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They’d discovered Magnus’ ability to be marked by angelic runes purely by accident.

It had been a messy mission from the start. The Inquisitor had assigned eight new shadowhunters to the New York Institute a week prior and Alec was at his wits-end with nearly all of them. While they’d received a fair share of formal training in Idris, they’d never been issued any actual field work. Thus, it was Alec’s duty to whip them into shape and send them out on patrol duty with his senior shadowhunters. To make matters worse, the Inquisitor had informed him that she’d be staying with them the weeks following her arrival. She wanted to assess the safety and productivity that the New York Institute put into training their new recruits.

It didn’t help that half the students flat-out disrespected Alec, while the other half would never quite meet his eyes when he spoke to them. There were only two girls, Sasha and Marisol, who clung to his every word. They took his advice as though it were law and always stayed behind after mandatory trainings to ask for extra tips on different movements they’d learned throughout the day. It took Alec an embarrassingly long time to finally figure that they had ulterior motives. Jace was the one who finally broke the news to him after a particularly grueling sparring session. He pointed the pair out near the corner of the training room, giggling and blushing, as Alec was reaching for his shirt. Both he and Jace had lost the shirts a while back, opting to spare their clothes from another round of pitstains. The girls’ furtive glances and blushing cheeks sent a clear message to Alec and he assigned them to Izzy’s training group after that. Teenage crushes were the last thing he needed to be dealing at the moment.

If only all of his problems had been that easy to solve.

The four children that resented him were a bit harder to handle. He knew they were the offspring of older, more traditional families in Idris. Families that had established themselves as honorable and respectable members of the Clave. Families that held positions of power and wealth and siphoned their children off to marry into families of similar status. Families who’d all heard of Alexander Lightwood and loathed every action he took to devalue and incriminate such power.

Alec tried hard to get through to the kids, but his patience could only take him so far. After a few days of watching their eyes glaze over as soon as he began giving them any sort of advice, he’d handed them over to Jace. This left him with only two students: a young boy of about fourteen that went by the name of Erin, and an eighteen-year-old girl named Kyah. Kyah was fine, really. She did her job well enough. She never skipped out on training, but never put in extra work either. Overall, a shadowhunter of average skill.

Erin was a bit harder to crack. He was shy and timid and thus lacked the confidence to execute moves with the proper amount of power needed to kill. While the boy was extremely knowledgeable and precise when he worked on an individual basis, he nearly always lost his footing anytime sparring was involved. Typically, Erin was down within seconds.

That was why, when Alec, Jace, and Izzy were headed out on morning patrol, he was shocked to see the Inquisitor waiting near the front doors, the young boy standing next to her. He was decked out in gear and had two seraph blades hanging from his belt; there was no doubt about the intention of his get-up.

“No,” Alec spoke, shifting to slip past them before an actual confrontation arose.

He should have known it would be a futile attempt. The Inquisitor reached out and grabbed him by the forearm, halting him with an unnecessary amount of force.

“He’s the only one you haven’t taken out on the field,” she began, giving Alec a cool, calculated look, “All the other new recruits have been given field assignments. I’d like to see to it that this one does as well. I cannot go back to Idris until I’ve seen these children’s initiations through to the end.”

Alec knew she was baiting him with her impending departure from the Institute, but he didn’t dislike her enough to put a child’s life in danger.

“No,” he repeated, leaving no room for argument, “absolutely not. I’m not risking a child’s life just so you can mark off your bureaucratic checklist.” That seemed to ruffle Erin’s feathers a bit.

“I’m not a child,” he huffed out, glaring at Alec now that he had the Inquisitor there to save him from any repercussions for his insolence. “I can do this.”

“You can’t,” Alec replied immediately, returning the glare tenfold. Eric averted his gaze. “Erin, you’re not ready. While your swordwork is impeccable, you can’t fight to save your life. You need more time.”

“What he needs,” the Inquisitor interrupted, “is more training. I’m not arguing with you about this; it’s a simple morning patrol. Just show him the ropes. If anything actually comes of this little morning stroll, call for backup.”

Spoken like a true diplomat. Sometimes, it was painfully obvious that Imogen Herondale had never slain a demon in her life.

“Madam Inquisitor, you know the time it would take for backup to arrive far exceeds the time for, say, ravenor venom to spread to the heart. I’ll not let a fourteen-year-old boy die on my watch. Not even if the chances of running into anything remotely deadly are slim.”

The Inquisitor pursed her lips.

“Mr. Lightwood-”

“Bane,” Alec corrected her. It was an instinctual reaction. Alec had gotten so used to having to correct people on his last name over the past few months that he didn’t even think about letting it slip into their argument.

Alec mentally scolded himself. He knew he needed to choose his battles wisely with Imogen, and his last name was low on the list of priorities at the moment. However, now that it was out there, he needed to stand by his name; the power dynamic between the two leaders was delicate, and he couldn’t let her have the upper hand. Not now. Not when a little boy was involved.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation.

“My name,” Alec repeated, slowly, “Is Lightwood-Bane.” Alec heard Jace let out a little snort next to him and the Inquisitor whipped her head around to send a sharp glare to her grandson. Not for the first time in his life, Alec wished Jace knew how to be a bit more diplomatic about things.

The argument was about to be cut short, and not in Alec’s favor; he could see it immediately as Imogen turned back to him with a smirk.

“Well, Alec,” the first name was a low blow, especially in front of his subordinates, but Alec kept his expression smooth. “Frankly, I don’t care what downworlder you’ve chosen to allow to butcher your last name. All I care about is that you do your job.” She yanked Erin by his upper arm and shoved him out in front of her. “And that includes training your new recruits.” Alec opened his mouth, a retort already on the tip of his tongue, but Imogen cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. My grandson went out on his first patrol when he was twelve. You’re little brother, I believe, was sent out at thirteen. Erin is way overdue for a bit of field work.” She pushed Erin towards Alec with a not-so-gentle shove to his left shoulder. “I am also your superior. And as your superior, I must insist you take him with you.” And with that, she turned from the group to head back into the Ops center.

The group stood by the front doors, an awkward silence falling over all of them, before Jace (of course it was Jace), finally broke it.

“Angel,” he sighed, turning to Alec with an amused grin, “My grandma’s kind of a stone-cold bitch, huh?”

Alec just rolled his eyes and then turned to Erin with a stoic expression.

“Just stay between Jace and I. If we run into anything, don’t try to fight it, just run. Do you hear me?” He searched Erin’s eyes for any signs of the residual rebellion that the boy had dished out earlier. Thankfully, Erin merely seemed embarrassed. “I don’t need any acts of heroism from you. I just need you to run.” He looked back over to Izzy and Jace, silently asking them to stand by him on this one. They both nodded, Izzy shooting the boy a heedful look, before the four of them headed out for, prayerfully, an uneventful morning patrol.

***

Tuesday morning patrols always brought Alec about a block away from home. Therefore, he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Magnus waiting on the corner of their street, holding a little brown bag full of, what Alec assumed to be, croissants from their favorite French bakery.

As their team approached him, Alec had to smile. Even on his off days, Magnus still gave Izzy a stylistic run for her money. Today was not one of those days.

For some reason, a Tuesday morning was deemed noteworthy enough for Alec’s husband to pull out all the stops. He’d worn white skinny jeans and a light, airy silk top. The blouse was lilac, embroidered around the neckline and along the sleeves with flowers of a darker shade of purple. Jewels were thrown into the embroidery, forming meticulously placed patterns. They were spaced out evenly enough that Magnus sparkled no matter which way he was turned. The color palette of his eye makeup and the tips of his hair was also purple, and he lined his eye with a white pencil atop the eyeshadow. He’d glued tiny, purple jewels in a starburst formation at the corner of each lid, matching the pattern of his shirt. He accessorized with purple, suede boots and a large assortment of silver-toned jewelry.

