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It started out slow. So slowly at first, Magnus didn’t even think to look for it. Shadowhunters trained hard. Bruises and exhaustion were inevitable.
But then he’d started seeing the bags under Alec’s eyes. The exhaustion that was more than physical. The way, even after a full night of sleep, he would come over so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open for more than ten minutes.
Worse still, Alexander continued to say that nothing was wrong. That he was just training, and training hard to be ready for whatever came next. It stung, more than Magnus wanted to admit, that Alec refused to talk to him. So, of course, he needed to find out what was going on through alternate methods.
Magnus waited until Alexander was in the shower before calling Isabelle.
“Magnus, is everything-”
“What’s wrong with Alexander?” Magnus asked, interrupting her.
Isabelle sighed and Magnus sat up straighter in his chair. “Tell me.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Isabelle started. “But Alec is trying to ignore something into going away and it isn’t happening.
Magnus frowned. “Which is?”
“There’s a Clave envoy here. They’ve been doing regular training and patrols, checking how things are run.”
Magnus nodded, he’d been aware, Alec had told him as much. “I know that would normally make him tired, but-”
“But they’re letting him get hurt.”
For one, blazing, terrifying second, Magnus felt his power roil in him in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries. He took a deep breath. “Explain. Quickly. He’s in the shower.”
“It’s all getting to him. The constant comments about you, about his relationship, then getting physically injured by these men who know better,” Isabelle said, stepping into the conference room. “I think he’s not telling you, because they’re not staying, they’re going back to Idris.”
In an instant, Magnus understood. “And he doesn’t want to give them any ammunition against him or the Institute.”
“Right,” Izzy said, pushing her fingers through her hair. “It’s a horrible situation, and I don’t know how to help him.”
Magnus hummed, considering it. “As much as I want nothing more than to burn them alive, I imagine that would not help Alexander’s political standing.”
Magnus tapped his fingers impatiently against his arm, thinking. “I wonder if I can indirectly help. I’ll pick him up for lunch tomorrow. If nothing else, I provide a marvelous distraction.”
Izzy sighed in relief. “That’d be great, Magnus. I know he’d love to see you.”
Magnus nodded. “Thank you, Isabelle. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Izzy said, laughing as she hung up.
Magnus frowned briefly at the phone, but relaxed when he heard the shower turning off. He headed to the door of the bathroom, watching as Alexander wrapped a towel around himself.
“I’m thinking it’s a greasy diner food, movies, and blowjobs on the couch kind of night.”
Alec blinked in surprise and then smiled, looking at Magnus gratefully. “That sounds great.” He stretched and let the towel fall a little lower on his hips, just to watch Magnus stare a little longer. He grinned.
Magnus tore his eyes away from the water droplets clinging to that glorious trail of hair heading down into the towel and back to Alexander’s, where he was grinning. He narrowed his eyes. “Tease.”
“I’ll make good on my teasing later, don’t worry,” Alec promised.
“You’d better,” Magnus huffed, turning on his heel towards the living room. He had a dinner to conjure up for them after all.
~!~
When Magnus portalled into the Institute, he’d come to expect a side-eye here and there. Nothing overt, things he was more than used to. Today though, there was an excess of worried and pitying looks and some concern. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine as he headed for Alexander’s office. What the hell was going on around here?
“Downworlder!”
Magnus knew that he was not universally loved by all the people in the Institute, far from it, in fact. But he had worked hard to ensure that he was, at minimum, respected. The quiet chatter of the Institute had died down, too.
He paused in his stride and looked over his shoulder at the tall shadowhunter approaching him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, just waltzing in here?”
Magnus turned around to face the shadowhunter and raised both of his eyebrows. Strange, a shadowhunter who didn’t know that he regularly came to interrupt Alexander’s-ah. He smirked. This was one of the Clave envoys.
“I’m here to see the Head of the Institute.”
Magnus watched the man’s face redden with anger and tilted his head, staring at him. What in hells name could be causing-
“He doesn’t have any time for the likes of you, he’s out on patrol.”
Magnus narrowed his eyes. Another patrol? That would be the third one in less than forty eight hours. Which meant either major demonic activity (which he would have heard about), or Alexander was being pressured into constant patrols. That would explain the exhaustion, if he was.
“I assure you, we have an appointment,” Magnus said, narrowing his eyes at the envoy. “And I’d advise you to watch your language.”
“Watch my language, downworlder? You’re lucky I don’t have you thrown out out of this Institute, or arrested.”
Magnus rolled his eyes. Well, that at least confirmed for him who this was. He recognized that derision a mile away, but here he’d hoped that the Lovelace family was diminished enough to never be in power again.
Magnus forced a bland smile. “Arrested? On what charges, precisely?”
“Trespassing on Clave property!”
Magnus snorted. “Can’t trespass where you’re welcomed.”
