#alliance rune arranged marriage au

[altrxisme]

Niflheim General!Johanne hcs!!

She and her father got captured by Niflheim when Galahd was invaded. He gave her the family history breakdown while they were imprisoned before he was recognized by the Niflheim Chancellor, Ardyn Izunia, was reinstated into the Imperial Army as a Captain.

Jo was partially raised in Altissia by her grandparents. Eventually she decided to remain with her dad in Gralea around the time she turned ten due to a feeling. She remained in the capital until her father's mysterious death and was moved to Tenebrae for a time being until she could start her military service. She knows that Verstael Besithia and Ardyn Izunia had something to do with it the death of her father, and despises them.

Her duty is to the people, not to the emperor. The "disease" that's causing the people of Niflheim to disappear upsets her so fucking much because she knows what's happening to them. The same happens with the prisoners of war they have, which is why so much of her unit is made up of them. She's trying to spare them from a dehumanizing death.

How she was able to gain the right to conscription is through a very old treaty her ancestors made with the Emperor at the time. She managed to find it through the Imperial Archives and demanded the Emperor honor it. He agreed to it, with some minor exceptions that Johanne had to concede to enable to use it.

There has been a few times that she's been called in to do public executions though. She despises having to do it because this is also what most people out of Niflheim see her doing. It's the Emperor and Ardyn's way of making sure that if she attempts to make any alliances against them, she'll be refused bc of what they've broadcasted.

In between deployments, she and her unit take over watch duty in Niflheim prisons. This is when she recruits prisoners if they're willing or simply give them the actual care they need before she leaves. There's been only one account of this happening from a prisoner that was able to escape.

There's only been a few people that haves either bested her or forced her into a draw in a fight. Cor Leonis is one of them and he's the one that gave her the long diagonal scar on her back.

Absolutely hates the others in the Imperial Army who are dicks out for the Empire. People who don't count are: Ravus bc he's somewhat tolerable, Aranea doesn't count bc she's a genuine friendo and same with her guys, and (even tho she's not in the army) she adores Lunafreya so much

She has a complicated understanding of Glauca. She understands the frustration of the King's efforts, but not why he decided to become a double agent anyway.

Trained to use big ass murder axe. Much more adept with bigger blades in this au and refuses to use a gun

Valkyrie themed armor, helmet only shows her mouth p much. The armor looks heavy but it's actually fairly light to her, making it easy to throw off opponents that expect her to be slow. Underneath her helmet, there's red and blacks streaks that go across her face in line with her eyes. She wears lipstick that matches her hair bc it's one of the few things that make her happy.

Her armor have runes of an old, ancient language etched onto it that help protect her from magical attacks.

The treaty signing was the last straw for her, she defected when she found out what happened bc no one told her about it

Somewhat gruff voice bc she doesn't talk often except around friends.

They way she moves is akin to a stalking bird of prey. Especially when she has you cornered. She doesn't play with her food, but she'll make you squirm.

She's known as The Reaper, The Executioner, or the Harbinger of Death.

It's thread-dependent but she may have access to Ardyn's Armiger and magic due to an arranged political marriage with him and this is his wedding gift to her. She has yet to give hers to him.

[cuubism]

good evening friends i now present to you: malec alliance rune arranged marriage AU - chapter 1!

@magnusbae come witness your child

****

mind & heart, body & soul

3k words, ch. 1/however long my motivation lasts 

AO3

*

There’s no reception. No afterparty. Even Shadowhunter weddings, solemn affairs at best, usually have some kind of celebration afterwards.

But this—

It seems like everyone wants to distance themselves from this.

It’s a travesty. Alec knows that everyone thinks so. He saw the disgust in the eyes of the few Clave officials present as witnesses, heard the whispered remarks—it’s so sad to see such a promising young Shadowhunter’s future tarnished like this, don’t you think?

And the thing is—Alec isn’t entirely sure he disagrees.

He understands the necessity of it. Knows the Downworld had demanded proof of the Clave’s intention to uphold the new Accords. He doesn’t even really begrudge them it, after all he’s learned recently about the true depth of the entanglement between the Clave and the Circle. He understands why it had to be him—the eldest son of a prominent Shadowhunter family, a family of former Circle members at that, a literal symbol of the Clave’s future, offered—sacrificed, the other Shadowhunters would probably say—to maintain the peace.

But no one’s hearts seem to be in it. Certainly not his parents’—they hadn’t even attended the ceremony, despite being key players in arranging the whole thing. Certainly not his future— his husband’s, his husband who’d barely looked at him as they’d exchanged their vows.

Nothing about this feels real, and what’s the point of both of them both ruining their lives for a hollow gesture?

Because the thing is, the ceremony is over. The halls of the Institute are quiet, somber, in mourning maybe. Alec feels alternately completely numb and like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

And his husband is nowhere to be found.

Alec has absolutely no idea what to expect from Magnus. He doesn’t know what kind of person Magnus is at all, hadn’t even met him before today, though he’s heard the name, the reputation. He knows Magnus… gets around, as they say. He knows the Clave sees Magnus as a threat for his raw power, his role in quashing the Uprising, the respect and loyalty he commands from the Downworld. Maybe they think they’ve neutralized that threat now. He knows his parents, despite having arranged this, think Magnus is a disgusting demon-creature who will corrupt their son. Alec doesn’t really want to think about what it says about them that they’d believe that and still make him go through with it.

He’s trying not to have expectations, but it’s kind of hard not to have fears. Alec doesn’t understand why someone like Magnus would tie themselves to him. Supposedly, he had volunteered, and Alec has no fucking clue what that means, what possible ulterior motives Magnus might have. Revenge against the Lightwoods, against the Circle? He has no idea.

Truthfully, Alec still doesn’t know what he thinks of Magnus. Mostly, he just knows that he really, really needs to talk to him, except Magnus has fucking disappeared.

Alec wanders the empty halls, searching for him and feeling like an idiot while doing it. Surely Magnus wouldn’t have just left him here, right? Surely. They may be married in name only, but they’re still married.

Thankfully, after a few minutes of searching, Alec turns a corner—

—and there he is.

Alec’s breath catches at the sight of him just as it had when Magnus had walked down the aisle. He’s slumped against the wall, cellphone pressed to his ear, all the strength and ferocity that he’d worn facing Alec at the altar now drained away. But a searing breathlessness rushes through Alec’s chest all the same, he’s just— he is so beautiful.

When the arrangement had first been drawn up, Alec had let out an almost startled breath of relief at learning his future spouse was a man. It was a bitter sort of relief, because it came with the inescapable knowledge that the Clave would have never approved a marriage between two men just because it made Alec happy, but would go for it in a second if they thought they could get something out of it. But regardless, the end result was the same: Alec got to marry a man.

Strange, to get something he’s wanted so desperately out of a marriage everyone thinks is a travesty.

He gets to marry a man. To be married to a man. And God, what a man.

He’s really trying not to let himself think about how stunning Magnus is. He doesn’t have the right to think that. They’re not— it’s just a contract, just politics.

And if how fast Magnus had disappeared at the end of the ceremony is any indication, just getting Magnus to talk to him is going to be difficult enough. There’s no point in getting carried away with thoughts of something he’ll never be able to have.

Magnus is still on the phone, and doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, so Alec waits, debating whether he should leave him be, or stay so Magnus can’t disappear again.

“—I know, the ceremony was a farce,” Magnus is saying quietly into the phone, “and the Lightwoods didn’t even show up, can you believe the nerve? Tells you what the Clave really thinks of the whole thing.”

Alec swallows. It’s not that he himself hadn’t been thinking it, but it still kind of hurts that his— his husband thinks so little of their marriage, too.

“No, the Accords are solid, I made sure of it,” Magnus continues. He’s holding out his hand in front of him, staring at his wedding ring. It’s almost lost amongst his other jewelry. “In fact, I’ll—”

And he starts to walk away, and Alec just cannot watch Magnus walk away from him again.

“Magnus!”

Magnus actually flinches, but he does stop walking, turning to look at Alec, a cautious smile that Alec can’t help but read as fake sliding onto his face. Alec takes a step back from him, even though he’s already standing all the way on the other side of the hall.

Magnus ends his call. “Alexander.”

Falsely warm or not, Magnus has a lovely voice. It’s low and soft and curls around Alec’s chest. Alec cautiously takes a step back closer to him.

“Yeah… hi. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

Magnus gestures with his phone. “Duty never rests, I’m afraid.”

Alec can relate to that. His duties at the Institute are not going to slow down now just because he’s married. If anything, he’ll probably have to go to even more meetings, more political events, as a representative at best, a spectacle or cautionary tale at worst.

“I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this,” he says to Magnus.

Magnus softens a little. “Fear not, I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“Even if the Clave isn’t taking it seriously?”

At that, Magnus cringes. “I hadn’t meant for you to hear that. I apologize.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like everyone else wasn’t thinking it, too.”

Magnus nods.

They stand in awkward silence for a long moment, still at opposite ends of the hall. Alec doesn’t know what else to say to him, and Magnus doesn’t seem particularly inclined to start conversation with him. Alec doesn’t know what to do here, how to handle this. It’s rare that he finds himself in a situation he doesn’t know how to handle.

Finally, Magnus says. “Don’t feel obliged to keep me company. I’m sure you have work that you’d rather be doing.”

And feeling somewhat stupid, Alec just says, “What?”

“I understand we have certain obligations as—” Magnus stumbles, but forces his way over the words— “as husbands—functions and political negotiations and such things—and we should probably have a long conversation at some point about what— what this is, but I’m not going to ask you to pretend we’re going on our honeymoon or something.”

Alec’s gotten the impression, however brief, that Magnus is not generally a person who stutters or stumbles, which makes the way he’s speaking now all the more startling. His smile is strained, and it occurs to Alec that Magnus may not want to be around him at all, and is just too tactful to say so outright.

However reasonable that feeling may be, it sort of hurts Alec’s heart.

All he can manage to say is, “We still have to do the rune.”

Magnus blinks. “The… rune?”

Surely they must have told him?

“To make the marriage official. It was part of the… agreement.” Alec recites the words of the new Accords, which he unfortunately has burned into his memory now. “‘A union of mind, heart, body, and soul.’”

“Ah… yes.” Uneasy recognition slips into Magnus’s expression. “Somehow I’d thought, when it wasn’t part of the ceremony, that they might have changed their minds.”

“Usually—like, in a Shadowhunter marriage—it would be. But I think, uh. No one wanted to witness it.”

Magnus looks down at the floor. “I see. Well, lead the way, then, husband.”

He probably doesn’t intend the note of bitterness that slips into his voice, but Alec hears it anyway.

“Hey, listen,” he says, taking another cautious step closer to Magnus, “can we talk first?”

Relief and apprehension war on Magnus’s face, and apprehension wins. But he nods. “Here?”

He seems sort of uncomfortable with the idea, and Alec says immediately, “Doesn’t have to be.”

