bothers them more than, perhaps, it ought.

They sit up and look around to take a greater survey of their surroundings. Jon and Martin are on the balcony of a large fortress set on the edge of a cliff in whatever this strange realm is. The sky above is an inky black, devoid of sun or moon or stars, and the landscape beyond the balcony is bleak: jagged mountains behind and a flat plain dotted with twisted spires below.

It occurs to them that it might be reasonable to assume they're in Hell.

“That’s… disconcerting,” Jon says aloud, as much because they are used to narrating their life as to hear the sound of their own voice. They stand, slowly, checking to see if there is a room attached to the balcony. Usually balconies are attached to chambers, though with Hell, it’s possible that this will be another level of torment: impractical architecture.

The balcony turns out to be just an extension of a room with no doors or outer wall. The room is shrouded in darkness, but it looks... big… ish? With maybe a table and some chairs and some sort of dias beyond that?

Jon leans down to place a hand on Martin’s cheek briefly before they begin to move into the room. “Rather spacious if… empty accommodations for a Hellscape.” Again they're speaking partly for their own benefit, but the darkness of the room is deep enough to hide someone who might respond if they speak.

And then there is indeed a voice, coming from the shadows around the dais: “This is not Hell. That place is rather more… torturous for mortals to exist in.” The voice seems… vaguely female, but with a strange, almost croaking sort of undertone.

“Ah, there you are.” Jon starts looking around for the source of the voice. “That’s good to know, that we are not dead. I take it you are who we have to thank for that? Since this is your domain.”

As Jon moves into the room, the shadows seem to shift and a form appears sitting on a large chair on the dais, pretty much a cowled cloak. It would be spooky if Jon weren’t becoming inured to these things.

“Oh, no, you are quite dead,” the voice replies from the depths of the cloak. “He is not, yet, but he will be soon enough.”

Jon looks back toward Martin, who looks to be in more pain and maybe a little less vibrant than he was. “Stop that!” they shout. They move back to Martin and kneel down, running their hands over the taller man’s hair, trying to soothe him. “Save him!”

Martin relaxes at the touch, but only slightly. He still looks pained, troubled.

The voice from the cloak says, “I have done nothing to him. He chose to follow you through the gates of death, and so… he is dying.” There is an odd level of unconcern in her voice. Not malice, per se, and not indifference, but rather what one might expect from an avatar of the End, regarding someone dying.

“And you can’t do anything?!” The indifference in the voice angers Jon. How dare this cloaked wannabe Grim Reaper just ignore their plight? And though they might not admit it, they have become used to getting their way in most things, to having power to shape the world as they wish. “This is your world; insulate him from the ravages of its effects!”

“Why should I?” The voice is more curious than malicious. “I have no hold nor tie to him; where once he belonged to Araushnee, in this form he belongs more to Oghma, or perhaps Sune, and I have little truck with either.”

“Because he is important to me!” Jon hisses, still keeping contact with Martin. “And you clearly have some attachment to me or I wouldn’t be here. Is that not enough, or are you so detached from all compassion as to not understand the intricacies of companionship?”

The figure moves out onto the balcony and Jon can see it now, cowled and hooded, with a glimmer of light from within the hood: eyes, maybe. “I understand compassion. And I understand companionship. And I understand that the latter has rarely led to much but tragedy, when pursued too fervently.”

The woman(?) looks down at the two of them. “He will not fade from your view. He will become part of this place, and if you are so concerned I will take him into my employ. You will be able to see him still, between the work I have for you to do.”

Of course. Some new eldritch horror expects Jon to work for them without even knowing what they're getting into. Lovely.

Jon stands, placing themself between the cowled figure and Martin. “No. You will save him and ensure that he lives. He didn’t sacrifice himself just to be controlled by another one of you.” They are shaking with both fear and rage. “You want my help, fine. Another Eldritch power wants my hands for its machinations…” They laugh. “What else is new? But he deserves better. Name a price for his survival and freedom, and I will pay it.”

The eyes under the hood seem to narrow. “There is a way to save him, to give him life enough to survive here and to survive the journey you are yet to take. But it would require…” A pause, a deep, heavy sigh. “I had thought to give you more time as something you would still recognize as… yourself.”

The woman gestures, and a mirror appears, so that Jon can see just exactly what she means.

The mirror allows them to see colors, but only in the mirror itself. Jon still wears the clothing they'd been wearing in the Panopticon (and much longer before that), and they look… themself, they're short and slim, their skin dark, but their eyes have become shining gold. Their long black hair shimmers now, and their ears are… pointed? Yes, elongated and pointed, and they realize their form is even slimmer than they remember, now that they look closely.

They appear to be, for all the world, an elf.

Jon puts a hand to their ears to see if it is real. How had they missed that, while trying to be sure they were whole and alive? “What? What… happened to me? You turned me into an elf? Like Tolkien? Why?”

“Tolkien…?” There’s a pause, as if the woman is accessing information; it reminds Jon, oddly, of themself. “Ah. No. I have done nothing, really; this is what you were before you went to that world. You have become something like what I once was, Tel-quessir. I believe in the common parlance the term is ‘sun elf’ or ‘high elf.’” Galadriel more than Legolas, then.

Jon tries to make sense of what the woman is saying as they take stock in the mirror but they can’t understand more than rudimentary levels. They truly had come to rely on Knowing as a crutch. “Went to that world? What you once were?” More questions than answers, and little is more irritating to them. They return their attention to the cloaked figure. “And this has what to do with saving Martin?” That is what’s important right now, after all.

The woman’s words become suddenly clipped. “You were mine. From birth, you sought out new stories, new experiences, new memories, as many as you could find, to bring them back here when you died. A spark, a soul sent into the dark, to try to expand my reach to the other worlds. And, I admit, to try to bring balance to a world so overrun with evil; an attempt at a ray of good to balance that out.” A pause. “I suppose it succeeded, mostly, if only by spreading that evil out into the realms. But the powers there, they tried to… claim you. The Spider, the Watcher…”

There is a rustling under the cloak, a sound of many wings. The voice rises, angry. “And then the Watcher stole you from me, to carry out its perverse warping of your world! It would not do, but you already had the means to combat what the Watcher tried to make you, Archivist. And so, here you are. And yet, you do not even know who you truly are.”

There is more rustling of wings beneath the cloak. The woman is clearly angry.

“Wait… you’re saying I’m from here… originally? Not human?” Jon touches their ear again, a nervous gesture. “And I was your agent… meant to be your eyes and ears until Jonah Magnus…” They have to stop, the anger that rises in them is so great, “did what he did.”

Jon’s tone turns insistent, and they wish they could still compel answers. “Then tell me. What am I? What are you? Feathers, a cloak, pinpoints of light that could be eyes. Do you have a name?”

“You are not from here,” the woman says, and her voice has become… melancholy. “We were from a place of light and beauty, once. It is my fault that you came here, but you never complained, before. And you were never meant… that ritual was never meant to happen. I never meant you to experience… any of what the Watcher made you do. But at least now the pain of all those you encountered is catalogued, and perhaps in time, they can be cleansed of the pain and know peace.”

Another deep sigh. “As for what I am…” The rustling intensifies, and then suddenly the cloak explodes into shadow. Beneath is not a woman at all--beneath is a massive collection of ravens. They fly around Jon, all flapping wings and eyes, and one in particular--the one with the eyes they've been seeing under the hood--seems to hover in the air in front of them. It speaks in a voice that booms off the nearby mountains:

“I AM THE RAVEN QUEEN.”

Jon stumbles back a bit, and narrowly manages to avoid falling on top of Martin. They haven't been this terrified since… what, since before the Change? Since well before the Change. But terrified they are. “A-an-and I’m… I’m… o-one of your… servants… and extension of you… one-one-one of… of… those?” They gesture at the ravens flying about them.

The ravens settle all around the balcony, and the one that has been speaking stays where it is, as if to give them space. “No. I told you--what you are now is what you were one, long ago, before… before my failed attempt to become a goddess and stop the conflict between Corellon and Araushnee failed.”

She sighs, and her voice is full of ancient, terrible sadness. “You came to me and offered your help to stop that conflict. You gave much of your life and essence to try to fuel the ritual, along with many others. Like them, you believed in our cause. The gods were warring, and it had to be stopped, or the Tel-Quessir were doomed to split apart forever. We would save the Tel-Quessir from the doom we foresaw. I would travel to Arvandor, gain the attention of the gods, and stop the war.” A long sigh. “I was a fool, and it was all of you who paid the price.”

Jon is starting to put the pieces together. “So… in order to save Martin, what do I have to do? Give up this… essence again? Return the restoration you bestowed on me? Become something else? Something that can still be your hand, but different?”

The raven cocks its head in almost a nod. “This is what you were, before my failed ritual. This is what I purified you into becoming again so you could go to the place where last you lived. I had wanted to give you time as this again, a lifetime of reward for your service, but…” The raven looks to Martin. “You have brought your reward back with you, I see. You always did prize love above so much else.”

“In order to save his life, I must siphon off yours. Return him to what he is, and perhaps allow him to be more, something closer to what he was long, long ago. And return you… to what you were. Shadar-kai. Shadow fey.” A pause. “It is not pleasant. The color will leech from you, even in the living world. The shadows will cling to you. In the living world you may look young and fresh, but here you will see your true state: cursed, aged, withered.”

The raven gives a long, deep sigh. “You may say that you will endure all of that and more to save your lover, but you will lose many of the emotions that now drive you. You will be bitter and grim. Others will see you as cold and pitiless. Most of my people who go out into the world care little for their physical bodies; they know they will return here, and be reborn. Some embrace physical pleasures, others test their limits, and some strive for glory in their lives.”

“You… never did much of any of that. You were usually content to watch, to listen, to study, and to bring me back what you found. You played tricks, sometimes.” Is the raven… amused? Yes, by the glitter in its eye, it is. “You have always retained your sense of humor, regardless of everything else.” The amusement fades. “But you may lose your love for him. Even if you do not--even if it is the one thing you cling to--he may lose his love for you, on finding you so horribly changed.”

Jon looks over their shoulder at Martin for a moment and then back to the raven before them. “Done. It may be as you say, but he’ll be alive. And that’s what’s important.” They sigh. “He has to survive. He’s given up too much to not survive. Do it.”

The ravens all flock back into the form they’d been in before and the shadows warp around it like a hood and cowl once more. The Raven Queen nods--or seems to--and sighs. “Very well.” She reaches out with one “hand” to Jon and the other “hand” to Martin’s sleeping form

A bright white light begins to flow out of Jon and into Martin. Jon doesn’t feel lessened so much as different, as though the shadows here seep in to replace the light that flows out. They can see the color fade from their form in the mirror. Their skin becomes a pallid grey, their eyes become wholly black--no pupil, no sclera, something far more befitting the avatar they became. And they do, indeed, twist and wither and age, though they feel no less strong and vital.

And Martin… wakes up.

Next Chapter

[mtygalvatron]

The Girl and the Lost City

The city around him was stagnant, covered in a layer of snow. Still, silent, dead. It had been like that for what has felt like centuries since the plague came and took his friends, his family. It took them all one by one until he was the only one left and only thanks to his knowledge of the necromantic arts that he learned in his vain attempt to stop the plague has he alone survived. He looked at the skeletal hand that he possessed. Was this really surviving?

           He made a fist with that hand and directed his will into it. In a flash of light, the dead snow-covered city transformed. The cobblestone streets were no longer in disrepair, the ruined crumbled buildings were brought back to their former glory and the sun shined with a bright light. The people came back as well, merchants selling their goods in carts, the brave knights clad in shining armor mounted on their equally well-armored horses traveled down the roads making a show of power.

Most importantly, she was there. With her amber skin and hair as gold as honey. At her waist, a child was clinging to her watching the knights and horses ride by with bright eyes and hope of becoming a knight himself one day instead of becoming a mage like his father before him. It would have been fine, as long as he was still alive that would have been fine for him. He tried to run his dead hand through the child’s hair, but it was only met with air. He knew better that none of this was real, that it was an illusion. Yet time and time again, for a moment, he would forget that and try to cling on to something tangible.

Moments later, the illusion would disappear, the world returned to its cold dead state. Leaving the undead man on his knees alone once again in his lonely frozen hell. He would play out these illusions every day trying to keep this city’s memory alive, his family’s memory alive in the only ways he knows how.

Then something shifted in the corner of the man’s eye. Something was here? How? Nothing should have gotten through the walls and wards placed to keep the plague away from the outside world. Questions were flooding his mind, but the foremost one was who or what that was, and he intended to find out. He got back on his feet with a vigor not seen since his living days and dashed where he saw movement. The small figure moved away with great haste and speed, darting into a nearby alleyway but the man gave chase. He needed to know, he hadn't spoken to anyone in ages, he has been cut off from the outside world for so long.

He turned into the alleyway, but there was no sign of the figure. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was his sanity starting to leave him after so long? Before he could ponder any further, he felt something tear into his robes and go in between his ribs on his right. For most mortal men, this would have been a painful experience full of screaming and blood. Being undead had its perks, however, and the man felt nothing but the mild annoyance of his clothes being torn as there was no flesh to cut through. He turned his head towards his would-be assailant and much to his shock discovered it was a small child, a girl, dressed in dirty, tattered rags with eyes full of fear, trembling at the sight of the animated skeleton before them.

He pulled the blade out from what was left of his body and handed it back to the child. “I believe this is yours.” He was shocked by the sound of his own voice and how it sounded so aged, so tired. He never fully realized how the weight of ages had affected him. The child took the knife back.

“Sorry,” the child said while the knife trembled in her hands.

"My name is Magnus. Do you have a name?" He decided to go slow, he was sure it wasn't every day she met skeletons that could talk.

“It’s Merlene.” She replied.

"I know, I'm scary. I wake up every day and scare myself when I look into the mirror,” he said making the best look of shock a skull can do. Laughter ensued from the two. It had been so long since Magnus laughed about anything, there was a feeling of warmth in his core that filled him.