“Wow,” Alec breathed out as they got closer, giving his husband a rather starstruck look. “You, uhh…” He never got to finish the sentence; Magnus pulled Alec in for a brief, though still passionate, kiss, shoving the brown bag into his hands in the process. When they parted, Magnus turned to gauge the small band of shadowhunters, reaching his hand out towards the youngest.

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around, little one. Magnus Lightwood-Bane. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Magnus offered the boy a charming smile, but Erin just returned the look with a disdainful glare. He didn’t offer up his own hand in greeting.

Magnus’ smile didn’t falter, but he pulled his hand back, turning to raise a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at his husband. Alec, for his part, just sighed, shooting Magnus an apologetic look.

“New recruits from Idris,” he offered up as an explanation. Magnus, ever the intuitive partner, just turned back to the boy with a smile.

“Ah,” he nodded, giving the boy a quick up-down. The young shadowhunter squirmed under Magnus’ gaze. “Heard of the great lothario then, have you? Swooping one of your best and brightest right out from under the Clave’s nose, hmm?”

“Yeah, you better watch out,” Jace joked, ruffling the kid’s hair as he walked over to snatch the brown bag out of Alec’s hands. He dove right in, used to the fancy, warlock breakfasts that came every Tuesday morning, and shoveled a croissant into his mouth. “He might come for you next.” He pointed to Erin with a croissant, his joke muffled by the flakey bread clogging up his throat.

Erin balked, but Magnus just laughed, turning to pat Alec on the chest before he could reprimand Jace.

“While I’ll admit, I haven’t had the most,” he cleared his throat, “monogamous past, I think your brother is it for me.”

Magnus reached up for another kiss, this time, lingering long enough to make more than just Erin slightly uncomfortable.

Izzy finally made a small, tittering noise, breaking Alec and Magnus from their liplock.

“Can we quit traumatizing the kid and go finish out our patrol? I promised Simon that I’d-”

She never got to finish her sentence. Just then, a Vetis demon swooped down from the side of a nearby building, clawing straight into Magnus’ chest and ripping off a few necklaces, tearing up chunks of skin and silk with them. Alec acted on instinct, grabbing the demon by the back of its neck and flinging it off his husband with enough force that it crashed into the side of another building. When he turned back, Magnus was lying on the ground, a large, gaping wound in his chest. Alec could see it wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but still deep enough to hurt.

Every cell in his body yearned to reach down and comfort his husband, but he could see the demon clawing its way up from the sidewalk across the street. He needed to act fast, before it got to any of the mundanes peeking out of their homes. They couldn’t hear anything, of course, but Alec hadn’t exactly been discrete when he let the demon crash into a building.

“Jace, Izzy, come with me.” He turned to Erin. “Stay here. Don’t move, and call for backup. Vetis demons travel in packs.” He spared one last glance to his injured husband before running over to help his siblings finish off the demon. Sure enough, there were three more already surrounding them. Alec was comforted by the thought that, while Vetis are large, they’re also rather unintelligent. Oftentimes, they acted more like crows than they did demons; lurking around the city and collecting shiny objects as they spotted them. The Institute didn’t usually run into any issues with them. Most of the time, they were content to collect tin cans and shattered glass, leaving the mundanes at peace. But Magnus, well, Magnus chose that morning to be one giant, shiny object.

Alec and Jace were just finishing with the last of them when they heard a high-pitched scream from Izzy.

“Erin! No!”

Alec turned to Izzy, and then followed her gaze across the street. At that moment, Alec felt his stomach drop to his feet and all the blood drained from his face.

Erin had his stele out and had just finished drawing, what looked to be, and iratze beneath Magnus’ torn-up chest.

Alec ran over to the pair as fast as he could, pushing Errin away from his husband and leaning over Magnus. Magnus looked a bit dazed, eyes rolling into the back of his head and he was shaking a bit. But, otherwise…

“I was just trying to help!” Erin sputtered. “It’s just an iratze, I-”

“You imbecile!” Izzy corrected him, dropping down on Magnus’ other side. “Runes kill downworlders, moron! Didn’t they teach you that back in Idris?”

Alec spared a small, fleeting look at the boy, and could see that, no, they taught them nothing in Idris. Nothing the Clave hadn’t deemed noteworthy, anyways. Downworlder anatomy was of little value to them.

Alec looked back down to his husband, hands fluttering uselessly over his body. And then, he gasped.

The iratze that Erin had drawn on Magnus’ body was glowing a deep, rich burgundy. Almost the color of blood. Magnus’ wound, which before had been torn ribbons of skin and flesh, began to slowly knit itself back together.

“Alec…” Jace trailed off, staring at Magnus with a mix of shock and horror written across his face.

Alec couldn’t tear his eyes from the rapidly healing wound on his husband’s chest. After what felt like years to Alec, but in all actuality couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, the wound was completely healed. All that remained was the blotchy, pink flesh that always followed a recently patched-up injury. The light from the iratze dulled and finally flickered out once the last wound closed up.

Magnus took a deep breath, before looking up to meet Alec’s eyes, offering him a small, timid smile.

“Umm...” he began, pulling his lower lip between his teeth in a nervous manner and reaching up to pat one of Alec’s hands. “Surprise?”

***

The days that followed their morning patrol were a blur. By the time backup arrived, Alec and his crew had taken care of all the Vetis demons. However, it became abundantly clear that the demons were not going to be the topic of discussion as soon as one of the new arrivals spotted the iratze on Magnus’ skin.

Everything after that was a bit chaotic. Magnus was brought to the Institute immediately by the direct orders of Inquisitor Herondale. Alec, at the very least, managed to get his husband set up in his old room; the one he occasionally used when he knew it’d be a long night at work. It was a bit stuffy, and plain, but better than the lab table Alec was sure he’d be picked apart on if Imogen had it her way. He also managed to get Magnus a few hours of rest, reminding the Inquisitor that, though the iratze had patched up his wounds, his husband still needed to sleep off the adrenaline.

Magnus did not rest. In fact, he spent the majority of his allotted time pacing a hole into Alec’s floorboard. He and Alec were trying to figure out how much they needed to actually tell the Clave about this mess. It was a difficult task, as it became abundantly clear that Magnus had never known of his newly acquired skill-set either. He was just as confused as the rest of them. He theorized that, while his father was a prince of hell, he was still, technically, an angel. Neither of them thought this would go over smoothly with the Clave.

And it didn’t.

The Clave immediately sent a scientific representative to the Institute, demanding so much of the warlock’s time over the next week that Magnus nearly snapped. The rep poked and prodded at Magnus, using his stele to do everything under the sun to Magnus’ skin, aside from drawing any runes. Imogen cut him off there, reminding the rep that runes were to be used for the sacred and most holy of individuals (Alec had scoffed at that), reserved only for the children of Raziel.

And so, the rep continued his (rather intrusive) ministrations until, one day, he curiously handed Magnus a seraph blade.

Magnus tentatively reached for the grip, folding the leather-bound handle between perfectly manicured fingers. At first, nothing happened, and Imogen let out an obvious sigh of relief. However, just as the rep made a move to take it back, the blade began glowing a deep red color, similar to that of his iratze a few weeks earlier. The light was faint, at first, but gradually grew so bright that the entire Ops center looked like it had been bathed in blood. Imogen ripped the blade from Magnus’ hand herself, and demanded that all forms of experimentation be put to a halt.