He’s feeling a little sick of the Institute himself.

Magnus’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Then perhaps you’ll agree to come home with me?” There’s the slightest touch of playfulness in his tone now. “So long as you don’t mind being dragged into the lair of a Warlock.”

He holds out a hand, the other already glittering with blue sparks meant to make a portal.

Alec ignores everything he’s ever been taught and takes his hand.

 *

Magnus’s apartment is unlike anything he could have expected. It’s softly lit and cozy and very unlike the Institute and Alec feels a smidgen of weight disappear from his shoulders just being there.

Magnus lets him go and strides over to a drinks cart in the corner of the living room. “Drink, darling?”

Alec doesn’t know if Magnus means to make his stomach flip by calling him that, but it works. “Um, sure.”

“Feel free to take a seat, I’ll be right over.”

Alec sits down on the couch, taking off his jacket and laying it carefully on the seat beside him. They’re both still wearing their suits from the ceremony, and Alec watches the way Magnus’s back and shoulders shift under the maroon velvet of his jacket. Suddenly overheated, he has to untie his bowtie and let it hang around his neck.

Magnus snaps his fingers, and a drink appears in Alec’s hand, and Alec jumps with the suddenness of it, almost spilling it. When he’s gotten it steadied, he looks up to find Magnus watching him with a subtle smirk playing on his lips. He doesn’t say anything, though, just sits in the armchair to Alec’s left, taking a sip of his drink.

Alec takes a sip of his own. He wants to be polite, to not insult Magnus in his own home, but he can’t quite manage not cringing at the taste. When he looks back up, Magnus is still smiling at him, a bit softer this time.

“So,” Alec says, because he’s an idiot, “marriage.”

Magnus’s smile widens, but he hides it in another sip of his drink. “Indeed.”

He’s even lovelier under the soft lights of his apartment than he was in the Institute. Alec forces himself to tear his gaze away from the line of glitter under Magnus’s eyes.

“Can I ask—” he starts once he’s managed to gather himself— “why did you volunteer? It’s just, you sort of don’t seem like you want to be involved in this.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Magnus agrees quietly. “It’s rather simple, really. One of New York’s Downworld leaders had to volunteer, and I happened to be the best candidate at this moment in time. Least entanglements, that sort of thing.”

Alec thinks that’s a really understated way to phrase something pretty monumental.

“Why did you volunteer?” Magnus asks.

“That’s… not exactly the word I’d use,” Alec says, and Magnus looks down at his hands, swallowing hard.

“Oh,” he says, “right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

But—Alec’s not entirely unhappy about it. He’d always expected his marriage to be political. It might as well be with someone who’s interesting. Any fear he might have felt before at the idea of being with Magnus is disappearing now that he’s actually with Magnus. He’s finding it kind of impossible to be afraid of Magnus, actually.

“I mean, I did sort of make sure they picked me, and not Izzy—that’s my sister,” he continues. “But yeah, it was going to be one of us either way. Though I think they always preferred it to be me, except for the whole it-being-two-men thing.” 

Magnus looks back up at him at that, gaze discerning. “May I ask a question now?”

“Sure?”

“You seem—how can I put this—less uncomfortable with the situation than I would have expected from a Shadowhunter.” And Alec thinks he knows what Magnus is going to ask, but he expects him to hedge it a bit, not just come right out and say— “Are you attracted to men?”

Alec tries not to choke on the sip of his drink he’s finally managed to get into his mouth. He forces himself to swallow. “Uh, I am, um—”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Magnus continues, “though it is a… relevant question in a marriage, shall we say.”

Honestly, Alec wants to tell him, even if he doesn’t have a lot of practice saying it. “I am... attracted to men, yes.”

Magnus looks at him for a long moment, then takes another sip of his drink. “Interesting.”

Alec doesn’t know what to make of that, so he just takes another agonizing sip of his own drink and tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the way Magnus was scrutinizing him.

Magnus watches him cringe at the taste of the drink again and lets out a small laugh. “You don’t actually have to drink that if you don’t want to.”

Gratefully, Alec sets it aside and focuses on Magnus instead. His posture has relaxed in his chair. His shoes are off and he has one leg tucked underneath himself. His jacket is draped over the back of his chair now, too, though he looks no less put together for it.

“You seem like you’re feeling better now,” Alec says.

“Pardon?”

“At the Institute—you seemed really tense.”

He sort of expects Magnus to deny it. Instead, Magnus unfolds his legs and leans towards him, hands clasped together in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I feel that I’ve been unfair to you.”

Alec raises an eyebrow.

Magnus continues, “I heard who I was marrying and I expected—”

“—Someone more like my parents?”

Magnus just inclines his head. “In all honesty, I feared the whole thing might be some kind of elaborate plot to take me out, weaken the Downworld.” He pauses, contemplative. A little wary. “But sitting here with you now, I no longer believe that. I do not believe… that you intend to hurt me.”

Alec almost says that he doesn’t think he’d be capable of hurting Magnus, even if he wanted to, that he thinks Magnus is too powerful to allow for it—and then pauses.

Because while that may be true in a normal circumstance, this isn’t normal. If Magnus were to injure Alec, or kill him, even in self-defense, the Clave would blame him and side with Alec. The new Accords would dissolve. Magnus might even be punished for it.

Alec’s hit with a sudden desperate understanding of just what a dangerous position Magnus has put himself in, and how much more dangerous it could have turned out.

Their situation feels very real then.

“Magnus, listen,” Alec says, wracked with sudden urgency, leaning forward to take Magnus’s hands between his own even though he hasn’t actually contemplated yet whether he’s allowed to do that, “I don’t know what this… relationship is, or what it will be. But I promise, I will never put you in the position where you have to choose between protecting yourself and protecting the Accords. I will never hurt you. Okay? Do you believe me?”

Magnus hesitates for a long moment, just staring into Alec’s eyes, until eventually, the wariness in his gaze cedes into belief. “I do.”

Alec leans back and awkwardly releases his hands. “Okay. Good.”

Magnus keeps staring at him. “You are a strange Shadowhunter, Alexander,” he finally says, “but I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.”

Alec doesn’t know if he’s strange. All he knows is the idea of Magnus being afraid of him is completely intolerable and he has to remedy it however he can.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and Magnus smiles again, and it’s such a lovely expression on his face. And Alec feels the first spark of hope in his chest, actual hope that they can get through this amicably, without coming to hate each other or their own lives.

And then he ruins it. Not because he wants to push, but because this is actually important, if they don’t do things properly their marriage won’t be considered legitimate by the Clave and then this will all be for nothing. “So…” he says. “The rune—”

Magnus’s face shutters completely and he turns away so Alec can only see him in profile. “Just—” he says, waving a hand, floundering— “give me a moment—”

And he gets up and disappears into his apartment so quickly it’s almost like he was never there at all. Alec swallows a hot rush of disappointment at his absence, forcing himself to stay put and give him space. He knows Magnus will most likely come around—he had agreed to this marriage, after all—but it’s hard not to take this as rejection, especially when it had seemed like they were finally making progress on finding some common ground.

Can you even be rejected when you’re already married?

Alec doesn’t know, but somehow he feels like he’s going to find out.

[magnusbae]

Alliance Rune Arranged Marriage AU by @cuubism

A political marriage between the Shadow World and the Clave, results with Alec and Magnus sharing the alliance rune in marriage.

[redinkofshame]

Arranged Marriage

Hipster AU did not spark joy, so I used the Arranged Marriage joker for day 3 of the @augustwritingchallenge. This is probably the last one I’ll do, unless I also do an arranged marriage for Cedric/Cassandra. It’s also my favorite one :D

The evanuris have survived to the dragon age, Fen'Harel included amongst them. In order to make peace with the free clans of elves a marriage is arranged between the Trickster and one of their own. Like all of Solas' plans, it goes awry.

1882 words, mature for smexiness but no actual hanky panky. Read on AO3

Wedding Night

“You still intend to go through with this, then?” Mythal asked.

Fen’Harel sighed, eyeing her reflection from where he stood surrounded by attendants. They made last minute adjustments to his wedding vestiments, buffed his nails, applied cosmetics. “I gave my word, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but even you must admit you have a proclivity for… last minute ‘tricks’. We must make peace with the free clans—”

“Easiest done with a marriage, and I am the only one amongst us who is yet unmarried, yes, I know,” he said, biting his tongue. He knew better than the rest of them how important this was; they continued to underestimated the power of the free clans.

“It’s merely surprising that you haven’t proposed some other crazy solution to avoid being tamed. You’ve been the lone wolf, all alone all these ages…”

He shooed away his attendants and sunk into the nearest chair. His hair dresser immediately made her move, beginning the bothersome process of brushing, curling, and braiding. An annoyance. A necessity. Long hair; the status symbol of a spoiled man who, supposedly, knew nothing of hard work, nor manual labor. No more a threat than a bunch of unaligned clans who could scarcely produce mages.

That is, of course, until he used this marriage to forge an alliance with his spouse’s people. The final key to in his plot to take down the Evanuris once and for all.

“All good things must come to an end,” he said with feigned disinterest. “Remind me the name of who I’m to wed again? That man from the garden with the curly hair?”

Mythal gave him a scathingly admonishing look. “Really, Fen, the least you could do is remember your intended’s name.” She kept up the look for another moment but when he gave no response she simply sighed. “You’re thinking of the ambassador they sent to announce that your bride was chosen by vote of the free clans at Arlathven.”

“She is important to them, then? A powerful mage?” he asked hopefully.

Mythal snorted. “Hardly. They say she has some skill with the arcane, but she’s better known for her sewing— no, embroidery.” He grunted in disappointment and she continued, almost to herself. “She’s no particular beauty, either. I can’t image she’s the best they’ve got to offer. Frankly, I’m tempted to take offense at the offering, but we already granted them permission to choose for themselves…”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It hardly matters what she looks like, so long as they care for her enough to lay down their arms.”

“I suppose. Her name is Keria, by the way, of Lavellan’s clan. Do try to remember it during the ceremony.” He felt her eyes on him, but kept his head bowed as his hair was adorned with golden toggles. “You know that you will have to gift her with her vallaslin during the ceremony as well.”

“Of course.”

Mythal stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A true vallaslin, Fen’Harel.”

The girl working his hair froze. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she, as all his servants, his “slaves”, wore a convincing imitation of his vallaslin on her face. He’d marked each of them with enough magic to keep them safe from the others, but it held none of the controlling or manipulation that a true vallaslin held.

He saw to it that his people followed him voluntarily, not due to fear or power. Many of them were agents of his grand plan playing a role until it was time to strike at the heart of their oppressors.

None of which Mythal was supposed to know, of course.