Lovelace leaned closer, narrowing his eyes, snarling. “That Lightwood boy might be fucking a downworlder, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are afraid to remind you of your place.”
Disgust curled, slow and ugly in his stomach. This was what Alexander had been dealing with for days?
“And what place is that?” Magnus asked, keeping his voice deliberately mild as he examined his nails.
“I’d be happy to show you.”
It took a considerable amount of effort to keep his magic from reaching out to do the worst possible things to the man in front of him, but Magnus knew he couldn’t. Alexander couldn’t afford to have what they had worked so hard to established ruined because he couldn’t keep his temper around an asshole.
“Another time, perhaps,” Magnus drawled. “Well, if the Head of the Institute isn’t here, I have business to be conducting.”
He didn’t bother letting Lovelace get in another word as he strode past the man and towards the armory. He had a feeling Isabelle would be waiting for him there. Sure enough, she was there, leaning the counter, inspecting arrows.
“You should have told me how bad it was,” he said, sliding into a stool. They didn’t have long until they’d be interrupted again.
“They’re trying to exhaust Alec into making a mistake. He’s stubborn, but he’s exhausted, Magnus,” Izzy said. “I’m worried.”
Magnus hummed. “There’s not much I can do and not jeopardize what we’ve worked to build.”
Izzy grinned, bright and wide. “Leave that to Jace and I. We have a plan. Just need you to play along.”
Magnus raised both of his eyebrows. “Isabelle Lightwood, what are you planning?”
“A chance for you to get your hands on the people who’ve been hurting Alec,” Izzy whispered, standing up a bit straighter as Lovelace came charging into the room.
“Oh, you’d be willing to fit in a training class this afternoon? That’d be wonderful, I know Jace has been eager for a rematch!” Izzy forced excitement into her voice and turned to Lovelace.
“What is going on here?” Lovelace bellowed.
Izzy smiled, unruffled by the shout. “Why, Magnus has offered to teach a hand to hand class this afternoon. He’s done a number for us, and whenever he puts on an exhibition match there’s-”
“What could a warlock possibly have to teach shadowhunters?” Lovelace snarled. “Is Lightwood so lenient with you all that you’ve forgotten how to train? Is there anyone here who is not fucking downworlders on the side? Yourself included, Isabelle Lightwood!”
“That is enough,” Magnus said, his voice quiet, but firm. “You are welcome to insult me to your hearts content, Lovelace. I’ve had several lifetimes to become adjusted to it, after all.”
Magnus stood up and let each of his steps echo with power in the armory, drawing the eyes of everyone there. “If you want to prove your superiority, then I have a suggestion for you.”
Lovelace snorted. “And what might that be? A magic contest?”
Magnus’ eyes glittered dangerously. Isabelle had been right, it would be the perfect chance to make them pay. “Combat. Your choice of weapons, and a round of hand to hand, for my exhibition match, of course.”
“You’d cheat. Filthy downworlders always cheat,” Lovelace said, narrowing his eyes.
It took the space of a second to summon a pair of leather arm bands into his hands and Magnus held them up to Isabelle to see. “Miss Lightwood, care to inform the gentleman what these are?”
Izzy swallowed hard. Where had Magnus gotten those? “They’re...they’re from the war. Before the Accords. They’re power restrainers. For warlocks who were captured.”
“I’ll wear these,” Magnus said, dangling them in front of Lovelace, watching his face curl in triumph.
“What’s the catch?” Lovelace growled.
Magnus smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he leaned in closer. “To be discussed when we fight. I don’t want you to have time to circumvent any proposal I make.”
“You’re going to regret this, warlock.”
Magnus’ eyes were dark. “No, I don’t think I am. Now, if you will excuse me, I do have a meeting with the Institute Head. I’ll be waiting for him in Ops.”
Magnus created a portal for himself and stepped through before Lovelace could add anything and stepped out next to Underhill’s desk, looking at him.
“Magnus,” Underhill nodded. “Your fingertips are sparking.”
Magnus scowled at his fingers and reigned in his magic, his hands clenched tightly around the leather bracers. Even like this, he could feel their deadening effect and it made his skin crawl. But it’d be worth it.
“Are you okay?” Underhill asked, turning his attention more fully to the warlock.
“No,” Magnus stated simply. “Has it been this bad since they arrived?”
Underhill paused. “Yes. Alec has borne the worst of it. But we’ve all received comments in some regard.”
Fury curled in his gut, dark and intense. Magnus forced himself to breathe through it. He wanted to rip them apart.
“You shouldn’t be here when they come back from patrol,” Underhill said, turning some of his attention back to the security feeds he was monitoring.
That caught Magnus’ attention. “Why not?”
Underhill took a deep breath and looked at him. “If you’re angry now, I don’t know that you’d be able to control yourself when you see them.”