But that didn’t stop the whispers, nor did it stifle the curiosity of everyone who bore witness to the warlock who could wield an angelic blade.

Word spread like wildfire throughout the Institute and it seemed like everyone wanted to see what the great Magnus Bane could do with the power that runes held. Would they act faster? Be more powerful? Would they stay etched into his skin just as all the other shadowhunters’ runes did?

Jace wanted to see what the “clairvoyance” rune would do, especially given his warlock mark. Izzy wanted to know if the “talent” rune would enhance his magic, assuming that was Magnus’ “gift”. Clary wanted the “bridge”. Simon wanted “angelic power”. On and on they went, throwing out little suggestions any time they found themselves in the presence of either Alec or the great warlock himself. Each time, Alec would roll his eyes and change the subject. Each time, Magnus would simply smile, before pointing out that Imogen Herondale would have his head for trying such a thing.

“C’mon, Alec. Aren’t you just, like, a little curious?” Jace asked him one day over breakfast.

Alec shook his head, but he knew it was a lie.

Alec did have a rune in mind. A rune he was achingly curious to see written across the dark, brown skin of his husband’s chest. A rune that, though maybe not as clever as Clary’s or useful as Izzy’s, was still just as powerful as the rest.

Powerful… and permanent.

Alec sighed.

***

Magnus noticed. Of course he noticed. Alec may be tight-lipped and perfectly capable of harnessing his emotions, but his eyes and hands were a different story. Magnus caught the furtive glances that his husband directed towards his chest. Usually, Alec openly gawked at Magnus when he decided to prance around the apartment shirtless, always the dutiful admirer when Magnus graced him with his naked presence. Each time, it made Magnus preen.

But Alec was almost shy about it now. He snuck glances in when he thought Magnus wasn’t looking, or side-eyed him when they got ready in the morning. It was like the first few months of dating Alec: blushing cheeks and stolen looks. It was cute then; much more worrisome now that they were married.

And Alec touched him there. Way more frequently than he had before the attack. Each morning, Magnus awoke with his husband’s arms wrapped protectively around his chest. Each night, Magnus fell asleep to Alec drawing little doodles near his heart. And when they made love, Alec paid special attention to the skin surrounding his sternum, trailing kisses across the wide expanse of his chest and lingering on the small patch of skin right above his heart.

Magnus let it go on for a few weeks, but even eight-hundred-year-old warlocks had their limits.

They were in bed, Alec beginning the familiar trail of kisses down Magnus’ neck and across his clavicle. Magnus had canted his head to the side, letting his eyes fall shut as he sunk into the mattress. He felt himself being lulled into the sweet, soft kisses that Alec had allowed to stay gentle, forcing down the heat that he felt within himself to worship Magnus’ body as long as he could. Magnus knew this, of course. Even in bed, his shadowhunter was so incredibly selfless. These little moments felt so surreal to Magnus; he never understood what he’d done to make the angels smile down on him enough to give him one of their own.

But, Magnus was not one to question miracles.

Appreciative of his boyfriend’s adorations, but also feeling his own desire begin to pool into his chest, Magnus curled a leg around his husband’s hip and swung them around with a near-inhuman grace. He now had Alec lying beneath him, hands on Magnus’ hips and wide, hazel eyes staring up at him in good humor.

“Someone’s impatient,” Alec spoke with a smile, running his hands up Magnus’ stomach to rest against his chest. Magnus reached up with his own hands and pressed them against Alec’s, hearing the shadowhunter’s breath catch ever-so-slightly as he did so.

This time, Alec didn’t pull away. Instead, with Magnus’ hands still clinging to his own, he began to trace some sort-of pattern across Magnus’ skin. Magnus was no shadowhunter, he didn’t have each rune memorized by heart, but he could make a fairly educated guess.

“I don’t need anymore healing runes, my love.” He lifted one hand from its grip on Alec’s, only to reach down and place it against his husband’s cheek. “You can stop worrying. My chest is fine.”

Alec stared at him, confusion flickering briefly across his expression before understanding finally seemed to dawn on him.

Alec blushed.

“Oh, I… no, that’s not what…” he huffed, turning his eyes downcast as he let his hand slip from beneath Magnus’ fingers and fall from his husband’s chest. “I wasn’t drawing an iratze.”

Now it was Magnus’ turn to be confused.

“What? I thought… I mean, the past few weeks you’ve-”

“Yeah,” Alec cut him off, rubbing his upper arm in a nervous, awkward manner. “Yeah, I have been… drawing runes, that is. But it’s not the iratze… I mean, I know you’re okay,” He finished, the blush growing a shade deeper. He still refused to meet Magnus’ gaze.

“Then what…” And then it clicked. He’d not heard it from Alec, of course, but he knew the Institute had been buzzing with curiosity over his newfound revelation. Clary had even texted him, asking if he and Alec had tried the bridge rune yet. Izzy made a small, passing comment about the flexibility rune when he’d come to pick Alec up for lunch. Even Jace had asked if he’d tried some sort-of sight rune that Magnus couldn’t remember the name of.

“Oh, Alexander.” He smiled, using two fingers to hook beneath Alec’s chin and turn his eyes up to meet Magnus’. “Is this what this is all about? Darling, there’s no need to be embarrassed.” He let out a small giggle before leaning down to give his husband a brief, sweet kiss. “What is it you’d like to see me in, hmm?” He cocked his head and leaned back to meet Alec’s eyes again. “Is it the ‘angelic power’?” He leaned back in to whisper against Alec’s lips. “Is it ‘love’, my dear?” He trailed down Alec’s chest and rested right above Alec’s navel. He heard Alec’s breath hitch and smirked into the next kiss. “Or, dare I ask, could it be the ‘stamina’ rune?” He meant to trail his hand lower, but caught the flush traveling down Alec’s neck and across his chest.

Aha. Magnus thought, triumphantly.

“Oh,” he pulled back, running his eyes over Alec’s torso with a hungry glint in them. “That’s it, isn’t it? You want me to-”

“That’s not it.” Alec turned his head again, avoiding Magnus’ heated look. He was biting his lip and, while endearing, it also meant he was still nervous.

“What?” Magnus asked, feeling like the conversation might start giving him whiplash with how many turns it seemed to be taking. “Well, then what have you been-”

“I want to marry you.”

Alec regretted it the moment the words left his lips. He froze up, staring resolutely at the side of their shared dresser. He knew he hadn’t brought it up before because he loathed the answer that was sure to follow.

What he didn’t expect was for Magnus to laugh.

“Darling what?” He got out in between giggles. “Did I miss something, Alexander? Was our entire wedding just a fever dream that I-”

“Not in the mundane way,” Alec cut him off again. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the blow he’d only be bringing upon himself, before turning to face his husband head-on. He kept his gaze as steady as he could muster, but looking at Magnus felt like staring into the sun. There comes a point where one begins to feel blinded by such a bright and obvious presence. Most of the time, Alec basked in it; but, right now, he felt too warm. Too exposed.

“In the shadowhunter way.”

Magnus still wasn’t getting it, giving Alec a wary look as he tried to follow his husband’s thought process.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand…”

Alec sighed and reached over to the nightstand to grab his stele. He made sure Magnus was watching as he began drawing the rune into the air, little gold flakes of magic following the tip of his stele. Even though the stele wasn’t marking any skin, he still felt the power of the rune. He felt the connection on his end, reaching out for the recipient like flames that had been fanned by the warm, buzzing feeling of deep-rooted affection. He felt the love for his husband being siphoned from Alec’s fingertips and into the rune, and watched that love manifest, briefly, into the arched symbol of unity: the wedded union rune.