He met her eyes. “I understand.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, a silent threat, gauging his sincerity. At last, she nodded.

~~~~~

He remembered the name, of course, the ceremony lines, and the spell to apply a proper vallaslin to her pale face in front of everyone. Mythal’s assessment had been harsh — she was pretty enough. Her unruly black hair was short, of course, as was her place. He supposed she would grow it out, now. Her eyes were a shockingly bright blue, when he could get a good look at them, but she largely kept them averted. Her gown was a work of art. The cut of it was common enough, classic, but every inch of it was covered in painstaking embroidery. Her doing?

Not that her beauty mattered; he cared only whether or not she would become his willing ally in their fight, or if he’d have to use her new position as leverage. He’d expected her to fear him as the clans always did — with good reason. He was Mythal’s general, the attack dog she released whenever they stepped out of line or needed to be taught a lesson. At first he thought her unwillingness to meet his eyes was because she was afraid, or worse, because she loathed him. He would not hold it against her.

Surprisingly it was shy glances and flustered smiles he was met with. A blushing bride indeed.

The day was filled with much pomp and posturing, dancing and music and feasting and well-wishers and veiled insults and vague threats. Elgar’nan and the others were jumpy, so certain he was going to ruin this for them that they never considered it had been his idea to begin with. It was many hours before he and his new wife were able to retreat to his suite.

Or ‘their’ suite, he supposed, though he’d happily grant her separate chambers if she requested it. His rooms were plenty large enough for the two of them, but he didn’t relish the loss of this ability to move freely.

He left her for a moment upon entering to get familiar with the space as he stepped into the dressing chamber. He sighed in the relative privacy.

It was fortunate that Keria seemed to be a willing — perhaps eager — partner in this charade, but thus far she seemed too timid of a girl to bring honestly into his machinations. It would take some time to discern best how to proceed from here. In the mean time it was his wedding night…

He was certainly willing to bed her, but he would not press the issue. They needed to discuss rules and freedoms, what would be asked of her and what would not. What she could ask of him. He striped out of his vestiments and pulled on a pair of simple sleep pants. He did not bother with a shirt. He stepped back into the room.

“I think we should discuss our expectations…” He tailed off, not seeing her immediately. He found her in the dimly lit bedchamber, sitting on her heels at the end of the oversized bed, sheets pooling around her hips. She was naked except for the sash from her wedding gown tied loosely about her waist. When she saw him enter she raised to her knees, spread wide, and the blanket fell from her lap, exposing her fully. Her teasing smile beckoned him closer.

Well, then.

All thoughts of planning left him as his blood spiked, and he went to her. He stopped when he stood at the edge of the bed, inches from her, and pointedly looked her offering up and down. He reevaluated his own underestimation of her beauty.

“Lovely…” he murmured. His hand dropped and she arched her back in anticipation, her nipples tight, but it was the tail of the embroidered sash he took. “Did you make it yourself?”

To his surprise he laughed and shoved him playfully, illiciting a snort from him. “I did, in fact.” He ran his thumb over the intricate stitches and she shifted her weight nervously. “Do you, um, know a lot about embroidery?”  

“I don’t know much of the textile arts, I’m afraid,” he admitted, letting the silk slip through his fingers. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Oh, there’s a great deal I could teach you, Fen’Harel.” She sensually unknotted the sash.

He forced his eyes up to hers, determined to seem unaffected. “And here I thought I was wed to someone sweet and innocent.”

“Sweet? Sometimes. But innocent?” Keria flipped the sash up and over his head, where it settled like a scarf. “Certainly not.”

She tugged the ends of the sash and pulled him in for a kiss and he went easily, intrigued by this woman. He felt the brush of her lips but didn’t realize in time that she whispered an incantation, though his eyes flickered open just in time to see the hidden runes among the embroidered flowers light up, paralyzing him instantly. Her hand dashed beneath the covers and came up with a dagger that she plunged towards his chest.

The vallaslin on her face lit up as he activated it and staggered back, spell broken. She was frozen in place, mid-strike. His heart hammered in his chest in a way it hadn’t in decades, a mortal danger he rarely faced unwittingly.

No mortal blade could hurt him, but she would know that. Still shaken, he wrenched the dagger from her hand, careful not to nick either of them as she grunted, struggling to break free. He appraised the weapon, recognizing it easily even without the ravens in the hilt. It indeed would have been able to kill him, and was undoubtedly coated in enough poison to finish the job even if her aim ad been off. Smart.

“Dirthamen sent you, then?”

She still fought her bindings. He released her just enough that she could answer his question. “Yes.”

He tilted his head. She’d answered too quickly. He could see her tells, now that he knew what she really was. “A lie. Interesting. I’m only supposed to believe it was him.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” snarled his darling wife.

“Ah, a fair point. Me, murdered on my wedding night, and Dirthamen to blame. To what end?” She answered by spitting at him and he paced as he thought it over, able to see how it would have played out — Mythal would exact justice before Elgar’nan could stop her, and Dirthamen’s twin would retaliate. The rest of the evanuris would choose sides. War, distrust, ample opportunity for more little assassinations.

A simple enough plan. One that damn near worked.

He lifted the dagger and it hovered in the air between them. With a twist of his hand he rendered the shining, poisonous thing inert, watching as it turned dull and clattered uselessly to the floor.

Keria looked like she was ready to tear him apart with her teeth instead. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me,” she growled. “Others will succeed where I have failed. You cannot stop us all! Your days are numbered, Dread Wolf — you and every other evil, murderous, slaving evanuris!”

Wordlessly he walked to a wardrobe, feeling her eyes following him as she waited for him to strike her down. How much of her shaking was from anger, he wondered, and how much from fear?

He pulled out a dressing robe and turned back to his bride, every inch of her radiating defiance despite the hold he still had on her.

He tossed her the robe. “Get dressed, vhenan. We need to talk.”

[ladymatt]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alliance Rune (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Soul Bond, Angst, Mutual Pining, Discrimination Against Downworlders, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), mentions of canon-typical homophobia, Misunderstandings, Sharing Magic, Devotion, Fluff, Idiots in Love Summary:

The ceremony is over. The halls of the Institute are quiet, somber, in mourning maybe. Alec feels alternately completely numb and like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

And his husband is nowhere to be found.

a Soul Bond/Arranged Marriage AU

[tobythewise]

Nesting Makes the Heart Grow Fonder Saphael | Teen| Omegaverse

Hold Your Breath Jimon | General | Babysitting

Putting on a Show Malec | Explicit | Sex Work

Imperfect Timing Malec | Explicit | College AU

It's A Nephilim Thing  Malec Explicit | Wing Fic

Alec’s Barista  Malec | General | Outside POV

Will You M-- Jimon | General | Firefighter AU

When One Door Opens... Malec & Destiel | Teen | Crossover

What’s Not to Like? Jimon | General | Free Square

It’s A Long Story... Malec | Teen | Drunken Antics

Mistletoe Mishaps Jimon | General | Mistletoe 

A Lightwood-Bane Malec | Explicit | Arranged Marriage

Worth the Fight Saphael | General | Amnesia

From Heat and Beyond Clizzy | Explicit | Fuck or Die

In Every Universe Malec | Teen |Ch1 Interdimentional Travel Ch2 Alliance Rune

Feral For You Malec | Mature | Alpha/Alpha 

Blame it on the Spell Jimon | Explicit | Genderswap

Making a City Slicker into a Country Boy Malec | General | Morning Snuggles

The Taste of You Malec | Explicit | Virgin Shadowhunter Energy

My Place at your Feet Malec | Explicit | BDSM AU

This Body of Mine Malec | Explicit | Bodyswap

20 Thousand Dollar Date Malec | General | TWI

come to the darkside (we have blood bags) Saphael | General | Reverseverse

Tentacle Magnus Art Post

[exalok]

whaddup my dudes!!!

i am tired and wired and this means brain no writey but brain VERY focused on absolutely all the fic i have going on at once that aren’t prompts (prompts will be incoming, no worries dissociation anon)

and THAT means y’all get to hear about my many. many. MANY projects, or at least the ones that make my heart go pitter patter when i think of them

a few examples: demon!corvo and priest!daud with extra worldbuilding ; the naptime cuddles AU ; corvo doesn’t come to dunwall so jess and daud end up arranged-married for profit (more info..... under the readmore..... i’m gonna get rambly)

also feel free to ask questions, i love questions and they get me thinking even more in depth about the world and specific instances of characters and that is the entire POINT

LIKE OKAY SO MY BRAIN PRETTY MUCH CONTINUOUSLY THROWS IDEAS AT THE WALL AND ABOUT 95% OF THEM STICK BECAUSE I’M A HOARDING RAT BASTARD i love my ideas they are my precioussss

i might have about. 25 fic more or less active at the moment? which sounds like a reasonable number but those are the ones i have an actual plot for as well as the will to get them out into the world

let’s put aside the ones i have actually posted on tumblr or ao3 (teen!daud, domestic zombie apocalypse, bondageverse, knife!corvo) in favor of those you have either no or little idea exist. begin:

I MEAN OBVIOUSLY I MADE FANFIC OF MY OWN FANFIC or as i call it parallel/companion fic, because at some point in the past a prompter inspired me and i was deep in the prince!daud fic at the time and i thought what if high chaos. what if void monster corvo? what if horrifying yet human creature of the depths!!! what if EVERYTHING was TERRIBLE and daud killed corvo as a last ditch and vain attempt to get his people out of burrows’ clutches, and it all went to shit from there??? also they’re bound by marriage contract and the vagaries of magical intention and daud becomes corvo’s life battery, in essence, which you can imagine leads to a very unhealthy relationship i think it’s not spoilering much to tell you it does NOT end well, and i’ll be writing it as a sort of foil to low chaos prince!daud

i have quite a few high chaos fics actually. high chaos is depressing to play but the story outcomes are DELICIOUS and the degrading world and character motivations are a lot of fun to play around in

weirdly enough another one of these high chaos fics is the naptime cuddles AU!!! i won’t lie it’s the one i am currently on and i want to talk about it to everyone so bad constantly. in short, corvo doesn’t kill daud and the whalers because he’s trying to get out and currently too fucked up to fight, and when he doesn’t manage to save emily despite his best efforts he comes back to daud for some kind of symbolic execution. meanwhile thomas convinced daud to take a goddamn nap with him there because daud, despite his paranoia, does sleep better with people around, and this is entirely an excuse for semi-platonic daudthomascorvo cuddles in bed followed by whaler puppypiles when the gang catches on that this is a thing they can do now I LOVE PUPPYPILE WHALERS I LOVE NAPS I LOVE REDEMPTION THROUGH THE POWER OF RESTORATIVE SLEEP please i’m so tired and i can’t actually fall asleep next to people let me live my dream vicariously additionally: this will be my contribution to the absolutely wonderful whaler vineyard of old fanon