The lightbulb in the lamp on Underhill’s desk exploded. Magnus waved his fingers and reformed it in an instant, breathing hard.
“Yeah,” Underhill chuckled. “Like that.”
Magnus forced his magic down, even though it was still simmering under his skin, desperate to get out. “How do I help without compromising everything we’ve worked for?”
Underhill hummed and focused on a monitor, tracking the Clave representative as he stomped through the Institute, barking orders.
“You play their game,” Underhill said.
Magnus hummed. “I have step one of that planned out. But not step two.”
“You know who is bad at playing their game?” Underhill added.
Magnus raised an eyebrow.
“Alec. They’ve done a hundred things that are worthy of reporting. And it’s funny, as their role, if I remember correctly, reports to Aline Penhallow, under her mother. Alec and Aline grew up together. They are at least friendly.”
Magnus straightened and looked down at Underhill, who was studiously avoiding his eyes. “Is that so?”
Underhill pulled a small flash drive out from under a pile of papers and offered it to Magnus.
Magnus took the small device and looked at it, raising both of his eyebrows.
“I told Alec, once. I was able to come out, because of the both of you. Who I am loyal to at this Institute will never be in question,” Underhill said quietly, standing up. “I look forward to your exhibition match later.”
Magnus closed his hand around the flash drive and gave Underhill a nod. “I’ll see you there.”
Once he was gone, Magnus went back to leaning against the pillar. He pulled out his phone, banishing the bracers until he would need them. Thankfully no one paid him much attention, and since Lovelace had no way to remove him, technically, he wasn’t interrupted until the front doors banged open.
Magnus brightened, even as Underhill’s warning echoed in the back of his mind. He looked up and froze. Alexander was flanked by two men as they walked back into the Institute and based on the way the rest of the chatter died, again, this wasn’t the first time they’d seen a sight like this.
Alexander had one arm carefully cradled against his chest, and had claw marks on his upper arm, deep wounds that were sizzling with poison. His eyes were tight with pain and exhaustion, even as he strode into the Institute. Magnus breathed in hard and his eyes flickered to the other two men, neither of whom were sporting visible wounds or any strain at all.
“Alexander,” he called, walking towards his boyfriend with a falsely bright smile. “You should have called me to say you were injured. Good thing I was here for our meeting, already.”
Alec nearly buckled in relief at the sight of Magnus. If he’d had to take one more minute of being told he needed to push through the pain without healing or an Iratze, he would have committed murder. “Yes, a very good thing,” he muttered.
“Hold still,” Magnus ordered, dipping his magic into the wound. The poison had gotten much closer to Alexander’s heart than he would have liked, but he was able to draw it out, without a problem. He carefully pulled his magic out, healing the wound as he went.
“Warlocks. Lightwood, you can bet he’ll charge you top dollar for that healing. Should have-”
“You do realize,” Magnus said, his voice quiet and deadly as he looked to the other two men. “That had he gone another two hours without being healed, the poison would have reached his heart?”
“Sounds like an excuse for you to charge whatever the hell you want, warlock. Lightwood might tolerate that bullshit-”
“That is enough,” Alec snapped, looking back to the two Clave representatives. “Dearborn, Carstairs, I’m afraid I am late for a meeting with the very warlock you are insulting. Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.”
Magnus followed behind Alexander, glad when Alec led the way to his office and shut the door behind him with a heavy sigh. Magnus waved his fingers, locking the room and silencing it. Alexander still looked like he was bracing for a blow, his face twisted and turned away from him.
Magnus sighed and reached out, pulling Alec in close. “That poison had gotten a lot further into your system than it should have. Are you feeling all right?”
Alec sagged, breathing out hard, wrapping both of his arms around Magnus. “Much better, thanks to you. What are you doing here?”
“Came to take you out to lunch. You looked like you could use the break, yesterday,” Magnus said, looking up at his boyfriend.
Alec smiled and leaned down for a kiss. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I would have loved to go to lunch with you.”
“Funny enough,” Magnus started, leaning in to nuzzle Alexander’s neck. “While you weren’t here, I got to meet the other Clave representative.” At that, Alec tensed in his arms, every part of him immediately rigid.
“What did he say to you?” Alec growled. “Angel’s above, I can only imagine what he called you, Magnus, I’m so sorry.”
Magnus hummed, reaching up to brush some of Alec’s hair off of his forehead. “Nothing I haven’t heard in my centuries, don’t worry. I didn’t realize how bad it had been here for you.”
Alec sighed and leaned in against Magnus. “It’s been, it’s been bad, Magnus. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just, I thought it would be some comments and looks, but they’ve been-”
“Shh,” Magnus whispered, rubbing Alexander’s back. “I know. Izzy told me.”
Alec huffed out a laugh. “Of course she did.”
