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“I don’t understand why you like these fashions, Magnus, honestly,” Ragnor complained, picking idly at the pants Magnus was wearing. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”
“Sometimes, dear friend, we must suffer for fashion,” Magnus drawled, glancing down at Ragnor. “At least my outfit isn’t more than a century out of date.”
Ragnor gave a benevolent smile. “The benefits of not caring, dear boy. They are vast and varied.”
Magnus rolled his eyes and glanced around the room. “Are all warlock parties this boring?”
Ragnor gave him a look. “Keep your voice down.”
“If I don’t, maybe they’ll do something to liven things up,” Magnus drawled, his eyes tracing over several women huddled in the corner. His mouth turned up and he glanced towards Ragnor.
“Whatever you are thinking, don’t you dare say it,” Ragnor muttered.
Magnus grinned. “They look like a group of tittering hens over there. Do you think they’d enjoy a bit of gossip?”
Ragnor narrowed his eyes. “I will never bring you to another party. Ever.”
Magnus winked at Ragnor. “Isn’t the point for me to earn my own invites going forward?”
Ragnor sighed and watched Magnus waltz towards the group of women, his hips rolling. He sighed and sipped his wine, especially as the sound of the women simpering increased.
~!~
“Everything is horrible and I want to die. Please end me, Ragnor, have a kindness.”
Ragnor rang the cowbell even closer to Magnus’ ear, watching him curl away with a groan of pain and a flare of dull magic. “What did I tell you about drinking with Seelies?”
“Ragnor, dearest friend, please, please, have mercy…”
Ragnor rang the cowbell again, directly over Magnus, then cast a charm on it to increase the volume, striding away from Magnus. “And why should I have mercy on you when you didn’t heed my excellent advice?”
Magnus groaned. “Because I am a fool who doesn’t listen?”
Ragnor twitched his finger, ringing the hovering cowbell. “I’m glad that you’re able to admit it.”
“I hate you.”
Ragnor smiled. “Do you hate me, or do you hate the Seelies who spiked your drink?”
Magnus considered that for a brief second. “Both?”
Ragnor scowled and brought the bell even closer to Magnus’ ear, ringing it again.
“Lilith have mercy!” Magnus snapped, pressing his hands over his ears. “Ragnor, for the love of all magic, stop!”
“Are you going to listen to me the next time I tell you to be wary of drinking with someone?”
“I will tell you you are the prettiest goddamn princess if you cease the ringing!”
Ragnor snorted and snapped the cowbell away, bringing a potion to Magnus, sitting next to him, offering it to him. “Drink this. It’ll get rid of the lingering effects of the Seelie magic.”
Magnus took the bottle warily. “Was the cowbell truly necessary?”
Ragnor waited until Magnus had downed all of the potion and snapped the potion bottle away. “It taught you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”
“Yes, that you are not where I should crash when I am hungover,” Magnus shot back, forcing himself to his feet.
Ragnor snorted. “If only I was so lucky.”
~!~
“Get a cell phone.”
Ragnor didn’t look up from the note he was writing. “No.”
“I have to send you a fire message every time I want to say hello, Ragnor. Please get a cell phone,” Magnus said, pouting at him. “I’ll even spell it so you always have signal. You can charge an arm and a leg for that spell too, super profitable, low effort.”
Ragnor glanced up at Magnus and raised both of his eyebrows.
“Don’t give me that, there was a time you would praise me for such an idea,” Magnus told him, sniffing impatiently.
Ragnor rolled his eyes and turned back to his parchment, scribbling another note. “You just want to be able to pester me more.”
“You like my pestering,” Magnus said, hopping up on the edge of the desk. “I’m reasonably sure you’ve said so. At least twice.”
“I must have been extraordinarily drunk,” Ragnor shot back.
Magnus chuckled, kicking his legs. “Probably, knowing me. But you said so, and so I know it must be true. So get a cell phone.”
“Are you going to send me dozens of pictures of your cat?”
“Yes,” Magnus admitted. “But he is quite adorable and I have been telling you to get a pet for at least a century now.”
“I don’t need a pet, Magnus,” Ragnor said, looking up at him again before he sighed and put the pen down. “Why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”
Magnus huffed and kicked his legs again, staring at the floor. “There’s whispers. The bad kind. That Valentine is back, as are his followers.”
Ragnor studied the hard line of Magnus’ back. “And you believe them,” he said quietly.
“I killed a Circle member yesterday when they attacked a young warlock in Manhattan,” Magnus said, glancing up at the ceiling and the patterned wallpaper. “Right in the backyard of the Institute.”
“Do you have reason to believe we’ll be targeted?”
Magnus sighed. “You will be. Former High Warlock of London?”
“As will you, High Warlock of Brooklyn.”
Magnus waved a hand. “I’m not worried about myself, I’m worried about you.”
Ragnor hummed.
“Ragnor,” Magnus said, clenching the edge of the desk. He summoned the cell phone he had purchased and put it down near the paper Ragnor had been writing on. “Please.”