there is also what i feel should be a classic and ISN’T though a couple of fics were written around the concept and one in particular is /chef kiss, and the concept is: high chaos corvo meets low chaos corvo!!!!! i made it a threesome with daud because no one can stop me and i fucking LOVE the idea of daud ending up capable of telling them apart through tiny details even when high chaos corvo, bastard that he is, tries to impersonate low chaos corvo, who is a bastard in much more subtle ways and would probably be better at impersonating hc!c than the other way around but finds it distasteful; also i added intense body horror because that’s how i roll and there are eventual magical CONSEQUENCES to hc!c being in the low chaos world and regularly in contact with what is essentially his narrative double when he doesn’t belong there, probably ends in a tragically bittersweet way, i’m not completely clear on it yet though i do have ideas

and oh man......... the time travel corvo fic.... the one where high chaos corvo ends up in his own seven-year-old body........... fuck i hashed out so much of the general worldbuilding for that one and ended up going way too far and imagining a sequel like i always do where corvo learns how to walk universes and gathers people he cares about from places where he can actually save them from their eventual tragic futures and the dissolution of their timelines once the outsider is ousted from the void and a new void avatar is made and SHENANIGANS YO!!! SHENANIGANS AND CAMPING!!!! SELF-CROSSOVERS!!!!!!! I COULD HAVE HIM MEET HIMSELF IF HE HADN’T TRAVELED BACK I’M CRYING I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS

the one where corvo is a fae child is probably a lil bit high chaos though it isn’t determined yet, and he has all of these instincts with regards to possessing and exchange and deals, and assumptions as to how other people must work approximately the same, and he is so wrong. then there’s the really creepy bad touch possible sequel that i won’t get into unless someone specifically asks because it’s a lil bit much really

oh MAN oh SHIT speaking of bad touch there’s another dead dove do not eat one where i grabbed an entire handful of granny rags’ apparent fucking around with magical arrays and rune creation and general spellery and threw it at corvo post-interregnum and he sees “ghosts” and doesn’t understand what the FUCK is going on and things go really badly for him, and one ghost, soon the only ghost, is daud, and corvo doesn’t know if he’s real, if he’s seeing things, if he’s NOT seeing things but daud is some kind of void demon, if he is and also having psychotic breaks he doesn’t remember because he ends up with some hellish bruises, but the real daud is actually still out there just hiding out and corvo will eventually meet up with him and real daud will meet fake daud and even more shit will happen

god, the demon!corvo AU gets pretty fucked up as well if i remember right; corvo is both some dude with a wife and kid and the demon that inhabits him, jess is his wife and the demon that inhabits her (to be clear, separate characters but both based on either jess or corvo oh my GOD what if i switched the demons that would be amazing but no, calm down, maybe for a short what-if scenario that will inevitably turn into its own thing), daud is the overseer with the really good exorcism record trying to get the demons to fuck off except he thinks there’s only one of them and the other takes him by surprise; cue daud being hunted by that demon, furious that daud shattered his favorite pupil, and some revelations about what exactly lives inside the abbey and also under it

on a somewhat lighter note, the one where corvo never comes to dunwall (i think his mom gets sick and he doesn’t win the blade verbena at sixteen?) is also where jess keeps losing her royal protectors to assassination attempts because the first one was decent and died protecting her and the second one was decent and had an accident and people start believing there’s a curse on the position or a curse on her, and she’s like okay so how do i make sure i don’t die now that no one is willing to become my protector since it’s pretty much a death sentence, and she arranges a meeting with the best assassin in the city and suggests an alliance -- protection and some commission overview, all secret, versus funding and housing -- in the form of a marriage and daud ends up agreeing; then later duke abele visits and corvo is among his personal guard and he gets to meet the empress, and the assassin, and there are ot3 shenanigans

oh my GOD also the kids in karnaca AU. obviously. fuck you may have seen the (dis)armingly charmed notefic but this would be them meeting as actual kids, in karnaca, just tiny babies, daud recently kidnapped and corvo doing his best to make this cool older kid into his friend and also maybe hiding him from the people who want to train him to do Illegal Things, and there are dumb childish arguments and daud goes on the run to avoid capture and there is an exchange of letters that at one point stops and corvo is Devastated and there is a REUNION and they are ADORABLE but also INCREDIBLY STUPID, AS IS RIGHT AND CORRECT, and i don’t know what happens later but it gives me warm fuzzies okay

then i have a NUMBER of oneshots that are more or less plotted out, like the one where jess has a kind of groundhog day because Heart reasons but over months and starts out not quite remembering what happened in past attempts and OF COURSE it ends with royal ot3; and there’s the one where Daud becomes the Outsider and is very temporally confused and OF COURSE it ends with corvodaud who do you take me for (including Very Perplexing arguments where daud doesn’t know at what point in this relationship’s development he is and corvo is angry or very patient depending on where he accidentally time travels to, and i make some assumptions about the non-linearity of the void avatar’s existence); and there’s the one where corvo catches the plague and gets through kingsparrow to get emily out then to people he trusts, ie the curnows and sam beechworth, then crawls away to die, but daud finds him and sighs and rolls up his sleeves and sends whalers to the Tower and emily thinks the Tower is haunted then, when it becomes very clear the Tower is not, demands one of these assassins teach her how to stab a bitch; AND THERE’S THE ONE WHERE CORVO AND JESS ARE GHOSTS AND DAUD IS A REAL ESTATE AGENT AND THE WHALERS ARE THE KIDS HE TRIED TO HELP OUT AS A SOCIAL WORKER and yes it’s ot3 and yes he buys the ghost house and ends up being filmed by the whalers to do cooking videos and fancy knife tricks and asmr because his voice is insanely soothing when he’s not being ornery; oh fuck and there’s the one where i wrote an unrequited corvodaud prompt and my brain grabbed it, smelled it, and decided that corvo very reluctantly falling for daud was necessary to the health of my feelings, and there is at least one (1) sleeping beauty coma while corvo yells at the outsider about the Heart; also there’s the one where in D2 billie was evasive about the old guy living with her on her boat and em finds daud rather than sokolov in jindosh’s basement and they have long, emotional discussions; and for the character building hell of it one that would span the outsider’s beginnings and growth and how the void tries to welcome him in

okay........................ i think i’m done rambling now

i love fanfic y’all

[cuubism]

mind & heart, body & soul. chapter 2.

alliance rune arranged marriage au 

(AO3) 

@magnusbae hmm hello! 

*

The rooftop is blessedly quiet when Magnus steps out into the night, the dark and the smell of recent rain soothing his fraying nerves. He steps over to the railing, leans on it, looks out over the city.

He lights a cigarette and lets the smoke curl around him in uneven whorls. The burn in his throat takes his mind off the panic growing there.

He really shouldn’t smoke, he knows. Cat says it’s bad even for someone with a Warlock’s constitution.

He can’t help it.

Magnus takes a steadying breath in and lets it out slowly, pretends it doesn’t shake. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten himself into this mess. Actually, he does know, it’s his goddamn self-sacrificial tendencies, as Ragnor would say, were he here. Always needing to be the hero, that’s Magnus. The hero, or the martyr.

He isn’t being fair to Alec, running off like this. And he knows damn well he’s derailed the tentative truce they’d been building. It’s just— the idea of letting a Shadowhunter draw a rune on him makes him want to crawl out of his skin, he really doesn’t know how he’d thought he’d be able to go along with it. And being tied to a Shadowhunter, their souls bound by some Nephilim magic Magnus doesn’t even fully understand? What had he been thinking? Not thinking, that’s what he’d been doing. Having grand ideas about peace and partnership and progress, that’s what he’d been doing. As if.

Magnus takes another long drag on his cigarette. This marriage is a sham. The Clave clearly doesn’t want it, who knows how long they’ll even honor it. The fact that this marriage is the only thing upholding the Downworld’s safety is, itself, a sham. It makes Magnus’s fingers curl tightly along the railing, magic seething under his skin like boiling anger, his throat growing hot with injustice for the Downworld, for himself. For Alec, even.

Alec—

Alec makes him falter.

Alec made him falter the first time he saw him, standing at the end of the aisle, looking uncertain and handsome and tentatively hopeful and nothing like Magnus had expected. Without even trying, he’d slipped his way through the wall of righteous fury Magnus had built around himself.

And now Alec’s in his home, and only continuing to pry that wall open with an effortlessness that, were he not the Warlock in the relationship, Magnus might think was actually an untoward spell of some sort.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette. Lilith, he needs a drink. Why did he leave all his liquor downstairs?

“Magnus?”

Magnus jumps, losing his cigarette over the railing. It twinkles for a moment as it falls. He turns to glare at Alec, who’s hovering in the doorway.

“Christ,” he swears, “you are too quiet.”

“Sorry.” Alec steps closer. His footsteps are, again, almost soundless. “It’s just been like an hour. I wanted to make sure— I don’t even know what.”

Has it been that long?

Magnus sighs, leaning on the railing again, gesturing Alec to come stand beside him.

Alec leans next to him and looks him over with a raised eyebrow. “You seem angry.”

Magnus huffs. “Do I?”

“It’s okay. I felt like that for a while, too.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Magnus feels the need to clarify. He actually thinks he likes Alec, to his great surprise. He’d been prepared to hate him. But he doesn’t. “It’s more so… the situation.”

Alec just nods. “I know.”

He seems so steady, so… accepting, relatively speaking. Meanwhile Magnus alternately feels like he might throw up or flee his own apartment.

“You’re remarkably calm about all of this,” he observes.

Alec lets out a small laugh. “I wouldn’t say that. But it’s… easier on me, maybe. I don’t know.”

“How do you figure that?”

Alec turns to look at him. He seems to be considering his response. Finally he says, slowly, like he’s still thinking about the precise words he wants to say, “I was always meant to have a political marriage anyway. One where I can be married to a man is better for me than the alternative.”

“And there weren’t many opportunities for that, I don’t suppose.”

“None at all.”

Magnus’s heart squeezes in sympathy for him then, for the despair in how Alec must have grown up, relentlessly pushing aside all of his own desires only for the Clave to turn around and use him like this.

“Besides,” Alec continues, “it can’t be easy for you, being married to a Shadowhunter. I heard about your involvement in the Uprising.”

He is… not at all wrong, though Magnus is surprised to see Alec reach this conclusion on his own. Though when he recalls how Alec had stepped away from him in the Institute, how he’d rushed to reassure Magnus that he didn’t have any violent intentions towards him, he thinks that perhaps he shouldn’t be.

Magnus holds no illusions that, as a young Shadowhunter just slipping out from under the Clave’s thumb, Alec is some kind of bastion of progressive ideals. But he’s more than proven that he’s not his parents, he’s no Circle sympathizer. They wouldn’t even be having this conversation if he was.

And that’s— that’s workable.

