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Magnus was happy to be able to see clients again. He really was. It was an interesting job that paid extremely well. So what if everyone just expected him to do the impossible in a moment’s notice? He had a reputation of having all the answers and providing every solution, a few all nighters doing research were worth it to maintain it. Though of course, allowing clients into his home implied having to lower his wards which could lead to unpleasant situations.
Like tonight, for example, when what should have been a simple consultation on ancient texts (thankfully his last appointment of the day) had turned into him being attacked by two circle members. And really it shouldn’t have been a problem. They were clearly desperate now that no one was there to think for them and not the most skillful fighters. Probably part of Valentine’s ‘new race’. But it was late and his other clients had required extremely complicated spells, so he was completely spent. Hell, he was so tired that if it hadn’t been because it was simply an academic consultation, Magnus would have cancelled this visit.
Not that it mattered. Magnus Bane may no longer be the High Warlock of Brooklyn but he was a force to be reckoned with and, magic or no magic, he would not go down like this.
The bald man tried to slash him, which rude, Magnus’ jacket was designer and extremely expensive, and Magnus jumped to a side, using the Shadowhunter’s momentum to throw him to the ground and take his blade.
It burned. It burned like hell which was probably appropriate given the circumstances. But it was worth it to see the fear in their eyes when the blade started shining with a bloody red light far more brighter than their white one. Not so courageous now that he was armed, were they?
The woman let out an outraged cry and came at him with her blade drawn. Her mistake. A real Shadowhunter, one that had been trained since birth would have had a change of besting him if they didn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. But this woman clearly hadn’t handled a blade before being recruited by Valentine and Magnus had centuries of practice. He also had a gorgeous boyfriend who enjoyed sparring against him and who was he to deny him. The point was that in less than a minute the woman laid down in the ground, her eyes blank.
Magnus couldn’t suppress the pity, and maybe the smidge of guilt, that floored him. She may have been trying to kill him but this woman, who couldn’t be older than thirty, had been abducted by Valentine and brainwashed. All she knew of the Shadow World were things she had learned from the Circle so the truth was, she probably hadn’t had a chance. And now she was dead by Magnus’ hand. If he had been using magic he would have tried to find a way to capture her without killing, to allow her to learn better. But with a weapon that he was not familiar with, exhausted and outnumbered he couldn’t afford to miss his blows.
The man rose from the ground, his eyes burning with hatred and, still unarmed, started staggering towards Magnus. He raised his sword again but it didn’t matter. The man had only taken a step towards him when an arrow pierced his neck.
“Honey I’m home,” Alec joked in his best suburban imitation.
Magnus couldn’t supress a chuckle. He turned around to smile at his boyfriend and froze. Alec’s eyes were fixed on his right hand where he was still holding the blade burning red and he looked almost afraid. Magnus dropped the blade in reflex and Alec’s brow furrowed even further. He quickly walked to his side and, to Magnus’ surprise, stepped over the now deactivated blade without giving it so much as a glance.
Instead, he took Magnus's hand and brought it to his face. “Does it hurt?”
“What?” What was he talking about? Didn’t he want to know how a Downworlder could activate the angelic blade? Magnus’ eyes dropped towards the weapon, trying to decipher what Alec was saying.
“Your hand, it’s all burned up. Can’t you heal it?” Alec asked and Magnus’ eyes widened. His hand! He had forgotten about it. His eyes returned to Alec’s face and, now that he was closer, he could see that what he had thought was fear was actually concern. Concern for Magnus because his hand was hurt.
“I’m afraid my magic won’t do anything to a wound like this.”
“Catarina’s then.”
“She can’t help either,” Magnus shook his head. “The blade was trying to purify me, that can’t be healed with magic, it has to heal naturally. Though I do have some natural ointments that will help speed up its recovery.”
“Okay then,” Alec said pulling Magnus towards his apothecary, still holding his hand. He paused, turning around to look at the floor and Magnus felt cold. Was he going to ask about the blade? “Can you do something about....” he looked for a word. “Them?” Alec finished with a wince waving his hand in the direction of the corpses.