“But why are you here? And where are your parents?” He asked.

“They told me to run away and keep running to a village where the sun sets and find the innkeeper there. But I came here because I heard about the stories of the brave knights and wizards here that could stop any evil,” she said.

“So, you came here for help? Well, I'm sorry, but this city has been gone for a long time now. No one should have even been able to get through the barrier, although I guess there are exceptions to that,” he said as he gestured towards Merlene. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“Oh, there was a hole in the wall at the edge of town, I just squeezed myself through that,” she said as she pointed towards the direction of the walls.

As absurd as it sounded, it made sense. The way the barrier was set up was that it would supplement the walls that were already built beforehand so that the mages didn't have to exert anymore of their power than they had to. The barrier was supposed to be taken down once the plague was cured, but a cure didn’t come fast enough, and the city withered and died as a result. With Magnus as the only mage left, he wasn’t powerful enough to take it down himself. And he never had the strength to tear down a wall on his own, or least that’s what he told himself.

"But you can help, right? You were a knight or a wizard, right?" Merlene asked, filled with hope.

“I… don’t think I can go out there,” Magnus said. “If your initial reaction is any indication, I fear I would not last too long among the people out there, they would see a monster and destroy me.”

“Huh, well we could get you a mask, or a helmet!” She said. “Then they can’t see your face.” Merlene darted out of the alleyway and towards where the old blacksmith was. Magnus barely had time to leave the alley before a helmet was unceremoniously thrust into his arms.  

“See, Magnus, now no one is going to know!”

“I’m supposed to wear a helmet at all times?”

“We can worry about that when it comes up, c’mon!” Merlene grabs his hand and begins pulling him towards the exit.

Magnus had to stop the child. “Just give me one moment, there’s something I need to do first before I leave,” he said as he removed his hand from Merlene’s grip and walked further into the town and towards the castle. Some supplies needed to be gathered on this trip and Magnus was not one to go on journeys unprepared. An old map of the world from what used to be the cartographer's house, a leather water pouch, and a sack to hold these items in. The only perk about living in this empty city was that he didn't need to ask permission to take anything. In his own house, Magnus took a single sword still sheathed in a fine leather sheath. With those items gathered, Magnus took what could be thought of as a deep breath and headed towards the cemetery on the hill.

Magnus kneeled in front of two gravestones and softly spoke to them. “I just wanted to say that I’m taking a trip. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for, but I promise I’ll return to you two. One way or another.” He picked up a sheathed sword and unsheathed it, shining the muted light of this stagnant city. “Jeralt, this was going to be yours someday, when you were older, but it seems I may need use of it before the journey is through. I hope you can forgive me, son.” He got up, sheathed his sword and walked. Taking one look back before he carried on.

The wall indeed had a crack in it and time had seen to it that it would be wide enough that a body could squeeze through it with enough effort. The first thing Magnus noticed was how bright everything was, without the filter of the barrier the sun shined through brighter than he thought was possible. The wind flowed and the trees, the trees were green and flowing with life. The feeling and sounds of life surrounded the two and Magnus had to stop for a moment to soak it all in.

“Are you okay?” Merlene asked with a look of concern as Magnus stood silent.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm just getting my bearings. It's just been so long since I've left the city." Magnus looked around. "There used to be a path nearby, but it looks like it's been overgrown." He pulled out a dusty map, yellowed with age. “The only village in this area where the sun sets is here," he says pointing at a small village by the ocean. “Is this the place your parents were talking about?”

"Yep, that's it. Wow, that's an old map, Magnus. You think it’s still up to date?”

"Up to date enough to suit our needs, let's get going before darkness falls," Magnus said as he walked off west towards their destination. Merlene trailing behind.

Traveling the countryside brought an invisible smile to Magnus’ face. He remembered the times he walked about with his wife outside of the city. Katya loved nature and the walks gave the precious time he needed away from the hustle and bustle of the castle, the nobles’ constant mandates and the general noisiness of life itself. It was amazing to Magnus that these were the little things that he missed, the sounds and sights of a world that was alive were beauty compared to the cold stagnant world that he was lost to for so long. As the duo passed a lake Magnus remarks "I remember this place, it's where I proposed to my wife. The water was so clear that day. Oh, how I missed all of this.”

The sun began to get low so the two decided to make camp for the night. Around the warm flickering fire, Magnus watched through his helmet as Merlene ate a loaf of bread. Merlene must have noticed because she asked, “Did you want some?”

"Oh no thank you, I don't have the stomach for it," Magnus replied laughing to himself slightly.

“Oh, because of the whole skeleton thing, right?” Merlene said stuffing her face.

“Yes,” Magnus said, peeved that his joke fell flat on its face.

The duo enjoyed a comfortable silence through the night. Only the chirps of crickets, the occasional hoots of an owl and the crackling of the wood in the campfire filled the sound in the air.

“Hey, can I ask you a question,” Merlene asked breaking the silence. “How come you’re a skeleton, what happened?”

"That's because… I got sick one day. A plague came around and a lot of people got sick back then, in fact, the whole city caught it eventually. My colleagues and I tried to find a way to cure it, but then we all got sick too. I knew it was a matter of time before the plague took me and our only chance of curing it, so I turned to my knowledge of the magical arts to keep myself alive. As you can see now,” Magnus said as he gestured towards himself, “that solution is not without its costs.”

“But if you were in a group, what happened to them why couldn’t you use your. “Merlene was cut short by the sound of a stick snapping in the darkness surrounding them. “Did you hear that?”

Magnus was already on his feet and kicking dust into the fire to put it out. Maybe it was a predator, or perhaps it was this ‘evil’ that Merlene spoke of back in the city. Either way, his sword was out and ready. “Stay here child, I’ll be right back,” he said as he walked away from the makeshift camp and toward the noise in the distance.

It wasn’t long until Magnus could make out the light of a torch and two voices in the dark of the woods.

“You sure the girl ran off this way?”

“Of course, I’m sure you fool, where else could she have gone?”

“What about that weird walled city over yonder?”

“You’re kidding, that place is cursed. No one can get in there, you’d have to be insane to try. Now quit your whining and find her so we can get paid.”

It wasn't long until the two ragged-looking men had caught notice of Magnus in his helmet with his sword out.

"And who might you be, eh? Little late to go out for a walk isn't it?" The man said, the wrinkles in his face betraying an older, possibly more experienced man. His hand was on the hilt of his sword around his waist.

“Why are you two searching for a girl in this neck of the woods?” Magnus replied under his helmet.

“That ain’t none of your business lad, just move along before you get hurt,” the younger fellow said while visibly shaken, either by excitement or fear. Sword already in hand.

“Well I plan to make it my business,” Magnus said as he readied his sword with both his bony hands.

The younger one rushed forward with great haste and Magnus met the lad's fury with his steel. The sound of metal clashing against each other reverberated throughout the forest. Magnus went in for a strike, but the young one dodged swiftly and left Magnus open for a strike as a sword plunged into his chest and ran through the other side. Magnus was cursing to himself that he’d let himself become lax in his sword training.

At first, the man’s face had a sense of satisfaction at such an impact, but that look slowly twisted into one of horror as Magnus remained standing, unfazed at the situation. The young man didn't even notice that he let of go his sword, leaving it embedded in Magnus' torso.

“You’ve ruined my clothes,” Magnus said while pulling the sword out dropping it to the ground below, feeling more disappointed over the loss of his shirt than feeling anything about the attack on his life. The young man was already fleeing at that point, but there was still the older man to contend with who had brandished a very ornate looking dagger.

“I know how to deal with freaks like you,” the older man said as he plunged the dagger towards Magnus, who managed to dodge out the way, but not quickly enough to avoid the blade nicking his arm. At that moment, a sensation Magnus thought he had lost had come rushing back to him so suddenly and surely that made him tumble to the ground. What is this feeling? Pain! How? Magnus hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming while his foe casually walked over ready to give the killing blow.

“Back to the hells for you, freak,” the man said before he plummeted the dagger towards Magnus.

A scream was let out as Merlene's knife sank between the ribs of the man. At that moment Magnus concentrated his will into his fist and launched his hand in the man’s general direction and with it enough force to send him flying into a nearby tree. Knocking him unconscious and perhaps breaking some bones in the process.

Magnus stumbled to his feet. “I thought I told you to stay at the camp.”

“Pretty sure you would be dead right now if I did stay. You’re welcome,” Merlene retorted.

“I would have been fine, “Magnus said while pulling a sword out of his chest. “I appreciate the effort, however.” The sword clanged on a small rock as it fell.

“Why were they after you?” Magnus was still reeling from the attack, feeling woozy What did he hit me with? He walked over to the dagger that was now on the ground. Examining it, the blade looked to be of bright silver and the golden handle had the crest of a red dragon on it.  The silver blade had to mean that there was an enchantment placed on it as only the metal silver could hold magical properties that were given by enchanters. Only magic could disrupt the magical forces that kept Magnus alive. “Why did he have an enchanted blade? With the way he dressed he couldn’t have had the money to afford daggers such as this one. And what is this symbol here with the dragon?” Magnus said showing the blade to Merlene.

Merlene looked at the blade for a moment and with a flash of inspiration in her eyes she shouted, “Oh that’s the crest of my family, the Dragonscales.”

Magnus never heard of the Dragonscales in his years of studies, but he figured that due to his time in isolation from the rest of the world new, powerful families have arisen in the absence of the old kingdom and have filled the vacuum of power that was left behind. “You have a crest? That’s pressed onto weapons?”

“Yeah, doesn’t your family have one?”

“No! Only royal families have crests like this. What did your father do for a living?”

“Oh, he was the king.”

“No wonder why you’re being chased,” Magnus said laughing a bit to himself. “You’re a princess. Everyone in the land is out looking for you. You’re worth a lot of money and favor to everyone. I wish you had told me sooner.”

"Well, you never asked," Merlene replied plainly.

"No, no I guess I never did, "Magnus said, "but we should start getting a move on to that town. Nowhere is going to be safe for long with your status." Magnus pocketed the knife in his sack and the two-headed off.

The two traveled for miles on end to the town where the sun had set, there was no time for pause or rest for Magnus, who didn’t need to sleep or eat anyway. When Merlene needed to rest, however, Magnus offered to carry her on his back for at least a little while. They had to stick to the lesser-known paths and off the main trail to avoid anyone who may have known the identity of the princess.

In what felt like no time at all for Magnus, but an eternity for Merlene, they finally arrived at a town called Sunset.

"This has to be the place; the name is too on the nose not to be," Magnus said looking at the wooden sign in front of him along with the map in his hand; matching the landmarks to the old map with the ones he could see around town. A waterwheel, the oddly shaped rock. The entire ocean that was by the coast was a large indicator as well. “What were you supposed to do once you got here, Merlene?”

Before Merlene could get a word out of her mouth. A crowd had gathered around the two. Someone started speaking "You're the princess, yes, and this is your bodyguard? We can help you, just follow us.” The two weren’t given much of a choice as the crowd directed their movements toward an old lighthouse near the outskirts of town.

The two were placed in a room within the lighthouse. In one of the chairs sat an elderly woman with greyish-red hair. “I’m Rose, and you must be Merlene,” she said looking at her, paying no attention to Magnus, “Come have a seat, there is much to discuss.”  

The two took a seat as instructed and listened to Rose. “It is a very unfortunate thing that has happened to your family, Merlene with how your uncle rose to power and has taken your father’s place as king. Of course, you still have your supporters as you are the rightful heir to the throne but currently, we feel that the time for you to reclaim your rightful place is not right.”

“What are you saying then?” Merlene finally spoke.

“Well, the council feels that it would be better for everyone that you sit and bide your time and hide away from the mainland until you're ready to rule," Rose replied.

“I don’t get it, I thought you people would help me save Mom and Dad," Merlene said as tears welled up in her eyes. She tried her best not to let her face betray her emotions but in the end, her face contorted, and the tears fell from her eyes.

“I thought we were here to help liberate this child's land from tyranny and corruption," Magnus said. "Why are we running away to gods know where to ‘bide our time'? There are contingencies for these kinds of situations, a reserve army, a cabal of secret guardians. What it sounds like is that you want to send her away where she won't be in the way."  

“Now that’s not what’s happening at all… who are you again?” Rose said.

“I am Magnus of the Old Kingdom and I am not letting you send her away so that you may grow fat from her situation.” There was a fire in his voice, one that he hasn’t felt in many lifetimes. “Merlene get up, we’re leaving. We’ll reclaim your throne in our own way.”

"We can't let you just leave you know. There's too much at stake to lose because you don't want to fall in line with the new order.” As Rose said this a group of armed men came barreling into the room. Swords drawn and ready for action.

But Magnus was ready too. "Merlene, close your eyes." Ready or not, Magnus released a flash of light from his hands it was as if the sun had been birthed in that very room. Magnus grabbed Merlene and made a bolt for the exit while the guards were blinded by the light.

Outside of town, far away from any other people. Magnus and Merlene sat in a clearing in the nearby forest.

"So, it seems your uncle has overthrown the rule of your family. It's little wonder why they were sending men after you. He wanted to be sure that no loose ends were running around and becoming a potential problem for him later." Magnus said mostly to himself. Merlene sat in shock at the current events.

“I’m not going to let them exile you, Merlene. No one should be put into isolation, away from the people they love.” Magnus said, speaking from his own experience. “We’re going to your kingdom, we’re going to find your parents and we’re going to bring your uncle to justice.”

“But how, Magnus? No one will help us.” Marlene spoke.

"There's nothing to fear. I have a plan, but we need to move we haste and for that, we're going to need to borrow horses.” Magnus said.

Out on the road, there were men on horseback moving at a pace that indicated that they were searching for something. Magnus and Merlene were hidden away in nearby bushes, listening in on their conversation.

