Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Magnus, it’s only going to be for a week. Less than a week! It’s just Clave business,” Alec watched Magnus at the stove, stirring some combination of vegetables in a pan that definitely was not in the apartment before magnus started dinner. The warlock shook his head, continuing the repetitive motion. He had been at it for ten minutes now- nothing needed that much stirring, Alec thought to himself. He had been in the kitchen since Alec had come home and announced that he was leaving first thing tomorrow. According to the fire message that had flashed across his hand earlier that day, he was being sent away for a five-day trip to make contact with a Downworld diplomat that needed to speak to him. Personally. Magnus was less than happy about it, struggling between being understanding and being absolutely furious with the Clave for expecting the head of the New York Institute to be at their beck and call. And with a fire message no less. It was simply rude and distasteful. Magnus glared at the stove and it burned a little hotter.

“Magnus?” the Shadowhunter moved from where he leaned against the counter, padding across the kitchen with quiet assured steps, pausing for a moment behind his husband. Letting him choose to accept his touch in the moment. Magnus leaned back against him with a sigh and Alexander wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him a little closer so they were flush, fitting perfectly together, despite the tension still clear across Magnus’s shoulders.

“I just don’t like it, Alexander. What Downworlder’s could the Clave order you to meet them at the pier without Luke’s or Raphael’s knowledge? Or mine for that matter? I’m the goddamn High Warlock of Brooklyn!” He stopped as cauliflower went flying across the stove, static sparks flashing across his fingertips in frustration. Magnus sighed again as Alec to turn the stove off, letting him pry the spatula and pan from his grip. He rubbed his eyes, the fight draining from him an iota as his husband kissed the soft skin behind his ear.

“Something else is bothering you about this job, sweetheart,” Alexander carefully began, nuzzling his temple as the warlock interlocked their hands. “What is it?”

Magnus shifted in his hold, so they were chest to chest, biting his lip, “Why are they sending you alone?”

“Something about me being the only Shadowhunter with Downworld acquaintances,” Alec mumbled, stopping as Magnus scoffed.

“So, our relationship is reason to put you in danger?” Alec opened his mouth to speak but Magnus shook his head, “Darling, the Clave has a bad habit of thinking you are expendable. I don’t like the fact that you, that we, are being manipulated like this.”

The Shadowhunter sighed “They told me that it’s a high enough profile contact that they want someone of stature. Apparently I was not explicitly requested in as many words, but it may have been a personal invitation. However,” Alec put his finger on Magnus’s lips, stopping him from protesting, “for now, the Clave sees me as expendable because that’s what I am. We can discuss this topic later, but for the moment, if they see me as expendable, that’s what I am.” He continued, smiling gently as Magnus placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his finger. “Jace will take over internal affairs at the institute for the five days I’m gone, Izzy will host the next Downworlder meeting and oversee the pleasantries. I’ll be home by Saturday. No one will even notice my absence,” He removed his finger and kissed Magnus’s nose.
Magnus pouted, “I’ll notice. And you are not expendable, love.”

“More expendable than some. And as long as the Clave sees me as expendable, I must act in that role,” Alexander repeated, planting a final determined kiss to his husband’s forehead, smoothing the worried lines, “Don’t worry. I know I’m not. You would never let me think that.”

Magnus took a deep breath, composure returning as a small smile graced his lips, “Seeing as you have your stubborn, Shadowhunter mind made up, what time do you have to leave?”

Alexander relaxed, bringing a hand up to fiddle with a metal pendant Magnus had chosen to wear that morning, tugging on it gently, “Five am. I’ll be meeting them by the pier, on a ship by six to open negotiations, whatever those end up being.”

Magnus counted in his head quickly, “So we have so we have nine hours to prepare for five days without each other then?” Alexander smiled in return, tightening his arms around him.

“Mhm. Any suggestions?” He asked, pulling the pendant gently, the other man following to lean in closer and closer. Magnus ran his hands up and down his torso like he was memorizing everything he could before they were separated. Which was ridiculous- he had memorized everything long ago.

“Oh, I can think of a few,” Magnus whispered as he pulled Alexander into a kiss.

The wind blew sharp and cold over the bay as Alexander waited on the dock for the boat to arrive. He had gotten there early, but it was dragging on to 5:30, and he glanced around with his usual calm, controlled gaze, assessing the situation. He was invisible to Mundanes, per the request of the fire message he had received. He had followed the instructions perfectly, with the addition of Magnus teleporting him a few blocks away before walking to the location completely alone. He was going to spend every final moment he could with his husband. He had said his goodbyes to Jace and Isabelle the day before as well, and he would have seen them again if he had been able to. But he felt a subtle surge of strength through his Parabatai bond, and he knew the Institute would be in good hands. He wasn’t worried. Worry made you anxious and sloppy and got you killed.

He had brought the essentials with him, although the message had not specified provisions, he figured it was better to be prepared. The backpack over his shoulder was packed with the standard essentials; a seraph blade, knives, a change of clothing, toothbrush, first aid, and a cell charger. He was informed that he would not be allowed to contact anyone on the outside, expect for the Clave correspondent, but he was hoping he could spare an evening and check in on the Institute, or at least send a text to Magnus. He had only gotten a brief goodbye, the kiss between them before he stepped through the portal still tingling on his lips. The Shadowhunter smiled, glancing down at his hand. On his thumb was a plain, silver band Magnus had given to him last night.

Alexander let his professional demeanor slip for a moment, unconsciously running a calloused finger over the ring as he glanced around, thinking back to the night before.

“For luck,” Magnus smiled gently, cat eyes glowing gold in the darkness as he held out his hand. Alexander shifted to sit up in bed, soft sheets pooling around his waist as he reached out to place to offer his hand in return, letting Magnus take it with a tenderness that still lit flustered sparks up through his back. He watched as with a quick snap of blue energy Magnus brought a ring to his hand, slipping it on his thumb. The band fit perfectly, a comforting weight on his hand, the metal already warm like he had been wearing it all day. Glinting sliver with a hint of blue that shimmered just beyond what Alexander could see, he got the feeling there was something more to it than a simple piece of jewelry.

“Just luck?” Alec grinned up at the warlock.

Magnus floundered, rolling his eyes trying to come up with the best explanation for the gift, “Well, there may be a small, tiny, miniscule protection spell. Maybe a tracking spell for good measure. If you aren’t comfortable-“

Alec leaned forward, cutting him off with a gentle kiss, soft lips with the contrast of stubble that never stuck around long enough in Magnus’s opinion. They breathed each other in, Alec bringing a hand up to cup Magnus’s face, hands intertwining in hair. They slowly pulled apart after a minute, foreheads resting together.
“Thank you, Magnus. I appreciate it. And you,” Magnus giggled, pulling him back down, arms warm and secure and-

A painfully frigid gust of wind pulled him back into the present. Alec shook himself as a boat began to appear through the mist. "Finally," he sighed, shifting to a polite and professional stance, preparing to make greet whoever came off the ship.

Too much happened at once.

His body reacted before he really knew what was happening. A shuffle of feet behind him, a breath, he moved to turn-

His head filled with ringing as pain as he fell to the ground. He gasped, reaching for his stele, a boot stomping down onto his arm.

His ring glowed blue, flashing out away from him as electric energy rushed out, shooting through his assailant. The Shadowhunter pulled himself up, grabbing his stele, beginning to run, before another flash of pain shot through him, vision blurring, blood already seeping through his shirt.

The ring sent out another pulse of radiating electricity, but it was whisked away with a yellow green flash and Alexander was pushed back, arms coming up over his head as he crashed into the concrete. He gritted his teeth, pain searing through his body, the smell of sulfur and burning overwhelming, eyes stinging and throat closing.

Something cold and metal gripped around his arms and he slashed out with his stele, kicking and thrashing but more and more tendrils wrapped around his legs. If he was a Mundane, he would have been crushed. He thrashed, shouting out, and for every tendril he seemed to cut, two more grew in its place, tying around him, pressing him down into the cold concrete.

A sharp piercing pain flashed through his neck and his limbs grew heavy, eyes closing on their own accord. Fighting with the last ounce of strength he reached for his stele, only for it to be kicked away by some dark figure. He thrashed helplessly until darkness overtook him, his body falling limp.

Chapter Text

Alec woke up drenched and coughing, the man tossing the empty bucket to the ground telling him not moments ago it was filled with ice cold water. His Shadowhunter instincts kicked in quickly, assessing the situation with calculated precision and calmness despite the pain throbbing through his skull and ribs. Five people in the room, his subconscious supplemented for him. Woman behind a desk. Big desk. Bigger men. She and the four men didn’t any signals other than mundane ones. Weird. But there were runed shackles held him to the wall at his wrists and ankles, the warmth in them unnatural and they seemed to move as he moved.

“Oh Mr. Lightwood, you’re awake,” She turned to the man standing next to her silently at the desk, -boss- “Love, go get the chambers ready please,” her voice was smooth and deep. It sent shivers down Alec’s spine. “Mr. Lightwood, I apologize for the inconvenience of the shackles, but we needed you relatively immobile, I’m sure you understand.”

“No, I really don’t,” Alexander returned, watching as the man left the room, trying to take in every lock and bolt in place on the door. “I was prepared to have a diplomatic conversation. I’m still willing if you are.”

“This is what you might call a private business deal. You are not the diplomat; in this case you are the product,” She nodded to the ice-bucket man, and he stepped closer to Alec. Still too far away to get to.

Wait. Something about her. Something about her voice was familiar.

No, that wasn’t important right now. What was important was getting out.

“Is there a reason I’m chained up in your office then?” Alexander fought to keep her talking. The longer she talked, the longer he had to see the office. Amateurs.
“I like to get to know what I’m dealing with,” She smiled lightly and something about it sent a shiver down Alec’s spine, one part familiarity, one part absolute loathing. Her blood red lips held tight and professional and Alec allowed himself a smirk in response.

“So do I,” He said, tightening his pull on the chains. Didn’t matter if he knew her or not- he was getting out.

Her eyes darted up to his hold and he waited for her to make a move. But she simply grinned. Panic gripped his throat. Long fangs protruded down, longer than any vampire he had seen before. -Not mundane- passed through his brain and he tried not to groan in frustration at himself. -Of course she’s not mundane-
“If you aren’t aware, keeping me here is a violation of the Accords.” He began, trying to twist his wrist, beginning to pry at the bolt holding the chain to the wall.
“Oh, I don’t care about the Accords, all I needed new merchandise to keep the mundanes interested in my operation. A Shadowhunter wanted you out of the way. And uh…” She shrugged, glancing up at him, “So did I.”

She laughed at Alec’s frozen expression, confusion and panic just now flickering to the surface of his perfectly composed demeanor.

“Client confidentiality, so you will forgive my hesitance to shout out names. But trust your loss will not be worthless. You are going to make me a lot of money,” She stepped closer, and he could smell the wine on her breath. He took a deep breath ignoring the wince in his side.

“You are in violation of the Accords.” He repeated, trying to push down the fear and confusion and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He gave a tug and the bolt in the wall wiggled. If he could just keep her talking, get one of her henchmen closer, maybe, just maybe he could break free. He had to try.

“Trust me, Mr. Lightwood, I’m only violating the Accords if I get caught,” She smiled as she was a handed a knife. “Besides, who is going to miss you?”

Panicked gripped his chest again as she slashed the arm he was going to break free. A shout was ripped from his throat and he kicked out, only for the runes on the chains to glow, sharp hot pain shooting through his legs and arms. He pulled his arm down, pulling the bolt from the wall as he held it against his body, trying to stop the bleeding. She stepped back as the men ran forward, pinning his arm once again to the wall as the runs on the chains pulsed in brilliant searing pain. She sighed as though only inconvenienced, holding her wine glass up to the gash. Alec watched in horror and disgust as she let his blood drip down to mix with her wine.

“Cabernet sauvignon always does bring out the angelic notes from Shadowhunters, doesn’t it,” She smiled, red coating lips and teeth. “Boys. Take him to his room,” She demanded, stepping into the background that was already becoming hazy with the pain. He struggled against the holds of the chains, of the pressure around his throat and ribs from the men, until a stinging white-light pain pierced his neck, and he once again fell unconscious.

Well this is an annoying habit, Alec thought to himself as he came to. He wasn’t pinned to the wall anymore which was nice, but cold floor wasn’t much better. Bruises littered his body and the gash in his arm had stopped bleeding for the most part. He must have been out for a few hours then. Fuck. He took a deep steadying breath, instead turning to take in his environment.

The room, or cell, really, was small and metal, the door a grate of steel braces, with holes so they could still see in. There was no movement out there for the moment and Alec thanked the angel for small favors. There was a cot bolted to the wall, which they had not put him in. No manners. You kidnap an executively powerful Shadowhunter and don’t even put him in a cot after torturing him. Honestly. The sheets were scratchy and musty smelling but thankfully, as far as he could tell, clean. The florescent light flickered and now that he wasn’t pinned to a wall and drugged, he could feel the room sway gently back and forth. Water. He hadn’t noticed when his was in the office. That means he was on a boat. He should have noticed.

He should have noticed a lot of things. Starting with the goddamn attack in the first place. If he hadn’t been distracted thinking about Magnus-
Magnus.
His heart was already dropping as he glanced down at his hands to find the ring gone. Shit. His throat tightened and his breath became short and labored. No, not now, he needed to remain calm. Panic is the thing that gets you killed. He took a deep breath through his nose, ribs protesting. The panic went down, settling in the pit of his stomach as he focused on his training, surveying his situation and getting out.

His thoughts ran on autopilot as he scanned the room, fingers running along the cold metal walls, over rivets and promising looking dents and hinges. If he was on a boat, he was going to have to swim, or wait for them to dock. Unless they were already docked. But he didn’t hear seagulls or other boats, so that implied they were further out in the harbor. Either way, it was going to be a few days until the others found him. He nudged at his parabati bond as he scratched some paint away from the edge of the door, pressing fear and need forward towards Jace.

He grimaced as the message seemed to push back, like the emotion could only go as far as the walls. A minute more of scratching at the paint revealed the edge of a sigil carved into the wall. It was unfamiliar to Alec, but it was grotesque to look at, and a chill ran down his spine. There were others under the paint, and he knew they would effectively block his parabatai connection.