“Magnus-” Alec was interrupted by a beep from his phone and he sighed, pulling it out. He looked at the message and blinked, raising his eyebrows before turning his attention to Magnus.
“What’s this about you doing an exhibition match this afternoon? And, I quote, kicking some well-deserved Clave ass?”
Magnus couldn’t help a bit of a ruthless grin. “Lovelace was very displeased when he found out I had been teaching hand-to-hand, and offered to prove that he was better. I, of course, humbly accepted.”
Alec huffed out a laugh. “You do realize that is a terrible idea?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Magnus said, tilting his nose into the air. “I am simply giving them the opportunity that they asked for.”
“Magnus…”
Magnus reached out and stroked a thumb over Alexander’s cheek. “I want to kill them for what they’ve been doing to you. Rip them apart and make them pay.” He exhaled hard and looked up at his boyfriend. “The only thing stopping me from doing that is that I know that it undermines everything we have worked towards. So the least you can allow me to do is trick them into combat so I can leave a few bruises.”
Alec hummed. “If I thought they’d fight fair, I’d be much less concerned.”
“And you, my darling, underestimate just how hard I will fight to protect you and everything you have built here,” Magnus said, pulling Alexander down and into a kiss.
Alec leaned in close and lost himself in kissing Magnus.
By the time they parted for air, Magnus could feel the exhaustion creeping around Alexander. “Here, let’s get you some food and time to rest.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Alec yawned. “If I sit down to do emails, I’m going to fall asleep at my desk.”
“Well, very good that you have a fake meeting with me, and we can eat, curl up on your comfy couch and let you relax with a nap,” Magnus offered.
Alec groaned. “Angel's above that sounds like heaven.”
Magnus smiled and with a wave had takeout from their favorite Chinese place in front of them on the desk. “Dig in, then we’ll get to some world class cuddling.”
“God I love you,” Alec whispered, grabbing one of the containers.
Alec inhaled the food he’d gotten and he was already blinking slowly, so Magnus settled on the couch, kicked off his shoes and held up an arm. “All right, come here.” Alexander damn near fell on top of him, pressing as close as he could get and Magnus let him get situated before sinking his fingers into Alexander’s hair, rubbing at his scalp.
“I love you,” Alec mumbled, his eyes already drifting shut.
“And I love you, Alexander,” Magnus whispered back, keeping up the slow touches. It took Alec a matter of seconds to drift off to sleep against him. While Alexander got a few precious minutes of sleep, Magnus leaned back against the pillows on the couch, planning.
~!~
Magnus gave Alec forty five minutes to snore into his shoulder before an alarm went off on his phone, reminding him that he did need to get down to the training room soon.
“Huh, wassat?” Alec mumbled, opening his eyes. “How long’d I sleep?”
“Not long enough,” Magnus said, combing his fingers through Alexander’s hair again. “But I need to be heading to the training room soon.”
Alec made a grumpy noise and nuzzled into Magnus’ chest. “I don’t like them. I don’t like how they talk about you. About us.”
“Don’t worry,” Magnus whispered, kissing the top of Alec’s head. “I’m going to make them regret it.”
Alec snorted and pulled back, looking up at Magnus. “No killing the Clave representatives, no matter how bad they’re being.”
Magnus watched Alec stretch, his shirt riding up the faintest amount before he smiled and stood as well. “Don’t worry. I have no intentions of hurting anything other than their pride.”
Alec looked towards the door quickly and then back to Magnus with a mischievous grin. “Well, you could give them a few bruises.”
Magnus laughed in delight and stole a kiss from Alexander. “Your wish is my command, Alexander.”
Alec winked at him and headed for the door, holding it open for Magnus.
With a quick wave of his fingers, Magnus changed into a tight pair of black yoga pants, and a sleeveless tank top. If it was so Alexander would shamelessly oogle him while he walked to the training rooms, well, no one needed to know that except him.
“Look at that, a warlock who actually arrives on time. You going to charge us for the privilege?” Lovelace growled.
Magnus raised an eyebrow at him and strode past him into the training room. With a quick wave of his hands, it was set up for spectators to sit around the main training floor. He looked to Alec, who’d stepped in behind him and smiled. “Please have everyone come on in.”
As they filed into the room, Magnus watched Lovelace be joined by Carstairs and Dearborn. They were whispering quietly together. He shot a quick look over to Alexander and then approached them.
“Gentlemen, if you have a moment, we can discuss terms?”
“Terms,” Carstairs scoffed. “This isn’t a business deal, downworlder.”
Magnus chuckled, letting the insult roll off his shoulders. He’d have his retribution soon enough. “You may want to hear out my proposal.”
“Oh?” Lovelace said, narrowing his eyes. “And what would you offer us, warlock?”
Magnus hummed and rocked back on his heels, pretending to think about it. “How about money?” He saw their attention was immediately caught and smiled. “Shall we say a million for each of you if any of you can manage to defeat me with a weapon of your choice, or hand to hand?”
