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Magnus' tail swishes from side to side as he pores over the grimoire open in front of him. His dark ears twitch as he picks up the telltale sound of a portal manifesting in his living room. The scent of Ragnor's magic wafts into his nose before the older warlock even steps through, and it's a testament to their centuries of friendship that Magnus' ear doesn't even shift to Ragnor's direction. He accepted the man into any place he called his home, forever welcoming the fresh scent of mint and the crisp texture of parchment.
"I'm surprised you aren't out there all dressed up." Ragnor says as he comes to stand across Magnus, looking down at the various potions ingredients scattered about. "One would have thought Magnus Bane would be right in the thick of things come All Hallow's Eve."
"The night is still young," Magnus murmurs, flicking a hand to pour three different potions into the bubbling pot of bright pink liquid. "I'm just finishing up this potion before I head out to Pandemonium." He tilts his head to the right briefly, before turning around to grab some wolfsbane from its container.
"And will Mr. Lightwood be joining us?" Ragnor waves his fingers over the pot, a sprinkle of orange sparks falling from his skin.
Magnus shrugs, trying to nonchalantly pass off the way he briefly tensed at the question. "I don't think so. Shadowhunting never stops and all that," he crushes a bit of wolfsbane between his palms before adding it into the potion.
Ragnor huffs, and the sound makes Magnus twitch. "You can't hide from me, old friend."
"I'm right here." Magnus points out, eyes narrowing. "Not very much to hide when I'm actually right in front of you." He stretches an arm out while his other hand settles on his hip. Behind him, his tail straightens out before he schools it back to a more subdued movement. "Unlike you, I don't hide behind the facade of a self-portrait."
"Yes, because you prefer to smokescreen yourself with glitter, horrible pet names, and unnecessary flirtations." Ragnor counters with a roll of his eyes. The ease of familiar banter doesn't hide the concern in Ragnor's eyes. They're more than familiar with each other's idiosyncrasies. Ragnor knows Magnus is antsy about tonight for a myriad of reasons.
Coming off the tail — no pun intended — of the horrible bodyswap, Magnus feels uncomfortable in his own skin. There's an itch under his skin that he can only relieve when he undoes his glamour, but he can't hide away and stay fully unglamoured like he's been wanting to because to hide meant leaving Alec behind. And for all that Magnus wants to protect himself, he wants to protect his relationship with Alec even more.
Magnus takes a step back as he lessens the heat, casting a spell to extinguish the fire after ten minutes before walking out his apothecary. Ragnor trails behind him, ever the calm to his maelstrom of emotions.
"I love Alec," he says as he goes about manually mixing a drink for himself and Ragnor. "More than I've ever loved anyone," he adds unnecessarily. Ragnor knows , Magnus thinks, as bright gold meets dark brown. "But this is more than just a warlock mark."
Ragnor accepts the drink Magnus offers him, and doesn't look away as they both take a long slow sip. It's been millenia since they'd walked the earth without any form of block on their power or a glamour over their features. God among men, Magnus had often been called because of his supposed hedonism and arrogance; while Ragnor was often likened to being the extreme opposite: reclusive and reserved. None knew how close and yet very wrong they were.
In an entirely different world from what they know now, they'd been revered as gods. History calls Magnus Bast and Ragnor Ptah or Re . The stories depicted Bast and Ptah as spouses, because of course it made sense to pair the goddess of protection, fertility, and children (and additionally: music, the arts, and warfare) with the Creator of the universe. And while Magnus and Ragnor hold each other in the highest of regards, they are far from spouses.
"And is your Alexander not more as well?"
"You tell me."
Behind Magnus, his tail continues to sway left to right. His half-lidded eyes regard Ragnor thoughtfully. The implications of Ragnor's words echo in Magnus' psyche, reverberating into his very soul. As the Creator himself, Ragnor was often privy to information even Magnus himself — for all his knowledge and experience — isn't. He's never been one to meddle in Magnus' life unprompted though, which is why his advice prior to Alec's almost wedding was far more significant than Magnus would ever care to admit. After all, when the incarnation of the Creator himself encourages you to pursue the tall, dark, and handsome nephilim that left you feeling raw and
seen
in ways you haven't felt in centuries, you
listen
.
Hours later, Magnus is seated at his usual spot in Pandemonium: overlooking the throng of people and sprawled carelessly on the couch. People in a variety of costumes that range from skimpy to scary dance before him, with some even daring to come up and ask him to join them. He declines every invite though, content to watch and be seen for the night. No glamour disguises his dark ears and tail, and the black satin negligee he's wearing paired with the black jockstrap and black thigh high boots serve to make the bright gold of his eyes and the thick gold choker stand out. His eyes are lined and his make up is dark and sultry, finished with blood red lips that he knew Alec loved to see on him.
He takes a sip of his drink, throwing Ragnor's words around in his head. The older man had neither confirmed nor denied it, but a part of Magnus had hoped against all hope that Alec was more than just a nephilim. With a sigh, he pushes himself up and off the seat (his throne, Alec had once called it) to take a customary stroll around the club and mingle a little.
