Chapter Text
Alec
The Council room filled up slowly. Alec and Magnus were there at four on the dot, no thanks to Magnus’s suggestion that they save time by showering together, and the others slowly trickled in after them.
As usual, Oberon and Qinemru arrived fashionably late — Alec knew that Magnus would have been equally late, if Alec hadn’t insisted on them both arriving on time, but that didn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow at them in light reprimand. Juliette stepped through a portal from Buenos Aires only a moment afterward (with an apology for her lateness), and was followed by Raphael (who did not offer an apology).
Sofía was, as always, the last to arrive — verging on obnoxiously late, but the Praetor Lupus probably saw it as a power play. Alec had decided the best course of action was simply to ignore her lateness.
The fifteen of them sat down around the pentagonal table Magnus had insisted was a necessary part of the décor for these meetings, large enough that the three representatives of each faction could sit together on each of the five sides. A spell had been cast over the room to translate all languages into the hearer’s native tongue, because although Alec could speak sufficient Spanish, Hindu, Japanese, and Arabic to communicate with any individual person in the room, and several spoke fluent English, there were still a few who couldn’t communicate with each other without a translator. And it was convenient for everybody if they could simply speak in their first language.
Alec sat on the Shadowhunter side of the table, to the left of Amita Anand, with Jia Penhallow on Amita’s other side. Magnus was across a corner from Alec, seated with the warlocks. Oberon was sitting in the middle of the warlock side — to his chagrin, the warlocks were seated across from the faeries, and he couldn’t sit beside Qinemru — and Tosa was to Oberon’s left. The three warlocks had been chosen as the representatives of the Spiral Council, of which they were all members. Next were the vampires: Yuan, Siham, and Raphael. They’d decided to rotate out their representatives once a year, holding elections via Projections from covens all over the world. The faeries were again to the left — Nerissa, now the Seelie Queen after the old one’s Court turned against her thanks to her treachery in siding with Valentine; Qinemru, apparently one of the oldest faeries living and Oberon’s partner; and Kieran, the Unseelie King. They were placed so as to separate the vampires from the werewolves; Sofía (chosen as representative of the Praetor Lupus) took her place to the right of Juliette (chosen for her renown in Buenos Aires), with Luke (chosen because of his previous experience being a Shadowhunter) on Juliette’s left. The Praetor was trying to get the right to choose two of the three representatives, but as only about a third of the world’s werewolf population was in the Praetor, they’d only been allowed to select one representative, with the other two chosen by the Alphas of packs all over the world.
This was their sixth meeting — Alec had called the first ten days after the Battle of Alicante, as it was now known, and since then it’d been monthly. There’d been few problems, thankfully.
Though at first, quite a few Downworlders had refused to help Shadowhunters fight demons (a combination of worry that the Shadowhunters would turn on them and an understandable reluctance to put their lives on the line), Magnus’s clear support for the joint patrols had won many of them over. He’d talked about how necessary it was to protect the mundanes, especially with the drop in Shadowhunter numbers due to the deaths at the Battle of Alicante (deaths that had happened protecting Downworlders, Magnus had added), and pointed out that if Shadowhunters needed Downworlders to do their job, it’d be less likely for them to turn on the Downworld again. Plus, frequent contact with Downworlders would convert reluctant Shadowhunters faster than Alec’s laws could — you were less likely to consider a Downworlder a demon after they’d saved your life from an actual demon. Downworlder involvement in patrols rose, and they’d now reached a fairly stable level — all over the world, there were fewer mundane deaths from demons than there’d been in the last three centuries.
The Downworld Council had still had a lot to do, soothing ruffled feathers and occasionally adjudicating conflicts around the world. They’d usually send one Councilmember from each race involved with the conflict, the representatives chosen for their impartiality, though there’d been less and less need of such trips as time went on.
Once everyone was seated, Magnus flicked his fingers, putting up the customary privacy wards around the room, and the meeting began.
Magnus
During the preliminaries for the meeting, Alec seemed unusually anxious, fingers tapping lightly on his lap.
Nobody had any particular complaints to lodge, though Siham informed them that even more vampires were hoping to join Shadowhunter patrols. “Mostly, I believe, because they want to go out in the sunlight.”
Alec nodded. “I don’t have any objections to greater involvement, obviously, though perhaps we could implement a compulsory night patrol on occasion, to balance out the numbers?”
Raphael raised an eyebrow. “I hope you don’t intend to start dictating when and where we can patrol, Shadowhunter.”
“Of course not, but Shadowhunters are legally obliged to patrol at night — why should it be so different for Downworlders? While I understand why that would reduce the appeal for vampires, there honestly aren’t enough daytime patrols for all the vampires who want to join. If they had to patrol at night once a week, say, on a day of their choice, it’d increase participation on nighttime patrols.”