Magnus watched the three of them share an eager look between their eyes and turn back to him. He offered them a bland grin. “And if I win - Alexander gets your unconditional, and vocal, support in the Accords rewrite.”
All of them were taken aback at his price and he smiled at them with a shrug. “You’re confident you can beat me, so there’s hardly any risk for you, is there?”
“What are you up to, warlock?” Dearborn said, narrowing his eyes.
Magnus shrugged. “Choose the weapon,” he ordered and summoned the leather wrist bracers to his hands, slipping them on with ease. He’d had enough time to be prepared for the immediate lack of access to his magic, and he secured them in place, crossing his arms over his chest.
Lovelace moved to the weapons wall and grabbed a bow staff for himself and turned to face the warlock. “Staff.”
Magnus grinned, turning to look at Alexander with a wink. “Very well. Shall we do disarm, pin or first draw of blood as our stopping point?” He strode over to the weapons wall and picked up his usual staff, giving a quick and easy spin in his hands, striding to the center of the room. The room was filled, it seemed like Isabelle had been able to assure them a more than appropriate audience.
“You sure you want to fight to first blood, downworlder?”
Magnus gave a mocking bow. “I am happy to do whichever you prefer, as long as you agree to my terms of engagement.”
“We agree,” Carstairs said, smirking. “We’re going to enjoy taking your money, warlock.”
“Very well,” Magnus called, settling into his stance, watching as Lovelace strode around him in a slow circle. Tension grew in the room and he took a deep breath.
“Now,” Magnus said, raising his voice. “When facing an opponent you’ve never fought before, what is the first thing you should do?”
Lovelace scowled at him. “You’re lecturing me?”
“Of course not,” Magnus said, feigning innocence. “But we do have an audience and I am here to teach.” He turned his back on Lovelace and looked around the group of shadowhunters in the room. “Anyone?”
“Quick engagements, testing out capabilities!”
“Perfect,” Magnus called out. The shuffle of feet behind him told him Lovelace had moved, and he spun to meet the blow from the other man, noting his surprise. He grinned and pushed Lovelace back a few feet, spinning easily away from a flurry of blows.
A moment later, Lovelace gave him the opportunity he was looking for. The man planted his feet too hard, preventing him from having the agility he needed. Magnus bent back, under a firm thrust forward of the staff from Lovelace, planting his hands on the ground before throwing both of his feet into Lovelace’s stomach, knocking him immediately onto his ass.
Magnus stood and took a moment to take in the incredulous look from Lovelace before he turned to the group of younger shadowhunters, some of whom were surprised, and others were openly grinning. “Anyone want to tell me what his mistake was?”
A quiet girl from the back piped up. “He had his feet planted too hard.”
“Correct!” Magnus told her with a smile, spinning to meet the easy and obvious attack from Lovelace behind him. He could see the anger twisting Lovelace’s face and raised an eyebrow at him. He dodged two low blows towards his feet, leaping over both, and managed to execute a nice spinning kick into Lovelace’s chest as he recovered poorly.
“Filthy downworlder,” Lovelace muttered, tightening his grip on the staff. “Can’t even be bothered to go on the offensive.”
Magnus huffed and turned to Lovelace. “There’s no need for such language, there are children present.”
“Then attack me, you coward!” Lovelace snapped. “You going to sit there and show off all night?”
Magnus planted the edge of the staff on the ground and leaned against it. “Can anyone tell me what you should do if you get angry during a fight?”
Lovelace didn’t wait for the kids to answer this time, rushing at him, with a sweeping wave of his bow staff.
Magnus sighed and for the children, continued what he had been saying as he easily ducked under the wild swing, and swept his legs through Lovelace’s, sending him crashing to the floor all over again.
“If you are fighting angrily, you need to stop and assess what is driving the emotions. Focus them, channel them, use them. But do not let them get the better of you,” Magnus said, watching as Lovelace climbed to his feet again, his face red and angry. He smiled, tilting his head to watch him.
“Now,” Magnus said, circling Lovelace slowly, putting him on the defensive. “When you believe you have a good measure of your opponent and you are in the correct mental space, what do you do?”
Lovelace stared at him, his face twisted in fury and hatred. Magnus smiled and stopped in front of him. “Anyone?”
“Go on the offensive and attack,” Alec called out.
Magnus’ eyes glittered. “Right you are, Alexander.”
Magnus tightened his hands on the staff and took a deep breath, settling into himself for a brief instant.
“Come on, demonspawn, show me what you’ve got,” Lovelace taunted.
Magnus crouched and pushed himself forward into a sprint, leaping into the air, bringing his staff down on Lovelace’s hard enough to cause his grip to slip. He shifted into close quarters, moving quick and vicious, slipping inside Lovelace’s guard. He absorbed a desperate blow to his side and retaliated with a vicious blow to Lovelace’s face, connecting when his opponent wasn’t able to get his staff up high enough.