“Gotta be careful with her bodyguard, they say he’s got magics.” One voice said.

“Ain’t no such thing as magics. Don’t let ‘em get in your head.” Another voice replied.

Magnus clinched his skeletal fist and walked out into plain view in front of the men. The two saw him immediately and called out to him. “Hey! Where’s the girl? Make this easy for us and maybe you’ll get to keep your life, eh?”

Magnus remained silent. Unmoving from the center of the road. The men got off their horses, swords in hand already and moved in on Magnus.

“Let’s see you keep up the silent treatment after this then.” The man slashed with his sword at Magnus but met with only air. The figure of Magnus soon disappeared into thin air as well. Before the two realized in a horse ran between them and into the surrounding forest. By the time they turned around the other horse, carrying two, was running off into the distance.

"You sure do know a lot of magic, Magnus," Merelene said, wind flowing through her hair, holding tight to Magnus as they rode on horseback.

“Well yes. I studied a lot of magic back in my time and my people were known for having the best mages and sorcerers in the land.” Magnus said, fondly remembering the years he spent pouring over old texts and ancient tomes and seeing the results of his research become manifest through new spells.

“Do you think you could teach me magic after all this is over?” Merelene asked.

Magnus thought over it for a moment. His son was never interested in magic despite how hard he pushed it on him. “Yes, I think I could teach you a few things. Help you avoid burning your eyebrows off and learning practical spells.” Magnus said, remembering the time he lost all his hair in a magical mishap.

The trip to The Dragonscale Kingdom was long but shortened due to the use of horses. Magnus wondered why he didn’t use them at the start. Magnus pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a stop. They were still a good distance away from the entrance gates.

"You know, in my day this place was just a small village and a bit of farmland," Magnus said looking surveying over the land in his helmet.

“Yeah, my great grandfather fought a dragon, defeated it and sold the scales to make enough money to build a castle and name himself king," Marlene answered.

“Most people can’t just name themselves king, but who would argue with a man that fought a dragon and lived?” Magnus said. “Well enough stalling, time to get this plan in motion.”

“What is this plan?” Marelene asked.

"It's almost the same thing we did to get these horses, but on a larger scale," Magnus said, clenching both of his fists. He took what could have been considered a deep breath and outstretched his hands. Suddenly, numerous knights clad in shining armor on top of golden steads began to appear out of thin air and began to march down toward the castle with the sound of rhythmic thumping of hooves on the ground. "Hopefully that will keep them distracted enough for us to slip into the castle from the back," Magnus said giving the horse a light kick and riding off to the back entrance.

As predicted a group of soldiers came to meet the slowly approaching knights. Numerous archers began lining up and reading their arrows waiting to hear the command to fire. Magnus and Merlene were already slipping in through the back when the archers began to ineffectively loose arrows against the illusory knights. Unfazed by the arrows the knights continued onwards.

The city streets were empty, the townsfolk were likely held up in their houses looking to avoid the conflict. “Merelene do you know where the dungeons are? I expect that’s where we’ll find your parents.”

“I think it’s under the castle. I wasn’t allowed down there, so I don’t know that place so well.” Merelene said.

“That’s quite alright,” Magnus said, “I don’t expect a child to play much in the dungeons.”

The castle was nearly as empty as the city streets. High ceilings and banners hung on the castle walls. Most interestingly was the large skeletal dragon hanging high from the ceiling. The lack of life in the castle signified to Magnus that the recent coup has left the castle so short-staffed that they couldn't manage to form some sort of defense against people sneaking in. It was an advantage that Magnus didn’t mind exploiting. The two made their way down the stairs and found row upon row of prison cells filled with people.

"I know these guys, these are the castle workers," Merlene said.

“Looks like those who didn’t join in the rebellion were locked up here.” Said Magnus.

Requests and pleading for freedom began to fill the hallways. Magnus, with a simple use of magic, broke the locks on the cells. Soon the hallway was crowded with the bodies of prisoners; dirty and disheveled from their imprisonment. “Arm yourselves however you can.” Magnus said over the crowd. “the rebels shall be upon us soon I feel.” Many of the people began rushing up the stairs out of the dungeons.

Magnus stopped one of the former prisoners, “Have you seen the king and queen?” He asked.

“I heard that they were locked in the highest tower in the castle, sir.” The prisoner replied before running off with the rest.

A commotion could be heard upstairs, the clanging of metal against metal mingling with screaming and yells. The sound of combat was afoot as the rebel army had begun to pour back into the castle. Magnus turned to Merlene, “I need to get to the top of the castle to free your parents, but it sounds like the fighting has started outside, so I need you to stick close to me, ok?”

“Yeah, I got it, don't worry," Merlene said.

Magnus handed her the ornate blade he picked up from the brigand. “Just in case.” He said. Moving forward with sword in hand.

Stepping out of the dungeon the world was chaos, combatants swinging swords, clubs and improvised weapons. Some of the prisoners must have been soldiers as they were holding their own very well against the better-armored rebels. Magnus and Marlene weaved though the storm of blades toward the upper stairs only to be stopped by a large man in ornate armor covered in shining silver scales, carrying an oversized and cruel-looking morning star.

"That's my uncle," Merlene said, close behind Magnus.

"Yeah, that figures," Magnus responded.

“You don’t look like one of the rabble I had locked away, who are you?” The false king asked.

“I am Magnus, friend to the true king. And you are?” Magnus responded.

"You come to my castle asking who I am? Do you even know what you're doing here? I am Erik Dragonscale, king of this land that you have stumbled on." Erik's grip on his weapon grew tighter.

“I know exactly why I am here. To free this land of your grip.” Magnus said his free hand gripping into a fist.

“The commoners don’t even care about who’s in charge. Enough talk out of you.” Erik swung his spiked club down towards Magnus who quickly threw up an invisible barrier with his free hand. The force of the blow, however, was too much for Magnus and his skeletal arm shattered into splinters as he flew into a crowd in the center courtyard. There was no pain from the blow, but the attack left Magnus at a considerable disadvantage. At some point, the blow had knocked off Magnus’ helmet revealing his skull for all to see.

“Ah, I see you're not only a rabble-rouser but an abomination as well. How many souls have you stolen to achieve this pitiful form?" Erik said gesturing towards Magnus who was struggling to stand up with only one arm. Magnus had to rest upon his sword has he climbed to his knees. On is ascent he caught a glimpse of the dragon bones hanging above him.

By this point, the fighting had stopped. All eyes were on the king and the animated skeleton in the room. Merlene tried to run over to Magnus, but somehow gave her a look that told her to stay back. She used this opportunity instead to run up the flight upstairs leading to the towers above.

“I have not stolen a single soul, each one was given to me by my friends and comrades for a greater good. Each of those souls still live on through me.” Magnus said, mostly to himself as he focused his will into his remaining hand.

"Enough of your blabbering," Erik shouted. "No good can come from dabbling in those magics." He started pacing towards Magnus.

"Well, let me show you what good can come from it then," Magnus said and raised his arm into the air. A bellowing, glass shattering, roar could be heard from above that stopped Erik in his tracks. Looking up he saw the dragon, once a trophy, now animated and rushing toward him with incredible speed. Erik swung his morning star at the large mass of bones in front of him, but it was to no avail as the sheer force and weight of the dragon crushed him and sent dust and debris flying in all directions.

As the dust was still settling, Magnus, who now found himself against a wall, could hear Merlene shouting for him amongst the confusion. The court was covered in dragon bones and ash slowly descended from on high like snow to the ground. In the dust, Magnus could see two tall figures and one smaller figure in front of him. It reminded Magnus of his wife and child who were still waiting for him at his snow-covered home.

“Merlene, is that you? Did you find your parents?” Magnus asked.

"Yeah, Magnus, I did," Merlene said.

“Ah, that’s great. I’m happy for you.” Magnus said, struggling to rise to his feet. One of his legs seemed to have been bent in the wrong direction. “I think, I’m going to need to rest for a bit after this.”

It had been some time since Magnus made his journey and he was now back in his home of the lost city. The barrier was still covering the sky, but with great effort, the hole in the wall was widened so that people could come and go as they pleased. Mostly it was for Merlene to come and go as she pleased as the outside world tended to leave him alone. Merlene came to the snowy town every month for her magic lessons. And right on time as always, Merlene was waiting for him outside of his house.

“You ready for your next lesson?” Magnus asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Merlene replied. Hair still growing in from the last lesson.

“Well then let’s get to work.” Said Magnus.

[voidendron]

Deep Blue Sea: Ch. 18

Chapter 18: Survivor Six Subnautica/JSE Egos Crossover

(( take three for writing this chapter :’D JJ and Henrik’s POVs didn’t cooperate, but fortunately Marv’s did! Because of it taking three attempts, I’m not gonna make you wait any longer by doing my final rewrite edit that I usually do, so apologies for errors! ))

Warnings: Swearing, Character Injury, Mentioned (Minor) Character Death Characters: Marvin the Magnificent, Dr. Schneeplestein, Jameson Jackson, Jackieboy Man, Chase Brody, Second Officer Keen POV: Marvin the Magnificent

They’d arrived back at the habitat maybe an hour or so ago, and Marvin was fiddling with his PDA when banging startled him. Turning it off, he tipped his head questioningly at Jameson. The younger man was hitting his fist against the wall to get their attention. That explained the noise.

He pointed, then, signing…something. Marvin couldn’t read the signs, but let his eyes follow Jameson’s outstretched finger toward the window.

Marvin stood with his brows furrowing; somewhere behind him, he could hear Henrik hiss between his teeth as he re-wrapped the wound in his leg after checking on it. Eyes widening, he saw exactly what the chef had been pointing at.

“There’s…three of them. Please tell me I’m not seein’ things.”

He felt Henrik move to his side to get a better look. “…Yes. Yes, see it, too.”

Three shadows approached—two with Seaglides, one without. The one without the device was keeping surprisingly good pace with the other two.

“Maybe it’s Yu or Keen?” Marvin suggested, pursing his lips. He couldn’t help feeling a little pang of guilt. He’d been so adamant about leaving the island, and now it seemed like one of them had survived? He could barely hide his cringe when there was clanging from the entrance.

The outside hatch was opened and slammed shut again, then the drainage systems activated. It was only with the sound of the pumps falling silent that the bulkhead was shoved open. One Seaglide was left in the entrance (probably Jackie’s; he was really good at leaving it in bad places).

The second was in the hands of—

There stood Second Officer Keen: Slouching, exhausted, covered in cuts and bruises, but very much alive. He looked like he could pass out right where he stood.

“Status?” he demanded instead, his cutting stare going straight for Henrik. When the doctor stood silent for apparently too long, Keen elaborated with, “Injuries? Survivor count?”

“Counting you,” he started, “is only six remaining—all in this room. Jackson—” he nodded for the chef, “—has fractured ribs and is being watched for pneumonia. Brody and Magnus both suffered minor concussions.” There was a grimace as the doctor shifted his weight to let off on his injured leg a little. “I was bitten by one of the fish—a ‘Biter.’ The rest of our injuries consist of scrapes, bruises, and cuts that will heal on their own.”

Marvin…wasn’t so sure of that last bit. Not when he took a good look at Jackie and cleared his throat to get Henrik’s attention, then gestured for the security guard.

“What the hell happened to him?!”

Scrapes, and cuts, and a torn divesuit, bloodied where the water hadn’t washed it away on the swim back to the habitat. The fabric at his thigh was ripped apart completely, revealing the filthy shredded skin beneath it that was already discolored with a nasty bruise that had Marvin grimacing. He was also walking funny, wincing with every step even as Chase kept an arm around him.

“Did you fall off the goddamn mountain?!”

“Heh… It’s really that obvious?”

Marvin had to hide his snort.

“What?”

“Can you just like. Wrap me up or somethin’, please? It hurts, and we’ve got shit to tell ya.”

The entertainer moved forward to help Chase with supporting the other man, walking him to a less-cluttered part of the habitat to sit him down. “Why?” Marvin asked. “Find more data logs?”

Chase snorted. “Yeah. That and more.”

The sound of ripping fabric filled the habitat as Henrik tore Jackie’s suite to get to the injury in his thigh. He was scowling, because of course he was. “Well? Spit it out!”

“Well…” Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s another survivor. So, seven of us I guess. But like. Not from the Aurora. It was the Antony guy from the recordings.”

Eyes widening against his will, Marvin shook his head. “But… That recording was ten years old. How is that possible?”

“He’s found a way to survive—” Keen’s voice startled Marvin; he’d about forgotten the officer was there, “—as will we.”

“Then why didn’t you bring him here? I don’t under—”

“He has been in solitude for so long that his humanity is nonexistent and he attempted to kill us,” Keen interrupted. “He already succeeded in doing so with the CTO. He called us ‘diseased’ and claimed we would poison him. The man’s gone mad. He can stay on the island.” The sharp edge to his tone was softened only by his grimacing as he sank to the floor with his back against the wall. He was still in his uniform, but one sleeve was shredded, both knees torn, and cuts ripped into the fabric throughout it revealed matching ones on the skin beneath. All in all, he was a mess.

After he was silent for a while, he added, “We must avoid that island. Sepse knows this planet far better than we do, but with any luck he remains close to it when and if he’s ever in the water. The animals here, we can learn how they act. A human? Too unpredictable.” The hundreds of quotes Marvin had heard about man being the only true monster echoed in his head at that. “A…package, was sent to the Aurora. I’m not positive what it was, but we need to get on—”

Frantic shaking of his head. “Nope. Not happening.” Marvin paused for a few moments to pull a water bottle and nutrient bar out of one of the lockers, passing them both off to the officer before continuing as Keen glared daggers at him. “I already tried, okay? Fuckin’ thing’s surrounded by radiation. If you’re up for a suicide mission, then sure, go for it, but otherwise I suggested planting your ass right here.”