Quickly plans A and B for getting out of here were looking more like plans L or M. Maybe N if he found something else unpleasant.

He sighed, laying down on top of the sheets on his cot, closing his eyes to think through the situation. Unlike his siblings, he took problems and picked them apart, slowly and precisely. He managed to figure out every detail and then slot it back into place. Like a bow and arrow, he focused on a target and found the quickest and most efficient way of dealing with it. Figuring out who these people were would be the first course of action. Begin with what you know Alexander, Magnus’s voice supplemented, and he allowed himself a calming breath.

They had beat him up, sure, but nothing was badly broken or permanently damaged. They had taken his ring, stele, and equipment, but he was wearing the clothing he came with. The room was sturdy enough to hold a wide variety of individuals with skills comparative to his own. There were wards etched onto the walls, he could feel them like static against his fingertips. It was designed for a Shadowhunter, yes, but something about them felt patch worked together. Like the people who did it were ready to deal with any type of Downworlder and didn’t really know what to do with a Shadowhunter.

His thoughts turned to his captors. The woman’s fangs were long. They felt…synthetic. Unnatural. But the other men must have been mundanes, right? They seemed like hired muscle, it wasn’t like vampires or werewolves not to reveal themselves to take down a Shadowhunter, especially after one had already revealed themselves. And it couldn’t be clan run, they didn’t bear any resemblance or crest to one another. Was she turning mundanes? No, they would have heard of this, even if she was an undercover operation. Why would they want a high profile Shadowhunter? Maybe his runes? But those would kill anyone other than a Shadowhunter.

There was also the case of the counterattacks from Magnus’s ring. Only a Warlock could have done that, and Alec winced at the memory of being pressed into the ground, yellow flames choking out his vision and breath. Was she the Warlock? He’d never met a Warlock who was also a vampire, but she was…different. The longer he had apart from her, the more their interaction pulled at something in the back of his brain. Something about her wasn’t right, and not just in the terrifying life threatening enemy way.

So, a synthetic vampire who may or may not be a warlock, some mundanes who may or may not also be vampires, and a warlock who may or may not be the aforementioned enemy. Sounds like the set up to a joke Simon would tell. Alexander huffed a laugh- maybe it wasn’t so bad he was locked in here, away from that man.

But why would they lock him in here? To drink his blood? Maybe. She had cut his arm pretty deeply. But why not hook him up and start bagging his blood immediately? She had let most of his blood drip onto the floor, and if it was his blood they were after, they wouldn’t let it go to waste with off handed shows of domination. A chill ran through his body once more as her words echoed back to him.

Merchandise.

The woman had called him merchandise. Alec’s skin crawled at the word and he had to swallow to keep the rising bile down. They wanted him alive, that was for sure. And there was some sort of service involved. If only he knew what it was. If only he knew where he was. Was anyone else here with him? Was he the first Shadowhunter?

Quiet. None of these questions could be answered right now. They aren’t his concern. Stay calm, and prepare to ride this out, at least until someone could find him. Or he had the chance to escape. He rolled to his side, scratching with his thumb nail at the paint on the wall until a thin line appeared.

Day one.

Chapter Text

Izzy sighed. Three days and not a word from her brother or the Clave yet. Of course she knew when she wasn’t being told something, and the Clave was keeping more secrets than usual. Alec didn’t even know what the mission was, just what he was supposed to do, that’s all he told her the day before he left, apologetic and frustrated.

She sighed again, a little more forcefully this time and propped her feet up on the desk, heels clicking against the wood. She knew she needed to discuss it with Alec, but she didn’t want to distract him honestly. He never seemed to get all of his work done when Alec was hounding at him, so you could imagine the lack of productivity in him when the eldest wasn’t around. But suspicion still itched at the back of her mind. It didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel right. She couldn’t complain, she had gotten he fun job of running the Downworlder relations. On top of weapons master, she was having a grand time flexing her diplomacy strength.

Still, the whole thing felt suspicious. She chewed on a well-manicured nail, turning the situation over and over in her head like a lock that just needed one small button pushed before it could be unlocked. The Clave was never one to shy away from pomp and red tape, and secret missions, especially for the Head of the Institute, seemed not only like a big fucking waster of time, but not their style at all.

She sighed for a third time in as many minutes. It was better thinking loudly when there were other people around. You got more attention that way anyways. Maybe she should go talk to Jace-

The door to the gym thudded open as Jace practically tripped over himself to rush to his sister.

“Speak of the devil-” Izzy smiled but it soon faded as soon as she saw the panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Jace was pale, and Izzy could see broken skin on his lip as his teeth bit to draw blood in worry, “Its Alec, Izzy. Something is wrong I can feel it.”

Panic began to wrap loosely around his throat, and she willed it away as she took a deep breath, ““Why? Does he feel hurt? Anxious?” Her whip began to wrap tighter around her wrist responding to her subconsciously, readying herself for danger.

“No,” Jace shook his head, and Izzy felt her self relax infinitesimally, a reaction that Jace apparently did not have, eyes frantically darting like he was search for his Parabati, “No he felt anxious over the last two days, I…It’s been hard to really sense him sometimes it feels, I can’t describe it, synthetic almost?” He shook his head again at Izzy’s questioning look, “But today I was doing paperwork and I focused on him and all I got was calm. Not happy but just, almost nothing. Complete calm.”

Izzy rolled her eyes, “Jace, I know it’s different but Alec is allowed to be calm. He’s become more confident now that he’s the head of the institute-“

“That’s just the thing though,” Jace glanced at her, “He appears it but unless there is an emergency, he never feels this calm. Not for this long,” His voice dropped to a whisper, hand on Izzy’s arm, “Not without Magnus.”

Izzy’s whip practically hissed as her face steeled at the realization, “Someone’s blocking your bond, sending you false signals,” Jace swallowed and nodded carefully. Interfering with a Parabatai bond was frowned upon at least and fucking dangerous at best, every Shadowhunter and Downworlder who paid attention enough to the hunters knew it.

“This has never happened before, Izzy, I,” He took a shaking breath, “We read about this stuff of course, years ago when we made the bond, but I never thought-“ Izzy’s hand wrapped around his wrist, eyes dark and focused.
“What’s the plan,” Not a question. A statement. Jace took a moment to appreciate that his sister was a woman of action before nodding.

“We should call Magnus. If it’s another one of our own, I don’t want to go spreading the word that we are on to them,” Jace shuddered at even the thought, but unfortunately it wasn’t beyond possibility. Shadowhunter’s had tried to usurp Lightwoods before, and Alec had a target on his back from day one.

Izzy pulled out her phone, “You get Clary, meet me in Alec’s office,” Jace nodded, shutting the door quickly behind him as Magnus picked up.

“Isabel! A pleasant-“ Magnus’s voice was clear and crisp over the phone and Izzy almost shook as she cut him off.

“Magnus, it’s Alec. You need to get to the Institute. He-“ A shimmer of gold was already forming in the corner of the room before she could finish her sentence.

Magnus stepped through, anger rolling off of him like smoke, “What happened?”

Magnus sat stoically in his chair, and to someone looking in through one of the stained glass windows, the five of them might as well have been discussing the weather. But blue static rippled along the curtains and ancient carpet, and Clary could taste the metallic peppermint of Magnus magic all too familiar on the back over her tongue. She glances nervously at Isabel who gave her a calm assured nod.

In the center of the room, a glowing orb gently floated, a silver ring perfectly matching the one Magnus had given Alec that morning that already felt so long ago oscillating in the center. It washed them out in blues and greens as it swirled and pulsed. Everyone’s eyes were glued to it, Simon huddled in the corner trying to stay as much out of the way as possible. This wasn’t Shadowhunter business. He was used to trying and failing to stay out of Shadowhunter business. No, this was Lightwood business. Arguably more dangerous, absolutely more terrifying.

“I don’t like how much they know,” Jace mumbled again, hand tight over his Parabatai rune. “I mean, even when I was…even when I was far, Alec found me. He managed to find me. But they must be close to water, or, or on a runed ship, or got him to an island. Fuck its been three days, even if its just our own and they aren’t using a warlock to portal-“

“You are suspecting the Clave?” Magnus asked, golden eyes not flinching from the ring.

“Not the Clave itself as a whole,” Clary interjected, “Most likely someone working alone from the inside, right?” She glanced up at Jace, “Why would they want Alec anyway?”

Jace grimaced, “A lot of people feel the Lightwoods have outrun their course as the heads of the institute.” He glanced at his sister, “Especially Alec.”

“But Alec was doing a good job, wasn’t he?” Simon piped up from the corner. “I mean, Downworld relations have never been better, you all said so yourself…fewer deaths, more control and consistency over the rifts-”

“It doesn’t matter how good of a job he’s doing,” Jace rolled his eyes not even turning to look at the younger vampire. “He’s good at his job and that makes a lot of people in the Clave mad.”

Isabelle sighed, shaking her head, “I still don’t think it’s a strong enough lead. Alec received a fire message, remember? We don’t even have any clear links to any one person, let alone the Clave. If he-“

A sudden burst of blinding light flashed through the chamber and they all flinched, the scent of sulfur and rotting flowers filling the room. Simon was thrown against the wall with a sickening thud, Izzy stumbling to check him. Jace was pushed into the desk, books and papers flying. Clary grabbed Magnus who had received the brunt of the force, chair tipped over almost like he was being thrown into the ground. The mortar itself seemed to shake and dust rose in the air. Spots of color danced in front of their eyes as the room settled back down, papers strewn across the floor, each of them gasping for breath.

The ring hung motionless in the air for a moment too long before falling to the floor with a heavy clang, red static twitching over it. Anger and disgust began to coil in Magnus’s gut as he rose to stand over the lifeless ring.
“Not good?” Isabel asked cautiously.

“No,” Magnus answered, short and sharp.

“What was it?” Clary asked, stumbling forward.

Magnus’s eyes grew dark as the anger inside of him began to morph into a panicked rage.

“Camille.”

Chapter Text

Alexander rolled over, snuggling down into the plush silk sheets on Magnus’s bed. A shiver of cold ran down his back, but he ignored it. The shouts and thumping grew louder; Magnus’s clients must be getting rowdier he thought, burying his head into the pillow. The screams grew louder and louder and he reached out, trying to find Magnus, to hold Magnus through the screaming and screaming and-
Alec sat up, gasping for air. The sheets pooled around him in a scratchy gray pile, and the metal cot creaked under his weight. The cheers from the stage were growing louder and louder and those awake in their cells screamed and hit the bars across their doors. He sighed, rubbing his face. They must have drugged him again; while life at the Institute gave him an internal clock the random times of sleep and activity was making it difficult for him to track his progress. He rose, pulling at the scratchy black sweater they threw at him the day of his arrival. Them- he had no idea who they were. He knew now that they weren’t Downworlders. But they weren’t mundane, at least, not anymore. He pulled the small bit of metal he had wiggled from the bed frame, scratching the tenth small line into the wall at the foot of his cot. Ten days. He mental checked himself- no broken bones, no fractures, bruises forming on his ribs, fore arms, fists and feet which wasn’t surprising. He knew they were testing him for something- he just didn’t know what. Mentally he was still at a comfortable awareness level. He made a mental note not to let the dreams get to him. Even when he was at the institute he had wistful dreams, he couldn’t be distracted by them, no matter how much he longed to be home and in bed with Magnus.
They had made him complete exercises one day, then jabbed him full of something the next. But he had been able to continue to count how many steps it took them to get him from one room to another, had been able to track the days based on what food they gave him, and now that it had been ten days, he knew the institute would be alerted. That his family would be looking for him. That Magnus would be looking for him.
He hadn’t seen the woman again, which worried him. But if she was the boss, then she probably didn’t get her hands dirty. Still, he made a mental note to try to bug some of the lab workers about her today. Maybe they would give something away.

The lights in his cell glowed and the air turned sharper, pulling his further and further from sleep no matter how he tried. The lack of control over his body was terrifying, though he would never admit it. As a hunter, he had trained for years to depend on his abilities, his sense. But the point of controlling his very breath was the thing that elicited more fear in him than anything else.

His escorts arrived a few hours later, and he smiled up at them from the cot, “So what is it today boys? Training? Lab?”

They didn’t respond. They never did. The simply watched him until he sighed, rising, letting them lock the chains around him, leading him to the lab. He continued to talk to them for his own amusement. If he was silent, they had control over him. As long as he talked, he could keep gaining information. Guards were never as neutral as they thought they were. And the trainer had already confirmed about five potential exits.

The doors to the lab automatically opened and he grimaced at the acidic and smokey stench that filled the room- nothing good came with that smell, magic or not. The guards were escorting another prisoner out, and if she felt half as bad as she looked it was a sign she’d been here at least as long as him. Werewolf he guessed by the silver blades held by her ribs in the same way they held tasers to his.

Alexander watched as she was walked from the room, four guards around her, as he was learning was standard for the Downworlders that were here. Her eyes continued to shift around restlessly, like she was watching forms that weren’t there. He observed her carefully, trying to make eye contact with her, trying to form some alliance. She glanced at him just for a moment, and his throat almost closed. She was young, seventeen at most. Her eyes were golden, and he felt sure that she was not controlling the change to her werewolf form. She just as quickly glanced away, emotionless and stoic.

That meant five others with him on the ship- two werewolves now, a seelie, and two unidentified, he suspected warlock based on the brief marking he could see on them. Based on the way his food was portioned, and the other medical equipment and specimen bags that they left around the lab, he was hard pressed to think there were more than six or seven of them on the ship. He was certain it was a ship by now. He had to keep trusting himself, trusting his gut. If he didn’t trust himself, he would go crazy.

The marks on his wall said ten days, and he had to believe that too, but that was him purely depending on the haphazard schedule they seemed to follow and his uncertain circadian rhythms. He had a half inch gap in the slot that they passed food through, and he had been keeping his eye glued to it every passing moment he wasn’t being walked to the makeshift medical bay they were in now. This was where he lost the most hours. The three figures seemed to spend their time here, collecting skin samples from his runes and un-runed skin, drawing pints of blood at a time, the like. They never revealed their faces, covered from head to toe in medical equipment, surgical masks and face shields worn like armor as their prisoners spit and bled in their faces.