“We will consider it,” Siham said. He seemed open to the idea, though he couldn’t approve it on his own initiative — the vampire representatives were only representatives, after all. They weren’t leaders, and couldn’t make executive decisions for the entire vampire population.
“Anything else, then?” Alec asked, noting down a reminder to discuss this again at the next meeting.
When nobody spoke up, Alec nodded sharply. “I have a proposition.” This was, Magnus guessed, what he’d been nervous about, though none of that anxiety showed now. “I know that in some cities, Downworlder groups have systems in place to help newer members.”
Nods from the werewolves and vampires. “It’s not everywhere, though,” Luke added.
“The Praetor Lupus’ program is available to anyone, anywhere,” Sofía corrected stiffly.
“Yes, but nobody actually goes to that program,” Luke shot back. “It’s inefficient and cubs need to join the Praetor to get in, which many of them (reasonably) don’t want to. The only actually working systems are for packs that have organized one themselves.”
Before Sofía could retort something biting, Alec cut in smoothly. “In any case, it seems that such a system is not widely used. My suggestion is an international organization—”
“You can’t expect us to let you take all our cubs and fledglings away to some Shadowhunter institution,” Siham hissed.
Alec raised his hands placatingly. “Shadowhunters wouldn’t be running it — I’m suggesting a collaborative effort, between all the different races.”
“And why should Shadowhunters, warlocks, and faeries get involved in something for wolves and vampires?” Sofía asked angrily, though at least she wasn’t insisting that it was unnecessary anymore.
“Because Shadowhunters need to learn to control their Downworlder abilities, too. And while faeries wouldn’t need to be involved, this is certainly for warlocks as well — it could be a school for young warlocks to gain greater control over their own powers.”
Magnus turned toward Alec, eyes slightly widened. He hadn’t thought of this as something to help warlocks, when Alec had first brought it up, but of course it would be an incredible step forward. He thought of himself, eight years old, having killed his step-father after his mother’s suicide, magic out of control and easily convinced to follow the demon with the same cat-like eyes as him — he’d told Alec, in bits and pieces, about that particular aspect of his past, and Alec had only held him closer.
Alec looked back at him, smiling softly, and Magnus knew that Alec had been thinking of that, too. How much pain might have been averted if such a school had existed four hundred years earlier?
“It’s a good idea,” Juliette was saying, when Magnus reluctantly pulled his attention away from Alec. “We do need something of that sort, and an interracial, international effort like this would also increase cooperation.”
Yuan was nodding. “A place to help fledglings learn more about what they are, and to stay without endangering mundanes, would indeed be beneficial.” Magnus wondered if he, too, was thinking of his own past experiences.
“I think it’s brilliant,” Oberon added. “I’m sure Magnus could come up with a way to track when a warlock is born—”
“Why can’t you invent some new magic for a change?” Magnus asked immediately.
“Because, my dear friend, you’re a good deal better at it than I am. Remember the portal?”
Before Magnus could give a suitable retort, Tosa spoke up. “One of them will be able to figure it out, I’m sure. Does anyone have an idea for the location?”
Alec grinned at Magnus, a light in his eyes. They hadn’t voted to create the program or institution yet, but everybody was now discussing the details of how it would work — taking for granted that they were doing this.
Oddly, there was still a nervousness in Alec, even after the meeting was over.
Alec
They walked home to the loft in companionable silence. It would’ve been cold if not for Magnus’s magic wrapped around the two of them, and Magnus’s fingers tangled with Alec’s.
Alec did his best not to worry about what Magnus might say once he asked the question that’d been on his mind for the last several weeks, or about the box in his pocket that seemed to weigh on his mind far more than something of its size ought to.
The loft was the same one as in New York — Magnus had received the building along with his appointment as High Warlock of Alicante, and he’d immediately moved the loft to the new location, adjusting it slightly to fit into the space. He’d passed the spell off as simple, but Alec had been curious enough to ask Cat about it, and she’d laughed and explained that it required a fairly substantial chunk of power and a deep understanding of portal theory. “I doubt anyone but Magnus does it on a regular basis. It’s a lot of work, and most warlocks would prefer to simply establish a new home.”
Alec could certainly understand why Magnus had chosen to keep the loft, though. It was full of furniture and items, mostly hand-picked by Magnus, and of memories — Magnus’s, Alec’s, both of theirs. It was home, in a way the Institute wasn’t; there, he had to be constantly on his guard, fearful that somebody would discover one of the many secrets he kept. In the loft, he could relax, and he knew that Magnus felt similarly.
So, the loft was in Alicante now, and within walking distance of the Accords Hall building, which contained the room for the Downworld Council. The streets of Alicante had been only vaguely familiar to Alec, when they’d first moved here — while he’d lived in Alicante until he turned sixteen, he’d mostly stayed either in the Lightwood Manor or at the Academy, with little time spent wandering the city itself — but by now, he knew the area well.