“Yes,” Henrik added as he wrapped bandages around Jackie’s leg—had his already cleaned it? “It sounds like you were…otherwise occupied on the island, but we got a message shortly after returning. The ship’s drive core is damaged.”

There were an audible thunk as Keen tipped his head back to hit against the wall. A long sigh, then, “Brody. Would you know how to repair that?”

“Dependin’ on the extent of the damage, I might be able to. But I’d need a radiation suit and I’m not goin’ alone.”

“If we get the suits, I’d go,” Jackie offered.

Good, Marvin thought. He wasn’t going anywhere near the ship with that Reaper so close to it. He shuddered at the thought. “How would we even get the suits?” He pulled his PDA off his hip and waved it around to prove a point. “We don’t have the blueprint.”

“We do, actually.” Keen screwed the lid back on the nearly-empty water bottle and gestured to the PDA nearest him: Jameson’s. “The radiation suit is under a specialized lock when our devices enter Emergency Mode. Our PDAs will release the blueprint only if they deem it necessary. So as much as I hate to say it, further damage to the drive core should help trigger it.”

“Which would mean it could be beyond my ability to repair it, but we can at least get that data package.”

“Yes.”

“And…what about the radiation? Can’t just leave the drive core damaged and leaking, can we?” Marvin gestured vaguely out the window before crossing his arms. “I mean. Personally I like not being radiation poisoned, but maybe that’s just me.”

Jackie and Chase both tried to stifle laughter while Jameson bit his lip and ducked his head. Keen only sighed. “We can only hope it doesn’t reach this far, at least until we have the suits. With any luck, the damage might still be repairable to stop it entirely.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Okay, okay.” Jackie prodded at the new bandaging on his thigh, wincing, and Marvin rolled his eyes when the security guard proceeded to poke at it again. “Soooo… We can’t do anything about the ship ‘til the drive core takes a little more damage. That means we keep doing what we’ve been doing and gather supplies, right?” He hissed when Henrik moved to start cleaning the shredded soles of his feet, nearly kicking the doctor and earning a harsh glare. “But somethin’ I’ve been wondering since the island… Keen, why didn’t you just jump off the bridge into the bay? I mean. You threw your PDA from there, right? You could’a just gotten away.”

The officer’s eyes dropped to the floor. He looked…genuinely upset as he shook his head with a soft sigh—fingers picking at his remaining sleeve, shoulders slumped, head bowed low. “The CTO and I got on the island from a different beach than the center bay’s, one more on its southern side. We remained at the surface for the entire trip there—I didn’t even realize it was floating until I left with you and Brody.

“When we reached the bridge, the CTO was already wounded and we didn’t know the bay passed through the island. I thought we would be trapped if we jumped down there, so we chose not to risk it.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall. “I see now that had we jumped in the bay, Yu would still be with us.”

“Nothing we can do about now,” Marvin said. He moved back to one of the lockers to grab the officer more water, then blinked when he was met by the sight of the PDA. He’d totally forgotten Jameson had put it in a locker. With it and another water bottle in each hand, he went to kneel at the officer’s side. “Just drink and eat. And then try to sleep. Fuck, you look like you need it.”

Keen tried to glare, but it fell away as he took the items offered to him.

“For now, we should just keep doin’ what we’ve been doing.” Chase’s voice echoed slightly; he had his head in one of the lockers as he pulled supplies out. Marvin recognized them as the ones for a divesuit. “We’ll let Keen rest up—could I take your PDA quick? Thank you—while we just keep gatherin’. Once the rad suit’s unlocked, Jackie and I can head to the ship.”

When the fabricator finished the new suit, Chase gave both it and the PDA he’d taken (to make sure it got the correct sizing, if Marvin was to guess) to Keen. The accents on the new suit were a light gray. The entertainer really had to wonder if the colors were associated with sizes, or more so for ranks or positions on the ship.

“So…” Marvin ran a hand through his hair, frowning as his fingers caught tangles. “Our only plan right now is wait for the drive core to…I don’t know, blow up?”

Chase just rolled his eyes. “Dude. It’s not gonna blow up.”

[silver-lily-louise]

Everything I Need - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Word count: ~4k Summary: “Magnus desperately wants to accept, wants to promise anything in exchange for his Alexander’s safe return, but he knows he has to be smart about this.” Alternative events, starting at the end of episode 3x18, ‘The Beast Within.’ When Alec refuses his offer, Asmodeus takes things into his own hands. Warning for the implication of torture. 

~oOo~

When Alec walks into the bookshop, he’s still not sure what he’s going to say.

He’ll likely never know what it’s like to lose something as vital to himself as magic was to Magnus, but he can see the pain this is causing the man he loves. And Alec does love him, loves him more than anything, which is why he wants to fix this so badly.

But Izzy’s words have been echoing around his head ever since they talked, too. He wouldn’t want this. He loves you so much. Much as he argued that Magnus would get over their breakup in time, Alec can’t deny that his sister has a point. He wouldn’t want this. He’d said as much to Asmodeus, too, hadn’t he? Even if he thought taking the deal was right, that Magnus had already sacrificed too much for Alec, it shouldn’t be his decision. It should be Magnus’. If he can’t know, doesn’t Alec have a duty to choose what he is almost certain Magnus would?

The bell chimes softly as Magnus opens the door, a look of surprise on his face. ‘Oh. I thought you were Maryse.’ Alec walks past him, the anxiety in his gut ramping up a notch. ‘Yeah, where is my mom?’ ‘She retired for the night. She left me the keys so I can keep working. You know, I’m a perfectionist.’ Alec feels himself tense as Magnus’ hands are suddenly on his shoulders. ‘You okay?’ He hums with displeasure, feeling the strain in Alec’s muscles. ‘You seem stressed.’

Alec turns to face Magnus, mouth open to start the ‘We need to talk’ speech – but when he meets his boyfriend’s gaze, the words die in his throat. Despite his obvious concern, Magnus has a look of peace about him that he didn’t this morning, and certainly didn’t last night on the balcony. Alec forces a smile. ‘It’s nothing, just… it’s been a weird day. How did things go here?’

The concern doesn’t totally leave Magnus’ face, but he seems content to leave it for now. ‘Well, you can see for yourself,’ he says, gesturing around like he’s showing off a piece of art. ‘What do you think?’ ‘Looks good,’ Alec says, glancing about the room, and means it. Sending Magnus to the bookshop was mostly a ploy, but Alec isn’t surprised to find that he’s done a great job.

Magnus seems pleased enough with the praise, curt though it is. ‘The main thing is, Maryse seems to like it. I’m glad I was able to help her out.’ His smile takes on a gentler, more thoughtful look. ‘And besides that… it actually helped, spending some time with her today. I know it’s going to take a while to adjust to this… new lifestyle, and maybe I’ll never be fully there. But seeing how she’s managing – I suppose it gives me some hope. Besides,’ he says, taking Alec’s hands in his and looking up at him fondly, ‘I’m not doing it alone.’

Alec swallows a painful lump in his throat. ‘No. You’re not.’ And just like that, he knows that Izzy was right. If there’s another way to get Magnus his magic back, Alec won’t rest until he finds it – but they’ll make that journey together, not apart.

Magnus frowns. ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Alec closes his eyes for a moment, letting the last bit of fear drain from him. When he opens them again, he’s struck anew by the man in front of him – beautiful even in his worry, an almost blazing aura of love rolling off of him. A genuine smile spreads across Alec’s face. ‘Yeah. Everything’s fine.’ Suddenly, Alec becomes hyper-aware of the weight in his jacket pocket, and once the idea reappears in his head, he can’t wait another moment.

He clears his throat. ‘Listen, Magnus… You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. I love you with all my heart, and I…’ He takes a breath, willing his voice to stay strong. ‘If you’ll let me, I swear I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you as happy as you make me.’ Heart hammering, he reaches into his pocket for the ring box, dropping to one knee as he watches Magnus’ eyes go wide. ‘Magnus Bane, will you marry me?’

There’s a second of silence that seems to stretch on for eternity, and Alec can’t breathe.

But then Magnus is kneeling in front of him, reaching up to cup Alec’s face in his hands, and kissing him fiercely. ‘Of course,’ he breathes as he pulls away, almost laughing. ‘Of course I will.’

Alec’s heart soars, and he gets to his feet, pulling Magnus up with him. His hands are shaking as he slips the ring onto Magnus’ finger, but he manages it, and then they’re kissing again, but gentler this time, sweeter.

‘You had one job, Alexander.’

Alec whirls around, blade drawn, to where the disappointed voice is coming from, and his stomach drops as he finds a man with an unfamiliar face but hauntingly familiar eyes. He’s taken off guard as Magnus jolts forward, arm sweeping Alec behind him. ‘How did you get here?’ he barks, and Alec’s not sure if the anger or the fear is stronger in Magnus’ voice.

Asmodeus smiles. ‘My boy. We have so much to discuss. But for now, I’m afraid I have business with your fiancée.’ With a careless flick of the wrist, Magnus is thrown into the nearest bookshelf, crashing to the floor. Alec starts after him, but finds himself immobilised after half a step.

There’s the sound of a portal opening behind him as Magnus struggles up to his hands and knees, and then Alec is being pulled backwards, and he can see the sheer terror on Magnus’ face as he reaches out in desperation and screams Alec’s name -

The bookshop disappears from view.

***

‘No. No, no, no.’ Magnus gets to his feet, shaking with the force of his racing heart. ‘No.’ Alexander.

He tries to slow his breathing, hands fisted in his hair. Tries to recover from the whiplash of Alec proposing one moment, promising Magnus he need not face any of this alone, and being dragged away from him the next. With Magnus powerless to stop it.

Magnus closes his eyes, feeling the tears pool, but then he quickly blinks them away. He can’t fall apart now. Asmodeus has Alec, which means they’re already running out of time.

He turns and sprints from the shop, furious that he can’t just portal to the Institute. But the news can get there faster than him, and he pulls his phone out of his pocket, finding Isabelle’s name in the list and hitting call.

She picks up on the second ring. ‘Hello?’ ‘Isabelle,’ he says, panting. ‘Asmodeus. He took Alec.’ ‘What?’ ‘He took him, he – he came to the shop and portalled out with him, I couldn’t stop it.’ ‘Where are you?’ she demands, a professional snap to her words as she falls back on her training. ‘Running. To the Institute.’ ‘I’ll have someone meet you at the entrance. Come to the ops center.’ She hangs up without waiting for an answer.

Magnus slips his phone back into his pocket, pushing himself to go faster, faster, until his mouth tastes of metal and he can’t hear his footsteps over his terrified heart.

***

The ops center is swarming with people, different voices barking orders and relaying information. The appearance of a greater demon is cause enough for concern, but Asmodeus hasn’t just resurfaced – he’s kidnapped the Head of the Institute.

‘You have no idea where he could have taken Alec?’ Jace asks, not for the first time. They’ve tried tracking him, but came up empty-handed. ‘No,’ Magnus says, and it takes all his self-discipline not to lay into Jace for wasting time, repeating pointless questions. ‘I banished my father centuries ago, it’s not like many of the hiding places he was familiar with are still standing.’ He thumps the table in frustration. ‘I don’t even know why he would take Alexander. He just said he had business with him.’ He’s almost entirely sure this is to do with him; but if it were as simple as his father wanting to hurt him, why wouldn’t he have done that in Edom, rather than making that trade to save Jace? And why would he take Alec alive, rather than just-  

Thankfully, Isabelle interrupts that train of thought. ‘He did have business with Alec.’ They all turn to look at her, and she continues, if somewhat hesitantly. ‘Alec went to speak with Asmodeus. He made a deal to get you your magic back, Magnus.’

‘What sort of a deal?’ He tries to make it a demand, but it just comes out desperate. Alec wouldn’t trade himself for Magnus’ magic, would he? Surely he’d know that Magnus wouldn’t want it back at that price? ‘Asmodeus said that he’d return your magic if Alec broke up with you,’ she explains. If Magnus’ head receives one more reason to spin today, he swears it’ll explode. ‘What? Why?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Isabelle admits.

But when Magnus thinks about it for a moment, it makes perfect sense. Alec is all Magnus has left. If he walked out, Magnus would be miserable, and more vulnerable than he’s been in centuries. So when his father came swooping in, returning his magic…

He scowls, cursing the manipulative bastard. ‘But Alec didn’t break up with me.’ ‘So the deal’s off, right?’ says Clary. ‘So why take Alec?’ ‘Maybe he’s pissed that Alec screwed up whatever plan he’s trying to pull off,’ suggests Jace.

There’s the unmistakeable whirl of parchment behind Magnus, and his arm snaps up to catch the fire message. His heart stutters in a combination of hope and dread as he reads it. ‘Whatever his reasons, I’m about to find out.’

Thompson Park, by the lake. Half an hour. Come alone or he dies.

***

Twenty-eight minutes later, Magnus is pacing by the lake in Thompson Park, eyes darting to the shadows to try and spot Asmodeus’ approach. He’s alone, as his father requested. Some of the tacticians at the Institute fought him on that, but with Isabelle as Acting Head of the Institute in Alec’s absence, their arguments were quickly shot down. Not that anyone could have stopped Magnus following those instructions to the letter anyway. Not with Alexander’s life on the line.

‘Magnus.’ Asmodeus’ voice comes from the right, and Magnus stops pacing, turning to face his father, who’s standing there with his arms open as if in invitation. ‘Where’s Alexander?’ Magnus asks immediately, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too pleading. He’s in a weak enough position to negotiate as it is.

Asmodeus chuckles. ‘Straight down to business, just like I taught you. Don’t worry, your little Nephilim is safe enough. I’ll show you.’ He raises a hand, and it’s only centuries of keeping his cool under pressure that stops Magnus’ breath catching. Asmodeus has conjured a sort of hologram, and it shows Alec in an empty room, wrists shackled and arms stretched above his head, an intricate circle drawn around him which Magnus recognises as a silence spell. Alec’s twisting furiously, trying to find some leeway in his restraints, some weakness he can exploit. He’s also shouting, clearly unaware of the spell that renders that pointless.

