Chapter Text
Simon Snow was the Mage's Heir. The Mage wasn't really a Mage; he wasn't a downworlder. But he was a very good Shadowhunter. Simon had been hunting downworlders and demons under the careful instruction of The Mage for as long as he could recall.
Now, sitting on the rooftop of the Institute (where he really wasn't allowed), Simon wondered what it would have been like to live some other life.
As an orphaned Shadowhunter, he had been brought to the Insitute when he was just a babe. But, staring across the glowing city, Simon wondered if perhaps life would've been better as a Mundane.
"Simon?" Penny asked softly, climbing down to sit beside him. "Agatha was looking for you."
Simon wasn't in the mood for playing happy couple with his girlfriend, but he thanked Penny anyway.
"I'm assuming you're going out tonight?" Simon had taken of late to wandering the streets at night. With only a hoodie and a seraph blade hidden under his clothes to protect him, Penny thought it reckless. Especially once she found out Simon didn't even bother with a glamour. He liked being inconspicuous for normal reasons.
But she always promised to never tell the Mage.
"It's so peaceful out there. Everyone just goes about their business. Apart from drunken brawls, no one causes anyone too much of a problem, you know? Not like us. We go searching for fights. Nobody else does." Simon said, breathing in the crisp air, before sighing.
Penny shook her head, patting his shoulder as she stood.
"Look out for yourself, okay? You know Agatha and I would never last a day without you." This was only half true. Both Penny and Agatha were much better Shadowhunters than he. But Simon was the glue that held all three together.
And with that, she left.
He knew Penny was gone, but he still checked the roof before he clambered down the ladder.
Donning more mundane clothes, he stepped out past the gates of the Institute. Glancing back to make sure he wasn't being followed, Simon took off into the night.
Unlike most nights, it was almost silent. The world was so still. He could see a spider spinning its web in a dark alleyway, stringing it so carefully together.
A woman walked hand in hand with her daughter. She seemed wary, but not afraid. Simon smiled as they passed by. The girl grinned. The woman merely nodded, but there was kindness in her eyes.
Simon strolled through the streets, paying no real attention to where he was going. He knew if he wanted he could find his way home. If the Institute really counted as home.
Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw a flicker of movement. He assumed it was nothing. But even still, his hand wrapped around his seraph blade, it's name ghosting over his lips, only just loud enough. The flicker turned into a shadow which dashed across his view.
Not a Mundane.
Normally, Simon left the downworlders alone. But this one he'd seen before. He was sure of it. He recognised that movement at the edge of his vision. Recalled the way that shadow had danced at the edge of his peripheral so many times before. Remembered how so often he'd just walked away, as if nothing had ever really been there at all. But not today.
"Why are you following me?" He asked in a low growl, striding confidently towards the darkened alley he knew the figure had run down.
"You're Simon Snow. The Mage's heir." A voice hissed in reply. It was dark, guttural, like it hadn't had a proper conversation in weeks; all sharp edges, full of warning.
"Who are you."
"No one you'd know."
Simon pressed closer, heard the snarling. Maybe a werewolf, he couldn't quite see.
A few steps closer.
No, not a werewolf.
A vampire.
The vampire was tall, a good few inches taller than Simon. His hair was slicked back, but a few strands hung into his face. Pale skin, fangs glinting beneath his lips. Cold eyes. Dead eyes.
Simon raced forward, pressing his blade against the creature's neck.
"I should kill you." He whispered. Softly. Ferociously.
If the Mage ever found out he'd let a vampire go, the consequences would be severe. It didn't even bear thinking about.
"I'm not stopping you." The vampire leant forward as far as he could, leaving Simon with an unsettled feeling rustling through his head.
"But I warn you," his teeth now gleamed in the pale moonlight. "nothing is without its consequences."
The words rung clear through his head, echoing. He could kill him if he wanted, yet here this downworlder was, pressing closer to a blade that had killed so many of his kind before. It unsettled Simon.
He sneered, before taking a step back, loosening his grip on the seraph he had clutched in his hand.
"I'm not going to kill you. That's not why I'm out tonight." Simon ruffled his hair with one hand, never taking his eyes off the tall figure in front of him. "I'm only out to enjoy the quiet."
The vampire seemed to relax, although his gaze still held the same intensity.
"But I won't hesitate to kill you if you cross my path again." Simon said sharply, the warning dripping from his tongue.
He turned to leave, before stopping, spinning on his heel slowly to face the vampire.
"What's your name?"
"What's it mean to you?" The downworlder grumbled. Simon shrugged, fingering his blade.
"Nothing. Only, I spared your life?" He let the question hang in the air. The vampire fidgeted uncomfortably, before finally spitting out a garbled phrase. Simon furrowed his eyebrows, unsure as how to respond.
"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch." The vampire clarified, before adding softly "But Baz is fine."
Simon nodded.
"Baz. Simon." On an impulse, he stuck out his hand for Baz to shake. It seemed out of character compared to his previously aggressive demeanour, but in truth it was closer to the real Simon. Baz seemed taken aback, but after a moment's hesitation, he gingerly shook it. Simon noted that he had a very firm grip.
"Don't kill anyone." He warned, before turning and walking away.
Of course, simply waking away wasn't that easy. The whole treck back to the institute, his head screamed at him to go back and kill the vampire. Turning his back on one of them went against all his years of training. But Simon just kept moving, determined to just leave this strange encounter behind and forget about it.
Still, Baz kept fizzing through his mind. The way his fangs pushed against his top lip, red from the strain, or perhaps from a recent feed. Haunting eyes, and a sharp widow's peak.
It was a long walk back for Simon.