When the light dwindled, and Alec felt the magic flicker out of his fingertips like a dying flame, he turned back to Magnus.

Magnus said nothing. He was staring at the spot where Alec had just drawn the symbol, lips gaping while the rest of his body remained frozen. After a few moments, Alec began to shift uncomfortably, but before he could move to free up space between him and Magnus, his husband finally looked back down at him.

“Would it…” Magnus swallowed, blinking away the tears already beginning to build in his eyes, “Would it stay with me? This rune, would it be with me… even after you die?”

Alec frowned, turning his eyes back down to his stele, which he nervously began to twirl around his fingers.

“Yeah.” he cleared his throat, still a bit scratchy with the residual emotion that stemmed from what he’d just done. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I… I didn’t even think about that.” He looked up to meet Magnus’ gaze, heartbreak already making its way into his eyes. “Yeah, Magnus, I’m sorry that’s… that’s too much to ask. I know you- I mean I know we’re not… that I’m not…”

“What?” Magnus cut him off, eyes beginning to narrow as soon as he heard his husband’s implications. “You’re not what?”

“Permanent,” Alec finished, looking up at his husband with sad, despondent eyes. “I’m not permanent.”

Magnus felt his heart twist sharply beneath his chest, tightening his diaphragm enough that he nearly felt the breath get knocked out of him.

“Flowers die after a mere few days, my love. And yet, we do not love them any less.”

“Magnus…”

“Give me that stele.” He reached for Alec’s hand and ripped the little tool from his fingertips, refusing to meet Alec’s eyes as he asked: “Where do you want it?”

Instead of answering, Alec placed a gentle hand over Magnus’, giving him a small, tired smile.

“It’s okay, Magnus, really. It was a silly idea.”

“No,” Magnus began, resolution catching fire in his eyes. “No, you listen to me, Alexander Lightwood-Bane. I love you.” He reached up to place a finger against Alec’s lips, stifling the protests that were already bubbling from his husband’s mouth. “I love you. I will love you until the day I die.” Alec didn’t miss the meaning there: Until the day I die.

Not the day Alec dies.

“And when you’re gone-” Magnus paused, closing his eyes against the new wave of emotions tearing into his ribs like a dull, jagged blade. A pain he was familiar with, but not yet ready to face. He ignored the feeling, for now.

“And when you’re gone, I’ll still have you. This piece of you. I’ll remember what it was like to feel wanted by you. To be loved by you.”

“I don’t want that,” Alec breathed out, causing Magnus’ eyes to snap open and stare at him in disbelief.

Alec cleared his throat.

“I mean, I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to cling to this.” He waved a hand between them. “To us. I want you to be happy… I want you to… to…” He choked on the words. It felt like he was ripping them from his throat and laying himself painfully bare for his husband, but he knew it needed to be said. “I want you to love again, Magnus. I don’t ever want you to feel lonely or unappreciated. I would never want you to feel guilty for moving past our life together, and this rune would just be a constant reminder of-”

“The only man who ever loved me enough to marry me,” Magnus finished for him, tears welling up in his eyes once more. “My darling Alexander. When you’re gone and say, oh, I don’t know, a year has passed, and all of your clothes have finally lost their scent of you, who’s to say I won’t remember how you smelled?” He reached out to Alec’s cheek and cupped his jaw. “And another year? Will I forget the way that you smiled?” He looked at Alec solemnly as he brushed his hand through his husband’s hair. “Or the taste of your lips? Or the little sounds you make when you make love to me?” Magnus sighed, letting go of the stele to cup Alec’s face between the palms of both hands. He stared directly into his husband’s eyes, watching the pain leak into Alec’s gaze. But Alec, ever the soldier, refused to avert his eyes, staring right back at his husband and facing the pain directly.

“Time treats me just as it does all mortals, my love. Sooner or later, I will forget even the most obvious things, like the color of your eyes, or the sound of your voice.” Magnus wiped the tears from Alec’s cheeks as they finally began to spill over. “But this rune, my beautiful angel,” he offered up a small, heartbreaking smile, “this rune is forever. A piece of you that I can carry with me through the end of time. And I will never forget the man who was brave enough to love me so much, he allowed me to write him into my heart.”

Alec couldn’t help it; he pulled himself up and wrapped his arms around Magnus, crying quietly into the crook of his husband’s neck. Magnus brought his legs around Alec’s waist, helping to support him by bringing his heels up to press against the small of his back. Then, he buried his hands in Alec’s hair, rubbing small, soothing circles across Alec’s scalp while allowing himself to press his face into the spot beneath his ear.

They stayed like that for a while, matching one another’s breathing in hopes to calm the other down from the waves of emotion crashing over the both of them.

Finally, after a few minutes, Alec lifted his head and offered up a small, teary-eyed smile. Without another word, he reached back down into the sheets, digging around a bit before coming up with the stele.

“Here,” he spoke softly, offering up his other hand from where it had been wrapped around Magnus’ back. “Draw it here.” He pointed to the back of his left hand, the one devoid of any permanent runes.

Magnus raised his eyebrows at that.

“But, sweetheart, that’s where-”

“I know,” Alec finished for him, shooting him another timid smile. “I know I, umm, I want this.” He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to stop sounding so raspy and thick with emotion. “I want them to see this.” He looked directly into Magnus’ eyes. “I want them to know I’m yours.”

The dull heat that had ebbed away during Magnus’ sorrowful breakdown caught fire once more.

“Darling you can’t-” he groaned, shifting atop Alec’s hips, “you can’t just say things like that.” The naked heat, paired with the raw, affectionate look was overwhelming. Magnus felt like someone had lit a match beneath his ribcage and Alec was blowing on the embers, begging them to catch fire.

“I’m yours,” Alec repeated, reaching for Magnus’ hand, but Magnus shook his head, readjusting Alec’s grip on the stele so that it was pointed directly above Magnus’ heart.

“Me first, my love” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead up against Alec’s. “Say it again.”

Alec tilted his head, pressing a small, chaste kiss against Magnus’ mouth, before letting out hot, warm puffs of breath against his lips.

“I’m yours, Magnus Bane,” he repeated, tightening his grip on the stele and placing the tip against Magnus’ hot, damp skin. Magnus felt the flames curling higher now, reaching into the pit of his stomach and fanning out to the tips of his fingers. “I’m yours.”

Magnus moaned, feeling the stele burn into his skin and rip into his very soul. He felt his magic snap, vibrating throughout his entire body and merging with the light, angelic power radiating from his chest. Turbulence made its way through his veins and into his skin, making him feel so alive it was bordering on painful.

Is this how you love me? he thought, distantly.

Magnus’ mind strayed from the idea, honing in on the all-consuming feeling of being burned alive by his own power.

Alec paused halfway through the rune, looking up to find himself staring into dark, slitted pupils surrounded by the gold-green color of his husband’s cat-eyes.

“Yes, Alexander. You’re mine.”

The fire consumed them.

***

The rune incited a reception that Alec had anticipated. It was the interpretation that he had not been prepared for.

“So,” Jace started in the morning after he and Magnus had marked one another, the rune still fresh on the back of his hand. “You’re the bottom then, huh?”

Alec spit out the instant coffee he’d made for himself before setting out on morning patrol. He glanced around, checking to see if anyone was paying attention to their conversation. Luckily, Izzy was keeping the two recruits preoccupied, explaining some sort of technique about using a whip that Alec was ninety-nine percent sure neither of the boys was truly paying attention to. Izzy’s explanation required a lot of… movement.

“Relax.” Jace smirked in Izzy’s direction, confirming Alec’s suspicions, “As long as she keeps that up, they won’t be sparing us a glance anytime soon.”