Every day, once to maybe five times, if his reaction wasn’t bad, they would inject some combination of chemicals, ichor, and mundane drugs into his system and then just watch. Sometimes nothing happened. Those were days they’d take their frustrations out on whoever they had next. But they had been getting more and more effective as the staff clearly trying to figure out what drugs would have an effect on him, on his angelic abilities. They clearly already knew what they were doing, the sigil that had been branded over his Parabatai ruin signaling that they had done their research.

“So…where’s your boss?” He began, knowing they wouldn’t answer, but the habit was hard to break. He huffed a laugh to himself as they continued to prepare the needles laying across the table. “C’mon, whatever she promised you it isn’t worth it.” Nothing. He sighed, “I bet you respond when the vampire talks.”

“They’ve learned to shut up,” The masked figure said gruffly, “And if you don’t shut up, we’re gonna muzzle you.”

Alec huffed a laugh before grimacing in pain as the needle stabbed into his arm, “I’d like to see you fucking try-“ He gasped as heat spread through his body like wild fire. It burned under his skin, itching and flaming and no amount of writhing would make it stop.

“Seriously what ever you are trying, its not going to work,” He wheezed out, grimacing. “What do you want? My blood? Just drink it like normal you fucking freaks-“ He writhed, gasping and sobbing. “Why don’t you just kill me at this point?” he gritted out, only for a cold hand appear on his cheek, the woman’s face appear in his blurred vision not a second after.

“Oh, I don’t want to kill you baby,” She murmured, hands running up and down his legs. “You are so much more useful to me alive. Why, humans have a funny habit of wanting what they can’t have. If I have you, I have all the resources I need to keep those stupid Mundanes groveling at my feet for their next supplements, their next treatment, their next miracle drug to make them big and strong and sexy and, well, you get the idea.”
He flinched as a nail traced up his neck to turn his chin to the side as he shook, “And while I could simply control you with my magic, if I have my boys here learning how to control you on a more…primal level, well that’s just less work on my part, isn’t it?”

“Why me?” Alec found himself asking sweat dripping down his body as he shook and heaved at the effects of the drugs, “Someone paid you out? The court? Th-the institute?” His voice pitched and shook as a whimper was dragged from his throat.

She scoffed, “Oh you stupid boy. Fine. It’s not like it will matter anyway.” She leaned in close, hand resting on his neck as he shuddered and convulsed, “There was an announcement made, Lightwood. Whoever got you out of the picture got paid. I could have just killed you. So many others just planned on killing you. But Alexander,” she tightened her grip, “you took away everything from me.” She smiled as Alec’s face twisted in confusion, “Oh I can tell you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

She stood tall in front of him and a glimmer of green shifted over her features.

He had only known her for a day, but he had seen her likeness hundreds of times before and after.

“Camille,” the name stung his throat as he whispered it, fear churning in his stomach almost as painful as the fire under his skin.

“Oh, so kind of you to remember who you forced Magnus to abandon. He left me, all warlocks, all because he was horny for some fucking Shadowhunter,” she spat, “I clawed my way out of the nothingness he banished me to. I had to believe that it was just a misunderstanding. A simple mistake. But what did I come back to find?” She hissed, fangs lowering ever so slightly, “You two fucking each other. You took Magnus from me you pathetic, pitiful little boy. He tried to kill me for a fucking Shadowhunter.”

She lunged at him, nails digging into his shoulders. He pulled at the braces on his wrists but they didn’t budge, “I hate Magnus Bane. I want him to suffer like I suffered. But when a Clave official wanted you gone, well,” She shrugged, giggling, “I couldn’t help myself,” her nails scratched down his shoulders, red welts blooming in their wake as she glanced up at the men busying themselves around the lab, “And when these boys approached me when I was weak, still recovering from the fate Magnus sent me too and proposed a business deal…Well it just all came together, didn’t it? Why try to get to Magnus when I can destroy the person who was really the reason for my banishment?

"They wanted to commercialize the Downworlders. Well, easy enough, humans these days are obsessed with power already,” she licked her fangs, grinning, “But commercializing angelic abilities? Oh my, now that’s just the icing on the cake. And if that angelic power is none other than Alexander Lightwoods?” The fire in his veins began to sting, new pain piercing through his body mouth gaping in some attempt to respond but nothing came, his Adam’s apple bobbing silently. She drew closer, gripping his jaw with her fingers, thumb pressed into his mouth under his tongue, forcing him to look at her as drool began to pool and spill over his chin.

“Every single day, Alexander Lightwood. You will pay for what you did. You are mine now. You are my product. My merchandise to do with as I will. And when I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your own name.” She smiled at him, dropping a kiss to his forehead before pulling back, watching as he convulsed and screamed, “Oh I just love it when they look so lost and scared. But so loud,” She grinned up at the lab worker, “Maybe we should muzzle him after all.”

Chapter Text

Magnus laid in bed. He couldn’t bring himself to get up. Alexander had been the early riser, pulling he warlock up out of sleep, scents of coffee and burnt bacon would have greeted him on Saturday mornings like this. At least when Alec had been allowed to have a rare weekend to himself. Sometimes Magnus lied to himself for days at a time, telling himself that Alexander was just out on a particularly long night watch, maybe he was at the Clave for a meeting, a lecture series. Alexander had been looking forward to explaining to the other institutes a new security system and training program he was implementing.

Magnus found himself smiling as he thought of his husband almost prancing around the kitchen in puppy like excitement over the thought of a new weapons room, explaining why the upgrades on his new arrows where so important. The smile faltered as his hand drifted across the cold pillow next to him. He curled himself up smaller into the sweater he had taken from Alec’s side of the closet. Well, corner. Magnus wished there had been more left. His scent faded so fast. Magnus hadn’t put away his Alexander’s coffee cup yet. He had washed it the day after Alec had left. Before they even knew anything was wrong. When he was still glancing at his phone causally to see if he had been able to step away for a quick call before going into more meetings. What an idiot he had been. He should have known. They all should have known.

Anger burned in Magnus’s stomach. He should have killed Camille when he had the chance. Any love or respect he had for that woman had been lost long ago. He should have checked on her imprisonment. Of course she would take her anger out on Alexander. Of course she would. Ragnor and he had known her revenge intimately.

Magnus had to stop himself from digging his nails into his arm. Of course Magnus’s past and stupid spontaneous choices would come back just to harm his Alexander. And now there was nothing he could do.
Every scry, every spell attempting to find Alec was painstakingly disassembled and blocked. Even Dot and Catarina couldn’t get a read, although they had narrowed it down to New York. But New York was a big place, and for the first five days searching they had backed the wrong horse. That horse being London. Magnus still felt spite over the fake tracker someone had planted near the London institute to keep them off the right track. They were fucking hopeful fools for falling for that one.

Magnus sighed, dragging himself up out of bed, halfheartedly letting his magic dress him in a subdued blazer and dress pants, still on brand, but he really didn’t have the energy for much more. With a quick snap his makeup was done, and he resolutely ignored his expectation that Alec would walk through the bedroom door at any second to press a kiss to his forehead, or to look at him with those beautiful huge hazel eyes in adoration when he waltzed into the kitchen.

But all that greeted him was the Chairman meowing and rubbing against his ankles, getting cat fur all over his trousers and Magnus sighed, “You miss him too, hm?” He said and Chairman simply meowed forlornly.

He sighed again just to really drive the point home before walking to his study to examine the scries he had set up a week ago. He studied the various bowls of water, rocks, bits of metal and ancient twine wrapped around hoops with a variety of teeth and bits of Alexanders shirts stuck in them while sipping a cup of very strong coffee. They hoped the variety and honestly, stupidity, of the scrying materials would dodge Camille’s wards, trying to be unexpected and subtle in their approach. Some were meant to find a location, but some were meant simply to track Alexander’s life status, which brought Magnus the most hope. Well not hope. Hope felt empty. Not deep enough, not sincere enough. Maybe faith. Faith that they weren’t tracking someone who was long dead.

He knew his husband was still alive. He had to be. Magnus didn’t trust much right now but he trusted the spell he had conjured with the help of Catarina. A small heartbeat like light continued to pulse in the stone and Magnus let himself felt he smallest moment of comfort. Alexander was still alive. Whatever wards Alexander was surrounded by were not prepped for the ancient and complex magic Caterina had picked up to track life signs. Alexander’s life force was on this plane, and whatever was happening, he was surviving. Magnus let a fingertip brush over it for a second, resting there and his eyes slipped closed and for just a moment, he would have sworn his could feel Alexander’s hand rest next to his, hear him taking a deep breath, feel his warmth.

“Oh Alexander,” Magnus let the words fall from his lips softly, and while he hadn’t prayed in decades, this felt like the most holy words he had ever uttered.

“Marked one!” The trainer called out, whip quivering at his side and Alexander winced as a trickle of blood dripped down his arm. He was painfully familiar with the sting of a whip, but Isabel’s ironically had less of a bite. “You want to disappoint the patrons? You want to leave our audience with less than a performance?”

Alexander rolled his eyes, watching as his runes shimmered with unconsensual activation.

“If you want to know what they do you can just ask,” He said gruffly, wincing as fractured wrists began to knit back together, blood tracks left as a reminder of wounds.

“Oh, but this is research. Very important for my department heads to know exactly what they are selling,” Camille grinned, watching Alec closely from the other side of the window. Around her four other figures shifted slightly in response to her words and Alec could feel their cold and calculating gaze through the window. It was just like being back in training. “Now, let’s see if there’s any difference with activation of five and eight with sample, oh which one was it?” The mic shut off for a second of static before glitching back in, “Yes lets use strength and fortitude with beta four, I think that may solve some of the kinks, especially with a vampire in combat.”

“What is beta fo-“ Alec gasped as a rush of cold flooded with his body, fizzling and crackling against his skin. Oh. That was four beta. He felt his muscles tighten and pull, the freezing buzzing through his veins fighting against Angelic power now swirling through his system.

His vision blurred and sharped all at once, colors becoming less saturated as shapes began to sharpen. He could feel his heartbeat speed up, his fingers becoming numb and tingling. It was like his body moved on its own accord, striking out at the armed guard, blocking their attacks with ease. He struck the guard in the stomach, and they were sent flying back.

“Yes, I think this one will do very nicely,” Camille’s voice rang out across the chamber, “Get them ready.”

It was like Camille’s voice was the only one that made sense to him. The others mumbled around him but he kept feeling himself wanting to look up at her, waiting for her demand, waiting for her whim. A young warlock stood in front of him, their forked tongue flicking anxiously over their lips as they glanced between him and the vampire he hadn’t seen before, her eyes blank and eyelids heavy. The cold ice continued to pulse through his veins and he shook with the tension it took to hold his limbs still, trying not to look at Camille.

“Alright you three, last one standing gets an extra meal. Losers,” The trainer grinned, whip unraveling at his side, “Well, I think you all know.”

They stood, the two Downworlders fidgeting and silent as the ice in Alexanders veins grew colder and colder, and it was harder and harder for him to hold back. But he wasn’t going to attack them first. He wasn’t going to attack them if he could help it.

“Camille this isn’t going to make a good performance for our blood supplements,” A voice moaned from the balcony and Alec could hear hissing in response.

“C’mon you two!” The trainer flicked his whip at the warlock. They jumped in shock, a ripple of force pushing out from their hands.

It was like the vampire was shocked into action, rushing forward to lung at the Warlock.

Alexander circled them, trying to stay out of their way, observing, the ice in his ankles urging him closer. The vampire opted for hand to hand, not using her teeth which Alec supposed had been drugged, or trained, out of her at this point. He didn’t realize how much he missed his bow until moments like this.

His feet were numb but moving towards the fight and he grit his teeth, trying to stop himself.

The warlock was smiling slightly now, sending small waves of force at the vampire, easily dodging her clumsy attacks that were becoming panicked. Neither had acknowledged him yet and he supposed that was a good thing, despite knowing full well he wasn’t doing what the spectators wanted.

As quickly as the fight had begun the tides turned, the vampire finally landing a hit on the warlock, sending them crumpled to the ground. The vampire hissed, struggling against some unknown force as the warlock scrambled to get themselves back to some protected position.

The vampire could have ended it there, Alexander thought, watching as the vampire continued to struggle, the warlock pushing themselves up against the wall. Why didn’t she end it?

“Stop me!” The vampire shouted, voice expressing a pain her face wouldn’t quite display, frantically searching for Alec as the warlock panted for breath, “Stop! Stop! Please!”

He let his body finally rush forward, only to pause again, arm beginning to reach out for her next, to easily break her power over the warlock, to kick the figure beneath them and he slammed her down into the floor. But he resisted. So painfully slowly, forced his hand forward like it was cracking ice, getting his grip around her arm and lowering her to the ground, letting his back block against the now painless waves of force. The vampire continued to struggle, tears streaming down her cheeks as Alec let his weight pin her down.

“You’re okay. It’s gonna be okay. I know you’re scared but it’s going to be okay I promise,” He continued to say over and over, squeezing his eyes shut as she thrashed. The warlock continued onslaught of stinging but harmless spells until their power diminished, much sooner than Alec would have anticipated he passively noted, as they collapsed down to their knees. Alec held the vampire down with a firm hand until he heard the warlocks unconscious body hit the ground.

“You didn’t follow order,” The trainer stood over the vampire, whip in hand.

“She did. I stopped her,” Alexander said, standing over the young vampire, “Punish me. She’s young. She…she won’t do it again. Both of them will be fine in the ring. Hurt me instead,” he said. The trainer glanced up to the window, watching, waiting. Finally, he let off a snort, shrugging.

“Fucking insane Shadowhunter’s,” The trainer, mumbled before pushing the vampire out of the way, “You have to kneel you know.”

“Make me then,” Alec said. One final frigid blast echoed through his body as iron and sulfur filled his sense, knees giving out from under him. The whip cracked, blood the warmest thing against his skin as it began to drip down his back. The warlock and vampire watched with an expressionless face as the trainer continued. “Not even a fucking thank you. That’s kids for you,” Alexander sighed as the others were escorted from the ring, wincing before another line of blood was drawn from his back.