Magnus dropped his staff and grabbed Lovelace’s, pulling him in close, twisting to lock his arms behind him, before flipping the man over his shoulder onto the floor. He picked up his staff and pointed it at Lovelace’s neck, staring at the blood coming out of his nose.
“Match,” he stated simply, striding past him towards the weapons rack, placing the staff beside it so he could clean it when they were done.
“You cheated!” Lovelace spat, wiping at his face.
Magnus put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Care to explain how?”
“You, you used your magic!”
Magnus held up his forearms, showing the wrist guards he was wearing. “There are a dozen, or more, shadowhunters in this room who can confirm what these are and are doing. My magic did not factor into things.”
He turned his attention back to the other two men. “Which of you is next?”
Carstairs and Dearborn shared a look.
“You entered into this agreement under false pretences, warlock,” Dearborn said.
Magnus narrowed his eyes. “Are you going back on our agreement?” He took moved closer, his eyes intent. “And here I thought I could trust the word of such esteemed shadowhunters as yourselves. Or are you just afraid to fight me?”
Carstairs stepped forward. “I’m next.”
Magnus tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. “Weapons?”
“Hand to hand.”
Magnus brightened and smiled wide. “Oh, good. Jace got tired of being thrown around all the time, I haven’t had any volunteers since.”
Carstairs glanced over at Wayland and sneered. “Really, Wayland? You let a downworlder beat you in hand to hand? I should tell your grandmother.”
Jace snorted and rolled his eyes. “You have my full permission to tell her if Magnus takes more than sixty seconds to plant you on your ass. I last at least ten minutes sparring with him.”
Magnus grinned and winked at Jace. “You have gotten better.”
“Eyes forward, warlock,” Carstairs snapped.
“I do have a name,” Magnus said, turning on his heel so he was facing the other man. He gave a little swing of his hips and spun in place. “I am ready to begin whenever you are.”
Magnus turned to the room and smiled again. “Now, when one is doing back to back fights, and doesn’t have the handy stamina rune, what’s important to remember?”
One of the teenagers spoke up. “End fights quickly and safely.”
“Precisely!” Magnus said with a grin. “And here I thought you all pretended not to pay attention when I taught.”
“We’ve seen you throw both Alec and Jace! Of course we listen!”
Magnus laughed and winked at the young boy who’d said that. While he didn’t make a habit of tossing the both of them around, the training was good for them, and, well, Alexander could always be counted on for extra curriculars after sparring.
When Carstairs advanced on him, Magnus ducked under the obvious right hook and spun easily, ending in a crouch, his elbows on his knees, looking up at the man. “It’s rude to interrupt, you know.”
“Then fight,” Carstairs snarled.
Magnus sighed, planted both his hands on the ground and spun his leg around, knocking Carstairs onto his back before resuming his crouched position. “What were we fighting to again? I did just knock you down, so I’m assuming it isn’t that.”
Carstairs jumped to his feet and advanced on the warlock, who was watching him. “You’re a tough son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
Magnus stared at him, his eyebrows raised. “I’ve been hunted by shadowhunters during the war. Long before portals, you learned to fight shadowhunters, or you died,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “I am standing here, alive, for a reason. Now name the terms of our engagement.”
“Pin me, downworlder. If you dare,” Carstairs challenged.
“To make one thing explicitly clear,” Alec’s stated, his voice ringing out in the room. “If I ever catch any of you disrespecting someone, downworlder or not, the way Magnus is being disrespected, you will be on Ichor and Kitchen duty for ninety days.”
Magnus had to laugh and smiled at Alexander. “Why thank you darling.”
“Darling?” Carstairs spat. “So you’re the downworlder slut he’s shacked up with. I should have guessed. Lightwood always was a bit of a pan-”
The resounding, echoing crack as Magnus’ fist met Carstair’s jaw, sending him spinning to the ground, was loud enough to indicate that there were broken bones where his punch had connected.
“Never let your guard down,” Magnus said, his eyes dangerous. “Don’t use words when actions are enough. Always follow through on your punches, using proper form.” He grabbed Carstair’s arm and twisted it behind him, hard and harshly enough that if he moved, it would dislocate his shoulder.
Magnus forced his face to the floor, savoring the quiet groan of pain, pinning him down in an easy movement. “Match,” he snarled, letting Carstairs go, shaking out his hand.
“That was-”
“Say another word, and you’ll be unable to walk out of this room,” Magnus promised, turning to look at him. “And that is a promise.” Carstairs snapped his mouth shut.
Dearborn went to the rack of weapons and pulled down two Seraph blades. He held them out to the warlock, a faint smirk on his face.