“It’s not hard for you, being married to a Warlock?” Magnus asks instead of voicing any of these thoughts, putting a little teasing in his tone.

“If I had chosen it for myself? Definitely. But like, the Clave made this happen. So I don’t really see what they can do about it.”

Something about the way he frames it, like his hesitancy towards being in a relationship with someone like Magnus would have come from the Clave’s rules and punishments, not from his personal beliefs and desires, solidifies something in Magnus’s head. Something that says that while Magnus may not trust him yet, Alec may be someone worthy of trust.

Maybe— maybe they can be allies. Even that is leaps and strides better than Magnus had hoped.

Decision made, he turns to face Alec fully. “Let’s do the rune.”

Alec startles at the change in subject. “What?”

“You followed me out here because it’s important that we complete the ceremony for our marriage to be considered legitimate, correct?” Magnus demands. At Alec’s hesitant nod, he continues, “So let’s complete it.”

Alec still doesn’t move to do so. “Magnus, are you sure? Just a moment ago, you seemed—”

“Do I have much of a choice?”

Alec cringes. “That doesn’t mean—”

Magnus rests a hand on his wrist so Alec will stop fidgeting and look at him. “Listen. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t have my… reservations about this— this bond. But it’s more important to me that this marriage works to uphold the Accords.” He meets Alec’s gaze so Alec will know he’s serious. “I will do anything for my people, Alec.”

This, if nothing else, seems to strike a chord with his husband. “Okay,” he says, “let’s do it.”

And before Magnus can really internalize what’s happening, Alec’s leading him over to the rooftop couch, hand light on his upper arm.

“You might want to sit down for this. It kind of hurts the first time. Runes, that is.”

Magnus sits down beside him and turns to face him. “Don’t worry, I can handle a little pain.” And then he just absolutely cannot resist the urge to wink at Alec, it’s like a nervous tic, it makes him feel better when his heart is racing out of his chest.

Alec just sort of smiles at him, probably meaning it as reassurance. “I don’t doubt it.”

Oh, he would have been fun to flirt with in another life. Absolutely impossible, but then, that’s Magnus’s type.

In this life, his husband is holding a glowing stele in his hand, looking at him expectantly, and Magnus feels suddenly terribly nervous, the slivers of trust he’d been starting to feel for the man before him doing absolutely nothing for him now.

“And you’re certain this rune isn’t going to kill me?” he asks, meaning it mostly as a joke, though it falls flat.

“It won’t.” And then Alec’s handing him the stele. “Here. If it makes you feel better, do mine first.”

He undoes the top few buttons of his shirt and pulls it open over his heart.

Magnus just stares dumbly at him, the stele held loosely in his hand. It’s now glowing a steady, low red.

“You know what it looks like, right?” Alec asks. He shifts a little closer as if he thinks Magnus will have trouble reaching him.

“Yes, I just—” Magnus doesn’t know why he’s hesitating. He’s made his decision. He may still be uncomfortable about the rune, but he thinks that if he has to be bonded to a Shadowhunter, Alec is a pretty good one.

No, it’s not the rune itself anymore that’s stilling his hand. It’s something in the quiet of the night air, the darkness of the rooftop, the cold nip of the wind that raises goosebumps along his arms. The city lights casting Alec’s face into relief. The heat of his skin that Magnus can feel as he shifts closer, bracing his free hand on Alec’s knee.

It’s the warm supple presence of this Shadowhunter who’s placing his body at the mercy of Magnus’s hands. It’s how he doesn’t move away as Magnus leans in to place the tip of the stele against his skin, how he’s trusting himself to Magnus.

“Are you ready?” Magnus asks, suddenly breathless.

Alec nods.

Magnus draws. It’s a bold rune of sweeping lines, one that he can’t help but feel is fitting of the simplicity of heart of this young man who will, in mere moments, be his husband in more than just name. Not that Magnus knows him well enough to be making such broad statements of him.

Alec barely flinches as he draws, though Magnus thinks that’s more to do with him being used to the pain than the absence of it. When he finishes, Magnus returns his stele to him.

Alec leaves his shirt unbuttoned, waiting patiently as Magnus undoes his own. His gaze is steady and intense, bright even on the darkened rooftop. Magnus can’t help but be captured by him as he pulls open his own shirt.

He is stunning. Magnus has been trying not to let himself think it, but it’s true all the same.

Alec braces him by the shoulder. His palm is warm even through Magnus’s shirt. His hands are steady, but still he hesitates before touching the stele to Magnus’s heart.

He looks up to meet Magnus’s gaze. “You’re sure?”

Magnus nods. “Yes.”

As Alec leans in, Magnus’s breath stutters, both nerves and closeness. He can’t tell if Alec notices—he’s absolutely focused on his task, pressing the tip of the stele into Magnus’s skin with a careful but firm touch.

Magnus sucks in a breath. It really does sting, though he hadn’t just been teasing when he’d told Alec that he’d experienced worse. It stings, but it doesn’t kill him, and really that’s all he can—

His whole body jolts as a bolt of power rushes through him, ripping through his skin like it wants to burn him alive. Magnus jumps back from Alec, thinking he was wrong, this was all a trick, the rune really is meant to kill him—

Alec drops the stele. His fist spasms around empty air, his other hand flat against his heart. His breathing is ragged. And Shadowhunters can be dreadfully suicidal creatures, but not like this, this can’t be a plot, he— he must be feeling it too.

Before Magnus can try to eke out a word past the scream lodged in his throat, the burning vanishes as soon as it had come, leaving behind a subtle pulsing warmth in the center of his chest. Slowly, Alec looks up at him.

“Can you feel that?”

Magnus nods, and realizes he too is rubbing unconsciously at the rune over his heart. He forces himself to stop, looks down at it instead. His rune is different from Alec’s, the second half of a joined set—it’s narrower, more coiled and detailed, winding in on itself.

He looks from his rune to Alec’s. There’s no outward evidence that anything has happened, no dramatic burning or glowing but still, he can feel—

“Is that the bond?”

Alec nods. “I think so. It should get less intense over time. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Less intense?” All Magnus can really feel right now is warmth. It’s not necessarily unpleasant, though a bit distracting.

Alec ducks his head. “Well, more nuanced, actually. Instead of just—” he gestures vaguely at his chest— “this.”

And as they sit there, in the quiet dark, Magnus feels the warmth in his chest start to change. Gradually, he finds he can pick other things out of it: nerves and hints of sadness. Breathlessness and hope.

It feels different from what he’d expected. For some reason, he’d been imagining something more mental, a knowledge of Alec, an awareness of him. That’s… not what this is.

This is visceral. Physical. He can feel Alec almost like an echo of himself, though he knows what he’s feeling isn’t himself, but someone else. Like he’s holding his husband within him.

It feels a little like sharing magic, actually.

“I think,” he says quietly, in a grand understatement, “I can feel you.”

Alec’s face cracks open into a smile, the first real one Magnus has seen from him, he realizes. It’s lovely and soft and genuine and Magnus feels an unexpected pang in his heart, one that he knows is his own, not the reflection of Alec’s feelings.

Alec reaches down to find his stele where it had fallen to the floor, but he’s still looking at Magnus. “Me too.”

 *

They make their way back inside. Something in the air feels changed. Magnus supposes being magically tied to a husband you’ve just met will do that to a person. Not that he knows what to do about it.

“So, should I…” Alec’s fidgeting again, his smile gone now— “go? I mean, it’s getting late…”

Magnus can’t yet read him well enough to tell whether he wants to go or not. He supposes Alec may want to go home after such an eventful day, and the Institute is his home, not Magnus’s apartment. Though it’s also a home that thought nothing of shoving him off into a marriage, that barely even stayed to witness it.

“It’s up to you, darling.” Magnus tries to offer him a reassuring smile. “I have a couch and a guest room. You’re welcome to either.”

Now that he’s decided that he at least trusts Alec not to be part of a convoluted assassination plot, he’ll be damned if he kicks a vulnerable young man out of his home, husband or not.

His words have the opposite of their intended effect. Alec rubs at the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncertain.

“Or— I mean— are we supposed to—”

When Magnus realizes what Alec’s trying not to say, his lungs seize up for half a second before he manages to get in a breath.

“—to consummate the marriage?” he manages.

“…Yeah.”

And again, Magnus can’t quite tell how Alec feels about it. All he’s really getting from their still-forming bond is nervousness, and that could mean anything.

In another circumstance, Magnus could see himself angling to get Alec in his bed. Could see himself flirting, and pushing for a reaction, and giving in to the interest that sparks in him whenever he looks at Alec.

But there is no way he’s going to let any of that happen with his recently soul-bonded Shadowhunter husband, who he just met today, who probably barely even wants to be his husband, and who has almost certainly never been with a man, if he’s been with anyone at all.

“Don’t worry, I would never ask you to do that,” he reassures, and some of Alec’s anxiety eases, and Magnus knows he made the right call.

Then a terrible thought occurs to him. He swallows hard. “Unless… does the Clave…?”

Alec actually laughs, the remaining tension leaving his shoulders. “No, actually, I think they’d really prefer if we didn’t.”

“Well, in that case we might have to,” Magnus mutters, more out of spite than seriousness, and Alec’s face does something weird. But then he shoots Magnus that blinding grin again.

“In that case, I’d— I’d love to stay.”

In case we might have to? Magnus almost says, even though he knows Alec’s referring to his prior statement.

Instead he waves a hand and the door to his guest room clicks open. “Well, then. Guest room’s all yours, my dear. Scream if you need anything.”

Alec shakes his head in disbelief, but he’s still smiling. He starts to head towards the guest room, and Magnus starts heading for his own room, but stops when he hears Alec calling him.

“Hey, Magnus?”

Magnus turns around. “Hmm?”

Alec’s expression is serious now, no hesitation as he says, “I’m glad we’re more on the same page now. I really hope we can work together.” Then his expression softens into something verging on humor. “And thanks for letting me stay.”

Magnus’s own lips twitch up into a smile. “As do I. And no thanks necessary, you’re always welcome here.”

And the last thing he sees before he retreats to his own room is Alec’s answering smile.

[cuubism]

^HELL YEaaAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WRITE THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*starts new wip* oh god oh no oh god oh no OH GOD OH NO OH GOD--

[cuubism]

friends, romans, countryfolk, @magnusbae, please enjoy

mind & heart, body & soul - chapter 4

alliance rune arranged marriage au | ao3 

*

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

Alec doesn’t even turn to look at Izzy where she’s leaning into his space. “No.”

“Come on, Alec, it’s been a whole week—”

“So why do you still care?”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “My brother got married. Of course I care.”  

Alec turns back to his Ops monitor, tuning her out. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“‘There’s nothing to tell’ always means there’s absolutely something to tell.”

Alec rubs at his forehead, headache already growing. He’s so tired. Tired and frustrated. He hasn’t been able to feel more than the barest hint of Magnus all week. He’s pretty sure Magnus has been trying to block off his side of the bond.

“We’re not really speaking,” he finally tells Izzy. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