Isabel sighed, staring at the Downworlders staring at her. She had always respected her brother, but now more than ever she felt just a fraction of stress and pressure that her brother had willingly put on his shoulders with these meetings. Of course some of it was overshadowed by the complete lack of progress the search teams had made. Luke always stayed after meetings for hours when he could, bright red marker crossing out sections of the city they had searched, searched again, and returned to one last time because clearly none of them knew when to stop. Magnus had pulled himself together after the first week after they realized Alexander was in trouble, although no amount of magic could relax the tension over his shoulders, the sadness and anger in his eyes as he updated them on another failed tracking spell, the crestfallen stare anytime a Shadowhunter walked in and it wasn’t his Alexander.

Maia linked hands with Isabel under the table, giving a squeeze with a small smile and Isabelle gave a quick squeeze back, taking a shaking breath.

“Apologies,” She glanced up at the Seelie correspondents, “Meliorn, you had a concern to bring up this week correct?”

He sighed, nodding, “As much as it…pains us to say, there is concern growing amongst some communities within my queens rule. Particularly, the nyads have begun making claims that vampires have attempted to kidnap young.”
Raphaels glare immediately hardened, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Meliron shrugged, “What it sounds like.”

Raphael scoffed, “I can assure you, we have no need for nyad. We manage ourselves.”

“For too long-,” Meliorn began and Isabel stood.

“Unless this is a formal complaint against a specific vampire or group, Meliorn, I would word your next statement carefully,” she allowed her whip to unravel around her wrist slightly, and Magnus allowed himself a small smile as the whip practically hissed.

The faerie took a deep breath, staring at the Shadowhunter before sighing, “No. No formal complaints.”

“Then what would you like us to do?” Magnus asked, linking his hands together, tapping his ringed fingers together.

“We need nothing from you,” Meliorn sneered and Luke rolled his eyes.

“We all know that’s a lie. And this is the third potential message of Downworlders going missing,” the werewolf said, voice calm and level and Isabel felt a burst of relief at his presence.

“Downworlders go missing all the time,” Raphael murmured, worn down anger to apathy clear in his eyes.

“But with current standing being what it is, I believe we should take every rumor seriously enough to record,” Isabel stated, “The likelihood that these Downworlders have been taken to Alec’s location is high.”

“Why would they take a Shadowhunter with a bunch of Downworlers. No Downworlder would have such a broad area of influence and target that high a profile Shadowhunter,” Meliorn rolled his eyes.

, “For the time, I cannot give you more information for security reasons,” Isabelle let her eyes trace every one in the room, methodically and evenly, “But certain tracking we have on the head of the institute implies he is in the presence of Downworlders. If there is correlation, this may be in our favor to take this information seriously. And currently, his absence is the only thing stopping the Clave from hunting down every last member of this council as a suspect for abduction.”

Raphael nodded and Meliorn sat down. Luke began to ask questions, jotting down notes that Maia rolled her eyes at, “Detectives,” she mumbled under her breath. Isabelle took a shaking breath as Magnus gave her a nod of approval.

They would find him. If it was the last this that she would do, they would find him.

Alexander buried his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the ache of strained muscles and the particular taste overused runes left in his mouth. He lay on his stomach on his cot, talking through the outline of the ship to the Luke and Maia in his head- he had thought through the layout with Magnus, Jace, Izzy, and even Clary. He didn’t realize he had depended on talking problems out as of late. Now that it wasn’t an option anymore. But he thought of how they would approach it. Methodically, but still informed by Mundane culture.

The darkness and pressure of the room had just begun to press him into an unconsciousness until a sudden scratching at his door sent him bolt upright. He brought his feet to the floor, toes curling against the cold metal. He waited, forcing deep breaths through his nose, letting them steam form his mouth. Suddenly the scratching happened again, and a frantic whispered voice emerged from the other side.
“Brother?” A voice asked from the door. Alec gasped, tensing.

“I-Izzy?” He winced, his ribs were sore and his muscles protested as he tumbled from his cot.

“I’m here, I’m here,” She murmured through the door, “We are going to get you out of here.”

“Izzy be careful, the door has runes to next week they are going to activate. Get yourself out of here, get home,” He whispered, adrenaline and panic and joy all colliding through his veins. They did it. They fucking did it. He was going to be okay.

“I’m not leaving without you,” she said, the scratching at the locks more urgent now. He pressed at the slot, desperately trying to see out though he knew damn well he had no line of sight.

“Isabel, listen to me, not as your brother but as your superior. You need to get out of here now. Leave me. I’ll be fine,” His voice shook but he knew the firmness held fast.

“No, no I can- no wait!” She screamed. Alec threw himself against the door.

“Izzy!” he shouted, slamming his shoulder again and again, wound tearing themselves open. He had to get to Izzy. He had to.

“No! Take me! Take me! Don’t hurt her! I’ll do anything you want! Anything!” He shouted, pounding at the door. Izzy’s screams stopped short. Silence fell over the room, his breath breaking in uneven hitches. “I-Izzy?” He whispered.

Nothing.

He let his head drop to the door with a dull thunk. Maybe she wasn’t even here. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t.

Terrifying exhaustion began to overtake him as the runes on the walls softly glowed. It grew harder and harder to breath as the lights shut off and the runes began to force him into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

The ring had a hard floor, not like the dirt training rings or padded gyms of the Shadowhunter’s. Not even concrete, something Alec had become intimately familiar with in his time patrolling and fighting. The metal bleachers rose, encapsulating the ring like a roman Colosseum, sharp florescent lights and hot stinging spotlights covered the ceiling, lighting the ring in a sick fantasy of war and gore that no one watching ever had to experience. The seats were plush, emanating a militaristic tone while having all of the comfort of a luxury theater. There were at most fifty people there, hair and makeup done to perfection, laughing and talking amongst themselves as he was led out by the collar that had been bolted around his neck for twelve days now by his approximation.

The woman in front of him frothed at the mouth, body convulsing horrendously as she circled him.

“And here we have the newest recruit. The Marked One!” The static voice cut clean and sharp across the crowd as the screamed and cheered, echoing to a deafening cacophony, and Alec had to steal himself against covering his ears. Well that was a stupid fucking title.

“His competitor was sent by our business rivals. Apparently, she is top notch product,” He laughed, and Alexander almost had to smile at the distance the announcer kept from the creature. “Good thing, esteemed guests, you are trusting us with your journey!” The audience cheered, some cackling at the frantic twists and snarls of the woman in front of him.

“Don’t fuck this up, Shadowhunter,” He whispered as he began unlocking the chains around Alec’s wrists.

“What do you want me to do?” Alexander asked him, although he had a feeling he knew.

“What the fuck do you think?” He laughed and Alec tensed until he felt a hand run down his arm, his own stele in the hands of the announcer, activating runes Alec wouldn’t even think of activating in a fight against a creature like this. Strength wasn’t what he needed with a quick opponent like this, and Recall was just a fucking waste. But he shuddered as his vision sharped against the drugs still pumping in his system, swallowing as the iron taste finally dissipated in his mouth for the first time in days. The announcer grinned at him, his fake fangs glinting in the spotlight, “Oh and if you try to get clever, just know we have your sister on the ship as well. You get out, we kill her.”

“You haven’t got anything,” Alexander snarled but the man simply shook his head with a chuckle as he twirled his stele.

“And how much do you want to put on that bet?” He said, unlocking the last chain. “Esteemed guests! He said, grin returning to his face, “The Marked One! Representing our new line of rune tattoos!”

They didn’t give him any weapons, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. The fight began immediately, the nyad’s chains unclipped and she rushed towards him, bare feet slapping the ground.

He turned at the last second and her nails cut along his back, he winced as the ripped up the healing scars of the whips. He slid under her, black boots leaving long rubber streaks on the polished deck. He panted, glancing up to see her clinging to the wall, snarling.

“Let me help you,” He tried to say calmly, keeping his breathing even, “We can get out of here, I promise.”

Foam began to gather at the corner of her mouth as she hissed, racing towards him. He blocked her kick, pushing back as much as he could trying to mediate his strength, his runes fizzling on his skin against his protest of them, angelic power sending a sharp pain through the back of his head, like it was punishing him. Like it was fighting against him as he fought against it.

The nyad struck him across his face, sinking her teeth into his arm. He shouted, flinging his arm back, and she was thrown across the ring. He winced, two of her teeth still lodged in his arm. She dragged herself to her feet undeterred, bones cracking horribly.

“Let me help you!” He tried to shout over the crowd, but her eyes were a solid white and she let out a shriek in response.

She rushed towards him. The echoing of the audience was overwhelming, his heightened senses pulsing, blood rushing through his veins, dripping from his wounds, cold pulsing through his veins. The lights flashed in his eyes, hot and bright, people screaming at him, the nyad screaming, and he swore, he swore he could hear Izzy screaming too.

He snapped the nyad’s neck.

He had never resorted to something like that before. Oh sure, he had learned. He had learned hundreds of ways to kill. Immediately. Effectively.

Her limp body slid down to the floor with a sickening thud and he squeezed his eyes tight against the clapping and smiling faces in the crowd.

He tried to tell himself her eyes didn’t clear the second the life left her body.

The masked workers rushed to him, stun sticks held at arm’s length near his ribs as the others made quick work of the chains he had become so intimately familiar with, muzzle clasping over his mouth with quick efficiency, effective as it was aesthetic. His wanted to laugh. Even muzzled, chained, and bleeding they were still terrified of him. Fucking cowards.

“And you two can have this power! This strength! Whatever it is you desire,” The man grinned, a cold hand running over Alec’s stomach, making him quiver, “Just stop by and you can start your life changing regime today!” The guards began to pull him back and he stumbles unresisting, eyes not leaving the body on the ground, green-black blood oozing from her mouth, dripping to the pristine white floor. “Our professional rune markers are here every Friday by appointment, so book-“

The door slammed shut.

The taser stabbed into his ribs before he had a chance to react. His knees gave out from under him, familiar green magic filling his eyes. He pulled against the chains as they tased him again, his muscles clenching painfully, seizing up, the magically enhanced weapons stinging through him. A quick, almost familiar stab to his neck, and a welcome darkness overtook him.

Some days Alec woke up with fractured wrists and a bloody lip being sewn back together with his iratze with no memory of ever having fought. He couldn’t remember who he fought. Sometimes he killed, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes they just had him perform, running through routines with a blade or a bow. He was almost getting accustomed to the pattern. He had to. It was survival at this point. Its not like he didn’t try to escape. He had almost made it a few times. During training he let an arrow fly into the shoulder of a guard.

They had made it very clear that would not be tolerated again.

He had gotten out of his cell once when the spell had not successfully forced him into unconsciousness. He was able to stop them from relocking the door after a trip to the lab, when they hadn’t been quite as successful as they usually were. He had gotten down to the werewolf’s cell when they caught him as he was picking the lock.

The furthest he had gotten was the deck, wind chapping at his skin as he sprinted. He would have made it if he hadn’t heard Isabel scream from a lower deck. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it had been an overeager client reacting negatively to a particularly rough injection, or overdosing on Seelie drugs, or one of the kids not meeting the trainers’ standards. But he hesitated. He faltered. The breath steamed int the cold night air, segmented through the muzzle. He turned to look back.

He hadn’t had another chance since then. It was the twenty sixth day, according to the scratches on the wall. He had to trust that they were coming for him. He talked to Jace sometimes, when he was able to stave off sleep. He spent hours explaining the layout of the ship. Explaining how he had to get the Downworlders out. Explaining how Magnus could take Camille, easily. Explaining how the synthetic vampire fangs needed to be changed out, how the blood drinking was not sustainable, explaining how the trainers used the stupidest tactics, and they should be lucky he was as well trained as he was of the shows would be an absolute disaster. Telling Jace that Isabel would lose her mind at some of the choices the clients made of rune placement. He would say their names until his voice went raw, just to hear something other than cheers and screams and discussion around drugs and side effects and absolute bullshit.

He even argued with Clary. Not a good sign if he was missing her. He imagined how Simon would make some stupid suggestion about how to get out. He imagined addressing the young Shadowhunters. Younger than the kids they kept in the cells. The one vampire was dead after fight gone wrong, he was almost sure of it. That kid looked like Simon in the right light.

He huffed a laugh. It was bad when he started missing fucking Simon.

Sometimes he just said his own name out loud. He wished he could say his own name like Magnus was able to say it. Like it was something sacred. Like it meant something. With the muzzle he was the Marked One. He was a walking show for the clients on the runes they could pay for that would glow prettily and give them a high and make them feel something. He just wanted to hear Magnus whisper his name. Just once more. He wanted to feel Mangus’s warmth, not the clients poking and prodding him. He dozed off, holding his own hand, thumb rubbing against his wrist, replaying their last kiss over and over in his mind. He had to believe it wasn’t their final kiss. He had to.

The morning was a haze as the guards and staff escorted him and the others to the show room. Their clients wandered through the booths, whispering to each other, evaluating him with sharp made-up eyes, some smiling only to show off their new fangs, surely encouraged by Camille. Hands rubbed over his runes incessantly, poking at them, jabbing at him like they were trying to get a response from him. They wouldn’t. They never did. His fight wasn’t with them. He sat as still as possible, muzzle pinning his tongue down clipped around the lower half of his face and he took deep focused breaths through his nose, letting his eyes lose focus as he tried to remain calm against the panic rising in his throat. The metal in his mouth clamping it shut tingled with the unpleasant iron fizz he had now come to associate with the warlock’s magic. Everything felt far away and hazy, and he wasn’t even tired any more. Just numb. The muzzle stayed on almost constantly now if he was outside of his cell. The clients seemed to like it, the guards clipping the chains of the muzzle to his collar before entering the ring. He supposed that’s what the patrons paid for. A romanticized fabrication of death.

“Wouldn’t this one look hot though?” A voice said, poking at his arm. “Like, right here?”

Vague agreements were mumbled and more people touched him, moving his legs and arms like he was a display, simply there for their enjoyment.

He guessed he was.

Nothing will come of it, he wanted to say as he heard someone hissing in pain as a rune was tattooed to their body, probably somewhere unpleasant and useless. There’s not ritual, no stele, they don’t know how to activate them. Most of the runes were fucked up to begin with and any young Shadowhunter could do better drawing them. If they ever did activate them properly, and the people were Mundanes as he expected, it would be an instant, painful death.