Alec sighed, trying to bury his blushing face into his coffee mug.

“So,” Jace continued, wiggling his eyebrows at Alec, “you were saying…”

“Nothing.” Alec frowned at him over the mug. “I wasn’t saying anything. That’s really private, Jace.”

“Yeah, it was really private. Until you decided that, clearly, it isn’t,” Jace finished, waving a hand down at Alec’s freshly drawn marriage rune.

Finally, it clicked. Alec had been so focused on showing others what he meant to Magnus, making it abundantly clear that he was married in every way a man can be married to the love of his life, that he’d overlooked the cultural repercussions of wearing his rune in the spot that women traditionally chose to bear the marking.

Alec groaned, taking another sip of his bitter coffee to stifle the equally bitter taste in his mouth.

A rune on the hand, a rune on the heart.

It wasn’t just a saying. Traditionally, men bore the rune across their hearts. For one: it was less embarrassing for men to have the wedded union rune be etched across their skin in front of friends and family, as most wedding runes were drawn during the ceremony. But, even more so, it was due to the fact that the rune on the hand was much more visible. For many years past (and, sadly, in some cultures still) the rune on the hand marked a sort-of ownership that the shadowhunter men had over their wives. An archaic symbolism that was just prominent enough to whisper to friends and family when a man had staked his claim.

Things were changing now, but, evidently, not fast enough. Just when Alec felt that he’d torn down another prejudiced wall, another had been built directly behind it. Alec felt like he was clawing his way through a mountain range and feared he’d barely make a dent before his time was up.

And, to be quite honest, Alec hadn’t even been thinking of that when he offered to draw the rune across Magnus’ heart. Yes, Magnus knew the unwritten rules and traditions, he’d even tried to bring it up the night before, but Alec honestly and truly had his head in a different set of clouds. He hadn’t offered to draw the rune across Magnus’ chest to make some sort of statement; quite the opposite, in fact. He wanted to give Magnus an out. A way to be discrete about the marking if he so pleased. He could cover it in front of his clients, especially those still wary of shadowhunters. He could hide it when he came to the Institute, just in case he felt a bit overwhelmed that day and wasn’t looking to push the boundaries of political warfare.

Because this wasn’t Magnus’ fight, he was simply the man that Alec had decided to fight for. And, while Alec would be eternally for his husband’s willingness to bear the mark of their people, he would not force him to face the consequences.

Especially if the consequences were as stupid as Alec feared they were about to be.

Typical shadowhunters, Alec thought, the bitter taste of prejudice and deeply-rooted sexism refusing to leave his mouth, always failing to see the bigger picture.

Alec stretched his left hand out in front of them as they walked, bending his wrist around a bit so that the freshly drawn rune caught the lights of the street lamps. Both Alec and Magnus had been shocked at the coloring of the rune, even against Alec’s own skin. Both of them donned a deep red wedded union rune, the color a stark contrast to the rich black markings that claimed the rest of Alec’s body. It was fitting, really. So unique.

So Magnus. Alec thought to himself, wistfully.

Without turning his eyes from his wedding rune, he finally answered Jace.

“We take turns, actually,” he said it loud and clear, making sure Jace understood this was something he was trying hard not to feel embarrassed about. If Jace wanted the dirty, titillating details, he’d get them.

It was Jace’s turn to spit out his coffee, but Alec still didn’t look up. He twiddled his fingers a bit, watching the rune wiggle and stretch across his skin.

“Although, I like when he takes control,” Alec continued, refusing to allow his voice to shake. He’d made up his mind to keep going until Jace learned his lesson about ever asking Alec things pertaining to his personal life. The lesson being: not to. “In fact, sometimes he does this thing with his tongue-”

“Okay! Ew!” It wasn’t Jace. Alec snapped his head up, taking in the two grossed-out looks that the new recruits were shooting his way. The older one, Micheal, kept going.

“We don’t really wanna hear what your pretty warlock girlfriend does to you in bed,” Micheal sneered, turning back to snicker with the younger boy. Izzy punched him in the arm in retaliation. Hard.

Alec just glared at him.

“Magnus isn’t a-”

“Girl?” Micheal cut in, shooting Izzy a nasty look. “Yeah, well, that’s not what Erin said. He told us what your husband was wearing the day of the attack. Said he lit up like a pretty, gay disco ball. Guess we all know which one of you’s the girl in the relationship.” He laughed again, trying to catch the eye of the younger boy, but the latter seemed to finally have figured out that Micheal had taken it too far. He stared down at his feet, avoiding the older boy's gaze. This caused Micheal’s bravado to visibly deflate.

Alec just smiled, cocking his head as he eyed the young shadowhunter.

“We’re both men. I think that’s kind of the point.”

“Well, you’re kind of gross.” The retort was half-hearted. Micheal was no longer meeting Alec’s eyes.

“Well, you’re kind of off field duty for the next three months.”

That got Micheal’s attention. His head snapped up and he openly glared at Alec.

“What?” he sputtered, looking at Alec like he’d sprouted another head. “You can’t do that! I’m a good soldier! As soon as my dad hears about thi-”

“I don’t care if your father is the angel Raziel himself,” Alec responded coolly. “This isn’t how things are run around here. If you’d like to work elsewhere, request a transfer. Until then: enjoy kitchen duty.” He moved to walk past the kid, but paused directly in front of him, staring down at Micheal with a renewed fire in his eyes. “You may hate me. You may dislike my leadership skills or the way I choose to run an Institute.” He brought his finger up, jabbing it into Micheal’s chest as he finished. “But don’t you ever disrespect my husband in front of me again, got it?”

Micheal audible gulped, nodding his head so fast Alec feared it may roll off his shoulders.

“Good,” Alec finished, shifting the weight of his bow across his chest before turning back to the group. “Let’s finish this out. Apparently, I have seven other shithead mentalities I need to go crack after this.”

***

Alec thought that may be the end of it, but Jace and Micheal were simply the amuse-bouches of the side-eyes and snarky comments thrown Alec’s way over the next few months. He heard the whispers through the walls of the corridors and around the corners of long hallways. The new recruits brought in ancient ideals. Alec watched as his own shadowhunters began reverting back to the old ways that had run rampant under his parents’ watch.

And it wouldn’t have bugged Alec, really, if it had been about him. But every snicker, ever furtive glance, was meant more so for his husband. His beautiful, strong, (slightly exotic) husband.

“I just don’t get it.” He heard one morning over breakfast. “I mean, Bane is so… you know…”

“Yeah,” piped in another voice, “I mean, Alec is, you know, head of the Institute. You’d think he’d have at least marked himself a little more… discreetly. We all know he wears the pants in that relationship.”

Alec slammed his orange juice cup down, clearly stating his presence to the entire mess hall.

But, though he tried to deter them, the comments just kept coming.

“Did you see his shirt today? He showed up in a crop top.”

“Lightwood’s placement of that rune is just… tactless.”

“If he wanted to date someone who wore so much makeup, why couldn’t he just stick with girls?”

Even his own mother couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“I just don’t see how you let him talk you into this.” She motioned towards his left hand, the one that he was currently using to polish his bow. Alec quirked an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” he asked, setting the bow down and crossing his arms over his chest. His mother let out an exaggerated huff.

“It’s embarrassing, Alec.” His mother spoke up, waving her hand in a lazy gesture at his rune. Alec bristled, but she ignored him. “I mean, the marking in and of itself is… a lot to unpack. But, this…” she sighed, looking up at her eldest son with a forlorn expression, “this is emasculating.”

Alec glared at her, standing up straighter to unleash the full power of his height on Maryse.