Ragnor picked up the phone and swiped it open, sighing mightily. “Very well. At least until we get to the bottom of whatever is going on with Valentine. You should think about talking to the New York Institute.”
“Maryse and Robert Lightwood?” Magnus scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Former Circle members themselves, I am sure they would welcome that.”
“Learn to be more up to date on your gossip, my friend. Their eldest has been running the Institute for years, now. It’s him you need to win over,” Ragnor said. “If rumors serve, he’s much more likely to be open to your concerns.”
“I’ll think about it,” Magnus said, pushing himself off the edge of the desk. “You’ll stay in touch?”
Ragnor snorted. “I have no doubt you would come banging my door down if I did not.”
Magnus shot his friend a quick grin. “You’ve got that right.”
“Go, I’ve got work to finish, and you’ve distracted me enough,” Ragnor waved at him. “I’ll keep my cellphone nearby.”
Magnus winked at Ragnor and stepped backwards through a portal.
~!~
“Ragnor,” Magnus said, sprawled across his couch, one leg hooked over the back of it.
“Yes, my dear friend?” Ragnor asked, carefully mixing a potion before sending it off with a snap of his fingers.
“I’m getting married in four hours and thirty….” Magnus glanced at the clock. “four minutes.”
Ragnor summoned a scroll to his fingertips, opening it with a hum. “I am aware, it’s why I am sitting here.” He checked something off a list and lowered the scroll, looking at the sprawled out form of his friend. “That and to remind you that you will actually have to get ready at some point.”
“I’m marrying a shadowhunter,” Magnus continued.
“An accurate statement, but too broad. It’d be better to say you’re marrying what might be the most politically influential shadowhunter that isn’t already living in Idris,” Ragnor said with a hum. “Also from one of the oldest Nephilim families that still have active bloodlines.”
Magnus groaned. “You’re not helping.”
Ragnor raised his eyebrows. “Am I supposed to be helping with something?”
“What if he regrets it?” Magnus said, staring at the ceiling.
Ragnor lowered the scroll to his lap and studied Magnus. “Regrets what? Marrying you? Loving you?”
Magnus waved. “All of it. Everything.”
“Magnus,” Ragnor started, shaking his head. “That boy thinks you put the stars in the sky. Not only is he the one person I have ever met that I think might deserve you, he has proved, over and over again, that he would do anything for you.”
“He’s young,” Magnus said, sighing again. “How does he know this is what he wants?”
Ragnor raised both of his eyebrows. “Ask yourself the reverse question to find your answer.”
Magnus scowled. “Riddles? Now?”
“How do you know this is what you want, Magnus?” Ragnor asked, resting his hands on top of the scroll in his lap.
“I’ve never loved anyone in my life the way I love him,” Magnus said, his voice simple and matter of fact. “And I’m Alec’s first relationship.”
Ragnor rolled his eyes. “How does he know that you aren’t going to leave him? Find someone better? More experienced, perhaps? You can, and have had, anyone you want. How does he know that you won’t go chasing someone else?”
Magnus sat up on the couch, golden eyes blazing. “I love him! There is no one better, nor anyone I could want more!”
“And how does he know that?” Ragnor asked.
“I’ve told him!” Magnus snapped. “More than once!”
“I see,” Ragnor drawled, meeting Magnus’ eyes. “And has he told you the same?”
Magnus paused and narrowed his eyes. “Yes…?”
“Have you also told him that you don’t want someone more experienced, or better, or anyone else?” Ragnor added, a faint hint of a smile on his lips.
Magnus scowled and nodded. “Yes, of course I have.”
“Then why, my dear friend, do you not believe him when he says the same to you?” Ragnor asked. “You expect him to believe your own words of devotion, but you do not believe his. That is not a problem with him, but with yourself.”
“Stop being so goddamn smart,” Magnus growled, closing his eyes.
Ragnor smiled faintly. “Magnus. Look at me.” He waited until Magnus turned his head and he caught sight of the fear lurking in his eyes. “I have seen you in love many times in my life. In the fresh blossom of it, in the comfortable middle, and in the trailing off end that leads to heartbreak.”
Magnus frowned.
“I have never seen you in love like this before. The two of you fit together in a way that few things in this world do,” Ragnor continued, his voice quiet and certain. “I do not know what your future together holds, Magnus. But I do know that when that boy says he will love you for the rest of his days, however long those may be, that he means it with every piece of himself.”
Magnus sucked in a breath and turned to look back up at the ceiling. “Am I deserving of such devotion?”
“There is no one more deserving on this earth, as far as I am concerned,” Ragnor said.
Magnus looked back to his friend and smiled weakly, pushing himself upright. “You old softy.”
“Better me than Catarina. She would have simply told you you are foolish and dragged you to the wedding.”
Magnus barked out a laugh, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “You aren’t wrong.”
“I know,” Ragnor said, rolling his eyes. “Now go get ready for your wedding, Magnus.” He watched as Magnus waved to him and headed back into his bedroom, smiling faintly.