He let his eyes rest on two Mundanes across the room examining some concoction of vampire blood, nyad tears, and what Alec suspected strongly to be run of the mill narcotics, all wrapped up in a shiny bow and endless promises of youth and vitality and whatever else the rich were obsessed with these days. Alec knew that if the situation was different, he would sneer at the flippancy with which everyone in the room seemed to treat the situation. But he couldn’t. He had to stay calm. He had to stay alive long enough to get the young ones out of here. And Izzy…that could have been Izzy. He had to find Izzy.

Jace didn’t dream now. At least, he didn’t think so. He had talked to Clary about it one night, curled up in each other, and he asked her what visions were like. Like bright and dark all at once she murmured, like a memory she was seeing for the first time. He didn’t think they were visions, but he didn’t know what they could be.

They had blocked his connection to Alec. Its not like he was having visions of Alec. But that was the closest thing he could say. The burn over his parabatai rune was finally healing but it stung and tingled and Jace had heard some Shadowhunters explain what it felt like when a limb had been removed versus paralyzed. Some sick combination of the two. Phantom limb and a cruel reminder if Alec was gone, and a sliver of hope if he wasn’t.

He described what Alexander saw to Clary in hushed tones, eyes bloodshot from tears. Or what he saw as Alec. A young werewolf in a cage, eyes those of a wolf even in human form, something that seemed to bother Maia the most when he shared it with her. He saw a young figure, nothing abnormal expected the forked tongue that licked their lips before fights. Magnus had tensed when he looked the charcoal drawing Clary had sketched. He saw wards etched and carved and painted onto walls, layers and layers of them embedded in metal. He saw people like those that went to Magnus’s club, socialites and performers, staring at him.
They were drawing closer. One of the women in Jace’s vision was the same woman Luke’s Mundane police force had pulled dead from the river. Once again the Clave had to thank Alec for the relationship between downforces and the institute- the woman was pumped full of seelie blood and LSD, and had a crude parody of a Shadowhunter run tattooed on the inside of her wrist.
Luke had gotten the body to the institutes lab as quickly as possible.

Jace had finally fallen to a restless sleep around 2 am. Despite how much his body ached for rest his mind shied away from unconsciousness, knowing that he would be plagued with hazy half formed visions, shrieks and darkness and pain.

But this was different then he had seen in the past. Usually its brief glimpses of Downworlers, wards, maybe faceless bodies with whips and needles. But tonight, Alec was standing, staring into a ring as opponents faced off. He heard screaming, but not like it was a battle. Screaming like he heard at games and tournaments. Alec was calm. He wasn’t afraid of whatever was going on in the ring. That seemed to be where he wanted to go. No, no Alec should want to get out. Try to find a way out. But he was waiting in the hallway, the guards stepping away to prep something for…for…Jace peeled away from the thought, Alec pulling his attention to the woman at the end of the hall.

A vampire, although from Alec’s response she had to be more than a vampire. No. Camille.

Camille was standing right there. He had to try. He took a deep breath, staring at the woman who had hurt him. Who had hurt all of those kids in the other cells. Alexander shook his head. He couldn’t be distracted by thinking of Jace right now. But what would Jace do? Jace would kill her. He would be killed, he knew. But it was too easy. Alexander shook his head but his hands moved on their own accord.

Jace felt the sting of a bow string against his fingers. He never liked that feeling. But Alec’s consciousness gravitated to the sting, like it was familiar. Like it was comforting.

“Kill her,” He wanted to say, Jace and Alec losing themselves in each other.

“I have to get to you,” Jace said through Alexanders lips, “Where are you? Get out Alec, you can get out. Kill her and run. Show us where you are.”

Alec shook his head. They couldn’t find him. He needed to help Jace find them. If he shot her, he may have a chance. The window was open on the office, he could smell the fresh sea water.

Memories of whips and reinforced locks seared through Jace’s memory like a warning against escape but Jace knew Alec had to get out. He had to kill her.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

They let the arrow fly.

The audience cheered in the background as screams emanated from the ring in eerie correlation with Alex-no, Jace’s dream. The guards stood by motionless as Alec watched her body slump to the floor. The guards weren’t approaching her. Why weren’t the guards going to her? He had killed her. Why didn’t she try to stop it? Why didn’t the distraction work? Jace looked around in confusion. Alec shook his head. Jace felt panic rising in Alec’s chest.
He pulled away from the guard, rushing to the body, unsure if his movements where even his own anymore.

The body in front of him was his sister. She had been here. She had been here the whole time. And he killed her. Alec killed Isabel.

The muzzle stopped his scream before it left his throat.

Jace screamed.

Magnus stared as the stones pulse brightened and darkened in a frenzied pattern as it had been for the last four hours, “Alexander? Alexander stay with me, please, fight it, please,” Magnus murmured, cradling it in his palms.
It flickered, faltering, and Magnus’ heart stopped, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh Alexander, oh Alexander, please, please,” He whispered, clutching the stone to his forehead, “What ever you need, take my strength, please my love, you can live. What ever you need to do. Please.”

Darkness fell over the room and a broken sob ripped from Magnus’s throat as tears began to stream down his face. Breaths became labored, like his chest was crushed in on itself, panic and anger and dark utter despair boiling up through his body.

“Please,” he whimpered, “Please.”

For that moment the darkness may as well have been eternal.

Jace threw himself out of his bed, stumbling as he grabbed his stele from his bedside table. He had to get to Isabel. Alec just killed her. How was she there? She was here, at the institute, she had to be, he had just seen her, he had said goodnight. Alec would never kill her.

Jace ran down the halls, bare feet slapping against the tile halls of the institute. Shadowhunters dodged him easily, not even stopping to ask Jace what was wrong. If they needed to know they would know. The man had become even more frantic and one a shorter rope than when his Parabatai had been around.

He practically slammed into Isabelle’s bedroom door, pounding at it.

“Izzy? Izzy!” He shouted.

Isabel’s whip slithered from her bed stand as she sat up quickly, letting it curl around her fist as she stood, running to the door to open it.

“Jace?” She asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes with her free hand, “Jace what happened?”

Jace sobbed, pulling her into a hug, squeezing around her shoulders.

“Angels, Izzy,” his hand came up to cradle her head, and she huffed a laugh.

“Hey Jace, not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment but do you wanna tell me what’s going on?” She pulled back only to be met with tears rolling down his cheeks, face blotchy and red. “Oh Jace something really got to you? Oh Jace, c’mon, sit down, let’s get you some water or something.”

She guided him to the chest at the end of her bed, grabbing a half-filled water bottle, pressing it into his shaking hands.

“Jace what happened?” Izzy watched him carefully, snake weaving anxiously through her fingers, “Should I call someone? Clary?”

Jace shook his head, “I-no. No not right now I just…I just need a second,” Jace took another deep breath, griping over his Parabatai rune.

“Jace. If this is about Alec…” Izzy took a shaking breath, “if this is anything about Alec I deserve to know. But so does Magnus.”

Jace nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands, “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

A pulse beat through the stone in Magnus’s hand. He stared at it in wonder, as slowly, like the first weak sunlight of an overcast winter sky, a wavering pale light began to illuminate the rock. Not even quite enough to shed light, but enough to faintly glow. Tears anew began to drip down his cheeks as a panicked laugh he couldn’t contain bubbled from his throat, “Oh Alexander.”

His phone rang and he fumbled for it, clutching the warm stone in his hand as he answered. Isabel’s voice shook across the line, “Please, can you come to the institute? I-its Alec, something else happened.”

“Already on my way,” Magnus said, a portal opening in front of him as he stepped through.

“What happened,” Magnus said as he stepped through the portal, still clutching the stone to his chest. His heart clenched for a moment staring at the desk left empty for Alexander he had been so very proud of before shaking himself, turning to the Shadowhunters waiting, all huddled onto the couch surrounding Jace.

“Alec’s gone,” He said, shaking his head, “I know… I know I couldn’t sense him anymore but last night…last night I…We had a dream. He had a dream that he killed Izzy. Or maybe it wasn’t a dream, Angel I-I don’t even know. And now…Now there’s nothing. Before it felt like there was something blocking me from him. Something hiding him. But now I…There’s nothing,” Jace crumpled into Clary, eyes dead and heavy.

“We still have to find the others he thought about,” Izzy said, her voice breaking, turning back to Magnus, hand interlocked tightly with Clary’s, “He kept thinking about these Downworlders, Magnus thinks one must be a warlock based on some of the visions Jace described, one is definitely a werewolf.” She took a deep shaking breath, her eyes glistening with tears she had refused to let go of for weeks now. “We have to keep going for them.”

“But what if Alec is dead?” Clary mumbled miserably, lip quivering.

Jace shook his head, “We are not even considering that to be an option. As long at that talisman here has a light,” He pointed to the stone that Magnus clutched in his hand, “We keep going. And i-if it stops…”

“If it stops, we keep going. We find whoever took him,” Magnus finished, “And we kill them.”

Chapter Text

It was easier to let go.

Bow and arrow. The Marked One smiled. He guessed they were happy with his performance yesterday. They were rewarding him with his preferred weapon.

He had killed so many. Some created a pain in his stomach when he thought about them.

There was a woman with black hair, a snake wrapped around her wrist.

Isabel hadn’t slept in days. She crossed out sections of city in bright red pen, teeth biting into lip as she organized the information the Downworlders provided out of trust and fear, that the Shadowhunters found out of desperation.

A beautiful man, kind and powerful and handsome and covered in blood from the Marked Ones own hand.

Magnus screamed as the spell dissipated once more, the Warlocks looking at him in pity. They should have stopped Camille before, they murmured as Magnus poured his essence into the stone, whispering pleas of life as the pulsing light dimmed infinitesimally more.

There was a man, shorter than him, blonde, a burn on his hip.

Jace collapsed on the floor of the training room, screaming, the rune pulsing and aching. Somedays it hurt too much too move, like his whole body was taking on the pain when Alexander’s couldn’t any more, the phantom connection there as a memory.

The Marked One couldn’t remember much from before.

The Institute continued, eyes becoming darker, steps becoming heavier. The Downworlders continued to protect their young as best they could. Mundanes were dying quicker now.

There was nothing left to tether him. Nothing was left. Only Camille. Only her will.

Raphael stared at the yacht as the Mundanes swirled around him on the small boat taking them from the shore. Waves of nauseating scents rushed over him. The Mundanes had sharp teeth drilled into their gums, eyes shifting color in sickening twists, like a glitching computer. Wards shimmered under the water and Raphael shuddered. They were ushered onto the yacht and he blended in easily enough, glaring at any patrons who dared come close to him. Whispered bets about the Marked One’s prowess in the ring spread across the crowd and Raphael had to remind himself to unclench his jaw in disgust.

It was an unpleasant necessity, he reasoned with himself as he filed into the stands, finding his plush seat, waving away a server offering him some sort of appetizer. He needed to stay updated on the darker areas of his world. Especially since the Lightwoods, really the Clave as a whole, where getting antsy with the loss of the Head of the Institute. It bothered Raphael more than he cared to admit. If it was a vampire that got a fucking Lightwood, and Alexander for that matter, out of the picture, the tentative alliance that had formed across New York was done for. Maybe that’s what motivated him to stop by the newest hot spot that was whispered around. Not approved by vampires not an official brood, but something was fermenting here. And Raphael’s curiosity always seemed to get the best of him.

The arrows felt fluid through his fingers, the tightness of the bow a familiar strain on his muscles. They wanted a show, he’d give them one. That was what he was for. He was there to protect the young ones. There to entertain.
There to serve Camille.

Whatever he was before, it held more pain than any drug injected into his veins and any punishment the Trainer could conceive. It wasn’t worth the pain of mourning.

Raphael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The server smelled…wrong. He smelled like blood but with none of the burnt acidity he had become accustomed too in his years of being a vampire. No, there was something synthetic about it, like machinery and rubber. He guessed that was the appeal, vampire glamour without the being damned. Although by the look of some of the patrons parading around, the effects of a cacophony of drugs were already getting to them. He watched with passive interest as some of them took on a werewolf pup, laughing at their newfound strength and speed as they kicked her, snorting at the wolf’s whimpers and snarls. He began making notes in his head, readying himself for the next Downworld council. This needed to be shut down. The seelie that tipped him off about the yacht said they had known about this for three months now. How it had gone this long without anyone even noticing was embarrassing, let alone concerning.

Something caught his eye and he tensed instinctively. A woman with a huge marking on her ribs passed by in a sparkling blue dress. That marking was an angelic rune. He recognized that rune- it was practically same one he had seen when he had shown up unannounced to Magnus’s flat. The one on Alexander Lightwoods back.

Raphael’s attention turned to the ring as the lights began to flash and an electric voice took over the speakers from the generic music as the puzzle pieces slotted into place and panic began to rise in his throat.
“Esteemed guests, the moment you have been waiting for. Demonstrating our new line of vampiric life altering accessories, our founder and Host, The Blood!”

Raphael felt frozen as he watched Camille entered the ring, arms wide as if a victor, grinning. He brought his head down, letting his protective rings rest over his face, blocking any prying wards and spells. He could feel her energy float over the crowd like it was searching. He let his mind go blank, his eyes wandering over members of the crowd. Her magic rested on him for a moment before floating on, slipping off like oil slick.

The actual vampires were marched in, and they performed meaningless stunts, standing and letting the announcer stick his fingers in their mouths, showing off fangs, creating some sort of connection that a guest in the audience took, immediately reacting oh so well to it. Convenient.

Raphael snorted. Snake oil was the same regardless of the people who peddled it.

The werewolf pup went through a routine, guard’s attacking her and she threw them off. The audience gasped and cheered at all the right moments as Raphael’s eyes rested on the trainer, whip in hand as he watched from the corner.

The pup was dragged from the arena as the lighting grew dark and dramatic. Raphael couldn’t help letting his eyes roll as music swelled in the background.

A new figure entered the ring, muzzled and hooded like a captured falcon. Targets were lowered from the ceiling and began slowly rotating around the ring, swinging up and down. The vampire edged closer against the upper balcony and the attendants made a show of removing the hood.