“What are you trying to say, mother?” He spoke with acid in his voice. He knew exactly what she was getting at, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Lucky for him, Maryse was not one to back down.

“We both know what it means to have that rune drawn on your hand, Alec. The indication that this warlock is staking any sort-of claim on you is just-”

“True?” Alec finished for her, looking her dead in the eye.

“Diplomatic suicide.” She corrected him. She sighed, finally unlocking her gaze from Alec’s and giving her son a chance to breathe. “I just… don’t get it.” She repeated. “You’re not even…” she swallowed, eyeing her son’s very black and very plain apparel. “I mean, he’s the one that dresses, you know…”

“Gay?” Alec helped her again. She didn’t catch the incredulity in his tone.

“Yes.” She breathed out in relief. “Yes, which is why I don’t understand! Clearly, his motives were to make a statement here. Every person in this institute knows that you’re strong. Powerful. A real leader. This mark is just… well, to put it frankly, it’s just tacky.”

Alec closed his eyes, letting himself breathe through the anger that he knew was unjustly directed. He couldn’t expect to upend centuries worth of prejudice with one rune.

“Mom, I chose the placement of the rune.” He finally spoke, opening his eyes to the shocked and slightly disturbed expression that flashed across his mother’s face. He pressed on.

“I wanted everyone to know who I belong with, not to. I should have known you all would make this out to be a childish gesture.”

“Alec…”

“No.” Alec picked up the discarded cloth and turned his attention back to polishing his bow. “No, this conversation is over. I shouldn’t have to defend the masculinity of my own husband. Not to my mother. Not to anyone.”

Maryse sighed once more, but let her son be. She didn’t mention it again, but every time Alec saw her catch sight of the wedding rune on his hand, she grimaced.

***

The idea came to Alec one day in the training room. He was in the weapons closet, wrapping his hands for the punching bag when he heard the gang of Idris shadowhunters enter the main hall. Alec stilled when he heard what they were talking about, cocking his head and stealthily reaching for his stele to activate his hearing rune.

“I just don’t get it,” A boy, Micheal, was continuing some thought he’d been elaborating on in the hallway. “I mean, it’s a huge political blow! We all know that, without his magic, Bane is kinda useless.”

“I’d watch what you say,” Kyah cut in, “Magic or no magic, Lightwood would pummel you in an instant if he heard you trash-talking his husband again.”

Sweet silence, for just a moment, before-

“But that’s just it!” Micheal edged on, never knowing when to shut up. “Our boss is one of the best shadowhunters around! And I hate the guy’s guts, so you know I’m being honest. Why is he making things purposefully difficult for himself? I mean, you saw Bane the other day, right? Like, I’m not blind. The guy was wearing a corset for Angel’s sake!”

“It’s true.” Came another voice.

Erin.

“I mean, you should have seen them that day when the demon got ahold of his husband. Alec was, well, pretty badass. I don’t know why he’d downplay his power like that.”

“Not everything is about powerplay, you knuckleheads.”

Kyah.

Bless her. Alec thought. At least he had one ally.

“Don’t any of you have a romantic bone in your body?”

“I can be romantic!” Micheal countered. “I’m just not dumb! When I get married, you can bet your ass I won’t be waving my wedded union rune around for the world to see like some sort-of-”

“Girl?” Kyah cut him off with a short, clipped tone.

“Hey now, don’t put words in my mouth. This isn’t about girl stuff. This is about power, remember?”

“Oh yeah?” Kyah remarked. Alec heard a soft grunt, assuming Kyah had thrown something at the boy. Obviously, he dropped it, because moments later Alec heard a staff clang to the floor. “You don’t think women are powerful enough to bear the rune on their chest? Is that it?”

“That’s not what I-”

“Then show me, hot stuff. Show me you deserve to stake your claim on others. Show me you deserve to have that mark hiding on your chest like the rest of our stupid men and their stupid rules.”

Alec walked out of the closet just in time to see Kyah beat the ever-living shit out of Micheal with her own staff.

***

Alec knew the perfect time to execute his plan.

In the weeks following the “Epiphany” (as Alec referred to it in his head) he began plotting. The six-month mark was coming up for his new recruits. This meant that the Inquisitor, as well as the teenagers’ parents, would be coming to the Institute to support their children through their final exams. Alec did not doubt that all of them would pass with flying colors.

Even Michael. Alec had to begrudgingly admit to himself.

Alec knew that the children were sure to have told their parents of the unique rune that he’d allowed the warlock to mark him with. It would come with the fascinating tale of a warlock who could bear angelic runes and wield angelic weapons. These stories would be reaching parents who held positions as sophisticated Clave members. Parents who, like his own, had a permanent scowl on their faces anytime downworlders were brought into the conversation. Parents who also knew the unwritten rules of the wedded union rune.

Alec’s suspicions were confirmed when the guests began arriving at the Institute and the first thing they searched him for was his left hand. He did not try to hide it.

Nobody remarked on it, not even the Inquisitor. But, there were whispers. Little whirlwinds of conversation that Alec would hear about through the grapevine (his sister). The only one that really got under his skin was the relayed story of his mother getting chewed out by the Inquisitor on his behalf. He was the head of the Institute. If the woman had a problem with how he chose to live out his personal life, she should address him first. Not his mother (who, if Alec was honest with himself, was ironically on the Inquisitor’s side on this one).

Alec knew he needed to play his cards right. He couldn’t rely on Magnus’ magic; it would be too bold. Too foreign. And Micheal said it himself: they truly believed that, without his magic, Magnus was something to be wanted.

No, Alec needed his husband to beat them at their own game. However, in doing so, Alec would be walking a delicate, diplomatic tightrope. On one hand, he needed the message to be clear enough that his fellow shadowhunters finally saw the raw, unmatched power that his husband truly wielded. On the other hand, he couldn’t let them see this as a weakness within their own leader. Alec still needed to have the upper hand in his own Institute, especially if he planned on bringing forth any real changes to the Clave.

Alec laid it out carefully, making sure everyone would be present that needed to be present, and every action would be accounted for. He couldn’t slip up; shadowhunters were, in general, a smart breed. They would catch on if Alec made any rash or uncalculated moves.

He told no one of his plan. Not even Izzy or Jace. He couldn’t take the slightest chance because if anyone caught wind of what he planned on doing, it wouldn’t just discredit him as a leader, it would be mortifyingly embarrassing for his husband.

The only thing that may have slightly hinted at his plan was the question he had for his parabatai the night before the exams.

“Jace, I need you to do something for me tomorrow, during the final practice for the physical exams.”

Jace looked across Alec’s desk, nodded enthusiastically before Alec even got the whole sentence out.

“Of course man. Anything.”

“I need you to obliterate those kids tomorrow during training,” Jace’s smile lit up his whole face, but before he could agree, Alec held up a finger. “Let me finish. I need you to obliterate them, and then, I need you to fight me and let me win.”

Jace’s face fell.

“What?”

“Please. This is really important.”

“But,” Jace looked heartbroken, “But… you never beat me.”

Alec frowned at his petulant look.

“Jace, I beat you all the time.”

“Yeah, but come on man. In front of those brats? And my grandma?”

“Jace,” Alec sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a frustrated manner. He didn’t expect this to be the hardest part of his plan.

Even in a state of total oblivion, Jace didn’t have a bureaucratic bone in his body.

“Please, parabatai. This is very important to me.” Alec brought his hand back down, sending the full force of his gaze towards his brother.

Jace huffed.

“Fine. But, you owe me. Big time.”

“Trust me,” Alec smiled, “This’ll be worth your weight in gold if it goes the way I hope.”

