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Blue light- light that shines viscerally, light that represents the very goodness that is inside Magnus Bane- burns his corneas.
Or maybe, perhaps, it’s from the tears.
“Alexander Gideon Lightwood, will you marry me?” Magnus looks at him imploringly. Was there truly ever any question- ever any question to whether or not this is what Alec wanted? Is the look on his face enough of an answer? The heavy expression of love and change and hope and faith that spills over from his insides, the very fabric of his being.
All of him was made for loving Magnus.
To kneel, to look up at the sky and cry. To look the angel in the face and give it your heart, to tell the looming figure to return it safely is-
It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before.
The depth of what he is feeling would’ve scared him, a long time ago: murky waters of love and lust and hatred and fear dulled the hope of anything like this ever .
“Only if you marry me too.” The heat on his face feels like a kiss from a thorn, a reverent touch from hell. He’s vaguely aware of it in the background but it comes secondary to the Magnus’ body heat, sharing the air in the small space afforded to them.
He couldn’t bear to look away.
Their hands eventually pull him up from the ground, reassuring words whispered in his ear and waves of soothing pushing through his body from the bond. He misses the magic touch of Magnus, the irrevocable feeling of calm that Magnus gives him.
It’s mostly silent now. It always seems to be silent in the aftermath. After Valentine and-
After the war, it felt like the world stood still for a second. Time moved like molasses, then water, then the viscous cling of blood. There were duties, and there were things to do, and there were dead bodies and reports but absolutely none of that mattered because Valentine was dead. It’s much like that now, but the battles only half won.
The ring sliding over his knuckle, and still there the heat from the fire.
God, what is he doing?
Months ago, this would’ve been his worst nightmare. Vulnerable while the world burns behind him. Vulnerable while his family watches, while they’re all privy to how they love, how their incendiary connection crackles on the surface of their skin.
Emotions cause distractions, but this is a welcome reprieve.
Constant still is the smell of smoke. It reminds him of Magnus, of the fire-and-brimstone feeling he’s gotten used to.
It reminds him of magic on his skin or on his tongue or in his hair, of sparks and fireworks and just Magnus .
Somewhere, between breaths, there’s an ‘I love you’. There’s always an ‘I love you’ somewhere, where Alec and Magnus or AlecandMagnus are concerned. It permeates the very essence of their love, the base foundations of their relationship.
It’s quite magical.
He doesn’t want to look away- not yet anyways. There’s a war going on out there, somewhere, and Alec isn’t there. Instead, he watches as the love of his life, his fiancé turns to sacrifice himself for the sake of Alec’s family. For the sake of their family. For a country he isn’t really allowed in, for love and destruction and creation and kin and fellowship.
Their world is razed beyond them.
They portal back to New York because none of them are in any state to help around Alicante. Alec has an institute to run, Clary has a brother to find and they all have lives to live. It’s not imperative that they help because there are hundreds, nay, thousands of warriors to help. What help are three and a half?
The sirens are sounding when they get back, and Lindsey and Underhill and Blackfoot and Jonah briskly walk, turning levers and pressing buttons.
They glow red, like the fire and the rift and the corrupted towers that stood like soldiers overlooking Alicante.
The noise pierces through the heightened glaze of war. Alec looks at his hand under the crimson light of danger and blinks once, twice.
It’s quite magical.
“It’s only Edom. You’ll always come back.” Magnus imperceptibly shakes his head. In disbelief or in answer, in fear or all of the above? Alec doesn’t know.
All he knows is the new weight of a ring on his finger, grounding and cool but quickly warming under the fire. It surrounds them now, crackling and unafraid but never threatening to consume.
“I never thought I’d be a runaway groom.” It reminds Alec of everything he just came so close to having in reach only to be taken away. The bond between them seems to only grow stronger.
The fire forges on.