Magnus looked down at the weapons and frowned. If he was going to be able to use a Seraph blade, he’d have to exert enough power to overcome the cuffs. It could be done, but he would need to end this quickly.
“Very well,” he accepted. “State your terms.”
Magnus strode over to Alexander and stopped in front of him. “I need your blades, Alexander.”
Alec frowned and looked over at Dearborn. “Why mine?”
“They burn my hands to use. Yours will burn less, they’ve felt my magic before,” Magnus explained simply.
Alec’s eyes widened and he looked to Dearborn, who was smirking at them again. “Make him pick something else.”
Magnus shook his head. “No. I intend to end this the way they have asked. Now. Please, Alexander.”
Alec unstrapped both of his Seraph blades and handed the hilts to Magnus. He heard the soft sizzle of flesh and winced, watching as the blades turned from white to red after a grunt of exertion from Magnus. “You all right?”
“Yes,” Magnus whispered, offering him a smile before he turned back to Dearborn, taking in the wide, surprised eyes. “I imagine you thought I wouldn’t be able to hold these at all, didn’t you?”
Lovelace, Carstairs and Dearborn were all staring in fascination and horror. Magnus stopped in front of Dearborn and raised an eyebrow at him. “Terms.”
“To surrender,” Dearborn said.
Magnus scoffed. “Not an option. This is an exhibition and teaching match. I will not push things that far.”
“Are you giving up before we begin?” Dearborn taunted.
Magnus tightened his hands on the handles of the Seraph blades, allowing him some focus, rolling them easily in his hands while he took a deep breath. “Surrender or knockout.”
Dearborn smirked. “Done.”
“Most warlocks cannot hold a Seraph blade,” Magnus explained quietly to the room. It was quiet enough that only the sound of his breathing and Dearborn’s echoed. “I am able to because of who my father was.”
Dearborn crossed his arms and waved a hand. “Go ahead, exhaust yourself. Make it easy pickings for me, what with how those burn you more by the second.”
Magnus smiled through the pain and turned to face Dearborn, ignoring the worried looks from Alexander and Isabelle. He would be fine. He simply needed to make this as quick as possible.
“While I don’t make it a point to regularly handle Seraph blades,” Magnus admitted, drawing a few chuckles from his audience. “I do know how to handle one.”
“Prove it.”
Magnus tilted his head and gave a small nod. “Very well.” He waited another beat, just enough for Dearborn to relax his guard before he went on the offensive. The other man was more patient than the others, waiting him out, knowing the toll the Seraph blades were taking on him. He couldn’t keep it up forever, and Dearborn knew it.
Their blades clashed together in a shower of sparks and Magnus spun, keeping himself in constant motion as he attacked, again and again, pushing Dearborn around the training floor, forcing him to go where he wanted, until they were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He barely had enough time to jump back when the blade came for his throat.
“This is a non-lethal match,” Magnus growled, glaring at Dearborn.
“Sorry, my mistake,” Dearborn drawled, shrugging. “Easy to forget, you know.”
His magic was itching to be set free, to wreck the three men who had dared to disrespect him and Alexander. Magnus huffed and took another deep breath to calm himself down.
“Getting tired, warlock?”
Magnus managed a laugh and tossed some of his hair out of his face, shaking his head, even though his hair was wet with sweat. “Not a chance.”
He circled Dearborn carefully, watching his movements. Magnus narrowed his eyes. Despite his taunting, the shadowhunter was starting to show some wear. A small misstep in Dearborn’s footwork gave him the opportunity he needed.
Magnus threw both of his swords to the ground, glad for the instant relief on his burning hands, and caught both of Dearborn’s hands, mid swing. He grunted under the exertion, forcing the blades away from his body as he strained, holding the shadowhunter in place, until he could…
He dropped to his back, kicking his legs up to help launch Dearborn over his head, his body hitting the ground with a thud, both of the blades scattering across the floor. Magnus rolled onto his stomach and forced himself up. With a small jump and a pained grunt, he pinned both of Dearborn’s upper arms with his knees, and landed on his upper chest.
Magnus grabbed the blade he had dropped, now resting next to Dearborn’s head and pointed the blade at his throat. “Match,” he panted, holding the blade in place.
“I haven’t surrendered or been knocked out,” Dearborn growled, kicking at the ground, trying to get enough leverage to throw the warlock off.
“Surrender, then!” Magnus ordered, holding the blade steady against the shadowhunters neck. “I have you pinned.”
“I’ll never surrender to you, downworld trash,” Dearborn spat. “You’ve infected this entire Institute, it’s reeking of you and your magic.”
Magnus went quiet and he stared down at Dearborn, his eyes dark. “I have saved the lives of people here, many times over. I don’t need to prove myself to them, or you. You lost, and your inability to surrender shows a great failure of character.” He stood up and retrieved the other blade, bringing them back to Alexander.
