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Alec’s heart pounded in his chest as he made his way up the hill, stumbling over rocks the young Shadowhunters had thrown over the years. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, or even why he was here instead of with his family or Magnus. But he couldn’t.
He couldn’t pretend he was happy, or focus and prepare for battle, when Max was gone. He was lying in a crypt at the Silent City, motionless and cold and dead. Maybe the others could ignore that like good Shadowhunters, but Alec couldn’t.
The hill was silent when Alec made it to the top, and he sank onto the grass with weak knees and a heavy heart. The sky was dark, bloody red and without stars. He knew it was because the demon towers were down, and guilt curled tight in his chest. He should be with his family, helping them to get ready, preparing for the battle. Instead, he was following some stupid instinct to sit on a stupid hill, and running away from his angelic duty. Stupid.
Alec ripped a blade of grass from the ground, twisting it between his fingers. He hadn’t cried yet. His mother and father had both cried, sobbing into each other’s shoulders in the middle of the Accords Hall. Isabelle had screamed and tore the door off of a nearby stable, before locking herself in her bedroom at the Penhallows’. Alec had heard her wailing for hours before he snuck off. Jace, he knew, had found a secluded corner of the garden and talked to Clary until the tears came. Even the Penhallows themselves, who hadn’t been close with Max, had shed a few tears at his funeral.
Everyone had cried, even the people at the funeral that didn’t know Max at all. Everyone had cried, except him.
Alec wasn’t sure why that was, other than his propensity to hide his feelings from anyone who might be inclined to care. In any case, he knew it made him weird; a freak. Even Shadowhunters, warriors who frequently stuffed their emotions into little boxes just to get through the day, were never penalized for showing them - not when someone had died. Not when a child was a casualty of war.
Alec fisted a clump of grass in his fist, ripping through it savagely. He wasn’t sad; no, he was angry. He was fucking mad. He knew he would be sad later, and he was wasting his opportunity to grieve; by the time the loss hit him, he would already be in battle, and Alec knew that emotions were distractions when he was fighting. But he couldn’t help it; Alec didn’t know how he was supposed to grieve when everyone around him needed more and more and more from him. He wasn’t going to be allowed to grieve, and it made him angry.
But, even more present than the anger, Alec couldn’t quell the pit of guilt building in his stomach. He should’ve been there. He should’ve been with Max, should’ve been able to protect him. He was a big brother; that was his entire fucking job. Nothing that happened, now or anytime in the future, was going to change how he felt about that. He should’ve fucking been there.
Alec grit his teeth, twisting his fingers together nervously in his lap. It was hard for him to believe that the Angels were present, even though it was what he’d been taught his entire life. With the sky an ominous crimson and Max’s body lying silent and lifeless in the Silent City, Alec didn’t know if he could ever believe again.
But the night was nearly over, which meant his window of solitude was limited, and he had to try.
“Angel,” Alec began, his voice low and reverent, “Max Lightwood didn’t deserve to die. He’s only a child. I don’t understand.” He sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the chill of the air on the hilltop. It was just shy of cold enough to freeze his lungs, and he loved it. “My entire family is, they’re, they’re spiraling. Mom and Dad are crying all the time, and Izzy won’t come out of her room, and Jace is so mad he can hardly fight without killing something. I don’t know how to help. I don’t think I can help. And I can’t help myself, I can’t cry, and I, I - ” Alec broke off, chest heaving.
“Please, Angel, I’m begging you, take me instead. Please take me instead. They’ll be fine without me. I’m, I’m expendable.” Finally, after nearly a day and five hours of feeling nothing but anger and emptiness, the devastation began to wash over him. “But we need Max back.” Tears pooled in his ice-blue eyes. “Izzy and Jace need their little brother back. Mom and Dad need their baby back. Please.”
Alec let out a ragged breath, waiting and hoping, but there was no answer.
“Alexander?” Alec’s heart leapt into his throat, and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. Fuck. He didn’t know if he could deal with this now.
“Alexander?” The call came again, and Alec swallowed hard, wiping his eyes. He couldn’t let Magnus see him like this. Half of him didn’t want to answer, but he knew Magnus well enough to know a lack of response would only alarm the warlock. It was better to just get it over with, before Magnus charged up the hill with magic crackling and ready to protect him if necessary.