The image shimmers and disappears, and despite how horrible it was, Magnus feels a pang. He meets his father’s eyes. ‘What do you want?’ Again with the amusement, and Magnus feels the hatred rise in his gut. ‘You, my son.’ He takes a step forward, his demeanour turning more serious. ‘I want you to come to Edom with me, to stand by my side as we take down Lilith once and for all. With your strength beside me, we could be unstoppable.’ ‘You already have my magic,’ Magnus points out. ‘I do, but magic is always more powerful in the hands of its true master,’ Asmodeus explains. ‘And in Edom, you could be more powerful still.’ He takes another step forward, and Magnus forces himself to stand his ground. ‘Come with me, Magnus. Regain your powers, and live out your days as the prince you were born to be – safe in the knowledge that your darling Alexander will be returned to his family in one piece.’

And Magnus desperately wants to accept, wants to promise anything in exchange for his Alexander’s safe return, but he knows he has to be smart about this. ‘When do you need your answer?’ If Asmodeus was expecting an instant agreement, he doesn’t show it. ‘You have six hours. Though for Alexander’s sake, I hope you decide soon.’ And with that, he disappears, and Magnus is alone again.

***

‘You’re not considering it,’ Izzy says disbelievingly. ‘Of course I’m considering it,’ snaps Magnus. ‘It’s the fastest way to get your brother out of Asmodeus’ clutches and back to all of you – maybe the only way.’ Izzy runs a hand over her face, clearly exasperated. ‘For two people who love each other as much as you guys do, you both really have no idea what the other would want. Magnus, if you go with Asmodeus, there’s no way he’ll ever let you leave again. If Alec comes back to find you gone, and we have to tell him that you’re trapped in Edom with your father, you think he’d be okay with that?’ No, of course he wouldn’t. But, ‘At least he’d be safe,’ Magnus argues.

‘Magnus, stop,’ Clary interrupts. ‘We all want him back, but there has to be another way. Maybe we can find him on our own. What did you see when Asmodeus showed you his location?’ The answer is easy, every detail of that image burned into Magnus’ memory. ‘An empty room. Low ceiling, a few high windows, concrete floor. Sounds of traffic outside. Not exactly a lot to go on.’ ‘Well, it narrows it down to somewhere in civilisation,’ Clary points out. ‘We know he isn’t keeping Alec in the middle of the desert or something.’ ‘Oh, excellent,’ Magnus mutters, rolling his eyes. ‘Civilisation. Why, that’s not even half a million square miles!’

Clary opens her mouth to say something, but they all freeze when Jace hisses in a sharp breath.

‘Jace?’ Izzy asks tentatively. Jace just grimaces, refusing to meet any of their eyes. ‘I’m fine.’ Which means that Alec isn’t, and Magnus’ stomach drops. For Alexander’s sake, I hope you decide soon. ‘Whatever the plan is, we need to get a move on.’ Clary’s hand comes up to rest on Magnus’ shoulder. ‘I know you’re scared, but this isn’t the way. We’ll find him, Magnus. We’ll get him back.’

Magnus closes his eyes briefly, refocusing. He wants to say I know, Biscuit, but can’t bring himself to. Jace could feel fear and anger through the parabatai bond earlier, but this is the first time he’s felt pain. Which means that Asmodeus is getting impatient, and they have to-

An idea strikes him, and it must show in his expression, because Clary asks, ‘What is it?’

Magnus smiles grimly. ‘Asmodeus just made his first mistake. I know how we can find Alexander.’

***

‘I don’t like this,’ Izzy declares. ‘The last time we tried to use the parabatai bond long-distance like this, Alec ended up in a coma. I don’t want the same thing to happen to Jace.’ ‘This is different, Isabelle,’ Meliorn assures her. ‘We aren’t sending Jace’s soul after Alexander’s. I’m simply going to trace the connection between them, using the pain Alec is feeling.’ ‘Why now? How is this different to when we tried to track him earlier?’ Clary asks. ‘Pain has a certain power all of its own,’ Magnus explains. ‘It’s the most basic of distress calls, and Meliorn can help us answer it.’ If the situation weren’t so dire, Magnus would feel like laughing. Asmodeus clearly thought that hurting Alec would pressure them, increasing his advantage. Instead, it’s going to be his undoing.

Meliorn closes his eyes, hands hovering over Jace’s parabatai rune. A few long moments pass, Magnus and the Shadowhunters waiting with bated breath, before he opens them again with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Alexander is close by, still within the limits of the city. I can take you to him.’

‘What?’ Magnus is taken aback. It should be a relief that Alec is close, but all he feels is suspicion. ‘My father could have taken Alec anywhere in the world. Why keep him in New York?’ ‘Maybe he thought it would be the last place we’d look,’ suggests Clary. ‘Or maybe he just doesn’t know anywhere else,’ adds Jace. ‘You said it yourself – his old haunts are long gone. If he’s only just gotten out of Edom, he can’t have explored much in that time.’ ‘Or maybe it’s a trap,’ Magnus counters. ‘Maybe he’s waiting for us to invade, and when we do, he’ll kill all of you and Alexander.’

Izzy raises a hand. ‘Enough. We could argue about this all day, but it’s four hours until the deadline, and we don’t have much of a choice. We know where Alec is, we just need a plan to keep Asmodeus away while we go get him.’ She turns to face Magnus. ‘If you set up a meet with him, will he definitely show up in person?’ ‘Yes,’ Magnus says, and he’s certain about that. ‘He’ll have to. He’s the only one who can restore my powers and return us to Edom.’ Izzy nods. ‘Alright. Then once we have Alec, what do we do with Asmodeus?’ ‘We banish him,’ Magnus says. He quells a shiver of revulsion at what he knows he has to do next. ‘And unfortunately, I know exactly who we need to do it.’

***

This time, when Magnus steps out into the clearing beside the lake, Asmodeus is waiting for him in the pale dawn light, still with that infuriating smile on his face. ‘Magnus. I knew you’d come to your senses.’ Magnus takes a deep breath, careful to let the right level of vulnerability show in his bearing. If Asmodeus starts to suspect anything, then everything is lost. ‘Before I accept your offer, I’ll need a few… assurances.’ He twirls the Lightwood family ring on his finger, letting his nerves show a little, but careful not to disturb the ring hidden above it. Asmodeus nods – he was expecting this. He was the one who taught Magnus to make deals, after all. ‘Name them. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.’ We’re almost there, Magnus. Jace’s voice sounds in his head. Keep him talking.

Magnus pulls himself up straighter, looking his father directly in the eye. ‘I’m going to need proof that Alexander has been safely returned before I go with you. I need to see him, in person, back with his family.’ ‘Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ Asmodeus’ expression is earnest, but there’s an underlying smugness there, too. He’s won Magnus’ trust before, and clearly thinks he can do it again. ‘I’ll even let you say goodbye, if you’d like.’ Magnus ignores that, because if he stops to consider it, he’ll lose his nerve. ‘Additionally, I need your word that once we’re in Edom, you won’t send anyone after them. As long as I’m ruling alongside you, the Lightwoods are off-limits.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ he says, and there’s a hint of impatience in his tone now. ‘I don’t care in the least about the dealings of Shadowhunters, besides when you’re involved. Let them have this whole wretched plane – if they leave us alone, I’ll leave them alone.’ He steps forward until he’s within arm’s reach of Magnus, holding out his hand, businesslike but for the eerie smile on his face. ‘So, do we have an accord?’

We’ve got him, Magnus. Get rid of him! Magnus returns the smile, dropping the veneer of acceptance and letting it turn menacing. ‘No.’

Asmodeus’ face drops, betraying confusion – then anger, as Lorenzo Rey steps from the shadows and binds him. ‘You stupid boy,’ he spits at Magnus. He fights, but Lorenzo is borrowing power from every warlock in the city, and no demon is a match for that. ‘You could have been a prince at my side. Now, what do you have? A mundane existence, one without magic, and a measly handful of decades to suffer through it.’ ‘Maybe,’ Magnus allows, sneering back at his father. ‘But if I must die, at least I’ll never see you again.’

Asmodeus’ eyes burn with rage, and he screams in agony as Lorenzo completes the banishment. The demon disappears in a flash of blinding light, and Magnus stares at the spot he was standing, feeling oddly numb.

‘Goodbye, father,’ he whispers.

***

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. Lorenzo portals them back to the Institute, and Magnus paces Alec’s office while they wait for the Shadowhunters to return. And then Alexander himself appears in the doorway, alive and honest-to-god smiling when he sees Magnus, and everything else falls away. Magnus doesn’t even remember crossing the room, just finds himself with his arms around Alec, being held just as tightly in return. ‘I’m alright,’ Alec murmurs into his ear. ‘It’s okay.’ Magnus just nods, not quite trusting his voice yet.

Belatedly, he remembers Alec’s injuries, and pulls away. ‘I’m sorry, I- are you hurt?’ Alec shakes his head, and he’s still smiling, and it feels like a miracle compared to the despair of earlier. ‘Nothing an iratze couldn’t fix.’ ‘Good thing, too,’ says Izzy. ‘It was a lot easier getting out of there with all five of us able to fight.’ She turns to Lorenzo, regaining an air of professionalism even though her tone stays warm. ‘Lorenzo, thank you for all your help.’

Lorenzo huffs. ‘Yes, well. Asmodeus running loose is no good to anyone. Plus, what’s the point of the Head of the New York Institute owing you a huge favour if he isn’t alive to grant it?’ Alec nods seriously. ‘Thank you.’ The corner of Lorenzo’s mouth ticks up. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ With that, he struts out of the room, and it’s just the five of them, Meliorn already gone.

Alec sways in place, and Magnus steadies him with an arm around his waist. ‘Come on. You need to rest,’ he says, and with another grateful glance at the others, he starts leading Alec towards the bedroom. It goes to show how exhausted he is that Alec doesn’t protest.

But inexplicably, once they’re dressed in sleepwear and under the covers, neither of them can sleep. Not with the day’s events still weighing so heavily on their minds. Alec breaks the silence. ‘Long day, huh?’ Magnus breathes a laugh. ‘That’s an understatement.’ ‘I guess rescue-wise, this makes us even after what happened with Iris,’ Alec teases.  ‘Actually, I think this just means we both owe your sister twice over.’ Alec groans. ‘Oh god, don’t tell her that. We’ll never live it down.’

They both chuckle softly, and then there’s another moment of silence before Magnus says, ‘Isabelle told me about the deal my father offered you.’ The mirth slips from Alec’s expression. ‘Oh.’ He looks away from Magnus and sighs. ‘I’m sorry I brought him back into this. I didn’t know what else to do.’ Magnus reaches up, carding his hand through Alexander’s hair. ‘It’s alright. I’m just glad you didn’t go through with it.’ He sees the relief on Alec’s face – clearly, he wasn’t sure until this moment that he’d made the right choice, and Magnus’ heart breaks just a little at that. He leans in, planting a gentle kiss on his fiancée’s lips. ‘I miss my magic, but I wouldn’t trade you for anything.’ He pulls back to meet Alec’s eyes again. ‘Thank you,’ he says sincerely. For caring enough to try. For believing in how much I love you. For coming back to me. ‘I love you, Alexander.’

Alec clasps Magnus’ hands in his own. ‘I love you too. And if there’s another way to get you your powers back, I swear, we will find it.’ Magnus smiles. ‘I know. And I want to keep looking.’ He moves over, resting his head on Alec’s chest, arm curling around his waist. ‘But for now, I have everything I need right here.’ And for the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s trying to convince himself when he says it.

When they eventually fall asleep, it’s in each other’s arms, and the last thing Magnus thinks before he drifts off is how grateful he is for that.

~oOo~

[bytheangell]

Hey Elle what's up! I've been thinking a lot about Magnus and alcoholism lately and I'm dying for a fic about him working to give that up and Alec helping him through it. Maybe like a post canon AU where Magnus has his magic back and him and Alec are together now? No rush I know you have a lot but I think this is right up your alley and I can't really write it myself right now

catalyst to your own happiness(read on AO3)tw: alcohol, alcohol abuse

It’s no surprise when it comes time for a toast at the wedding that the two grooms are front and center with a champagne fluke full of bubbling liquid, clinking their glasses with impossibly large smiles before taking the first drink. Alec finishes his first and gets an immediate refill, while Magnus nurses his a little longer with smaller sips, drawing it out.

What is a surprise is that when his glass is finally empty he denies his mother-in-law’s offer to top off his drink while she goes to grab another for herself.

“Something else?” Maryse asks instead, motioning toward the expansive bar selection readily available.

Magnus only shakes his head, much to Maryse and Alec’s surprise. “No,” he starts, considering his words carefully. He doesn’t want this to be a big deal… but it is. He knows it, and he’s certain they will, too. He turns slightly to address Maryse. “I meant what I said to you back at your shop that night. Magic or not, I think it’s time I take a little more responsibility for my more… excessive indulgences.”

Maryse, if she’s surprised by this, has the good grace to hide it behind a carefully controlled expression that smiles softly and nods. “Well then, I’m even more proud of you now than I was then. Might I suggest,” she adds quietly. “A little magic to keep that full of sparkling cider? Just to deter a night of unwanted temptations?”

Magnus laughs. “The beauty and the brains of the family, I see. Now I know where Alec gets it from.” He does just that, the glass in his hand no longer empty but full of something that looks exactly like the champagne it once held - except Maryse and Alec know differently.

Maryse catches the gaze of someone across the room and gives a little wave before excusing herself from the newlyweds, leaving Alec alone with Magnus once more. Unlike his mother, Alec can’t help the look of confusion and barely masked disbelief from his expressive eyes, glancing at Magnus’ drink before looking guiltily down at what is now his third glass of champagne.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize–” Alec starts, but Magnus immediately waves a hand dismissively at the apology.