***

Everything was going perfectly as planned. All the children’s parents were seated, alongside the Inquisitor, at one end of the training room. They watched with proud expressions as their children beat each other to a pulp. Alec had given everyone who wasn’t directly on patrol duty the day off. This meant the majority of his Institute was meandering about the training room, excited to see how far the new recruits had come. The kids were using the extra hands to get in some last-minute training.

Jace, true to his word, was one of these “extra hands.” He sparred with every single one of them, breaking down their battle stances within minutes. Kyah was the only one that held her ground for longer than a five-minute period.

As the official overseer of their training, Alec also gave them each one last shot at him. He over-exaggerated his movements, and let each kid get the upper hand at the beginning of the fight… before bringing them down just as quickly as Jace. After each match, he turned to their respective parents, eyeing the glares that each pair of shadowhunter shot his direction.

Good. Stage one of the plan was complete. Everyone in the room knew that Alec could easily beat the kids at their own game. It should have been a given, but Alec knew their parents could use a bit of a refresher.

Now, for the next move.

Alec nodded at Jace, tilting his head towards a mat in the center of the room. Other shadowhunters, aside from the kids, were also using this time to get in some extra sparring; therefore, it wouldn’t look out of place if Alec and his parabatai had a go at it.

And go at it they did. Jace didn’t hold back, using the staff on more than one occasion to thrash into Alec’s side. Alec feared, after the ten-minute mark was up, that Jace had no intention of ever letting him win. They spun and grunted and sparred until sweat had drenched both their shirts and dripped from their hair onto the mat. Alec knew, intuitively, what Jace was doing. He would lose, but not without showing everyone it wasn’t easy to bring him down.

Fair enough. Alec thought in between blows.

And then, it came. The opportunity wouldn’t have been obvious to someone overseeing the match, but Alec knew his parabatai like the back of his hand. Jace never allowed his throat to be so exposed, as he had it now, and Alec acted fast. He used the staff to hurl Jace to his side and then wrapped an arm around his parabatai’s neck, getting him in a firm and sturdy chokehold.

“Thank you,” he whispered into Jace’s ear, before letting go and turning back towards the crowd.

Nearly everyone was watching them. The kids had all paused their own sparring sessions to see the head of the Institute beat their lead trainer. And the parents saw a man who had beat Imogen Herondale’s beloved grandson.

Alec smiled. The setup was perfect. Imogen looked livid. The parents looked wary, but impressed. And the kids, well, the “lover girls” (as Jace so delicately put it) looked starstruck; the remaining crew just had wide, excited expressions on their faces.

Everyone was looking at Alec.

Everyone was seeing Alec as he’d tried to build himself up to be for years: strong, powerful, worthy of leadership.

And now, everyone would see him fall to the only man worthy enough to be called his equal. That is, if said man would hurry. Alec glanced over at the clock, worry seeping into his thoughts. Magnus should have been there five minutes ago…

“Alexander!” He heard from across the room. Alec ripped his eyes from the clock to give his husband a wide, beaming smile.

Magnus, ever the magnificent, was dressed in a flowery theme today. His suit was all rose petals and green leaves. His eyes were covered in bright, summery tones and his shoes were dipped in some kind of rose gold color. Alec could see, as he got closer, that Magnus had even magicked some baby’s breath into his hair. Little, white flowers were spread out in a delicate pattern all throughout his hair and trailed down to his neckline. He was absolutely beautiful.

“I got your text this morning, darling. Although, I was expecting to be taking out a man a bit less…” Magnus smiled, wiping a bead of sweat from Alec’s forehead, “sweaty.”

Alec smiled back, leaning into the touch as Magnus allowed his hand to linger, dragging it down to cup Alec’s cheek.

“And I’ll let you dress me in whatever you wish for our date,” Magnus beamed, “as soon as you spar with me first.”

Magnus’ face fell a bit, and he moved back to gauge the room. People were already looking at them; most were not welcoming gazes.

“Alec…”

“Please?” Alec pressed on, praying the seductive tactic of staring into his husband’s eyes worked as well for him as it did Magnus. “C’mon babe, you love sparring with me.”

Magnus smirked.

“I wouldn’t call what we do together sparring-”

“Magnus...” Alec cut him off, pleading with him now.

And it was true: Alec and Magnus were frequent visitors to the training room. There was a reason Alec knew this plan could work.

If only his husband would just-

“Alexander, there’s a lot of people here.” Magnus squirmed uncomfortably, shifting his gaze from the crowd and back to his husband’s eyes. He looked… nervous. “And I just put all these flowers in my hair.”

Alec heard a snort from the side and turned to see one of the parents shooting Magnus a rude side-eye.

So he’d heard.

Alec amped up his efforts.

“Baby,” he spoke again, softer this time. He stepped into Magnus’ personal space and reached around Magnus’ lower back with one arm, dragging the man flush against his body. He knew people were watching now. He could feel their eyes drilling holes into the back of his neck. “No one’ll be watching us.”

“Everyone’s watching us, you moron,” Magnus teased, but he said it with a smile.

Alec returned the smile tenfold.

“Then let them watch me up the score and take you ten to nine, hmm? It’s about time we break that tie of ours.”

Alec did intend to break the tie that they’d accumulated over the past few months, but definitely not in his favor.

Finally, he was getting through to Magnus.

His husband’s eyebrows rose as he took a step back from Alec’s grip.

“Oh?” His competitive nature had finally kicked in. It always came with the wretched side-effect of making Alec feel terribly turned-on.

Focus. he reminded himself, determined to see this thing through. Your husband deserves you not being horny for at least ten minutes.

But Magnus, ever the mind reader, was determined not to allow that to happen. With a snap of his fingers, his perfectly curated outfit was replaced with a tight tank top and low-hanging yoga pants.

Alec’s mouth went completely dry.

Dear God. He’s trying to kill me.

Magnus shot him a coy smile, leaning back up against his husband and pressing his lips against Alec’s ear.

“Lead the way, shadowhunter.”

Alec cleared his throat, stepping back far enough so he could formulate a thought that didn’t involve ravishing his husband in front of the entire Institute. The death-glare being shot at him by the Inquisitor was sobering.

Alec grabbed his husband’s hand, leading him over to a mat in the corner of the room. It was a feeble attempt at privacy, but Alec didn’t actually want privacy. He simply wanted Magnus to feel as though Alec was giving them the illusion of privacy.

Alec grabbed them both a staff, throwing one Magnus’ way before positioning himself in a ready stance.

“Ten minutes, and then I want pho,” Magnus spoke, pointing his staff towards Alec in a teasing manner. Alec slapped it away with his own, earning him a shocked look from his husband.

“You won’t last five,” Alec retorted, hoping it would edge Magnus on.

It did.

Magnus’ eyes flashed, and whatever reply he’d prepared left as soon as he saw the determination in Alec’s eyes. He swallowed the remark and spread his legs, making sure to plant his feet firmly to the mat before raising his staff in front of him. As soon as Magnus sent Alec a quick, sharp nod, Alec lunged.

Even when fighting, they were a perfect match. The first time they managed to get through an entire sparring session without abandoning all reason to make-out on the training room floor, Alec had been pleasantly surprised. While Alec was everything a shadowhunter dreamed of being: quick, strong, brutal, and to-the-point; Magnus was more… graceful. His movements were smooth and fluid. He’d been around long enough to know exactly how to make his muscles move the way he wanted them to, and when to move them. His body was like a finely-tuned instrument, never skipping a beat, but knowing when to shift with the tempo. Alec could never catch him off guard; what Magnus lacked in strength and agility, he made up for with quick-thinking and sly movements. Magnus was the perfect sparring partner because it was like trying to grasp at smoke. Every time Alec thought he had a handle on him, Magnus would slip between his fingers, already bouncing back from whatever blow Alec had landed him.