“Yeah, of course, they don’t make for a very good decor, do they? Shall I send them to the institute entrance?” Alec nodded and waited until Magnus was finished to start pulling him again.
“Which one is it?” he asked opening Magnus’ desk first drawer. And really, it was kind of nice that Alec knew where the natural remedies were kept without Magnus having to tell him. Even if it was only natural after all the time he spent watching him work. Magnus pointed towards a vial containing an ointment made almost entirely of Aloevera from the chair Alec had made him sit on. “Okay.” Alec sat in front of him, taking his hand again with infinite care. “Tell me if I hurt you, please.”
He started spreading it softly, trying not to add too much pressure and Magnus couldn’t stop himself any longer. “Aren’t you surprised that I can use an angelic blade?”
To his surprise Alec chuckled. “At this point, I’m only surprise when you can’t do something,” he teased. However, something in Magnus’ face gave him away because Alec straightened up. “Magnus I assume it has something to do with your parentage but you don’t have to tell me about it yet if you don’t want to. I want to know everything about you but only once you’re ready. ”
He said it like it was simple. Like it was obvious. Like it was the truth. The way he had said that he had always dreamt of meeting someone like Magnus not too long ago. And he should be used to it, he really should. Alec was not shy about his feelings towards him. And yet… yet everytime he said something like this, something so simple and honest but so devastating and caring, Magnus couldn’t help but be in awe. Because this man, this honest, kind, brave, gorgeous man was choosing him. Again and again. And Magnus still had no idea why.
“I’m the son of a fallen angel,” he explained. Because having walls kept you safe but they also kept everyone outside. And Alec had proven himself worthy of being inside time after time. So while Magnus may not be ready to tear them down he was more than willing to build a door. “Asmodeus, to be precise.” Alec hadn’t let go to his hand and Magnus’ chest burned with hope. After all, Alec had been confronted with the knowledge of Magnus’ heritage before, in the most intime of situations, and he hadn’t minded it. He had found it beautiful. When their eyes met, Magnus was surprised to see some mischievousness on them. “What?”
“Nothing, just wondering how appalled the Council would be if they found out you’ve got more angel blood than all of them put together,” he said with a smirk. “I think several of them would actually keel over.”
It was a funny thought, one that had actually put Magnus through the writing of the Accords, in meetings where there had been more snide comments than politics. But regardless, “They can’t know.”
“They won’t.” Alec squeezed his hand. “Never.”
Magnus smiled softly at him. “You really don’t mind, do you?”
“What’s there to mind?”
“My father is a prince of Hell.”
“And my parents are ex circle members but you don’t seem to care either.” Alec shrugged his shoulders. “Why should I?”
“That’s not exactly the same,” Magnus pointed out only for argument’s sake. Of all the ways he had imagined Alec reacting… But really, he should be used to surprises by now.
“You’re right,” Alec said suddenly serious. “Your father is nothing more than a sperm donor with whom you have no contact. My parents raised me and tried to inculcate their ideals in me. Ideals I’m still unlearning. It’s not the same at all.”
“You are unlearning them though, and you are using your gut more often than not,” Magnus told him. “You’re a good man, Alexander.”
Alec smiled at him softly and for a minute they just looked at each other. Suddenly the Shadowhunter’s eyes widened. “Wait, does that make you a prince?”
“Technically, my father’s a prince.”
“But isn’t a prince’s son also a prince?”
“Not when they’re bastards,” Magnus pointed out and carefully omitted that phase he had gone through in the eighteenth century. Alec was right, communication was key but they didn’t need to learn everything about each other on a single day after all.
“Don’t blow this for me Magnus,” Alec complained. “I’m dating royalty and that’s it.”
Magnus rolled his eyes at him. “Oh, shut up.”
“As my prince commands,” Alec nodded and he actually brought Magnus’ hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on his knuckles, his eyes fixed on Magnus’ from beneath his eyelashes.
Magnus’ cheeks heated up. “You are going to be impossible about this, aren’t you?”
Alec’s grin was all the answer he needed.