“You have nothing to apologize for. We haven’t had a lot of time to just sit and talk since… well, before everything.” There was a lot of ‘everything’ covered by that vague statement, even though only a few days passed since he broke down on the balcony and ruined Alec’s proposal dinner. “Before I got my magic back, I told Maryse that I wasn’t going to drink anymore for a little while. I never want a repeat performance of that night…” Magnus knows he doesn’t need to specify which night for Alec to know which one. “I swore I would never burden you like that again. I know I have my tolerance back with my magic but it was still quite the wake-up call, and I think I want to stick with that promise. Or try to, at least.”

Alec nods, downing the rest of his glass in one go before holding it out to Magnus. “In that case, I’ll have what you’re having.”

Magnus shakes his head with a fond smile. “Alexander, you don’t have to–” “Of course I don’t, but I want to.” It’s such a simple gesture of solidarity but to Magnus, in this moment, it means the world.

“Alright. Just know that I honestly don’t mind if you want to indulge. This is your big day, after all. You deserve to celebrate.” Magnus draws the words out, buying time for Alec to change his mind and take the easy out. Alec doesn’t.

“It’s our big day,” Alec corrects him. “And all I need to celebrate is you.”

—

Given the short notice of the wedding, they’re both only able to take a few days on such short notice for an impromptu honeymoon. Those days are surprisingly simple because they’re more than a little preoccupied with one another, a wonderful distraction from any initial cravings Maganus might have. Again, they have a glass of wine over dinner, a drink with lunch, but that’s it. No excessive indulgences. It’s almost easy when it’s just the two of them.

The true test comes when they’ve returned to New York, but it’s one Magnus passes with flying colors… at first, in fact, it almost feels too easy to come back from their honeymoon and start their married life together as a new man. Maybe it’s just easier to psych himself out during such a monumental change in his life - his father is gone, he’s married, and he’s building up his client base one warlock at a time now that Lorenzo doesn’t have him on a universal Downworlder blacklist. Why not just slip this change in with the rest, while everything is already shifting and readjusting?

It goes well for a week or two until he gets particularly bad news about a sick warlock child. He first heard of her illness almost as soon as he got back to New York, and despite the fact that he immediately set to work on a particularly complicated elixir he’s currently in the middle of completing (one that took that full week of steeping and brewing and adding ingredients in just so over carefully measured intervals), it isn’t fast enough. He gets word that she died at 10:03 am on a Thursday, manages to hold off the worst of the impulses until 11:29 am, and pours his first glass of whiskey at 12:14 pm. Just one glass, he tells himself… which quickly turns into two, and then three, and then he isn’t bothering with the glass any more as he takes long swallows straight from the bottle.

Magnus hears Alec come home, he hears the greeting Alec calls into the apartment that he doesn’t reply to, and in the back of his head he knows that he shouldn’t be here. He should leave before Alec sees him and realizes that he fucked up… but he can’t be bothered to care just then. He certainly can’t be bothered to move. Alec walks into Magnus’ workroom to find his husband sitting on the floor next to a potion that’s hardening in the pot it was left in, two empty bottles of whiskey,  and one more nearly gone in Magnus’ hands.

The worst part of it all is that instead of numbing the pain he only feels worse.

“What happened?” Alec asks, hesitating by the doorway. He knows better than to crowd Magnus’ space when he’s like this before getting a read on the situation, and Magnus is grateful for it even as he watches Alec’s hands twitch, eager to reach out to him.

“I wasn’t good enough to save her” Magnus says, and Alec winces.

“The warlock girl… the sick one? She didn’t-” Alec starts, but can’t bring himself to finish that sentence, already knowing the answer.

“She died. She’s dead and it’s because I didn’t do enough…  there should’ve been something I could find to speed up the process, or if I was easier to reach they would’ve asked me sooner instead of going through local warlocks first, or-”

“Hey, hey,” Alec says, taking a few steps closer and kneeling down next to him on the floor. “You did everything you could. This isn’t your fault.”

Magnus shakes his head. “It is. And so is this,” he adds, half-heartedly lifting up the bottle in his hand. “Looks like I’m 2 for 2 in ruining everything that actually matters in my life right now. Careful, darling, or you’ll be next.” He knows his words have a slight slur to them but neither of them acknowledge it out loud. Alec doesn’t have to, the concern on his face speaks volumes.

Magnus wants to quit. He wants to take this as a clear sign that the sober life isn’t meant for him; he isn’t the sort of person who can just change himself after 400 years, so he should just admit defeat and move on. He almost does, expecting to look up into Alec’s face and see nothing but disappointment. It’ll be the final straw to make up his mind…

…but when he finally raises his eyes to meet Alec’s he doesn’t see disappointment, or anger, or even sadness. What he sees instead is resolve as his husband says, “I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you do, either.”

Easy for you to say, Magnus thinks, and he almost says those words out loud before he stops and really considers them. Is it easy for Alec? How could it be, to watch the man he loves struggle and fall apart? To know Magnus is doing his damndest to push Alec away?  This isn’t easy for Alec, either, even if he isn’t the one with the problem.

“You’re right. I’m not– of course I’m not thinking clearly right now.” Magnus can’t tell if he truly believes it or if he’s only saying what he knows Alec wants to hear. Either way it has the desired effect.

“How about we take a nice, long bath and go to bed early? We can sort out the rest in the morning.” Alec asks, and Magnus nods. There are no simple answers today. No solutions. He can’t undo what he did but he can pick himself up off of the floor - quite literally - and try to piece things back together. It isn’t the easy option and it’s the last thing he wants to do just then but when Alec reaches out a hand to him Magnus takes it.

He wants to give up, but he doesn’t. Not today.  

—

With Alec gone all day and Magnus with little to do outside of the occasional client, the drink cart situated in the corner of the room is more than a little tempting. He does well while Alec is around to see… but when his husband isn’t around Magnus starts to sneak a drink, or two, or three. It’s more habit than anything else and he hardly realizes he’s doing it until he has to make the effort to not do it around Alec.

It barely makes a difference - his tolerance is back to what it was before, and with his magic he barely feels anything under 4 or 5 drinks. Magnus certainly doesn’t think Alec notices until he comes home from visiting Raphael one night to hear the tail-end of a conversation Alec is having on the phone.

“I know. And I’m sure it isn’t a big deal, I just… I’m worried he’ll take it the wrong way.” Alec pauses, not hearing Magnus step inside and close the door gently behind him. “Of course you’re right, mom. It’s better I bring it up sooner rather than later. I just want to be there for him, after all, and–” Magnus places his bag down on the table, something inside clinking around enough to finally Alert Alec to his presence. Alec’s head whips around, eyes wide at the realization.

“I gotta go. Talk to you later.” Alec says before hurriedly hanging up the phone.

“And how is Maryse?” Magnus asks, eyeing Alec curiously.

Alec frowns. “How much of that did you hear?”  

“Enough to know you’re worried about telling me something - which shouldn’t even be an emotion that crosses your mind, dear. This is us we’re talking about, after all.” Magnus smiles, and it only wavers the slightest bit in anticipation which threatens to betray the total confidence his words exude. “What’s wrong?”

“Well…” Alec starts slowly, and there’s no denying the anxiousness in his voice, the implication of worry behind the long pause as he seems to debate just how much of what’s wrong he plans on actually sharing now that he’s put on the spot. “You’ve been drinking.”

Magnus frowns and does what he does best - tries to spin the truth, a skill he picked up and finely honed over centuries of dealing with Seelies. “Of course I have. You know I have a glass or two when we-”

“No,” Alec cuts him off, before the cover can go on for too long and they both decide it’s just easier to pretend it’s the truth. Magnus thinks for a brief moment that he isn’t sure he’s ever seen his husband look quite so nervous before, which is a concerning realization considering the sorts of situations he’s seen Alexander face.

Alec walks over to the drink cart, picks up a bottle, and grabs the stele out of his pocket to wave over one of the sides. A line appears that wasn’t visible before… a line that’s over a full inch above where the current level of liquor sits.

Rage flares up in Magnus, eyes narrowing.  

“You marked my bottles?!  You actually - I cannot believe you have such little trust in me you would go behind my back like this.” His words grow louder with every syllable, voice shaking, eyes wide. He’s on the defensive, words biting and sharp, and even though he sees the cringe on Alec’s face and the pain in Alec’s eyes the moment Magnus snaps out that first statement he doesn’t stop. “Have you been following me, too? Paying off waitresses to tell you how many martinis I ordered at lunch with Catarina?”

“Magnus, I just want to help. I can’t help if I don’t know that you’re having a problem-”

“Oh, so now you think I have a problem, too?”

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” Alec snaps back this time. It should be enough to give Magnus a moment of pause but it isn’t. He feels too much like a wild animal backed into a corner, with nothing but the instinctive need to fight his way free. Before he can push back Alec continues, not backing off this time. “You told me this was something you wanted to do. I only want to help you if you’re having a difficult time with it. The groups I talked with to help Izzy with her addiction, they deal a lot with alcohol addiction, too. They said marking the bottles–”

“I know why you marked the goddamn bottles, Alec. I’ve been around for centuries, you think I don’t know what AA is?” Magnus rolls his eyes. Up until now he’s told himself he doesn’t really have a problem. He’s doing this because he wants to, not because he has to. Certainly not because anyone else believes he should be doing it. He actually had himself convinced that his husband was just going along with it for his own sake after Alec’s initial reaction at the wedding… he never stopped to consider that Alec might actually think he has a problem worth worrying about, too.

“I just want to be here for you,” Alec tries again, echoing the words he spoke to his mother on the phone. “And if you actually thought this was okay you wouldn’t have tried to hide it.”

Magnus turns away, seemingly in anger but mostly because he doesn’t think he can see the hurt and confusion in Alec’s eyes and remain as stubbornly upset over this as he wants to be.

“I can’t do this right now,” Magnus says finally, grabbing his bag back off of the table before heading for the door. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

“Magnus, wait-” Alec starts, but it’s too late. Magnus is out the door without so much as a stutter in his step, and doesn’t stop until he’s cleared the block. He knows it isn’t fair to Alec - he’s only trying to help, and in fact, Alec went above and beyond in that department. But Magnus feels blindsided and backed into a corner by the sudden confrontation, and he’s panicking, and now he’s aimlessly wandering the streets of New York with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

So he walks, pointedly ignoring the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He doesn’t go to Cat because he knows that she’ll agree with Alec. He fears the same for Maryse and Isabelle (both of whom Alec surely spoke to already), and Raphael is out of town. So instead he wanders without a destination, and he thinks. He could just change his mind and take it back. He tried, he failed, and he’s fine going back to the way things were before.

…isn’t he?

The moment he considers that option he knows it’s a lie. The time he spent sober, not relying on alcohol as a crutch or as something to numb the difficult days, was some of the most fulfilling time he’s had in recent years. Maybe he doesn’t want to quit forever but he can’t give in now, not while his motivations are still suspect.

Alec is right: he wouldn’t be hiding it if he thought what he’s doing is okay. That should’ve been his first sign that he isn’t as alright as he’s pretending to be.

Magnus finally pulls his phone out to call Alec, only to see a number of missed calls and texts from Catarina and Raphael as well.

Cat: Where are you? Alec’s worried sick, he thought you’d be here but I told him you weren’t, and now we’re both worried. Call one of us, please.

Raphael: I don’t know how your husband got my number but if he’s upset enough to call me I feel like I should be concerned. Are you alright? Call me, por favor.

Magnus texts them both back that he’s fine and he’ll talk to them later before calling Alec’s cell. Alec picks up before the first ring even finishes.

“Magnus, thank the Angel. I’m so sorry-”

“Alec, don’t. Please don’t apologize - you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing,”  Magnus sighs. “I’m coming home.”

Magnus is dreading the conversation he knows he’ll have to have when he gets back, so he walks slowly and gathers his thoughts. When he finally opens up the front door of the apartment he sees Alec on the sofa trying very hard to look like he hasn’t just been sitting there, waiting. There’s a book open next to him as well as  a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold.

“Sorry I worried you,” Magnus starts, figuring it’s as good a place as any.

“It’s alright, as long as you’re alright.” Alec says, eagerly tossing the book to the side. “…you are, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t go drink a bottle of whiskey and pass out in a gutter somewhere, if that’s what you’re asking.” Magnus declares, deflecting.

“That isn’t what I-” Alec starts, and Magnus can already feel this turning into the conversation from earlier all over again, defensive and hostile.

“I know, I know it isn’t. Sorry, I shouldn’t joke about it like that. I just don’t know how to do this? I can’t tell when I only feel like I want it, or when I feel like I need it. And I know with my powers back I could drink for hours and be fine, but that doesn’t mean I should. And I’m just having a difficult time reconciling those things.”

Alec listens. “I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, obviously. I just want to do whatever’s best for you. You said this was something you wanted to do, and I want to be here in whatever capacity I can if it is. But if it isn’t…” Alec trails off. It isn’t like it’s been a huge problem outside of those days without his magic prior to Alec’s attempted proposal.

But one look at him and Magnus can tell that Alec is reluctant to say he’ll support Magnus if he decides to go back on  everything he said before… but Alec also doesn’t want to push him if he doesn’t want this anymore. And since Alec isn’t about to force him, the decision rests in Magnus’ hands now.

The weight of that isn’t lost on the Warlock, who falls silent for a long while after Alec’s words trail off, thinking them over.

“How about we start with full disclosure? Maybe trying to cut it all out at once was a bad idea. But I won’t hide anything any more, and we can take things from there?” Magnus takes a deep breath. “And no more pushing you away.”

Alec smiles, soft with a hint of sadness, and nods. “That sounds like an amazing plan. And I’m sorry for going behind your back with the bottles. I should’ve just said something to you first. I guess we both don’t really know how to do this… but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

And that’s all it takes for something so terrifying, something so monumental for the both of them to tackle, to feel entirely doable.