She crosses her arms. “Do I need to go punch him out?”

“No.”

Alec had meant to go back to Magnus’s apartment to try and straighten things out, but those plans have been continually interrupted by a bit of a—

“Alec!”

—situation.

He turns to find Jace striding across Ops, Clary in tow, both looking like they just rolled out of bed. “We’re heading out,” Jace says, barely slowing to speak, “we’re gonna follow a lead, we’ll be back—”

“No,” Alec interrupts, “you aren’t. What are you doing?”

He is so tired.

“Clary had a dream about Magnus. He knows something about her memories. So we’re gonna go find him.”

Alec really wishes someone would just hit him over the head with a brick or something. That would be more merciful than this.

He swears Jace was not this stupid a week ago.

“And did it not fucking occur to you,” he starts, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “that we could just call him?”

A few hours after he’d left Magnus’s apartment, a fire message had appeared in his hand. On it was Magnus’s number and a message: in case you need to contact me.

Not that Alec has used it.

Jace stares at him. “I thought you weren’t speaking.”

Izzy puts her hands on her hips. “So you told him and not me?”

Alec ignores her. “That doesn’t mean you go ambush him,” he tells Jace. “If it’s important, let’s just call him.”

Clary looks between them uncertainly. “Wait, do you know Magnus Bane?”

“They’re married,” Izzy tells her conspiratorially.

Clary stares at Alec. She looks totally confused. “Wait—”

“Don’t ask,” Jace tells her, and for once, Alec finds himself agreeing with something Jace says to Clary. “So we can call him?”

“I’ll call him,” Alec says. Not that he feels entirely convinced Magnus will pick up. Inadvertently or not, unknowingly or not, Alec’s taken something deeply personal to him. He isn’t surprised Magnus doesn’t want to talk to him, even if he has no idea where they’re supposed to go from here.

He steps away from his siblings and dials Magnus’s number.

It rings, and rings, and rings, with no answer.

Alec frowns down at his phone. Maybe it’s— but no, he checked the time. It’s not terribly late.

He tries again.

This time the call goes straight to voicemail.

It makes something uncomfortable curl in Alec’s gut, a slow growing unease. He wouldn’t blame Magnus for wanting to avoid him, but something about this silence is making him feel unsettled.

He turns back to Clary. “You said he knows something about your memories?”

Clary nods. “He helped my mom, I think.”

A horrible thought ticks through in Alec’s mind. It’s a bit of a long shot, but—

He’s striding towards the door before he can even respond to Clary. “Let’s go.”

“What happened to not ambushing him?” Jace asks, but he follows Alec.

“Let’s go—”

A burst of pain shears through Alec’s chest, and he stumbles, almost falls as suddenly the closed bond is flooding open. Magnus’s emotions are flickering and morphing way too fast for Alec to read them, but he catches glimpses—anger and panic and adrenaline and fear and pain and rage—

He hauls himself back upright, lurching for the door, not waiting to see if the others are following.

“Let’s go. Now.”

 *

The door to Magnus’s loft is cracked open. This might not have been a concern in and of itself, but the wards being down is. Alec can’t feel them at all as he slowly pushes through the doorway. Even if Magnus had merely keyed him into them, which Alec doubts considering how their last conversation went, he should have been able to feel something as he passed through.

There’s nothing, just the echoing quiet of the entryway. Alec wants to call out for Magnus, but doesn’t dare put him at risk. He motions behind him for Izzy and Jace—and Clary, who’s inexplicably tagged along even though if there is danger here she’ll probably only get herself killed—to be silent.

Alec steps closer to the living room on soundless feet, his bow already in his hands and drawn. From closer he can see that furniture is overturned, lamps knocked to the side, and books strewn from their shelves. The glass in one of the balcony doors looks shattered.

There’s blood smeared on one of the walls.

He can hear the others following him, but pays them no mind, stepping quickly into the center of the room and spinning in a circle, checking for danger. It’s only then that he notices the bodies on the floor behind the couch—Circle members from the looks of them, Alec recognizes the rune on their necks.

Alec heads towards Magnus’s bedroom, Izzy going the other way to check the rest of the apartment. Jace checks the bodies, shaking his head when Alec looks at him questioningly. They’re all dead.

Good.

Magnus— Magnus can’t be dead. Alec can still feel him, even if the pain coming through the bond is more muted now, more resigned. He can’t be dead, but then where is he?

Alec makes his way towards the bedroom, silent, bow still drawn. He finds nothing in the kitchen or in the hall, but as he steps through the doorway into Magnus’s bedroom, he’s finally able to let out a breath.

Magnus is sitting against the wall, knees pulled up, one hand pressed to his forehead. He looks despondent, gaze staring off somewhere in the middle distance. There’s blood smeared across half of his face. But Alec barely has time to consider any of that because there’s suddenly rapid movement in his peripheral vision.

He turns and fires totally on instinct and the Circle member—who’d woken from unconsciousness on the other side of the room and made a beeline for Magnus—drops to the ground with an arrow in his throat.

Magnus startles, looking from Alec to the Circle member and back, eyes wide. Alec lowers his bow, but doesn’t stash it away quite yet.

Magnus keeps staring at him. “You’re so quiet,” he finally says.

“Are there any others?” Alec asks.

Magnus shakes his head. “All dead. I thought that one was dead too, but apparently the damn things are resilient.”

Alec stows his bow away and turns to call out to Jace and Izzy in the living room. “Clear!”

Magnus flinches at the volume of his voice, but doesn’t move from where he’s slumped against the wall.

Alec kneels in front of him. His new vantage point gives him a better view of the downed Circle member, and he realizes his arrow is smoking, whisps of blue magic drifting up and around its fletching and into the air.

Alec swallows roughly. He’s been deliberately trying not to use Magnus’s magic, even though he can now usually feel it humming somewhere in the center of his being, occasionally venturing out to tickle his limbs. He can’t do anything to get rid of it, but Magnus had made it clear that he didn’t want him to use it, so he hasn’t been.

Now, though—he can’t be unhappy about the magic making sure the Circle member couldn’t get anywhere near Magnus.

Magnus follows his eyeline, staring at the smoking arrow for a long moment without speaking. “I didn’t know you were an archer,” he finally says, quietly.

It takes a very long moment for Alec’s brain to process this statement, as he becomes fixated on the blood dripping down Magnus’s forehead. “I— yeah,” he finally forces himself to say.

“And a good shot, too,” Magnus muses.

Alec doesn’t deny it. “Are you hurt?” he asks instead. He doesn’t know why Magnus hasn’t moved yet, if it’s just shock or a deeper injury Alec hasn’t spotted.

Magnus scrubs at his forehead, smearing the blood further across his face. “I suppose, but it’s no matter, my magic will take care of it. Just after I fix up the wards—”

He starts to push himself up the wall, but loses his balance with a stifled cry of pain, one of his legs crumpling underneath him. Alec lunges forward to catch him, easing him back down to the floor.

“Where are you hurt?” he asks. Or maybe it’s more like demands. He can’t help it. The bond, apparently, is not very good for physical pain. He can feel that Magnus is hurting, but the bodily hurts are all tied up with his emotional anguish, and even if they weren’t, they’re too diffuse for Alec to pinpoint an injury.

“My leg.” Magnus grimaces, gingerly stretching out his leg so Alec can see the blood soaking his thigh. “One of them got me with his seraph blade. But it’s no matter, I’ll be able to heal it.” He makes no immediate move to do so. “…In a bit.”

Alec pulls out a square of bandages from an inner pocket of his jacket, suddenly glad that he always carries some Mundane medical supplies, just in case iratzes aren’t working. He presses the gauze to the wound in Magnus’s thigh, and Magnus hisses. The bandage is immediately soaked in blood.

Alec presses down harder. “What happened here, Magnus? Was it because of Jocelyn?”

Magnus blinks at him hazily. “Jocelyn…? How do you know about that?”

“Clary was having dreams about you doing something with her memories.”

“Clary? But she— ah!” He curses as Alec presses harder on the wound. Alec doesn’t let up, but Magnus’s cry draws the others into the room, Clary in the lead.

“Magnus, do you know what—” she goes pale at the sight of the blood. “Oh my God, what happened?”

“What happened,” Magnus grits out, pushing ineffectually at Alec’s hands, “is what always happens, my dear Clarissa. A bigoted man couldn’t have what he wanted, so he slaughtered everyone in his way to get it. Unfortunately for Valentine Morgenstern, I’m four hundred years old and I don’t go down without a fight— ow, Alexander, stop!”

“You’re bleeding, don’t tell me to stop.” Alec turns to Clary and his siblings with an unimpressed look. “Can you give us a second?”

“Alec—” Jace tries, and Alec just glares at him.

Izzy tugs at Jace’s arm and drags him and Clary out of the room, giving Alec a very knowing look accompanied by a wink. Alec ignores her.

When they’re gone, he turns back to Magnus. “What happened to the other Warlocks?”

Magnus still has his hands over Alec’s on the wound, though he’s not so much pushing him away now, mostly just resting there. “Look, if you’re going to torment me, I’ll just heal it.”

Alec cautiously removes his hands, and watches as Magnus’s magic knits the skin of his thigh back together. Magnus slumps immediately afterward, all his energy spent.

Alec braces him by his shoulder. “What happened to the other Warlocks?” he repeats. “You said, ‘he slaughtered everyone.’”

Magnus considers him, looking thoughtful. “Clever,” he finally says. “They were sheltering here, but I already sent them away to somewhere whose wards weren’t lacerated. Those who made it, and—” he chokes but continues on— “those who didn’t.”

Alec rests a hand on his knee, just below where he was injured. “I’m so sorry.”

Magnus shrugs, but it’s a totally false gesture, and they both know it.

“Do you think you can stand? We should get your face cleaned up.” Alec can see now that the wound there appears to just be a shallow scrape, but it still needs to be dressed, and he’s not sure it’s a good idea for Magnus to use any more magic.

Magnus nods, and Alec helps him to his feet, stumbling slightly under the weight of him. Alec heads to the bathroom, and Magnus follows, limping a little even though his wound is superficially healed.

Magnus watches as Alec rummages around for a washcloth and wets it under the faucet. “Why are you doing this, anyway?”

Alec wrings the cloth out. He isn’t actually sure if Magnus is going to let him clean his face, but he has to try. “It’s my job.”

Magnus laughs harshly. “Since when is taking care of Warlocks part of a Shadowhunter’s job?”

“Not my job as a Shadowhunter.” Alec raises an eyebrow at him, cloth held out, making his intentions known. “My job as your husband.”

It’s still affecting to say it. Your husband. Magnus’s breath catches. He supports his weight against the wall, lets Alec step closer to wipe at his face. The easy acquiescence almost makes Alec wonder if he’s more injured than he was letting on. Or maybe he’s just tired of fighting. He feels tired, more so now that there’s less pain clouding the bond.

Alec’s about to say something else—an apology, maybe, for using his magic, both today and the night of their wedding, even if it was unintentional—but Magnus beats him to it.

“I hope that I didn’t…” he grimaces, tries again. “It was wrong of me to kick you out that night. I regretted it almost as soon as you walked out the door.”

It had hurt kind of a lot, actually, that rapid switch from tentative trust to complete rejection, but Alec doesn’t really want Magnus to know that. “You didn’t know that the bond would involve sharing magic. I can understand why you would feel blindsided by that.”