Raphael bit his lip. He knew somewhere deep down this would happen. But seeing it…seeing it was different.

Isabelle’s older brother, Head of the New York Institute, Husband of Magnus Bane, stood in the middle of the ring, arrows resting at attention around him, bow in hand, staring deadly into the ground. He kept himself from leaning forward as Alec plucked the first arrow from the ground, in one fluid motion drawing it and hitting the closest target, barely even glancing at it. The audience began a slow clap, a sick thumping and Alec moved around the ring, grasping arrows by the handful and shooting them in swift movements by twos and threes. The speed increased and his movements kept the pace, muscles rippling in the grimy lighting, weaving and bobbing around the ring, hitting target after target. Raphael could sense the blood being drawn from his calloused hands and cheek as arrows sliced through his skin. He rolled to the ground and, grabbing the last arrow, shot it into the remaining target. The audience erupted into thunderous applause.

Marked One, they chanted and Raphael tasted bile rising in his throat as he rushed out to the upper decks.

Marked One. Marked One. Marked One. His feet slapped against the cold tile as he shuffled past the servants holding champagne flutes. Marked One. Marked One. Marked One. His breath came in pants s he practically fell into the boat. “Go. Drive.” He ordered, shaking, the worked knowing enough not to argue revved the boat into motion, peeling away from the yacht. The chants still rose from the lower decks.

Marked One. Marked One. Marked One.

The Marked One stood. The Marked One waited.

The Marked One was allowed to stay in his cell that night. He shakingly tried to wrap his hands as best he could while blood slowly oozed from them. They gave him rudimentary first aid kits now, the rune on his left hip not knitting his skin back together quick enough for the immediate wounds. Once he was certain most of his scraps and cuts had been bandaged, he dug the metal bit out from under his mattress, counting the scratches in the wall. Fifty-three. He couldn’t remember what these numbers meant. Not anymore. Maybe he did once. But regardless, he never felt right until he scratched a simple line into the wall.

He knew no one cared. There was no one left to. An image passed through his head, a blonde man. He appeared sometimes and something on the Marked One’s right hip burned every time his thought of him, and it was too painful to focus on. He picked at the bandaged around his hands, itching to press into the cuts on his hands, itching to feeling something. Anything. He pressed into the cuts, relaxing as blood reddened the bandages.

Curled up in bed some nights the Marked One would say a name over and over again. The Marked One didn’t quite remember why he said certain names. But they drifted over his tongue like a habit. Rising with the lights, sleeping when the room got too dark and cold. He tried to smile at the young ones he would see in the hallways, not that they could see his face. Sometimes when one of them made a mistake the guard would whip him.
That was good. He couldn’t remember why it was good. But he knew it was.

He traced over the burn on his hip, and he always wanted to cry when he did.

He liked being in his room. They took off the muzzle when he was in his room. Maybe that’s why he said all those names.

Magnus was the name he was saying tonight. He murmured it over and over again, mouth dry and lips cracking, the taste of blood blooming in his mouth as he licked his lips.

Magnus. Magnus. Magnus. Music seemed to play through his ears. Magnus. Magnus. Magnus. Some memory of glitter passed through his mind. Magnus. Magnus. Magnus. But it wasn’t like the outfits and makeup of the clientele Camille brought in. Magnus. Magnus. Home. Magnus. Something about this one was- Magnus. Magnus. Magnus- almost beautiful- Magnus. Magnus. Magnus. This name made something warm happen in his stomach. Magnus. Magnus. Safety. Magnus.

Alexander. Magnus. Alexander was a strange name that tumbled out a few nights ago. It appeared almost in a response to Magnus. Alexander. He mumbled that as he scratched a fifty sixth line into the wall, ignoring the warning static from the wards. Alexander. Alexander. The Marked One settled into his bed, hugging the extra pillow he had earned. He must have done well. Alexander. Alexander. Righteous. Fury. Anger. Sorrow. Alexander. I’m coming for you, his mouth moved in those words and they were not his own. Alec. Alec. We are coming. Alec. Listen. I’ve found you. Alec. Love. Alexander. Alec.

The Marked One sighed, eyes fluttering shut. Whoever Alexander was they had a lot of people looking for them.

Raphael’s heart hadn’t pumped blood in decades but he would have sworn on quite a few graves that he could feel it beating in his chest as he pulled out his phone. He had taken one of the small private boats, forcing himself to wait till his foot hit land to call up the only Shadowhunter’s number he had in his phone.

“Raphael?” Isabelle’s voice was light across the phone despite the late hour. Downworlder council representative indeed.

“I found Alec,” He said bluntly, continuing over her shaky gasp, “I don’t have time right now it’s not safe but trust me, I found him. Meet me at Magnus’ in thirty minutes but keep it quiet.”

He hung up immediately, calling Magnus to warn him about the certain onslaught his home was about to experience.

Isabelle looked better than she had in weeks. Clary stood, hand already brushing her blade, “What is it?”

Isabelle grinned, grabbing her jacket, “Call Luke and Simon. We are going to Magnus’.”

“What? Just like this? Is it about Alec?” Clary rushed after her.

“No time. Keep it quiet we don’t know what others know. Call Luke and Simon. Tell them to get to Maia and get to Magnus’. Now.” Isabelle commanded, not unkindly, but firmly, and Clary was forced to remember that despite their companionship now, one of them had been raised a soldier.

Clary nodded, pulling out her phone, pausing to talk as Isabelle moved swiftly down the corridor to get Jace. She almost sighed in relief seeing him round the corner with his sister, color returning to his cheeks and a glint of renewed anger in his eyes as Luke answered the phone with a quick hello.

“Luke. Potential good news. Get Maia, I’ll get Simon, we are meeting at Magnus’s apartment,” She said immediately and Luke shouted in satisfaction.

“Oh, now we are talking. I’ll be there in fifty,” Luke said, and she could hear his grin over the phone.

“Try for forty,” She said, letting a smile flit across her features.

“Let’s go?” Jace asked and she nodded, sending a text to Simon, knowing that he would beat them there.

They met at Magnus’ flat, wards shimmering around them as they were granted access to the building. Raphael was already there, the ship sketched out from his own panicked memory. Magnus held a glass tightly in his hand, and Catarina watched carefully to make sure the idiot didn’t break yet another one in the set.

Jace had been silent on the way over, eyes focused like when he was tracking a demon spawn. Clary couldn’t help but let the Lightwoods steely determination force her shoulders back and her chin high. She didn’t have the privilege to be worried this time. None of them did.

Magnus gave Clary and Isabelle quick hugs, both taking deep breaths of burning wood and peppermint like Magnus’s magic didn’t want to stay under his own skin. Simon tumbled the through the Window not a second later, and if the situation had not been more dire, they may have laughed at the look Raphael gave him.

Luke and Maia arrived last, Luke giving the overview of the drug bust his mundane counterparts would run before the attack to get the Mundanes to safety. Apparently, this had already been a location under the eye of the NYPD.

“How did you not make that connection sooner then?” Jace asked, voice breaking in anger and sadness and Luke shook his head.

“Drugs aren’t my department and the Mundanes aren’t as forthcoming with information. It wasn’t until I had to redirect the body to the institute that I even thought about it. Honestly if Raphael hadn’t been the one to go I was planning on going in the next week. But its so fucking fortified that the only way we are going to get in is through her Mundane clientele,” He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands, “But that’s a long winded way of say that I should have caught on sooner. And I’m sorry.”

“We all should have,” Magnus murmured, taking a deep breath, “But now we know. And we are going to go save those kids. Save those stupid humans. And save our Alexander.”

They turned their attention to Raphael who sighed, slapping a pad of paper onto the table, “Okay. Here’s what I saw.”

Chapter Text

The plan was insane. Bat shit crazy. Not to be tried under any circumstances.

Luke grinned as the blue flashing lights of the police vehicles almost passed through the Shadowhunters as their runes were activated. Those warnings hadn’t stopped them before.
Raphael had politely declined to get on the yacht again, instead hanging by the piers as back up. Magnus had been exceptionally gracious of that choice, something that Jace had prickled at. Simon and Maia currently held back with Magnus, speaking in hushed tones to Caterina. She patted the other warlocks arm gently, squeezing his shoulder, her assured nature seeming to calm the anxiety riding high in the cohorts throats.
Only two people who were not standing on that pier knew what was about to occur as the mundane task force loaded themselves into boats that were warded and carved up underneath, done by Magnus and Caterina. The first was Maryse, with instructions to contact a squad of Shadowhunters when the preprogrammed spell went off per Magnus’s cue.

The second was Camille.

Her eyes darted frantically from her office as her final Mundane client was escorted off the bridge. Drug busts occurred all the time. That didn’t worry her. Her merchandise was fine, and the current clientele was pretty spent anyways, and the test subjects we locked under such intense warding spells that any mundane would most likely be dead by the time they got close enough for it to even be an issue. Police weren’t an issue.
Camille reviewed her wards as she walked through the halls, her heels clicking on the floor, echoing as the sirens got louder. The anti-tracker, fatigue, light control, and memory draining wards were still in full effect around Lightwoods cell. Anti teleport was up, the tingle in her fingers buzzing as the warlock child kept butting into them. The beauty of her wards.

No one could get in. She controlled the ship, and to some extent every thing in it.

But the secret that she, and only she knew was that with wards this powerful in this large of a space no one could get in. No one could get out. The wards power fed not only off of the energy drained from a variety of sources, but continued to support the entire system. Turning off her wards long enough for her to teleport out had the potential to create a chain reaction that would force most of the energy she had expended into making the ship invincible would whiplash straight back into her. Leaving the ship in current state, with her magic that tied to keeping this many wards in place. Her magic tied to this many modifications in her own body, connected and pulsing through the experiments…No matter how many energies she drained and modifications she had, that was a test she was going to avoid.

And the possibility of her own unfortunately early demise hypothesis she would not tell a single one of her servants.

She knew the mundanes were used as a cover for something happening. A vampire had been here not four hours ago. She knew something was coming. The storm gathering over the docks flickered with energy just a hint too unnatural, the waves hitting the side of the vessel in synchronization with the pulses of energy buzzing in the air, and she felt pulls of her energy like a spiders silk when prey is helpless.

Something was coming. And it was a coin toss between using her energy to kill the mundanes and get out of the harbor, or to sit and conserve her energy for what ever was coming.

She could smell him in the air before there was any sign. She rolled her eyes as the sweat of the trainer filled her nostrils, the serums he had injected an hour before burning in her throat.

“Ma’am, we have to go to the contingency plan,” The trainer urged her, whip wrapped tightly around his fist, and she rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to respond, just as the power on the ship died with a hum. Everything froze, the generator humming to life, the security siren of the ship blaring. He glanced around nervously.

“Ma’am. Something is happening. You said you had this under control-“ He yelped as a slap stung across his cheek.

“The anxiety rolling off of you is turning my stomach. I’ve handled things like this before, I can handle them again,” She licked her lips, sharp teeth sparking delight in her chest despite her growing concern.

“Respectfully, Ma’am, it seems like you are too attached to the experiemtns. I told you we need to sink this vessel before-“ He was cut short by a curl of energy wrapping around his throat.

“Do not think for a second that you are worth anything more to me that a single one of the products we sell,” She sighed as another wave crashed against the ship. “And see, now you wasted my time by questioning me. Go and get the mundanes off this ship. Now.”

He hit the deck as her energies coiled back to her hand and she winced, electricity sparking off her arm as her wards were tugged against.

“And what are you doing?” He asked, using the wall to brace himself as he stood.

“Paying our dear-“ She stopped, energies rippling across her skin. “Magnus.”

“Ma’am?” the trainer said, voice quivering.

Anger flashed across Camille’s face as the sting of carefully shifted wards and counter spells being initiated burned through the back of her mind.

“Well well well. Look who finally decided to show up,” She grinned.

The Marked One quickly managed to get the wire over the guards neck, silent, mask biting into his tongue as he jaw clenched in concentration. The clients were gone, finally, but the sirens on the ship remained, screaming through the halls in a panic. But despite that, and despite the thunder and rain beating onto the metal, the ship was almost…quiet. The scar on his hip burned and his heart pumped in his chest.

He wrapped the bed frame wire around the mans neck easily enough, tightening it to rip it into his throat as his kicked the other in the stomach, sending them flying back into the wall with a sickening thud.

He took shaking breaths through his nose, waiting after the guards final convulsion long enough to make sure he wasn’t getting back up, before dropping the body and walking over to step on the other man’s throat. The disgustingly satisfying crunch echoed through the hall as shouts of Camille’s employees began to grow, and the Marked One allowed himself a moment to wait, before springing back into action, ripping the cell door keys off of his belt, bolting for where he knew the kids were kept.

He knew he didn’t have time before Camile could sense the ward being broken, but whatever was going on with the ship seemed to panic everyone enough to keep her distracted. The werewolf pup snarled and shook as he swung the door open but he continued to move quickly and efficiently. He didn’t have time for that. The sirens had happened twice before, and the power on the wards always diminished around his cell and increased in other areas of the ship. The previous two times it had been two hundred heartbeats. A growl rumbled from his own throat as he stepped aside, showing the open entrance. The scent of mundane was fading. He wouldn’t be safe for long. He had to get them out.

Something was pulling him up. Something was pulling him forward. It wasn’t the regular pull of Camille, he knew that all too well. It wasn’t the drive from the Trainer or a spell or a drug. It was different. It was a lightness. A sense of safety that he only vaguely could remember. He couldn’t be distracted by it. The guards were focusing on the mundane and Camille would be distracted by the sirens and whatever accompanied it.

But his hip burned as he approached the final cell, the young ones trailing cautiously behind him, and his heart rate beat quicker.

Getting to the boat was easy enough. Luke had assured that the task force had the proper papers to be able to search and seize any illegal substances, although Magnus and he had already laid out a detailed plan of wiping these drug bust from the record. They knew Camille would risk the amount of media attention a conflict against mundanes would cause.

As the boast drew closer to her yacht, the wards combined in such a way that maxed out Camille’s wards, causing them to “glitch,” lie a reset, Magnus had explained, just long enough for the Simon, Jace, Izzy, Clary, Magnus, Maia, and Luke to get through. Luke kept the mundanes on track as the six slipped through the shadows unnoticed. Magnus shivered as he felt Camille’s magic slide over him, too familiar for his liking.