A ping in his wards makes him turn to the entryway, and the sight that greets him leaves him breathless. The Head of the New York Institute stands in a plain white shirt and tight leather jeans; his hair slicked back and hand carelessly thrown over his shoulder with a leather jacket hooked on his finger. Danny Zuko, Magnus' mind supplies with ease. A part of him debates changing his look to match Alec's, but that thought goes out the window when Alec spots him.
It takes no time for their gazes to lock, and Magnus picks up on the immediate tension between them. The pheromones in the air are all over the place as is, with all the grinding bodies and nearly free-flowing booze, but the addition of Alec's scent into the mix hits Magnus like a truck. Alec is definitely liking what he sees.
All the power at his fingertips and Magnus feels like a kitten as Alec stalks towards him.
His ears face Alec as his tail slowly comes to a stop. He has no doubt his eyes betray how much this shadowhunter affects him. No, not this shadowhunter. His shadowhunter.
Before a syllable could even leave his mouth to greet his lover, Alec pulls him into a filthy kiss. It's lips and tongue, and when Alec pauses to nibble on Magnus' lower lip, a soft purr emanates from his chest.
"I thought you were gonna be at the Institute all night? Demon activity higher than usual tonight and all that," Magnus whispers into the small space between their lips.
"Izzy and Jace practically threw me into this outfit and out of the office when she saw what you were wearing." Magnus tilts his head curiously, and Alec continues: "Someone sent her a picture of you on your throne. There's no way I'm letting my sister see the picture you'd sent me earlier." They both think of the provocative picture Magnus had sent prior to leaving for Pandemonium, where he'd shown his cat ears and his outfit, his tail glamoured but his cheeks peeking from the lingerie.
"Your siblings' support is both entertaining and worrying."
"I think they think I'm supposed to stake my claim."
"Will you?"
"Do I have to?" The hand Alec used to cup Magnus' face shifts up to go through his hair. When his thumb settles into the base of Magnus' cat ears, he rubs a slow circle that has Magnus melting right into him. "These are very realistic," Alec remarks once he's maneuvered them to the throne, with Magnus seated sideways on Alec's lap.
Magnus freezes at the comment, something that doesn’t go unnoticed, if Alec's immediate pause is anything to go by. His heart thunders in his chest as he looks up at Alec.
Around them, he creates a barrier that makes it look as if he and Alec are just locked in a passionate makeout session to anyone that might look their way. Then, he drops every single glamour of his.
Human ears disappear to be covered over by hair, his irises expand even more, his canines lengthen and his nails grow an inch longer, sharp and dangerous. His tail curls around Alec's elbow gently.
"That's because they're real." He wills himself not to clench Alec's jacket. "I'm...these are all my warlock marks." And I'm actually more than just a warlock, he wants to add, but he knows there's a better time than in the middle of Pandemonium for that conversation. He braces himself for Alec's possible reactions. Would he feel betrayed? Disappointed? Repulsed?
It's as he's preparing himself for the worst that the soothing warmth of love and acceptance crept into his very soul. The bond forms and solidifies between them, filled with lifetimes of love lost, found, and forever bound. His heart pounds for an entirely different reason now, as Alec's eyes glow a dark blood red while gazing at him. There's recognition there that's both familiar and entirely new.
They've been here before.
But the last time was about two thousand years ago, when gods walked the earth with men but interfered only when called upon.
"Magnus," Alec sighs, voice filled with reverence. "They're beautiful," he says. One of his hands settles on Magnus' hip, while the other holds Magnus' face to ensure they're looking right into each other's eyes. " You're beautiful."
Such familiar words so earnestly said.
The early hours of the following day finds them in his loft, Magnus sprawled over Alec, his tail swishing to and fro once again. Magnus isn't sure just how true Ragnor's words ring yet, but he's excited for the possibilities for the first time in over a century.
"Thank you for telling me," Alec murmurs, fingers gliding from Magnus' nape to the base of his tail in a consistent motion that feels hypnotizing to the god.
"Thank you for staying," Magnus replies, pressing a kiss to the middle of Alec's chest. There's a faint pattern Magnus can see beginning to form on Alec's skin, but he's not awake enough to realize its significance nor its implications.
The stories also speak of Ptah's second wife, Sekhmet: a warrior goddess that also served as the goddess of healing. She was seen as the eye of Ra, ready to dole out punishment and protect Pharaohs as needed and guided by the Creator.
How wrong the stories had been though. Ptah was uninterested in romance or continuing his line. He'd cared for Sekhmet and Bast deeply, but not in any capacity similar to the way the pair had cared for each other. They're often painted as sisters, with an unbreakable bond second only to theirs with Ptah — because of course how else could two powerful goddesses have felt for each other?
Just as they're both beginning to drift off, Alec presses a kiss to the base of one of Magnus' ears. "Thank you for having me back, my love."
Magnus, eyes closed and content, smiles. "Thank you for finding your way back to me."
They're shrouded in darkness thanks to Magnus' blackout curtains, but outside, the sun rises anew over their little corner of the world. The world moves forward without much fanfare, unaware of all that's yet to be.