Alec’s current role as member of the Downworld Council might have been the least stressful he’d had since he was thirteen — no more managing a worldwide Resistance, no more running an Institute. He was the official Shadowhunter delegate sent to resolve issues with the new Shadowhunter-Downworlder patrols around the world (except problems in New York, which Amita dealt with because New York was considered too close to home for him), and he had the monthly meetings with the Heads — members of the Downworld Council, it had been decided, were to be included in the meetings, with votes equal to a Head’s — and occasionally, he’d go to New York or another Institute with Magnus to provide backup or just for fun. Still, a lot of his time was empty.
Or had been empty. After his job as Shadowhunter delegate from the Council had calmed down slightly, about two months after the Battle of Alicante, he’d begun teaching archery courses at the Academy. The students all knew that he was the Wolf, which meant that they either loved him or hated him, depending on their upbringing, but even those who hated him had learned to at least respect his skill with a bow. (There was a reason he’d been one of the five archers sent to kill Jonathan at the Battle of Alicante.)
He still felt slightly purposeless, without the goal he’d been working toward for nearly half his lifetime, but that feeling faded with every passing day.
His nightmares were fading, too. As he’d expected, he’d barely slept without waking up in a cold sweat, having dreamed of any of the myriad things that might’ve gone wrong. He’d dreamed most frequently of those hours on the island, tortured for information, lying through his teeth and trying not to succumb to the truth potion he’d been given. Magnus was there when he woke up, though, always ready to hold him close or give him space, talk about it or not, as the situation required.
Magnus was always there, a comforting thought in the back of Alec’s mind even when they weren’t together. The barrier of their respective secrets about the Shadow World was gone, now, and with it, a weight Alec had barely noticed had vanished.
He knew, with a certainty that almost frightened him, that this was what he wanted, for the rest of his life. And that brought him back to the weight in his pocket, and what Magnus would answer.
Magnus
When they arrived back at the loft, Alec’s nervousness seemed to increase as he led Magnus into the dining room. The table was decorated with candles, the evening light combining with them to softly illuminate the room; there was a meal set for two, clearly something that Alec had cooked himself, kept warm with heat runes.
“This is…” Magnus trailed off, blinking at the scene. “I didn’t think you’d remember that today’s the anniversary of the first time we met.”
Alec huffed, pulling Magnus all the way into the room from the spot in the doorway where he’d paused, taking it all in. “Of course I remembered, though I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“Is this what you were so nervous about?” Magnus asked. Alec gave something between a shrug, a nod, and a headshake, which looked slightly ridiculous and also adorable, so Magnus kissed him until Alec reluctantly told him that the food was getting cold.
Alec had made chicken cacciatore — his first time making it, Alec added, so he’d been prepared to order in if it failed. It did not, however, fail; Isabelle might have been incapable of cooking anything edible, but the same certainly did not apply to her brother. Perhaps it’d done the reverse, actually — Alec had needed to learn how to cook, if only so that Izzy didn’t poison them all with an attempt at a home-cooked meal.
“And the Institute food isn’t any better,” Alec added. “I mean, it’s edible, but it’s completely tasteless. One time I thought they’d made a fairly decent oatmeal, by their standards, until I learned that it was supposed to be scrambled eggs.”
Magnus’s face must have made an entertainingly horrified expression, because Alec laughed, head thrown back, and Magnus lost his train of thought in watching him.
“If I hadn’t learned to cook, we would’ve been living off of takeout for the last ten years,” Alec continued. “Jace certainly wasn’t going to, and Clary — well, she knows the basics, but she’d rather eat takeout a lot of the time, so I ended up being the one in charge of meals.”
“Of course you did,” Magnus said fondly.
The dinner passed in easy talk, Magnus finding himself laughing hard enough his sides began to cramp up at a story about Jace drinking Seelie wine and ending up running naked down Wall Street with a pair of antlers. Though he hid it exceedingly well, however, Alec was still anxious.
After eating, Alec took Magnus out onto the balcony, which had been decorated with candles as well. The loft was a story above the other houses in Alicante — lower than it’d been in New York, because there weren’t any skyscrapers in Alicante, but high enough that they could see the city clearly from the balcony.
It was mostly dark, the sun having set while they ate dinner, and the stars were beginning to come out (brighter than they’d been in New York, thanks to the lack of light pollution). There was no sound of cars, not like in New York, and Magnus had long grown accustomed to the silence — he had, after all, been born several centuries before cars had been invented. The quiet was peaceful, calm. Oddly enough, Alicante — the Shadowhunters’ City of Glass, the Nephilim homeland, barred to Downworlders until six months ago — had begun to feel like home.