Because they’re doing it together.

————–

It soon becomes obvious that it isn’t how much he’s drinking, or even what he’s drinking - it’s the reason behind it, the emotional state that brings the urges about. Magnus is fine to have a drink or two with friends, or with Alec over meals, without the slightest bit of guilt. It helps to ease him into cutting back before cutting off entirely, since the all-or-nothing attempts weren’t working out.

What he can’t have is the drink cart in the apartment fully stocked with all of his go-to vices for days when the weight of the world feels a little too heavy. And what he can’t do is turn to that before he turns to a friend when things go wrong.

It’s easier said than done, but he does it just the same. He isn’t perfect, but Alec is there every step of the way to bring him back when he starts to slip. There are bumps in the road and nights out that, because he spent so long abstaining in-between, he indulges a little too much… but he’s finding a balance. He’s finding things that work for him because he wants to, and not because he feels pressured to by anyone for any reason other than simply getting better. 

The more Magnus allows himself to go to Alec  - or even Maryse, Catarina, or Raphael - when he’s having a particularly rough go of it, the easier it is to end that day on a positive note. That isn’t to say he doesn’t have some days that are worse than others; days when Alec comes home and Magnus admits he went out for a few too many drinks with an old friend and somewhere along the line started putting gin in the ‘just tonic’s. But it’s better than the start, and he’s making solid progress.

The first few times Isabelle invites him along to a meeting he turns her down. But after one particularly trying day when he finds himself pacing, actively trying to talk himself out of portaling to the nearest bar, he calls her up instead. It seems silly to talk about his life in mundane terms, and to think of it as a disease to be cured and not just a personality trait to be corrected. He doesn’t go often but it’s nice to hear from people who are going through the same thing.

It helps.

He takes up training with Alec to channel his frustrations. That helps, too… as does another less public form of stress relief Alec is more than happy to indulge in when Magnus needs a distraction.

Magnus hardly notices when he starts cutting back from casual social drinking as well, only imbibing once or twice a week until he isn’t even doing that. He reaches a point where he no longer feels as if he needs it- but more than that, he doesn’t even want it any more.

After an entire month without touching a single drop of alcohol Magnus comes home to dinner and a glass of sparkling cider on the table waiting for him.

“I thought this deserved a toast. I hope it’s alright, I know you didn’t say anything about it earlier so I’m not sure if you wanted to celebrate or not, but I know a full month is a pretty big milestone, and-” Alec starts to ramble a bit, and Magnus silences him with a finger brought up to Alec’s lips, followed quickly by a kiss.

“It’s fine. It’s perfect, Alexander. Thank you.” Magnus picks up his glass and waits for Alec to do the same. “To you, and all the unwavering love and support you’ve offered from the start.” Mangus says the words, moving his glass forward to meet Alec’s with a delicate ‘clink’.

“And to you” Alec adds. “For making this difficult decision for yourself and sticking to it. I’m so proud of you, Magnus.”

“Thank you. For everything,” Magnus smiles.

He knows better than to think one month means he’s rid of it for good, but Magnus allows himself this night to bask in the feeling of this current victory, even if it ends up being temporary.

Because this - despite what he’s sure they all believe - isn’t the first time he’s attempted to quit drinking. This is, however, the longest he’s managed to stick with it. There were times in his past - whether out of a loss of a loved one, or the loss of love itself, or sometimes just the weight of the things he’s seen and the horrors he’s lived through - where he’s gone too far even with his warlock tolerance to balance things out. He’s tried on his own to stop drinking in the past, obviously with little to no success given the recent state of things.

He doesn’t tell Alec all of that, however. If this fails - if he fails - he wants it to seem as if this is just a first attempt and not just another in a long line of broken promises to himself to get better.

Except this time he has something he didn’t have during any of those previous attempts. This time he has friends and family to support him; he has people to lean on.

This time he has Alexander.

And with Alec by his side he feels like he can take on the world, one glass of sparkling cider at a time.

[slavicviking]

Hollow.

!!!HTTYD 3 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

He wishes he would feel more at loss, but as he looks at the skeleton of what used to be Berk, all he feels is empty.  

Did someone say ‘Hiccup returning to Berk 1.0’? No? Well, here you go anyways. Angst ensues.

Huge thanks to the wonderful @resident-mother-hen for Beta’ing - love ya!

...

It takes them a month.

He’s ready to kiss the ground when he sets his foot on the wet sand. His knees wobble and he knows he looks as unsteady as he feels. Eret clamps a hand over his shoulder and almost sends them both flying back into the ship, but Hiccup appreciates the gesture. He really does.

It’s quiet.

No one in their group of twenty is willing to make the first step. They stand in silence instead. Mourning, he realizes.

Hiccup wishes he could look away but his eyes are glued to the familiar buildings (and he can still pinpoint where everyone lived), to the slightly faded colors of the constructions he worked so hard to build. He can almost see the fire rising from the burned wood, smell the smoke and hear the roars of dragons.

He wishes he would feel more at loss, but as he looks at the skeleton of what used to be Berk, all he feels is empty. 

Supplies.

Right. Yes. Supplies.

They were supposed to be getting supplies.

“We should split up,” he informs the others, not taking his eyes off the dragon baths. Meatlug loved those. He swallows. Distinctively, he hears the other Vikings mutter among themselves, dividing their tasks.

“I’ll go with you, Chief,” Eret practically pulls him by the sleeve. “We’ll take the forest.”

To keep him away from the village. How considerate. But he bites the comment back and lets Eret lead him away. He glances at the rest of the Berkians that came with them but they’re all too busy to notice.

A voice at the back of his mind nags him and reminds him he’s not really in control. As if he ever was.

By the time the sun sets, he and Eret find a good portion of the herbs Gothi needs but are unavailable that far west. Hiccup busies himself most of the time studying the notes the elder had given them. He’s distracted, he knows that, but if he looks up, he’ll notice the treaded path to the cove, and the place where Toothless broke the trees as he fell, and fields of grass they once landed in, and-

Gothi’s notes are a challenge to decipher. So he works with that.

He wonders what Astrid is up to. He misses her.

Their group sets a temporary camp on the outskirts of the forest.

There’s something mesmerizing in the flames dancing in the wind as they settle down, Berkian by Berkian, and eat their food. It works like an anesthetic; he feels even less.

They talk. It’s easy and comfortable. Sven and Egil compare their axes, Magnus swoons over his betrothed, Olaf praises his son’s hunting skills. So they talk. But never about dragons. Not about Berk, not about where they moved Berk to.

As if in three months they could erase six years. They did, much more, when the war ended. But it’s not the same - there is no joy in this kind of new.

Sometimes a child would point at the sky and enthusiastically announce that it’s dragon-shaped, right as their mother would push them to go faster. And Berk doesn’t say a word. He wonders if it is to shield the child, or the adults, more.

He purposely ignores Eret’s look of worry when he pulls himself from the ground and announces he’s going to take a walk. A brief, nice walk. To clear his head.

Except he can’t clear his head when his mind remains blank. The burned buildings do nothing but drill the hole in his chest even deeper; they press onto his heart uncomfortably and hover over his shoulder. He’d ask himself ‘what could have been’ if he weren’t so damn exhausted.

He outright refuses to look at his father’s statue by the Great Hall.

(He takes a sideways peek behind his shoulder but no one has to know.)

The village looks the same but completely different. There are buildings that are completely untouched, and ones that have become mere ghosts of themselves. Gothi’s hut is gone, swallowed by the ocean underneath. Wooden planks that used to be stands for dragon racing feel like an insult thrown in his face in the way they protrude from the burned mess.

The Haddock hut is, noticeably, lacking a roof. Or, perhaps, it has a roof - but burned and in charred pieces fallen onto the ground floor of the house. Hiccup steps in, hand leaned heavily on the empty doorway, glancing around and not taking it in.

He eyes the ruined stairs skeptically before pulling himself up to the first floor. He gazes at the stars in the night sky where the roof should be for a little too long and a little too wishful before he takes a seat on his bed. It’s still unmade - how ridiculous. He sits like that for a while, hunched over and with his eyes closed, letting the night breeze wash over him, pretending that it has all the calming qualities that he needs.

He kneels by a chest at the foot of his bed once he opens his eyes again. His fingers drum on the rough surface, caressed by the cold air and swollen from humidity, before he clicks on the lock, prying it open. The insides are boring, like they should be. He blindly rummages through the clothes and silly items he had packed there through the years. His heart stops, just a little, when he fishes out a stuffed dragon toy.

He thought he threw that away a long time ago. Or that maybe his dad did, by accident.   

It lands in the satchel swung over his chest either way.

(He doesn’t acknowledge how the dragon combines Deadly Nadder’s snout with a Hideous Zippleback’s body and Monstrous Nighmare’s wings. He refuses to.)

A wooden duck lands beside the stuffed toy. Astrid will think he lost his mind completely when she sees it. So be it.

When he staggers back downstairs, he’s still somewhat surprised to see all the broken furniture and pieces of walls just laying there. As if they would magically fix itself.

Nothing ever does, does it?

He eyes the small axe on the wall. He shouldn’t… He doesn’t want to leave it here, either. It’s a silly thought.

He takes it anyway.

It shouldn’t be that surprising but he still lets out a soft ‘huh’ when the weapon is not unbearably heavy and he doesn’t feel like toppling over the second he grabs it. It stays secured in his hands, unlike when his father thrusted it in his arms, when it all started, when--

He glares at the piece of roof at his feet instead.

With the axe strapped to his back, he goes to the Hofferson house next.

It hasn’t suffered nearly as much as his own house but he can still pinpoint where a small fire broke out. He’s beyond grateful that the thing he’s looking for is in the usual place because there is something pressing hard on his chest and the longer he’s there, the worse it is. Two ornamented daggers nestle themselves by the duck and the toy, and he almost smiles. He knows Astrid has been missing them even though she never said anything.

Hiccup snatches the other half of Fishlegs’ cards that the boy missed while packing. Then it’s Tuffnut’s collection of recipes, and Ruffnut’s flute. Gobber’s tong prosthetic arm follows. Snotlout’s medal from one of the games his father used to hold lands in there as well. He remembers Spitelout throwing it out when they were leaving. Snotlout has been moping for a week afterwards.

No one at the camp says anything when he comes back with a protruding satchel at his hip. They understand.

They stay for a week in total. Enough to gather around what they could and stack resources for their long trip back. Enough to say goodbye.

“Let’s go home, Chief,” Magnus nods with a stern look on his face. Eret and a few other men ease the ship into the water.

Hiccup glances one last time over the place he grew up in, and exhales.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Let’s.”

And he realizes that this, what’s in front of him, is not home. Not anymore. This is a graveyard.

 --

Be sure to check out the fanfiction.net (InsertACreativeNameHere) and ao3 (SlavicViking_InsertACreativeNameHere) version as well :>

Originally I wanted to call it ‘Back to Berk One’ from ‘back to square one’ because, you know, puns.

[fanficsaremylifeline]

He totally got it... sort of... maybe...

On AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21104123

*****

“I don’t remember the last time you got dressed up for me like that”, Magnus smirked as he came up behind his husband, who was currently inspecting himself in the mirror.

“I think that’s because every time we do have time to ourselves, you always hurry to get me out of whatever I’m wearing”, Alec shot back as he straightened out his tie.

“Can you blame me, though? Besides, you never seem to complain.”

“I am definitely not”, Alec made clear, turned around and wrapped his arms around Magnus’ shoulders. “But I am really looking forward to having a nice dinner date.”

After a gentle kiss, Alec linked their arms and together they walked out into the living room, where they were met with three sets of wide eyes.

“Daddy, you look really nice!” Rafael jumped off the couch and walked over to properly inspect Alec’s attire.

“Thanks, honey.” He kneeled down and tousled Rafe’s hair. “Might want to tell Papa as well.”

“Papa”, he smiled, “Daddy looks really nice tonight!”

“Yeah, he does”, Magnus laughed along with the other grown-ups. “But how do you think I look?”

“Like always”, Rafe shrugged and climbed back on the couch and tried to win as much room on Uncle Jace’s lap from Max as he could.

“Wow”, Magnus deadpanned, “you Shadowhunters really know how to compliment.”

Alec just snorted a laugh and turned to their eldest. “We’re heading out now. You gonna look after Uncle Jace?”

“Promise!”, the little Shadowhunter nodded.

“Good. Have a fun evening”, Magnus smiled and put a kiss on his and Max’s cheek, before Alec parroted and kissed his sons as well.

“If anything’s wrong, we’re just a portal away.”

“Go”, Jace urged them, “enjoy your evening. Don’t worry, I got this handled, darling.”

“If they can have fancy dinner, so can we”, Jace decided as soon as the door closed. “What do you feel like?”

“Fries!”, Rafe beamed, Max excitedly brabbled after him, which sounded to Jace like the brothers were in agreement.

“How fancy”, Jace deadpanned, before grinning right back: “sounds perfect!”

Not that Jace was one to toot his own horn like this, but he had the two boys under perfect control. He got them fed, cleaned and in their little beds and after three pirate stories, Rafe finally fell asleep. Little Max was still brabbling quietly in his crib, but he couldn’t be that far from drifting off either. So, Jace could relax on the couch, with Chairman Meow on his lap.

Until he was startled by a weird sound. “Did you hear that, too?”, Jace whispered to the cat as he muted the TV.

There was no screaming, no moping, nothing from the kids, so they had to be alright. Woah, what was that? A shadow flew across the room, before flapping in front of Jace’s face. Oh fuck, he almost threw the cat halfway across the living room in shock. After he calmed down again, he realized it was a bat, no doubt. A blue bat. Blue. Just like Max… WHAT THE FUCK?

“Max? Is that you?”

The bat took two rounds around Jace’s head, which he deciphered as a yes. He hurried around to make sure that all windows and doors were closed, before he checked the crib, just to be completely sure that yes, this little blue bat was in fact his nephew. And the crib was empty. Fuck.