“Step one done,” Izzy breathed softly, glancing between Simon and Clary as the dim red lights of the generator lights painted them in shadow and rust, the sirens blaring in their ears.

Jace winced, “Step two, everything else, huh.”

“Let’s find our boy,” Maia grinned and Mangus nodded. As a unit they began their descent into the ship.

“Baby,” Camille’s voice rang through the hallway and the Marked One found himself frozen in place. The young ones looked at him with fear and he shook his head.

“Run,” He forced himself to growl, words muffled and chewed by the muzzle, but it got his point across, and like good little soldiers, they obeyed.

“Oh, sweet boy, you really think you did something didn’t you,” Camille grinned, letting her magic wrap around his form, manipulating the tendons and muscles in his arm to drop the keys he had been holding. “Now, who has been very naughty and let everyone go, hm? Oh, its not like they will get far.”

The Marked One pulled against her restraints and she laughed.

“Pathetic thing. Your Magnus is here with all his fiery pits of hell and you just stand there like a frightened creature,” She stepped closer to him, the scent of iron bleeding into the air around them. The smallest twitch of her lip and the Marked One felt fire in his chest. “Maybe I should keep you alive. It would be funny, right? Him slowly realizing his precious Alexander is gone.”

She was struggling to keep it all under control. The wards intact, the control over his body steady, the control over her own body slipping as the thunder grew louder and louder.

She continued, but her fingers shook as they traced down his chest.

For the first time in the Marked Ones memory, he looked at Camille and saw fear.

He took a shaking breath, glancing to the doorway, letting his eyes go big.

For one moment, Camille stopped. For the first moment The Marked One could remember, Camille stopped.

He lunged.

If Magnus wasn’t so fucking tired and stressed and angry he would have been quite pleased with himself. The wards hastily carved into the police boats shipping the mundanes back to shore and into he safety of a Shadowhunter team that could flush out whatever the hell they had in their system had served their purpose, beginning a ship wise shortage of Camille’s power. The system was a powder keg waiting for a single match to blow. He knew She would sense him the minute he set foot on deck, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was finding his Alexander and any one else she had been holding, and getting them out.

Killing her would simply be a pleasurable bonus.

They went floor by floor, quickly and efficiently taking out anyone they came across, bodies thumping to the ground as they went, spreading out and coming back together as only a team as determined as them could.
Jace was practically hunched over at the pain coursing through his side. Alec had to be here. He knew it. His Parabatai bond knew it, like it was waking up after a coma. The five followed Jace, trusting that the bond would overcome the maze of a ship they found themselves in. Magnus clutched the stone, forcing himself not to watch the dim pulsing light. They would find him. They were so close. They had to.

Isabel sunk her blade into a mans chest, watching in fascination as green and blue flickered over his eyes in a frantic response, the drugs trying to find a way to respond to the injury, trying to get the body to react like a werewolf, like a seelie, like a nyad, before the life drained from the body. It would take her months to figure out what the fuck they had been injecting and concocting in the lab.

“This way,” Jace pulled his blade out of a guard body, letting Clary support him as they stumbled down the halls, ship tossing from side to side, slamming them into the metal walls, doors slamming lights sparking and flickering.
“This way!” He shouted again, desperate, coughing blood as his Parabatai rune glowed gold, sickly and weak. Magnus focused on the scry, headache growing and blood pounding in his ears as he frantically countered the wards that were crumbling around them, fizzling shocks of painful energy as they came to new hallways and doors.

The Marked One landed one punch across Camille’s face. It was likely the most satisfying punch the marked One had ever landed. Pleasure shot through his veins even as sparks of pain shot through his body.

It became hazy after that. Camilles voice was like venom, stinging and burning his skin as his body warped and pulled taut, green energy, familiar, painful, comforting, swirled around him. He was on his knees, bound in chains that were so cold they burned as Camille screamed and yelled. He could feel her powers stretched thinner and thinner. She won’t last long, he thought passively. He didn’t know where the kids were. Hopefully they would have time to get off the ship before it sank.

“Stop!” Maia shouted, holding them back. Hunched in the corner were seven shivering figures, eyes glowing and blood speckled across their forms, hair matted and skin bruised.

“We are hear to help,” Izzy said gently, kneeling down in front of them, “We are going to get you out of here, alright? You can trust us.”

The werewolf snarled, but Maia quickly snapped, “Hey. Not the time kiddo. We are getting you out of here.”

“Was there anyone else with you?” Magnus asked as gently as he could, shaking. They didn’t have time.

Clary watched them, holding up Jace, “His name is Alec? He’s got black hair, black tattoos, like these?”

“Th-The Marked One…He’s trying to f-fight Host, he knows The Blood will punish us againe…He told us to run…” The Vampire stuttered, backing into the wall.

“Where?” Magnus forced himself not to shout, disgust and anger and fear rolling in his chest as he took in the scars and wounds of the Downworlders. Only imagining what had been done to his Alexander.

“Down! We were going through the arena, t-trying to go where the guests go, please, please, don’t hurt us,” The Vampire was shaking, “I-I haven’t been here long, but The Marked One...please I-I don’t, we can’t…”

Maia crouched in front of them, “Hey. I’m getting you out of here, okay? We will get him, and you, out of here.” She glanced up, “Simon? Think we can handle this?”

Simon nodded, “Oh yeah, absolutely.” He glanced at the remaining four, “We will come back, i-if you aren’t out yet.”

Izzy squeezed his arm as Clary nodded, “Thank Simon.”

“Get them out of here,” Magnus said, watching as the two Downworlders bundled the shaking figures back the way they came.

“C’mon. We have to go,” Jace whimpered, stumbling forward.

Figures emerged from the hallway. The pain in the marked Ones hip grew but it was numbed by the tight hold of Camille. The figures were blurry, now shouting back and forth.

The Marked One coughed, blood spewing across the white floor of the Arena. It dripped from his chest, pain ebbing from it, even more than a normal wound. Like Camille’s magic was clawing at his skin, sinking its teeth into him, muscles protesting and breath coming in laborious pants.

The figures wouldn’t move. Camille was losing her grip. He could sense it . Why wouldn’t they attack her? They needed to kill her, to get the kids. Why weren’t they fighting? They weren’t clients, they weren’t competitors.
Camille was screaming at them. They wouldn’t attack until he was out of the way. He could tell. He recognized the body language, the hesitancy. That wouldn’t do. They needed to kill her. They needed to go through him. Why wouldn’t they take the opportunity?

He would be dead in a few minutes anyways, the blood seeping from his chest where her blade was buried as an anchor of control not doing much to stop the bleeding.

The hold on him was loosening. The Marked One watched with blurred vision as a man crumpled, holding his side as a burning pain seared again through his own side, like his own body was rebelling against itself. The ship itself seemed to fight the four figured, tossing them across the arena, shadows and green electricity writhing from the walls as Camille used everything in her power to stay in control.

The Marked One watched, waiting as they shouted back and forth, words muffled and unfamiliar, like her was too far away, like they were speaking a language he knew but couldn’t remember.

The Warlock, reached out, blue light beginning to twist and curl around his fist. Camille lifted her arm, electricity spiking through the air to counter.

The Marked One ripped her dagger from his chest, plunging it into her side.

He was blown back, sliding across the Arena floor, skidding to a halt. Screams and sounds of fighting echoed, but he couldn’t move. His muscles trembled and spasmed, and he could feel his energy being drained by Camille as the last of the drugs still battled for control over his body. He lay on his side, heaving, trembling, as the sirens blared, and the fighting went on, and on, and on.

And suddenly, silence filled the air, as a body hit the floor.

The marked one stared at the ceiling, the red lights still flashing, the rain beating down, the sirens wailing, but no sounds of fighting echoed through the halls.

“Alexander!” A voice shouted, and the Marked One blinked up, rolling to his side.

The most beautiful man the Marked One had ever seen appeared. He glowed. The Marked One’s hand reached up, wanting to touch him, but shirked back. He was covered in blood. He couldn’t touch him. He was covered in blood. This must be a client, or a competitor. But he was so beautiful. But he wasn’t allowed to touch clients. Especially when he was covered in blood. But the beautiful man didn’t seem to care.

“Alexander?” The mans voice broke softly, “Alexander, love, can I help you? Please my love, can I help you? Stay back, I don’t know what effect Camille had, please stay back,” He turned momentarily to the other figures, hand out.

The Marked One felt confusion, “Alexanders not here,” He tried to say. Oh, maybe one of the young ones were named Alexander. He tried to speak but the metal stabbed his tongue and he whimpered. The man looked like he was in pain. He didn’t like seeing him in pain. The Marked One had forgotten what it was like to feel sadness at someone’s pain.

“Love, I’m going to remove this contraption, okay?” the beautiful man said and the Marked One stared until gold began to fill his vision. He winced, waiting for the sting that always accompanied magic, waiting for the taste of iron, but none came. Warmth seeped over his face, something sweet blooming in his mouth as his muzzle was slowly removed.

“Oh Alexander,” The man began to sob. The Marked One reached out, tracing his face, swiping away a tear.

He didn’t know what to do.

He tried a name.

“Isabel?” He croaked, lips bleeding and tongue numb.

The beautiful man took a shaking gasp, “She’s here, she’s here. So are Jace, and Clary, they are here,” The beautiful man glanced up like he was waiting for someone’s arrival.

“J-Jace? Clary? Max?” the Marked One tried the names until his favorite one bled into his brain, “Magnus?”

The beautiful man sobbed, reaching out before stopping himself, sinking further to his knees to equal height of the Marked One, “I’m here, Alexander. I’m here.”

The Marked One reached out, touching the beautiful man, “You’re…Magnus…”

“Yes, yes baby it’s me, I’m here. And you are going to be okay,” the beaut-Magnus sobbed and the Marked One felt pain blooming through his chest. Oh, right. Camille had stabbed him, hadn’t she? Fuck.

“C-Camille, I have to-“ He tried to stand but his legs gave out from under him, his head swimming as his hands began to shake, limbs not cooperating now that there was no one to command them. He had to kill her. He had to save the kids. He-he-

“We’ve got her, Alexander, she’s being held now, they are taking her to the Institute. We found the pups too, and some young warlocks, we got them out,” Magnus said, frantically making motions near his chest as glowing began to emanate from his fingertips and the Marked One smiled. He must be trying to heal him. It wouldn’t work. But it was so…so kind of him. He reached out to stop him. It wouldn’t make a difference. If Camille was delt with, if the kids were safe…he didn’t need to keep going. He could die. His arm gave out from under him, pain shooting through his chest, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Alexander? Alexander!” Magnus shouted and the Marked One’s vision began to blur as warm hands gently grabbed his shoulders, turning him to his back, “Alexander, stay with me, stay with us my love.”

More bodies ran to him, voices shouting that name over and over. Dark brown eyes met his, before blonde hair filled his vision, his hip tingling for just a moment then fire filled his veins.

Blue swirls began to surround him, blurring out the figures as the pain became unbearable, until a cooling magic enveloped him, and he was unconscious.

Chapter Text

The yacht did not sink, shockingly enough. Almost more shocking was the restraint the six showed in not murdering Camille immediately; one of the hardest decisions most of them had made. Once Camille dropped with a particularly vicious blow to the head by Jace, the wards broke. Is a rush Caterina and Luke were there stabilizing the ship both magically and physically, allowing Magnus to teleport Alexander straight to the medical bay of the Institute. Jace tumbled through after them, Clary and Izzy holding him up. It was a blur of movement and panic as the Shadowhunters jumped into action. They had been prepared by Maryse to receive a worse-for-ware Head of the Institute, but not to this extent. Not this terrifying, confounding extent.

All things considered, Jace was stabilized quickly, the temporary bonding ruins placed on his and Alec’s hips next to their parabatai ruins to mitigate the effects of the separation, pulsing gold like a heartbeat. Alexanders parabatai ruin beginning to reappear under the burning, shimmering timidly, like it was waking and remembering what its purpose was. They didn’t remove it, one of the nurses confided in Izzy. The burns were a mix of magical and natural, scarring almost over the mark to mitigate its effect and the line of communication. Izzy predicted Camille had wanted it to use later, and the implications making bile rise in every Shadowhunters throat.
Minutes passed and Alexander lay in the med bay. Doctors patched up the hole in his chest, removing the shattered needles in his arm, beginning oxygen and IV fluids. The most modern technology blended seamlessly into the rune painted over his body in clay, his own strength too depleted to risk activating the runes on his body. A Silent Brother stood a ways away, watching. Ready for something not a single one of them allowed to predict. But finally the doctors sighed, sitting back, new IVs hung, the bandages rewrapped, and the Silent Brother gave a single nod, recessing.

“Mr. Bane,” A younger nurse approached the Warlock after a reassuring nod from Isabel, “His…Mr. Lightwood. His body has…magic residue. Who do we...what do we do?”

Magnus rubbed his eyes before taking a breath. -Treat this like any other patient, Magnus. Take it one step at a time.- He approached the bed, letting his eyes slip closed; it would be easier to not be reminded whose body was lying in front of him. He let his magic tentatively reach out. Slowly scanning over his husband’s body. With a hiss of his teeth he pulled away, “Nothing.” The nurse looked surprised, and he sighed, “Whatever Camille did it is outside of my usual wheelhouse. I don’t know if it is connected to the drugs, her magic, or potential implants. It’s connected to his nervous system. I need a second, maybe a third opinion before suggesting any further steps then what you all are already doing.”

‘You can’t do anything?” Clary asked, stepping forward.

“If I do anything, biscuit, it could harm Alexander more,” Magnus snapped before taking a deep breath in through his nose, giving Clary’s arm a small squeeze, “This is going to be equivalent t-to unarming a bomb. And as much as I desire I…I need to fix Alexander, I cannot risk hurting him. Not now.”

Clary nodded, “Well if there is anything Alexander has taught us, it is patience.”

“That’s a lie,” Izzy smiled, glancing up.