Magnus hums. “I regret it anyway. That wasn’t your fault.”

Alec keeps wiping at the blood on his forehead. They’re standing very close now, close enough that Alec can feel Magnus’s breath on his neck. He tries not to breathe too heavily lest Magnus can feel him, too.

As he leans in closer to see better, he realizes he can see slivers of gold in Magnus’s irises. He’s been wondering about that, Magnus’s eyes—they’re brown now, but Alec could’ve sworn he saw a flash of gold the other night. He doesn’t think now’s a good time to ask.

“I’ve been trying not to use it,” he says instead. “The magic. Just now, with the arrow—that was an accident. Other than that I’ve been— well, yeah.”

Magnus considers him, seeming surprised. “I appreciate that,” he finally says. “But, really, if we’re going to be like this from now on, we should probably learn to work together.”

Alec blinks. “Wait, really?”

Magnus’s lips quirk up in a half smile. “Wouldn’t do to be caught off guard again, would it?”

“I guess not. Although…” Alec bites his lip, trying to figure out how to verbalize what he’s been thinking over the past week. “It’s sort of different, isn’t it? The magic. It’s one thing to sort of pair up our lives, our careers. The magic feels different. Although I don’t fully understand how.”

Magnus’s gaze softens as he considers him. “It is different,” he agrees. “Perhaps one day soon I’ll tell you more about it. For now, I’ll try to teach you how to use some of it. Otherwise it’s liable to spiral out of control. And besides,” his lips tilt up into a smirk, “I want to see how I can use runes.”

Alec feels a smile growing on his face despite himself. “I didn’t even think of that,” he admits, taping a bandage to the cut on Magnus’s forehead, “but I guess you can.”

Jace yells for them from the living room, and Alec sighs, rolling his eyes as he steps back and out of Magnus’s space. Magnus’s smile stays on his face as he watches him, as he slowly pushes himself off the wall and turns for the hall.

“Shall we?”

 *

Magnus successfully retrieves Clary’s memories, but said memories don’t tell them much. Certainly not where they can find the Mortal Cup, or Jocelyn. Alec isn’t really surprised. Nothing involving Clary is going to be easy, he can already tell.

He is grateful, however, that her dream had let him get to Magnus in time to help him, so he refrains from making any snarky comments in her direction for the rest of the time they spend in Magnus’s apartment.

Alec’s prepared to leave with Clary and his siblings. As much as he might like to iron out a few more things with Magnus, he’s content for now with the fact that they’re at least talking again, and that Magnus doesn’t seem to hate him. Besides, Magnus has already had a long day and probably has lots of other work to do that doesn’t involve Alec. Not to mention rest.

But as he turns to leave, Magnus calls out to him. “Alexander, a word?”

Alec turns back to him, gesturing for the others to continue without him. “Magnus?”

Magnus waves him closer, and Alec steps back into the living room. Magnus lowers himself into an armchair with a soft sigh. Alec wonders if his leg is still paining him.

“Stay and have dinner with me?” Magnus asks. And then he winks. “Maybe I’ll even teach you a magic trick.”

Alec hesitates. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he hadn’t really thought Magnus would want him around longer than necessary. “Are you sure? You don’t have more important work to do? Protecting your Warlocks, for one thing. Or like, the wards are still down, this apartment isn’t even safe—”

He realizes he’s rambling, and makes himself shut up.

“My people are somewhere safe,” Magnus says. His gaze is sparkling and knowing and Alec has to avert his eyes. “And I have a dashing Shadowhunter here to protect me. Couldn’t be safer.”

Alec spins back to him, eyes wide. Does Magnus really feel that way now, or is he just teasing? “Magnus.”

Magnus cringes. “Right. I’m sorry. No more flirting, I promise. Total professionalism from now on.” He makes a zipping motion over his lips and throws away the key.

And that wasn’t what Alec meant, but he doesn’t correct him, because if Magnus does keep flirting with him he’ll probably have a heart attack and drop dead and then where will they be, really.

“It’s not like we have to be business partners or something,” Alec says. “And if you’re trying to apologize for the other night, don’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I told you that you’re always welcome here, and I meant it.” He looks very serious about it, dark eyes soft and concerned.

“And your entire life turned upside down in one night. It’s okay. At least we’re talking now.” He doesn’t want Magnus to feel bad about this, not when he’s already sacrificed so much.

Magnus seems unconvinced, but all he says is, “At least let me buy you dinner. I can get us a table at any restaurant in the city. Or we can get takeout, your preference.” And, just as he had that first night, he holds out his hand, lifting a questioning eyebrow at Alec.

Alec rolls his eyes at the drama of him, but feels himself smiling despite himself. “Fine. But we’re walking. You’ve used enough magic already.”

He takes Magnus’s hand, and something he hadn’t even realized was roiling around in his chest settles down at Magnus’s touch. Alec wonders if it’s always going to be like that with this bond: feeling unsettled when they’re apart, and finding his center again when they’re back together.

Magnus smiles tentatively up at him. “I’m thinking Indian, what do you say?”

Alec squeezes his hand. “Sounds perfect.”

[cuubism]

hello lgbt community

mind & heart, body & soul - chapter 5

alliance rune arranged marriage au | (ao3) 

*

They don’t go far for dinner, as Magnus doesn’t want to be too exposed after the attack. But at the same time, sitting down in the restaurant with Alec feels like a nice escape. Magnus knows he’ll have to deal with all of this eventually—Valentine, the Circle attack, his own people’s lack of trust in him—but for now he gets to sit down with his lovely, attentive husband for—

He freezes. Since when did he start thinking about him like that?

Alec is already a complicated enough addition to Magnus’s life. The last thing he needs is to make it even more complicated.

He pushes it aside for now to focus on dinner. Alec, for his part, looks somewhat out of place, and Magnus realizes that he probably almost never does anything like this—eating outside of the Institute, giving himself a moment to breathe.

Magnus pats his hand where it rests on the table, and Alec’s stiff expression eases a bit. “Relax, darling, it’s just dinner. Surely you Shadowhunters must eat?”

“We survive on adamas, actually,” Alec says, and Magnus gapes at him, startled and then delighted.

“Alexander, was that a joke?”

Alec grins, and Magnus feels soft for him. “We are capable of things other than fighting.”

“Mmm, apparently. Although your fighting was quite chivalrous as well.”

“I was just doing my job,” Alec says.

Magnus fixes him with a raised eyebrow. “Your job as my husband, I remember.”

Alec flushes a little, but doesn’t look away. “Yeah.”

Magnus decides to put that away to unpack later. The memory of Alec’s hands gently treating his wounds is a little too distracting for this venue.

For a moment they get distracted with ordering, and when their waiter steps away again Magnus finds Alec looking at him. “What is it, darling?”

Alec looks uncertain. “It’s just— are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Dinner.”

Magnus takes a sip of his wine. “Warlocks have to eat, too. We don’t subsist on magic.” Though he knows that’s not what Alec’s getting at.

“No, I mean— we don’t have to be—” he waves a hand that vaguely encompasses them— “this. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“The magic thing wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, it’s just—” Alec sighs, looking down. “It’s all a lot of weight, is all.”

They’ve gotten off so on the wrong foot, and Magnus can’t help but feel like it’s his fault. “It is a lot of weight,” he agrees, and Alec’s shoulders slump a little, “but easier to carry it together, no?”

Alec looks back up at him then, a tentative smile on his face.

Magnus decides to take a bit of a leap of faith, figuring if Alec had wanted to go to the Clave with the knowledge of their shared magic, he would have done so already. “Here, look.” He holds out a hand, willing a small flame to life in his palm. “Try to do that yourself.”

Alec watches his magic warily, like he thinks if he tries to do it Magnus will react the same way as before. But after a moment, he holds out his own hand, brows scrunching as he tries to call the magic forth.

“Don’t force it,” Magnus advises. “Just try to feel it.”

Alec lets out a long, slow breath, closing his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, a blue flame flares up in his palm, burning wildly for a moment before it settles down.

He looks up at Magnus, a spark of genuine delight in his eyes, clearly looking for some kind of approval, or for that glee to be echoed, but Magnus can’t say anything to him for a long moment. He finds himself caught by the sight of the magic in Alec’s palm, the faint blue glow against his skin, how Magnus can feel it, like a distant echo of his own magic. He swallows hard.

“Magnus?” Alec calls when Magnus still doesn’t say anything. “Is this okay?”

Magnus tries to school his features back into pleased neutrality. “It’s perfect, darling. Well done.”

He takes his own hand, still simmering with magic, and closes it over Alec’s, letting the flames merge and then snuff each other out. Alec is very still as they touch, watching their joined hands.

“I guess I’ll have to teach you some runes now,” he says once the magic has settled back under their skin.

“If for nothing else, imagine the looks on the Clave’s face when I start wearing them,” Magnus says, and Alec grins. “But in all seriousness, don’t tell the Clave about the magic just yet. I shudder to think what they’ll do with the knowledge.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it. They’ll find out eventually, though, one way or another.”

“Yes, but by then I’ll have time to craft an appropriate threat. While I work on it, mum’s the word.”

Alec nods, looking thoughtful. And then he says, “This thing with Valentine… it probably makes this marriage seem pretty disingenuous on the part of the Clave. I mean not that it wasn’t already.”

If Magnus had had more time between fighting Valentine’s soldiers and now to think about it, he probably would have thought their marriage was some kind of coverup, a distraction, as Alec’s suggesting. As it is he hasn’t had much time to consider it. “Do you think they knew about it?”

“Hard to say… Valentine’s a threat to the Clave as well, so if they knew he was alive and gathering power I think they would have done something. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t turn a blind eye to his followers.”

That sounds about right to Magnus. “Alexander,” he says when Alec continues to look uncertain, “I understand you’re trying to think things through from my perspective, and I appreciate it. But the Clave will do what it will do. We’ll drive ourselves crazy if we keep trying to define this relationship through their intentions. I think it’s time we start defining it for ourselves, what do you think?”

A tentative half-smile spreads on Alec’s face. “I— yeah, that sounds good.”

“Excellent.”

 *

Somehow, Magnus manages to convince Alec to stay the night—“I promise I won’t kick you out this time, darling”—and not just that night, but several others over the next few weeks. It becomes sort of a pattern for them: Alec will drop by after a patrol or when the politics at the Institute get to be too much, and Magnus will ply him with drinks—which he rarely drinks—and they’ll talk. About politics and the role of their marriage in the Shadow World. About what they want that role to be. About their pasts, as much as they’re willing to reveal at this stage. Magnus learns that Alec’s never actually been in a relationship, which he suspected, and Alec learns that Magnus has been in, well, many.

He wonders if that fact might have scared Alec off, in a different world where he was able to be scared off.