“Yeah,” he called back, fiddling anxiously with the cuffs of his pants. He couldn’t bring himself to say more than that.
Magnus emerged a second later, dressed in black-and-blue Downworld battle gear. His sharp golden cat eyes were highlighted by sparkling eye makeup, and Alec was, yet again, blown away by his beauty.
Magnus must have caught his awestruck expression, because he chuckled and settled himself next to Alec on the grass. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to look so happy to see me.”
Alec smiled a little, training his gaze on his lap self-consciously. “I’m always happy to see you.”
“And I you, Alexander.”
They were quiet for a minute or two, and Alec spent that time trying to decide how to explain himself to Magnus, or if he even should. He knew he didn’t owe Magnus an explanation, not for this, but he still felt like he had to give the warlock a reason why he was up here, alone, when there were about a hundred other things he should be doing instead.
Finally, Magnus spoke up and broke the silence. “Are you okay?” Alec could tell he knew it was a sutpid question, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer it, anyway. Did Magnus want the truth? Or was he just like all of the others at the Accords Hall who gave the Lightwoods their condolences and asked if they were okay, expecting reassurances and non-answers?
“Alexander,” Magnus said, and Alec blushed. He knew he was taking too long to answer, but he couldn’t help it. Everything was still so new - he’d kissed Magnus in front of everyone not even three hours ago - and he didn’t want to risk messing it up by telling Magnus more than he wanted to know.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Magnus said softly, almost as if he’d read his mind, and Alec bit his lip hesitantly.
“I’m…” Alec trailed off, sighing. He didn’t even know how to begin explaining what he was feeling, and he wasn’t sure it would make sense, anyway. “I’m managing.”
Magnus chuckled a little, and then waved his hand to indicate the hill when he said, “And why are you “managing” right here?”
“I don’t know,” Alec answered truthfully. “It just felt right, I guess.”
Another heavy silence fell between them. Alec could tell Magnus was unsure what to do, didn’t know how to help him, and Alec himself could offer no wisdom, either. He didn’t even understand himself, so how could he expect anyone else to?
“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Magnus said, nudging Alec’s shoulder with his own. Alec shook his head, swallowing hard. Sure, inherently it wasn’t - he hadn’t killed Max - but in a way, it was. If he’d have been there to protect him, Max would still be alive.
“No,” Magnus said fiercely, his cat eyes glowing golden in the twilight. “Alexander, listen to me.” He lifted Alec’s chin deftly with two fingers and forced him to meet his eyes. “Max’s death is not your fault. You are not to blame, do you understand me? You have nothing to feel sorry for.”
Tears pooled in Alec’s ice-blue eyes, and he looked away in shame. Magnus made a soft cooing sound and wrapped his arms around Alec’s quivering form.
“My angel,” he murmured. “You have so much weight on your shoulders.” He pressed a light kiss to Alec’s temple. “Let me help carry some of that weight sometimes.”
Alec shuddered and buried his face in Magnus’s chest, trying in vain to stop the tears from spilling over. “Shhh,” Magnus whispered, combing delicate fingers through Alec’s messy black hair. “It will be alright, Alexander.”
Alec lost the battle with his tears entirely and began to sob into Magnus’s chest, shaking them both with the gravity of his despair. Magnus held him close while he cried, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Alec trembled in his arms, allowing himself to be held for the first time since he was a small child. Somehow, whether it was truly with magic or just part of Alec’s imagination, Magnus had managed to numb the world down to just the two of them, together. Alec was where he belonged.
Eventually, Alec’s tears began to slow, and he slumped against Magnus, exhausted and spent from his breakdown. Magnus hushed him gently, kissing away the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I’ve got you, love,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you, my angel.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sound of it sent shivers down Alec’s spine. The storm was coming, in more ways than one.
He had to get back.
With that, Alec sighed and stood up, making his way back down the hill and towards his family once again. Magnus followed, never once leaving his side, until Alec disappeared into the Penhallows’ house and joined the others to begin preparing for battle.
The war wasn’t over yet, but Alec knew he’d just won one of the very first battles all by himself.