“Magnus your hands,” Alec said, reaching out to touch them.
Magnus sighed and looked at the arm bands. “I’ll be fine. I can heal myself. But can you take these off for me, please?”
Alec’s hands were immediately at the laces to remove them and it was the first tingle of magic that warned him. Magnus shoved Alexander away from him, into the crowd of students and spun around, magic gathering into a tight ball in his palm to catch the blade aimed for his back.
Dearborn snarled.
“Joshua Dearborn,” Alec stated, his voice ringing with fury as he got to his feet. “You are in direct violation of the Accords and you are stripped of your title, job position, and will be transferred to Alicante tonight and placed under armed guard.”
“You’re all blind!” Dearborn shouted, straining against the magic preventing his blade from sinking deeper. “He has you under some sort of spell!”
Magnus’ magic flared out of control, and in a heartbeat, the arm bands were gone, banished to his office safe. He let his magic swirl around Dearborn and he lifted him into the air, pushing him back and away from the crowd.
“You are very lucky, Joshua Dearborn,” Magnus stated, twitching his fingers, heavy rope snaking around Dearborn to bind him, forcing him to his knees. “Had I less control, I would have attacked first upon sensing the danger.”
“Jace, Isabelle. Take him, and lock him up. Inform Idris of his imminent arrival,” Alec ordered, then turned to Lovelace and Carstairs. “You may both stay, but any further insults to myself, my relationship, or my staff and you will find yourself treated the same. We have extended every courtesy to you. Further violation and you will no longer be welcome here. Is that understood?”
Both men were silent.
Magnus conjured sparks around his fingers with a loud crack and stared at them both with raised eyebrows.
“Understood.”
Alec watched them leave and took a deep breath, turning to the people who had remained, forcing a small smile. “All right, folks. Show’s over. Return to normal duties.”
Magnus let himself breathe easier and conjured up a bottle of water for himself, downing it eagerly, waiting until the room was clear and it was just him and Alexander.
Alec turned back to Magnus and reached out for him. “Are your hands all right?”
Magnus held both of them up, vanishing the empty bottle into a recycling plant somewhere. “Right as rain. The burns aren’t pleasant, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Alec reached out and wrapped his arms around Magnus, pulling him in close. “You were amazing, you are amazing. Thank you.”
Magnus leaned into Alexander’s arms and smiled. “Oh hush, I know how much you like watching me spar.”
“That was more than sparring,” Alec whispered. “The deal you made with them, how hard you fought-”
Magnus chuckled. “Well, I wasn’t about to lose with those kind of stakes, you know. I’m rich, but I’m not that rich.” He winked at Alexander.
Alec huffed and rolled his eyes, reaching out to lift one of Magnus’ hands, pressing a kiss to his palm, glad when there was no sign of an injury.
“I’m sorry,” Alec said, exhaling hard, kissing Magnus’ hand again. He could still hear the sizzle of the burns as Magnus had gripped his Seraph blades. “For not telling you what was going on here, before.”
Magnus hummed and nuzzled into Alexander’s neck. “I understand why you didn’t.” He took a few deep breaths and grinned after a moment. “Was that enough bruises for you?”
Alec laughed, his head falling back. “I’d say so. Carstairs is going to need at least a couple Iratze’s. You were magnificent, love.”
“As were you,” Magnus muttered, inhaling the scent of sandalwood from Alec’s skin. “In fact, I think you should take me back to your office and make sure all of my wounds are appropriately healed.”
Alec’s eyes brightened. “You read my mind.”
Magnus let himself be pulled through the Institute by Alexander, and couldn’t help taking note of the approving nods and smiles at the both of them. Well, look at that. He let Alec pull him all of the way into his office and locked the door behind him. He wasn’t about to let anyone interrupt them.
~!~
“So let me get this straight,” Lydia said, rubbing her temples. “They struck a deal with you, where if you beat them in combat, they’d have to unequivocally support the Accords rewrite? Are they idiots?”
Magnus gave her a smile and offered her the flash drive. “Perhaps. Video proof here, if you’d like. Also included is evidence of their behaviors to Alexander and the entirety of the New York Institute. They’re lucky I only beat them in combat.”
“I’ve actually seen parts of that video,” Lydia said, a smirk curving her lips. “I demanded proof of a training you had provided before I’d allow Alec to add it to his budget.”
Magnus blinked. “I don’t charge them.”
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you? I’m sure that’s just a clerical error.” She gave him a pointed look. “We’re going to pay you for a service you provide, Magnus.”
“Thank you,” Magnus said, looking at her with a smile. “I appreciate that.”
“You start billing your private sparring time with Alec though, and we’ll have words.”
Magnus laughed. “Don’t worry, that stays firmly off the books and private.”
Lydia grinned. “Good. Now get going - I’ll let you know if I need anything further after I review the footage.”
"Of course, Consul.”