He fell on the couch and looked at the bat doing rounds around the chandelier. A bat. An actual bat! His brother’s warlock child had turned into a bat. Only the flapping of Max’s wings made any noise and Jace did all he could to keep from freaking out; that wouldn’t help anybody. But what was he supposed to do? WHAT?

And then his phone rang. Alec. Fuck. He felt the colour draining from his face and took a deep breath before he answered the call. “Hey, Alec, how’s your night?” Jace did his all to sound relaxed.

“It’s nice, but are you alright?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just get the feeling something’s off… I can sense that you’re worried, anxious. Magnus says I’m over-reacting, but I just need to make sure that everything’s alright.”

“Sorry, I’m just watching some movie with some very creepy killer-dolls and I guess I just got a little too worked up.”

“Oh. That’s worrying in a different way. Remember, they can’t hurt you.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

“Right then”, Alec laughed, “get back to your scary movie and I’ll get back to my husband before he finished all of my dessert. See you!”

Uff. Jace was an idiot. He should have just told Alec the truth, told him about his blue warlock baby-turned-bat. But no, he was too scared of his brother’s revenge, he wouldn’t tell him, at least not until he had tried everything he could.

Which wasn’t a lot. He wasn’t a warlock, knew very little about magic and even less about bats. He tried to catch the bat, tried to direct him back towards the crib, but nothing. An hour later, Max still flew in circles over Jace’s head as if it were the best thing in the world to do in the middle of the night.

And then Alec and Magnus came back home; Jace heard them laughing as they walked up to the apartment door. Damnit, Jace was done for.

“Hey”, Alec greeted him, as they walked hand in hand into the apartment.

As soon as he heard them walking in, Max flapped over to his dads, excitedly flying around their heads.

“Hey blueberry”, Magnus smiled, “it’s way past your bedtime. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“WHAT?” Jace’s chin was somewhere on the ground and he could only look with big eyes from Alec to Magnus to the bat.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Jace jumped up and gestured towards Max. “Your son is a bat and you don’t care?”

“Oh, he does it sometimes”, Alec shrugged.

“This is normal?”

“Yup.”

Oh, Jace couldn’t believe this! “And you didn’t care to tell me?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve told you about that at some point.”

“I think I’d remember being told that my nephew occasionally turns into a bat.”

“Unc’ Jace?” Rubbing his eyes, Rafael walked out into the living room. His hair was wild, standing up in every direction.

“Hey buddy, Sorry, did we wake you?”

“Nuh-uh”, he shook his head, “stayed awake until Papa and Daddy are home again.”

“Of course you did”, Magnus chuckled and picked the little Shadowhunter up. “But now that Daddy and I are home, you can go to sleep, alright?”

With a yawn, the boy nodded, buried his head in the crook of his Papa’s neck and immediately fell back asleep.

Jace was still so focused on the bat, he didn’t realize Alec walking up to him until he put his arm around Jace’s shoulder.

“Sorry for the trauma”, he chuckled.

“Not gonna lie, your family is really weird.”

“And you know a thing or two about that, don’t you, Wayland-Lightwood-Morningstar-Herondale.”

“Fair enough.”

“Thanks for tonight”, Alec changed the subject. “Was really nice to go out.”

“I bet... And no worries. Now that I know your son can shapeshift, I’m prepared for next time. One last question, though. How long is he gonna fly around like this? Does Magnus magic him back or how does it work?”

“He’ll eventually just tire himself out”, Alec explained, watching his kid with the biggest heart eyes. “We make sure that all the windows and doors are closed; we’ve already learned that trying to catch him isn’t very fruitful.”

“Again, something that would have been really nice to know an hour or so ago.”

.

It was late when Alec and Magnus slipped into bed. Magnus had portalled Jace back to the institute, Max was no longer winged and lay now sleeping in his crib.

“So”, Magnus rolled over on his side and grinned at Alec. “when I asked you earlier if you had told Jace about Max’s abilities, you said you did that.”

“And?”

“And I got the feeling the reason Jace was unaware about our bat-baby has something to do with you wanting to mess with your brother. But that’s probably just my imagination going wild, right?”

“Definitely, I would never, ever do something like that to the guy that has me redo all his paperwork”, Alec affirmed, but couldn’t bite down his mischievous grin anymore.

“You do know that he will get back at you for that one, right?”

“Let him try”, Alec yawned, pulling Magnus a little bit closer, “I’ve got the High Warlock of Brooklyn on my side.”

[lorenzobane]

House of His Father

(On Ao3 Here)

                                                   August 1238

                                                          10

The small boy is smarter than the other street rats. He knows that for a fact. They weep piteously all night, half of them hunched over and deformed with pain, ready to be dragged off into Leper isolation colonies. The other half, stomachs distended, bodies weak and frail, and desperate.

The small boy is smarter than them.

He reminds himself of that as he sneaks away, the dark cover of night helping the other street boys miss that he has disappeared to the pier. The small boy discovered early, the dock is where the international traders dock, too afraid to step foot on rugged and frightening earth. They’ve heard already, the soil here is damned, only the doomed live here.

His stepfather had been one of the few to explore the small island. He ran into the boy’s mother at the creek a ways down, married her and settled in an unforgiving land.

At least, the small boy has never found forgiveness here.

Before he left his home, with his two parents putrefying inside, he took everything of value. The meger silver they owned gave him bread for two weeks. His step-father’s beautiful, Dutch clothes, two more after that.

And his mother’s silk scarf passed down from his grandmother, continues to provide for him.

He carefully ties a delicate silk rope around his demonic eyes that he cannot hide, before crouching submissively at the edge of the docks.

“Please! Help! I’m blind!”

At the end of the night, when his knees are bruised with kneeling, and his eyes ache from being forced shut for hours, he gathers his money carefully and disappears again.

He buys bread for three days. It’s stolen from him in less than one.

                                                    September 1239

                                                              11

The small boy is kneeling at the dock again. He takes deep breaths, shuddering and almost hysterical, the passersby give him more money than usual, but he doesn’t notice. He feels power lurk under his skin, agitated in a way it has never been before.

By now the small boy had figured out that he can move objects, if he wishes to. That he can burn his enemies, when he wants to.

And sometimes, he really wants to.

Sometimes, he does.

No one steals bread from him anymore.

He breathes deeply, trying to get his power under control when a low, deep voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Hello, little one. Will you take that scarf off for me?”

The boy shakes, but his hands move against his will. His tiny arms quake with the effort, trying desperately to slow the movement of his arms, but he can’t. The man’s smooth words command his muscles.

The man carefully helps the boy unwind the scarf from around his eyes, revealing startling golden-green cat eyes.

Instead of running, the man smiles and looks the boy in the eye. They are identical to the ones the boy sees in the rain puddles.

They are his eyes.

“Why are you hiding such a beautiful birthright, little one?”

The boy opens his mouth to speak, and instead feels tears pour from his now opened eyes. “My mother said I had a rakshasa in me.”

The man kneels down onto the floor, his rich, darkly colored pants stained with dirt. The boy feels an almost desperate urge to lay on the floor instead, to give the man’s knee somewhere to rest.

He reaches out for the boy, face stained with ash and sweat, and gently says, “Do you know what rakshasa are, my beautiful boy?”

The boy shakes his head; eyes still wet with tears.

“My darling, rakshasa, and demons, are merely creatures who determine their own fates.”

The boy stares at him, barely hearing a word beyond the eyes, matching and glowing in the early evening light. He’s never seen anyone with eyes like his before.

The man, unconcerned with his lack of answer, continues, “Would you like a chance to determine yours?”

“My own, what?” The boy asks, confused.

The man laughs, rich and mesmerizing, “Your fate. Now, what’s your name?”

The boy choked, his throat suddenly dry as he realizes with horror, that he has no idea. No one has said his name in over a year, and it simply disappeared from his mind.

The man notices without the boy saying anything.

“You are my son,” the man says without hesitation, before offering his hand for the boy to grab. “And you are the greatest of my creations. I will call you Magnus.” 

The boy nods blindly and reaches for his father.

                                                      May 1253

                                                            15

Magnus stares out the window, his gaze landing on the Lord’s daughter. Her hair is bright gold, and her skin as white as milk- pure and unplowed. Magnus watches, rapt attention, as she carefully holds her basket.

He sighs.

“Still pining over the Lord’s daughter?”

Magnus jumps and immediately turns his gaze back to the book his father had brought him.

“Of course not, father. I was studying,” Magnus says, gently indicating to his book.

His father smirks, “Is that right? I had no idea that Aristotle was so… Enrapturing.”

Magnus refuses to blush. “Well, he did say that ‘hope is a waking dream.’”

Asmodeus looks at Magnus, his eyes amused, “Be that as it may, I have a new task.”

Magnus looks up eagerly. His father’s tasks frequently involve traveling, his father ripping holes, in reality, itself to take Magnus around the world and back.

Magnus wonders if there will ever be a time when his father’s fingertips aren’t the answer to his every desperate need.

“This time will be different, my beautiful boy,” Asmodeus starts, moving close to Magnus and running a soothing hand through his mop of thick black hair. “Just remember-”

“As long as I make you proud, I will always be loved,” Magnus finishes. An edict he knows by heart. Truer than anything he’s ever known.

Asmodeus smiles, small and happy, “I can’t imagine a day when you disappoint me. You, my child, are the only one who has ever deserved to share my crown, and my legacy.”

Magnus can’t help himself, he preens, delighting in his father’s praise. He ducks his head as his father places a tender kiss on his forehead.

“And you never will, Father.”

Asmodeus smiles, “So, you’re up to a new task?”

Magnus nods, frantic to prove to his father that he is worth and capable. “Anything you desire. Is it another unique ingredient?”

Magnus hunted for nearly three months for the exact blooming flower that Asmodeus had requested, anything grander than that would be easy.

“I’ll be joining you on this one,” Asmodeus replies. He twists his fiery red magic into a swirling vortex that Magnus has never been able to replicate.

Magnus shakes his head, “I’m certain that won’t be necessary.”

Asmodeus chuckles, “I know, Magnus. I just want to watch.”

Magnus beams, there are few things in life that he loves more than showing his father how smart and powerful he is. Few things he loves more than reminding his father that he made the right choice.

What Magnus says, is, “Of course, I always welcome your company.”

Magnus glanced around when they reached their destination. It is a quiet village. Magnus glances up at the sky and realizes it is still day-time, indicating that he’s still somewhere in Europe. The sickening perfume of rotting flesh and human feces permeates the air.

The swirling vortex closes behind his father with a snap of his long fingers.

“Is there something special about this village?”

Asmodeus leans against his cane; he looks casual and blank, the way he has looked for most of Magnus’s life. Unchanging, unyielding, a God to Magnus’s irreligious mind.

“I need you to destroy it.”

Magnus looks blankly at his father for a moment, waiting for him to clarify. Asmodeus says nothing and stares impassively back.

“What?”

Asmodeus gestures, “This town. I want it gone. I want every man, woman, and child in this village dead.”

Magnus stares blankly, confused and bewildered. Unbidden, frightened tears start to well in in his eyes, “Father. I can’t!”

“Shh,” Asmodeus starts towards him, wiping the tears streaming from his face. “I know. You’re my good son, so gentle, yet so powerful.” He continues to wipe the tears from Magnus’s face as he holds him close, “I’ll tell you what, my beautiful boy, if you destroy this village, the surrounding five villages will be protected. Never hurt by disease or war, this area will be peaceful if you do this for me.”

He ends his sentence by carefully carding through Magnus’s hair. He leans into it, desperate for comfort.

“Father…”

“I know,” Asmodeus says, his soothing voice easing Magnus’s fraying nerves, “I know. But think of how many lives you’ll save, my darling hero . Five villages, and all of their children, and grandchildren, generations saved, thousands born because you did this one little favor for me.”

Magnus looks out at the village. They are surrounded by pasture, and in the distance, he sees the Lord’s tower.

“And the Lord?”

Asmodeus shrugs, “Kill him too.”

Magnus gently opens his palm, blood red magic oozing through his pores. He takes a deep breath and slams his hand deep into the soft ground by his feet.

He hears the screaming as soon as he starts, and watches distantly as his magic curls around the ankle of a young woman who ran out of her house at the sound of the noise. The magic curls higher and higher until it reaches her inner thigh, and then it pulls her down sharply, she screams as she’s pulled into the raging inferno.

The agony echos around him in technicolor, he can taste their pain, rich and burnt on his tongue.

And, as soon as it starts, it stops.

The screaming ends, the village is quiet.

Then Magnus crumples to his knees, his hands empty of magic while he shakes. He feels his father stand next to him, placing a hand on Magnus’s hair as he kneels by his side. He can’t help himself; he turns to bury his face in his father’s muscular thigh, letting tears fall as his father gently pets the side of his head.

                                            November 1259

                                                     21

“Good job,” Asmodeus says. The village around him is in flames.

His father asked him to destroy this village in exchange for saving another, the one with the pretty blond girl Magnus has been pining over for years. The stench of blood and the mangled carcasses of people lay around them, ripped open and leaking internal organs over the dark ground.

Magnus vomits at the sight.

“Now, now,” Asmodeus replies, to Magnus’s violent and loud retching. “Be a good sport. You’re improving so quickly, Magnus. Soon we’ll be out of training ground.”

Magnus looks at him with wide eyes, “This is training?”

Asmodeus chuckles goodnaturedly, “Of course it is. Soon, I’ll be preparing you to serve as my second in command. Not just an average Lieutenant, but my brave and brilliant General.”

Asmodeus looks off at the sunset, the land spreading around him like maiden’s legs.

“We will have it all, my beautiful boy. We will lay claim to everything.”

Magnus nods and swallows against the thick lump in his throat. He realizes exactly one thing in this moment.

He needs to banish his father.