“Well not a lie,” Magnus sniffed, “He certainly gave me a refresher course,”

Hours passed, and there Magnus sat, staring at Alexander’s sleeping face. He sighed for the hundredth time, forcing oxygen into his lungs. Hours passed and Magnus taught himself to breath again. Like he had forgotten how to breath without Alexander there. Magnus pushed back his Shadowhunter’s long unkempt hair from his eyes. Caterina has given Maryse some hair oil to comb through her sons hair, magical but not actively magic. It helped in some way, making him seem alive. Or maybe just loved and cared for. The unruly strand fell back over his forehead into his eyes and Magnus huffed, a flicker of a smile across his lips as he studied his husband. This Alexander looked older than he did without the scruff, the shaggy unkempt hair and stubble aging him. The smile twisted his lips as tears began to sting in his eyes and his throat tightened. He only wished he had seen this unpolished side of his Alexander under less horrid circumstances.

The lines next to his eyes had deepened and worried lines stood stern between his eyebrows. The bridge of his nose and throat were chapped from the rub of the contraption they had muzzled him with and his lips were rubbed raw. The warlock instinctively tightened his grip on Alec’s hand, bringing the calloused and bruised fingers up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the unbandaged area of his hand. His fingers itched to let his healing magic flow over the stiches in his arm where the nurses had fished out shattered needles, or to mend mis-healed ribs or fractioned fingers or the gaping gash in his chest, but Camille’s unnatural and unruly magic still thrummed under his skin. The Shadowhunter’s had assured the Warlock that they could heal him.

“You got him here, Magnus. Let me help him now, okay?” Izzy said holding his shoulder as they stood in the corner as medics prepped Alec for surgery, “I promise. You got him home alive. Trust us,” she took a shaking breath, stepping into his line of site, “Trust me. I’ve got him.”

Magnus shook his head, “I know. I know darling. Its not in my nature to let Shadowhunters deal with something this magically volatile.”

“Its not in your nature to trust Shadowhunters not to hurt my big brother you mean,” She smiled knowingly.

“Well you aren’t wrong,” Magnus stuttered and Izzy sighed with a smile.

“I rarely am, brother-in-law,” Magnus let a huff of a laugh as Izzy pulled him towards the door, “Now go eat or shower or whatever Warlocks do to feel better. I will send you updates on the surgery, and you know Caterina is going to be there to oversee in case it gets dicey. It’ll be okay.”

Magnus nodded in defeat, making his way to Alec’s room. He knew Alexander would want him to trust Isabel. She had spent almost every day since they had gotten Alec back pouring over books, Downworlder, Shadowhunter, and mundane alike, speaking with Caterina, with Raphael, with anyone she could, figuring out what exactly Alec had been put through, and what she could do to help.

Isabel had crashed pretty quickly after Alexanders first set of surgeries, sleeping for almost five hours in the chair in the corner of his room until Clary carried her to her room, from which she did not emerge for 18 hours.
Jace had been out for three days, unconscious in the bed next to Alexander. As their bond healed, shocks of magic and pain would flash through Jace and he would writhe in bed, clinging to Clary’s arm, like Alexander’s body was outsourcing the pain and energy through Jace. Jace only left Alec’s side after five days, when Izzy gently told him that he needed a shower. He returned to Alec's side with damp hair, sitting side by side with Magnus. The doctors had figured out that the Parabati bond seemed to neutralize the magic, and Jace was instructed to sit with Alec at least an hour a day to expedite the process of purging the sick magic from his body. Like Jace wouldn’t have done that anyways. But he couldn’t sit there all day, he still and responsibilities. Your Parabati almost dying was enough to get you extended leave but his Parabati was a live and that was enough for the powers that be to get him back up on his feet.

The sting Jace experienced leaving his room every day was somewhat softened in the fact that Alec was never alone. Maryse would stay for breakfast every morning. Izzy split her time between armory and med bay, and Clary would come by with Simon or Maia on a regular basis. Luke had even stopped by once or twice.

It was almost funny how equal the number of Downworlders to Shadowhunters would stay pressed to his bed side, watching for any flicker of recovery.

Magnus had begun to spend the nights there instead of the days. No one would bother him, and the night shift nurses were for some reason much more accepting of a Warlock being present unaccompanied than the day shift.
Raphael had come by one evening with the young vampire who had been kept by Camille as well. They stared at Alexander for what could have been hours, eyes darting over him like they were taking in every inch of the man they had known only in fear and terror and pain. Raphael simply stood with his hand on Magnus’s shoulder, waiting until it was the right moment to leave.

At the doorway they turned back to Magnus.

“What…” the young vampires voice was hoarse and weak, but assured as Raphael gave them a small nod. “What was his name?”

Magnus smiled gently, “His name is Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane.”

The vampire nodded, mouthing the name back, “Its nicer than the one he was given.”

Magnus nodded, “I agree.”

The vampires exited, Raphael takings on final look at the sleeping man before disappearing down the hallway.

Magnus sat one night not long after that, his book still only on page five, instead reading Alec’s vital signs as they flashed on the screen at the top of his bed. His eyes went in and out of focus, thoughts drifting, magic gently hanging over the room, suddenly snapping him to attention as Jace pulled a chair up to the other side of Alec’s bed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Magnus asked casually and Jace shook his head.

“He’s having nightmares again,” Jace said, watching Alec. “It’s been twenty days, Magnus. What if…what if he doesn’t wake up.” He ran a nervous hand through blonde hair, “They are starting to talk about getting the silent brothers involved I…I don’t want that. He doesn’t need more people poking around in his brain a-and his body.”

“Then we won’t let that happen,” Magnus said assuredly, his tone even despite his own uncertainties stuck in his throat. “He’ll be fine.”

“What if he isn’t?” Jace’s voice broke as his lip began to quiver. Magnus studied his face. While Alec looked as though he had aged years with the torture he had undergone, Magnus realized that Jace looked younger than he usually did.

“We cannot think like that Jace. Besides, Isabelle said that it was nothing he hadn’t come out of before physically. Eventually.”

Jace shook his head, “We know what’s going on with him physically. Its mentally. You saw him when we found him. And…and he feels lost, Magnus. We can’t help him until he wakes up. And he’s not gonna wake up until he’s ready.”

“Jace, you and I both know how strong your brother is. He…he has overcome so much, already. And he has every single one of us to support him. He is strong.”

Jace nodded, before licking his chapped lips. “You know, when I was being controlled by Valentine, the thing that pulled me back was him. Honestly, wouldn’t be alive without him. I don’t think I really ever thanked him. I…do you think he knows that, Magnus?”

“He will when he wakes up and you tell him.” Magnus said with persistent optimism, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “And I will tell him as well.” Jace nodded, satisfied for now.

Jace reached out, gently taking Alec’s other hand, and both men sat in silence, watching his chest rise and fall.

Chapter Text

The lack of salty sea air was the first thing the marked one could grasp as he slowly came to consciousness. The lack of movement was the second. He wasn’t on the boat.

His body tensed and he forced himself to keep his eyes shut, keeping his breath steady and shallow. He ran through a check list of what he could sense- Beeping to his left, IV needle in right arm, a tube running across his face, maybe oxygen? That didn’t make sense. There were two bodies in the room with him- he could hear the breathing, the shift of fabric. He took a deep breath, waiting for sharp pain, but nothing came.

A hand brushed against his own and against his will he jerked away, body tensing, curling against the back of the bed.

“Alexander?”

Eyes flew open before squeezing shut again at the painful bright light filling the room. His breath was panicked, chest tightening, fighting off the drowsy confusion, trying to input what was going on. The beeping was getting louder-

“Alexander-“

Faster, his breath catching higher-

“Alec! Alec hey-“

Stuck in his throat, needles stuck in his arms, they have to get out-

“Alexander you are safe-“

Pulling at the cords, kicking the covers from the bed-

-Parabatai, stop-

He froze, chest heaving, a feeling more than a voice washing over him. He allowed his eyes to slowly open, squinting, becoming accustomed to the sunlight streaming in through the massive glass window. He watched as a gold shimmer fading away from the bed he was in, fading back to the two figures in the room with him.

Ghosts stood at the end of his bed, watching him. Taunting him. What he was, what he had become, everything he had lost.

“You’re dead.”

The blonde shook his head, “What do you mean?”

“You.” The marked one looked at the dark haired one. “You’re familiar. I know you. Why do I know you?”

“Magnus why does he not recognize us?” Jace asked the warlock, nerves shaking his voice.

“Camille isn’t above manipulating memory” Magnus murmured. The two men stood, watching Alexander, whose eyes had not left Magnus.

Magnus glanced at Jace, a moment of respect for the Parabatai bond, but Jace just shook his head.

“I’ll get Izzy.” Jace murmured, giving Magnus a gentle squeeze on his arm, Magnus nodded silently in acknowledgment, eyes not leaving Alec. “I’ll be right back.” Jace said to Alec, who had no response.

The door closed gently behind him, and his voice could be heard down the passage, no doubt updating others on what was occurring. Magnus steadied himself, trying to make his voice and face as soft and open as possible.

“Alexander?”

His husbands’ eyes darted to him before going back to scanning the room, muscles tense and ready for danger.

“You are in the institute, do you remember the institute?” The man in the bed shook his head.

“The last thing I remember was…was you telling me the kids are oaky and then…No. I…when you say that name I feel something. In my chest…names come to me but,” He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, “Too loud.”

Magnus nodded, stepping closer, “That’s most likely a lingering effect from Camille, Alexander. We just, we just have to figure out what’s holding back those memories, right? I’m going to ask you a few more questions to try to help, how does that sound?”

The man, Alexander, his husband, looked up at him like a wounded animal and Magnus felt fear well up within him. Magnus forced himself to take a slow calm step closer, “I can only imagine how you feel. This must be frightening, this is a lot of change and what you went through was something no one should have to undergo. It’s okay to be scared. But I promise, I will do everything in my power right now to try to help you.”

Alexander gave a slow nod.

“Alright. I’m going to sit, on the edge of the bed, is that okay? Or should I sit in a chair?”

The man scooted back, folding his legs up to make room, eyes not leaving his figure as he slowly sat.

“Thank you. Now, my name is Magnus Lightwood-Bane. Your name is Alexander Lightwood-Bane. You are a Shadowhunter, in a building called the institute.”

“I’m…Alexander.” He tried the name. It felt like cool water across his tongue, rushing down through his throat. “You were on the boat, you were looking for Alexander. You were looking for me?”

Magnus nodded, “I was, I was looking for you for so long. We all were.”

“Who-who is we?” Alexander asked. “There isn’t…there isn’t anyone. I was alone. I killed…I killed everyone. Camille told me I was alone. She showed me the bodies.”

Magnus shook his head, hand instinctually coming up to covers Alec’s.

“I know it may feel scary, or unreal, but believe me, you did not kill anyone. Well. You did not kill anyone who you remember from before. You said the name Izzy, remember? Isabel is fine, she is alive. Jace, Clary, all those people you thought you killed, they are alive and safe.” He linked his fingers with Alec’s, “I am Magnus, your husband, alive and well, and I am right here.”

Alexander shook his head, “I killed her. I killed Izzy-“

“No, Alexander. You were made to believe that. Your sister is alive.”

“I killed you.” Alec said again and Magnus sucked in a deep breath extending his hand.

“I am right here. See?” Magnus brought his calloused hand up to his cheek. “I am alive. Everything you saw was what Camille wanted you to see. She lied to you to control you.”

Alec’s calloused finger stroked his cheek, damp with tears.

“You’re Magnus. My husband.” Alexander whispered, bringing his other hand up to cup with face, “M- “Magnus. Magnus Magnus-“ His breath caught in his throat and he sobbed, curling into Magnus’s chest.

“I’m here baby, I’m right here,” Magnus wrapped his arms around the shaking form of his husband, stroking his arms and hair, “I’m right here Alexander, it’s okay, you’re back and your safe.”

Alexander pulled away, tears streaking down his face, “That was Jace. Jace was here, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why didn’t I remember him? Why didn’t I remember you? Can he come back? Can I see him?”

Magnus smiled, hand wiping away fresh tears as they fell from the Shadowhunter's eyes, “Its not your fault, Alexander, he understands. He’s getting Isabel, he will be back, and so, so happy to see you.”

Alec nodded, sniffling, “Yeah. Yeah,” He squinted again, hands coming back up to cup his husbands face, “You’re so beautiful, Magnus. You’re so beautiful. I missed you so much.”

“Oh my love,” Magnus pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, “I missed you as well.”

A gentle knock on the door and Magnus glanced over, “That should be them. Are you okay to see them right now?” Alec nodded, shifting up closer to Magnus.

“Just don’t leave, okay? Its still not,” He rubbed his face, “It’s still not…feeling real yet.”

“Of course. I’ll be right here,” Magnus pressed a kiss to his hair, before turning to the door, “Come in!”

Izzy peaked around the corner, before letting out a squeal of excitement, running to the bed, practically tackling her brother in a hug. “Brother!” She squeezed him, his arms coming up to shakily wrap around her.

“Izzy? You’re okay?”

“It’s me big brother. More okay now that you are awake,” She smiled, pulling back, glancing back at Jace.

Jace watched, relief coursing through his body as Alec looked up to him, a tentative smile growing on chapped lips.

“Where you go I will go.” He whispered.

“Where you stay I will stay,” Jace responded, giving him a nod.

Alexander grinned, “Come here.”

Jace laughed, walking over to bed, squeezing his arms around Izzy and his Parabatai. Alexander breathed in deep, the scent of sandalwood and leather and rose filling his sense, warm and comforting.

“Is mom here?” He asked as Jace and Izzy finally pulled away.

Jace nodded, “I sent word, she is on her way. You have quite the list of people you want to check in with you, when you feel up to it, Clary, Simon, Luke, the usual suspects.”

Alexander nodded, processing what Jace had said before panic struck him, “The kids. There was a pup, a-and a warlock, did-“

“We got them out, Alexander. Everyone got out,” Magnus’s voice was calm and soothing and Izzy squeezed his hand.

He nodded, sagging back down to the bed, “So its over?”

Jace smiled, “Its over, Alec.”

For the first time in month, the tension lifted from Alec’s body, “Could I just ask one more thing?”

Magnus shifted, hand squeezing his husband, “Anything.”

“Could I get some breakfast?”