His only regret about their late-night talks is that Alec never stays past dawn. Magnus has offered breakfast, but his husband always makes some excuse about needing to get to the Institute. Magnus thinks that he probably doesn’t want to overstay his welcome in Magnus’s life, even though they’re married. His place his Magnus’s life is absolute now, whether he likes it or not.

It’s during one of these early-morning escapes that Alec asks the question Magnus has been expecting—and maybe dreading—for a while now.

“So,” Alec says, hesitating by the door as he shrugs his bow onto his shoulder, “all those relationships. And you’ve never been married?”

For a long moment, Magnus considers lying. But he finds he doesn’t want to lie to Alec. He doesn’t want his marriage, even just a political one, to be built on lies. “No,” he says, trying to play it off as casual, “I’ve been in love before, but I’ve never been married.”

For a moment, Alec looks almost relieved, and then a little sad, and a lot sad. And then he says one of the worst things Magnus has ever heard:

“Well, perks of being immortal, right? This doesn’t have to be your only one.”

He seems to think this will be comforting, but Magnus stares at him in alarm. “Alexander—”

Maybe Alec can feel the depth of Magnus’s concern through the bond, because his expression falters. But before Magnus can say anything else, Alec’s edging his way out the door. “I— I gotta get to the Institute. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Magnus nods as if to say, I’ll be here. And then Alec’s gone.

Later Magnus texts him a picture of one of his cats wearing a hat to try and cheer him up, but doesn’t get a response.

 *

Magnus had known he was putting a lot at risk with this marriage, even if he’d done it for the Downworld. But he hadn’t realized just how much he was jeopardizing his reputation until it had already been done.

“What on earth do you mean, you can’t have me at the meeting?”

The sniveling prick on the other end of the line sighs in a dramatic, put-upon way as he tries to tell Magnus that his presence isn’t welcome at this Warlock council meeting. A war council to discuss Valentine, of all things, and they don’t want him there. “I’m sorry, Magnus,” he says, not sounding very sorry, “it’s just, it’s the whole Shadowhunter thing. How do we know we can trust you?”

With great effort, Magnus restrains himself from snarling, I’m the motherfucking High Warlock of Brooklyn, bitch. Instead, he just hangs up and flings his phone across the room.

Cat looks up at him from where she’s sitting on his couch, sedately knitting a scarf. “That bad, huh?”

Magnus lets out a long breath, trying to temper his fury. “They think that Alec makes me a liability.”

Cat, ever the pragmatist, inclines her head. “If I didn’t know you as well, and wasn’t privy to all of the negotiations and concessions that went into the marriage, I might think so, too.”

“Not helpful, Cat.”

She just shrugs and goes back to her knitting. “Look, it’s not fair that you have to prove yourself when you’ve already done so dozens of times over, but things are rarely fair when the Clave is involved. I think everyone will come around with a bit of time. If you really trust Alec as much as you say, try showing him off a little, let the other Warlocks get to know him. That could help, too.”

“Throw him to the wolves when I’ve barely known him three weeks? I might gain favor with the community that way, but I’ll lose it with my husband.”

“It’s a process, is all I’m saying.”

Magnus sits down in his armchair across from her. “Will you please go to this war council in my place? At least one competent individual needs to be present, and Lord knows if you don’t go they’ll pick Rey to represent New York.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go. It’s not like I want Lorenzo to get us all killed.”

This pacifies Magnus a bit, but he still stews the rest of the afternoon, which he feels bad about because he never likes to make Cat’s day more stressful than it already is. But he can’t help but be furious with the Warlock community for how quickly and easily they’ve turned on him, even after everything. Warlocks are supposed to have longer memories than this.

At least the fury keeps the heartbreak at bay.

The last thing Magnus needs is more stress in his day. In fact, he’s even considering calling Alec to come over later, despite the fact that his husband’s been sort of cagey with him since their strange little discussion about marriage.

Of course, it’s not to be. Of course, it’s mere seconds after he’s sent Cat through a portal to her shift at the hospital that two Shadowhunters are bursting through his front door with a mortally injured werewolf suspended between them.

Magnus squints at them from across the room. Every interaction with these two makes him feel like he might be losing his mind. “Is that Lucien?”

“Help us, he’s injured!” Clary yells, dragging Luke over to Magnus’s couch with surprising strength considering he’s twice her size and practically a dead weight. Magnus looks him over and cringes at what he finds. Luke’s clothes and skin are torn to shreds, and he seems barely conscious, delirious even.

Magnus can already tell he isn’t going to be able to heal this under his own strength alone.

He summons a pad of paper and scribbles a quick list, tearing it off and shoving it in the direction of the other Shadowhunter—Jace, Magnus thinks his name is, but he honestly can’t be bothered to be sure. “You, Blondie. I need these ingredients.”

Jace takes the list and turns to go with one last glance at Clary, who’s kneeling by Luke’s side, before Magnus remembers one other thing he needs and whirls back around.

“Oh—and I need Alexander.”

Jace blinks at him confusedly. “Why do you need Alec?”

Magnus already knows he’s going to need to borrow someone’s energy to finish this healing. He’d really rather not do that with one of these two when he could do it with his husband. He lifts his left hand in front of Jace’s face and points violently to his ring. “Why do you think?”

Jace leaves quickly after that, which Magnus is incredibly grateful for, even if he isn’t entirely sure if Alec will actually come.

 *

Magnus is just about to cave and start drawing energy from Clary when Alec skids into the loft and collapses to his knees by Magnus’s side. “What’s going on?”

He’s clearly out of breath, but his presence next to Magnus is steady.

“I need your strength,” Magnus ekes out, alarmed at how his voice wavers. He’s more tired than he realized. He holds out a hand. “Help me. Please.”

Instead of taking his hand, Alec reaches for his pocket, and Magnus thinks for a brief, incredulous second that he’s actually not going to help. But Alec just pulls out his stele, yanks up the hem of his shirt and activates the strength rune on his stomach.

Magnus gasps as a burst of renewed power floods his system, tingling along his nerves and clearing some of the haze from his eyes. The rune’s power feels sort of icy, sort of how Magnus might have imagined angelic power would feel if he’d taken the time to consider it, but also rejuvenating, like the shock of a cold drink on a hot day.

He manages to find the strength in between maintaining the stream of magic into Luke’s wounds to turn to Alec and wink. “Well, at least we know that works.”

Alec grins, and then he’s taking Magnus’s hand and wrapping his other arm around him to push him back upright. Magnus tugs on his energy, and oh, it’s so much easier to do that when they share magic compared with anyone else Magnus has tried to take energy from in the past. It just flows from Alec’s body to his, and his magic glows brighter blue as he continues his work, and the bond sings.

When he’s finished, Magnus is so caught up in the connection between them, almost dizzy with it, that he doesn’t realize it’s his own exhaustion he’s feeling, and not Alec’s, until he’s toppling over against Alec’s chest.

Alec catches him, breaking the connection of their energy. “You okay?”

Still out of breath, Magnus can only nod. Alec’s demon-hunting jacket is scratchy against his cheek, but his chest is solid and warm, and his arm is still around Magnus’s shoulders. Alec doesn’t seem inclined to move him, so Magnus lets himself rest there for a long time, body still thrumming from the energy transfer, thinking that while it may take him a while to convince the Downworld that he’s still on their side, the effort may end up being worth it in exchange for this.

Eventually, he has to get up, to finish helping Luke if for nothing else. He forces himself to his feet, gets dizzy, sways, and almost falls, but Alec catches him again. He guides Magnus over to one of his armchairs and pushes him down by his shoulders.

“Stay there,” he orders, and Magnus is helpless but to obey.

After several moments of heavy breathing and slowly vanishing dizziness he does get up, wanting to help get Luke situated in the guest room, though of course by the time he gets there they’re all set. Clary is by Luke’s side, and Magnus gets the sense that he and Alec shouldn’t linger, though Luke does offer him a smile and a thank you, none of the reservation in his gaze that Magnus has been getting so often from the Warlocks. It’s good to know he still has at least one ally in the Downworld.

Alec follows him back out into the living room. It’s a complete mess, but Magnus figures that’s a problem for later. For now, there’s something far more pressing.

He spins around to face Alec. “Drinks?”

The tolerant smile Alec gives him tells Magnus precisely what he thinks of drinks, in particular, but still he says, “Alright. Just one, though. After that I should probably be getting back.”

Magnus frowns. “You know you’re welcome to stay. Luke’s stolen your bedroom, but I know I can find somewhere for you to crash.”

It occurs to Magnus right after he says this that maybe he’s being too pushy. Maybe Alec doesn’t want to stay, didn’t feel what he did when they shared magic, doesn’t want their relationship to become closer. But Magnus can’t find it in himself to take it back. He’s feeling rather desperate to keep Alec close after the day of rejection he’s had, after how close he had him during the magic sharing.

Mercifully, Alec’s expression softens. “Yeah, okay. I mean, I can stay on the couch.” He looks over at the mess that still occupies it. “After we get rid of the blood.”

Magnus snaps his fingers and it’s gone, even though that action takes a lot out of him and he sags tiredly when it’s done. Alec looks at him disapprovingly, but Magnus can’t say he regrets it.

He holds a glass out in Alec’s direction. “So, what’ll it be, darling?”

[cuubism]

WHATS THIS ABOUT ALLIANCE RUNE ARRANGED POLITICAL MARRIAGE?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!

SEE THE NOTES OF THIS POST  @magnusbae

tldr AU where magnus and alec get married for political reasons before they ever started dating in the show, and a bond via the alliance rune is part of said marriage  

cue: each thinking their new husband hates them. falling in love while thinking that the other thinks it’s just for political reasons. feeling each others emotions through the rune and learning to read and work with and comfort each other before they even start really talking or getting to know each other. alec using magnus’s magic and magnus feeling really bitter about it until he actually sees alec’s awe and wonder for it. PINING. EXTREME PINING. FEELING EACH OTHER’S PINING THROUGH THE BOND AND THINKING THE OTHER IS UNHAPPY IN THE MARRIAGE

OH BONUS ANGST POINTS IF THEY REALIZE ALEC’S IMMORTAL BEFORE THEY REALIZE THEIR LOVE IS REQUITED 

oh god i might have to write it now 

[ladymatt]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Isabelle Lightwood, Maryse Lightwood, Ragnor Fell, Jace Wayland, Valentine Morgenstern, Catarina Loss Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alliance Rune (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Soul Bond, Angst, Mutual Pining, Discrimination Against Downworlders, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), mentions of canon-typical homophobia, Misunderstandings, Sharing Magic, Devotion, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Protective Alec Lightwood, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Battle Couple Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Sharing a Bed, Alcohol, Near Death Experiences Summary:

The ceremony is over. The halls of the Institute are quiet, somber, in mourning maybe. Alec feels alternately completely numb and like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

And his husband is nowhere to be found.

a Soul Bond/Arranged Marriage AU