It was no different today. It started off as the usual dance between the two of them: Alec playing on the offensive while Magnus danced around his moves. But Alec couldn’t afford that kind of time. Not today. Not during this match. He needed to get Magnus out of defense; force him to go for his own kills instead of just letting Alec tire himself out.

Alec spotted the opening on Magnus’ left flank. Instead of going for the kill, which Magnus assumed his husband would do, he thrust the staff forward and let Magnus knick it to the side. This created the perfect angle for Alec to tear into the tank top and rip through the stitching along the seams.

“Alec!” Magnus scolded, looking genuinely upset now.

Good, Alec thought triumphantly. Good. C’mon baby. Get pissed.

Alec wasn’t expecting this little bonus, but he wasn’t complaining either. Magnus sent him a haughty look before reaching behind his neck to drag the shirt across his torso and throwing it off to the side once it was off.

“That was Givenchy. I hope you’re happy.” He sniffed, bringing the staff back up and readying himself for another attack.

“Why are you wearing designer clothing to a sparring session?”

“Why does the sun shine, Alexander?” Magnus mocked, making the first move and launching himself at his husband’s left leg. It was an easy block, but at least Magnus was actually trying now. “Because it can.”

It was harder now, Magnus had amped up his efforts significantly. Alec was also slightly distracted by the fact that the only thing separating him from his husband’s naked body was a thin pair of yoga pants.

And the wedded union rune; that was definitely a distraction.

There was no denying its existence now. There is was, etched across Magnus’ chest and glowing a faint, red color. Alec couldn’t afford to let his mind wander too far from the task at hand, but he could see that the reveal had captured most of the room’s attention. Magnus’ wedding rune was on prominent display, and everyone that mattered was here to see it.

Alec wasn’t holding back, hitting his husband a bit too hard at times. This just caused Magnus to grow increasingly frustrated. Luckily, he didn’t allow anger to cloud his judgment; instead, he used it to direct his technique.

It still wasn’t enough.

Alec stepped back, halting their session for a brief moment and throwing the staff to the side. Magnus raised his eyebrows in question, but followed en-suit.

“No magic,” Alec spoke up, not that he’d expected his husband to try any funny business. He said it more so for the near-silent room that had now focused its entire attention on the two sparring partners.

“No runes,” Magnus replied curtly, moving his fists in front of him and bowing to support himself.

Alec offered a quick, sharp nod, before going in again.

This was much different. Hand-to-hand combat was delicate. Alec couldn’t go for easy shots because they’d genuinely injure his husband. The only way either of them was going to win this was in a headlock; but, that didn’t mean Alec couldn’t play dirty.

He never broke the rules, per se, but he struck below-the-belt a few times. Just enough to keep Magnus riled up.

At one point, he swung his foot up for a kick to the face, but Magnus grabbed him by the ankle at the last minute and threw him to the side. Kicking wasn’t off-limits, but it was definitely a cheap shot. Magnus returned the favor with a quick jab to Alec’s side, and he landed the punch perfectly.

Yes, baby, Alec thought, shaking off the punch and getting himself back into a defensive position. Come on Magnus, just a little more. I can’t just let you win.

They danced around like that for a few minutes. Both of them throwing punches and both of them failing to pull a fluid enough move to disarm the other.

Alec fought hard, feeling his muscles begin to ache and his body begin to shake from the strain of the day. However, he strived to stifle any signs of obvious weakness. He needed everyone to see that this was a fair fight and that Alec had given it his all.

Now that Magnus was focusing so hard on beating Alec at his own game, the glamour was slipping. It didn’t require a lot of attention to keep it up, but Magnus had none to spare. Every bit of concentration he had was being used to chase down his husband, and thus his eyes flickered back and forth between warm brown and sharp, piercing gold.

That wasn’t the only piece of his magic that was slipping. Alec watched in amazement as the rune on his chest began to glow brighter, the red giving way to the deep, blue hues of Magnus’ magic. Alec caught glimpses of his own rune and saw that it too was beginning to emit a bright, red glow. Alec would have found it romantic... If he weren’t in the middle of trying to bait his husband into beating him to a pulp.

Finally, just as Alec began to feel as though he would break at any moment, he spotted his opportunity. Magnus was turned so that his hip jutted out a bit, meaning his left leg would be less steady than his right. Alec threw a quick kick to his shin, causing his husband’s knee to buckle, and slipped in to wrap an arm around Magnus’ neck. As Alec moved in for the kill, he shifted his blocking arm a fraction of an inch. It was enough that, if Magnus was paying attention, he could slip through the gap and get another punch in against soft flesh.

Magnus, being both intuitive and ever-so-intelligent, caught sight of the gap immediately, and raised him tenfold. Instead of going for the obvious punch, he used his failing knee to bring him to the ground. He twisted as he fell, jamming an elbow into Alec’s side and causing the man to be thrown off balance. Magnus took the opportunity to swipe at his heels and bring his husband to the ground with him. In one, fluid motion, Magnus had gotten to his knees and swung a leg around Alec’s lower back, straddling him from behind. He used one hand to grab Alec’s forearm and pin it behind his back, while he wrapped his other arm around Alec’s neck.

Here, his lips were right at Alec’s ear, huffing out short little gasps as he tried to breathe through the hold.

From this position, Alec could gauge each person’s reaction. The new recruits looked shocked, Micheal’s mouth hung so wide Alec feared he may begin catching flies. Imogen looked like she was about to set out on a warpath, and the parents looked absolutely horrified. Jace just smirked.

The other shadowhunters, the ones under Alec’s command, also had fearful looks in their eyes. Curiously, Alec tapped his husband’s elbow, causing the older man to relinquish his tight, but rather shaky, grip. Once Alec was loose enough, he turned to face Magnus and nearly gasped at what he saw.

His husband was drenched in sweat, shining from the tips of the flower petals in his hair to the base of his naval (or, where the naval would be, if he had one). His hair hung in damp, loose strands around his face, dripping sweat onto Alec’s body. And his eyes, Angel his eyes, were completely unglamoured now, staring at Alec with shocked, slitted pupils. And his rune was… exceedingly bright. It pulsed with each breath Magnus took and seemed to hum with the amount of magic being channeled through it. Alec had never seen a more beautiful, or dangerous, sight.

“Alexander…” Magnus choked out, concern overtaking his features as he reached out for his husband.

Alec just smiled, reaching up with his own hand to catch Magnus’ wrist and turning it over to kiss the inside of Magnus’ palm. A peace offering.

“Alec I-”

“Relax,” Alec replied, propping himself up on his elbows and shifting his weight a bit so that he could trail his left hand up Magnus’ stomach. As he got closer to his husband’s chest, the rune on the back of his hand began to throb, send short little bursts of red light out until Alec reached its other half. There, the rune settled into a soft, red haze. Alec felt the magic seep into his fingertips and spread throughout his limbs. It tickled his stomach and caused something warm and tender to blossom in his chest. It clogged his throat and tore into his heart, causing his eyes to tear up with emotion. He could see similar effects taking place in his husband’s own body; he saw the raw, unchecked emotion written clear across his expression. Magnus’ eyes were watery and his breathing was coming out as quick, shallow gasps.

“Look at you,” Alec choked out. He knew the whole room could hear him. It had been eerily quiet since the beginning of the fight; a pin could have dropped and it would have echoed across the entire training hall.

“Look at you,” Alec repeated, smiling up at Magnus as he let the first few tears slip down his cheeks.

“My husband.”