Glancing sideways at Alec, Magnus thought that really, it was Alec who felt like home.
Alec was looking back at him, a soft expression on his face. “You know, the first time I saw you, my first thought was how beautiful you were.”
Magnus blinked, blushing — he’d blushed more in the past year than he had in the century previous, he was fairly certain, but Alec had a way of breaking down his barriers with words that seemed to dip right down to his soul. “Why thank you, Alexander. My first thought was probably wondering why the hot one were ordering such ridiculously sweet coffee, though honestly your sweet tooth is quite adorable—”
Huffing, Alec pressed a soft kiss to Magnus’s lips, shutting him up, before going on. “I know I’m not good with words” — Magnus spared a moment to raise an incredulous eyebrow at the obvious falsity of that statement — “and I certainly turned into a stuttering mess the first time you actually talked to me.” That was true, Magnus supposed, and it had been all the more endearing. He didn’t interrupt, wanting to let Alec finish.
“But these words I always try to say: I love you. You are the best, brightest light in my life — you’re beautiful, not to mention really hot when you’re doing magic, but more than that you’re selfless, and brilliant, and kind, and definitely out of my league—”
Now that, Magnus would not let stand. “You underestimate yourself, Alexander.”
Alec shushed him with a kiss again before going on. “Either way, I am so incredibly lucky to have you — to have met you, to have you love me back, to have you not mind that I’m a Shadowhunter… I love you, and I want to spend every day of my life loving you, if I can.”
Magnus inhaled sharply, realizing where Alec was going with this just as Alec went down on one knee, pulling a box from his pocket.
“So, Magnus Bane, love of my life — will you marry me?”
Alec
The next three seconds were quite possibly the longest of Alec’s life.
Magnus simply blinked at him for a good second and a half, Alec’s anxiety mounting all the while, and then his eyes flicked down to the ring in Alec’s hands and remained there for another second, before Magnus looked back up at Alec, lips curving suddenly up, and pulled him into a kiss.
“Yes,” Magnus said, as soon as he had air to breathe. “A thousand times yes, Alexander.”
Grinning with a combination of relief and sheer love for this man, Alec kissed him again, though he couldn’t do it properly due to the smiles on both of their faces. He took Magnus’s hand then, gently, and slipped the ring onto Magnus’s finger. It was a bit loose, but a blue spark danced around it and it tightened slightly until it fit perfectly, and the two of them looked down at it for a moment. Alec could feel pure elation bubbling in his chest, the ring looking so right on Magnus’s hand: a relatively simple gold band with a row of blue stones (the same colour as Magnus’s magic) along the top, runes for love and hope and commitment traced on the inside. Though it was less flashy than some of Magnus’s other rings, Alec knew it’d stand out all the more for its simplicity. And it was gold and blue — though Alec didn’t know a lot about warlock customs, he knew that they married in blue, while Shadowhunters married in gold.
“I can’t believe you beat me to it,” Magnus said with a huff. “I had it all planned out for the nine-month anniversary of us getting together, which is literally next week—”
Alec blinked. Magnus had been planning to propose? Alec knew that he’d never been married before, and though he’d dared to hope that Magnus might agree to marry him, he’d never thought that Magnus himself might want to ask. “You—”
“Yeah,” Magnus said, pressing a soft kiss to Alec’s lips. “I was going to ask you. You’re something special, Alexander Gideon Lightwood.”
(Of course he’d been able to read Alec’s surprise and understand immediately why he’d felt that way. It was one of the many, many reasons Alec loved Magnus — he could almost always read Alec, no matter what masks Alec put up between them.)
“I have a ring, too,” Magnus added, flicking his fingers over his open palm to summon it. Like the one Alec had given him, it was gold, and the gemstones were a nearly identical shade of blue — Alec spared a moment to grin at the similarities. This ring was slightly more complex, however: a single blue stone was elevated slightly, delicate gold filigree holding it up, smaller blue stones embedded in the filigree. “It’s got spells on it, protection spells, plus a few so that it doesn’t hurt your hand, or break, if you punched somebody with it, so you shouldn’t need to take it off to do your Shadowhunting. I mean, I wouldn’t recommend using it on a punching bag, because it’ll tear the bag to shreds, but it won’t break your finger. And—”
Alec cut Magnus off with a kiss, because he was rambling, and then held out his hand. Magnus’s touch was reverent and oh-so-gentle as they slid the ring onto his finger, and then he lifted Alec’s hand to his mouth and kissed it in an old-fashioned gesture that had Alec pulling him into another kiss.
There would be more battles in the future, more struggles — that much, they knew. The world rarely consented to be at peace for long, and because of their positions, they would likely be on the front lines.
But for now, they were home.
