Work Text:
The air in the Seelie Court smelled deceptively sweet, heavy with the pungent scent of blooming jasmine and crushed petals. Bathed in the brilliant, golden warmth of midday sun, it looked like a paradise stolen straight from a fairy tale. It was a secret garden, entirely hidden from the mortal world, where vibrant green ivy snaked up ancient stone archways and thousands of otherworldly flowers blossomed throughout, their petals ranging in shades from deep violet and blood red to a sharp silver. Currently, the expansive greenery was completely empty, devoid of the usual bustling court. But having been personally escorted into the clearing by a silent, stone-faced fae guard, the team knew the Queen was certainly here somewhere, expecting them.
Under normal circumstances, the fae folk were beyond fun, and Michael had more than a few cherished memories of attending their wild, lawless parties. They really knew how to have a good time.
Alas, they weren't here for pleasure today. They were here to check out a lead.
The team stood out like a sore thumb against the ethereal, moss-covered backdrop. They were in their standard-issue Nephilim gear—sleek, form-fitting black leather jackets, dark combat pants, and heavy tactical boots. Shimmering black runes, inked into their skin, peeked out from turned-up cuffs and high collars.
Well, most of them were in uniform. Michael glanced sideways at Lia. She had entirely bypassed the Institute's strict dress code, opting instead for a loose, oversized black cotton T-shirt that hung carelessly off one shoulder, paired with baggy black leather pants boasting way too many silver zippers clinking against one another. It was most certainly not Shadowhunter code wear, but trying to force Lia Zhang into proper gear was a battle even Dean had given up on.
"Don't drink that," Dean warned, his hand shooting out to press Cassie’s cup back onto the moss-covered table.
They had been told upon arrival that refreshments were prepared for them, and sure enough, six elegant crystal chalices sat waiting on the table near the entrance, glinting in the sunlight. Within there was a bright violet liquid, almost unnatural in color.
Cassie froze, her fingers slipping from the crystal. "Why? What's in it?"
Though she had adjusted remarkably well since joining the team, Cassie was still fairly new and had a bit to learn about their world. Being raised as a mundane certainly hadn't helped prepare her for the deceptive hospitality of the Seelie Court. Celine, Michael's half-sister, was also a relatively new addition to the team to be fair. But at least she knew the ins and outs of the Shadow World, having been brought up by another veteran Shadowhunter family.
"I don't know," Dean muttered. "All I know is that it's dangerous and potent. Lia tried faerie wine once during a raid. She said it was like being high, but ten times worse."
"I can vouch for that," Michael chimed in from Cassie’s other side. "She was utterly manic. Extra crazy, even by Zhang standards."
Lia herself was currently trailing a finger around the rim of a nearby chalice, her expression dangerously contemplative. "It was fun, though," she mused. "Maybe I should take one to go."
"Lia, no," Dean shut her down immediately.
She rolled her eyes but pulled her hand back.
"Is that her?" Celine questioned from the flank, raising a finger to point at the blurry outline of a young child in the center, sitting on a throne of vines. It was quite hard to make out her features from here, and Michael momentarily contemplated drawing a rune for enhanced vision but decided against it; they'd see soon enough, anyway. "I didn't expect her to look so young."
"She can change her appearance at will," Sloane supplied beside her. "But there's an 81% chance that that is indeed the Queen."
With the confirmation, the group moved deeper into the garden. Though she possessed the flawless, gossamer-gowned elegance of a monarch, she bore the physical form of a young child, her brunette tresses woven into an intricate crown of living briars and winter roses. Her eyes also bore a unique coloring, one being a mossy green and the other a brilliant, unnatural gold. She looked breathtakingly beautiful and entirely innocent—but that perception was exactly what made her so dangerous.
"We'll steal some wine on the way out?" Lia proposed to Michael under her breath.
They were currently on the 'off' stage of their persistent on-and-off relationship, but Michael wasn't quite sure how long that would last.
"Absolutely," he replied, not breaking his stride. His hands dug into his pockets, casually tilting a gleaming silver flask to give her a quick flash of metal to show that he had come prepared. Lia’s lips curled into a sharp grin.
Just as they approached the front of the throne, the Queen began.
"Now," her voice echoed with a weight that defied her youthful appearance. It carried a bit of a musical lilt to it, a soft, gentle cadence that was almost magical. Her gaze swept over them, cold and assessing. "What brings a pack of little Nephilim into my woods?"
"We’re here about the string of murders in the Shadow Market. Seven shadowhunters were killed," Cassie spoke up, stepping forward. "We want to know if your court was involved."
The Queen looked profoundly bored, adjusting a sleeve made of literal spider-silk. "We fae have no use for meddling in the messy, fleeting lives of Nephilim. It is far too tedious."
"Is that a no?" Celine asked sharply from the flank, her hand resting instinctively near the seraph blade at her hip. "Because that wasn't exactly a straightforward answer."
The Queen’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, bioluminescent light. "No. Neither I nor any under my command have a hand in these killings. I assure you."
They didn't even have to look over at Lia, their resident lie detector, for confirmation. The Fair Folk were physically unable to lie.
"We meant you no offense at all, Your Grace," Cassie added, trying to smooth down the tension.
"Do you happen to recognize this, then?" Sloane piped up. She stepped forward, entirely immune to the tense atmosphere, and pulled a woven headpiece from her brown satchel. It was the entire reason they had come to visit this specific corner of the woods. "It was found at the crime scene. Statistically, the botanical composition matches a ninety-eight percent exclusivity rate to Seelie flora. It’s the only reason we had any probably cause to question you."
The Queen didn't take the crown from her hand, just gave it a dismissive glance from the side. "It's one of ours," she confirmed smoothly. "But we frequently dole out such trinkets to mortals we find amusing, and a few choice Downworlders. It proves nothing."
Sloane hummed in response as she tucked the artifact back into the brown satchel she was carrying.
"That's all we needed. Thank you for your time," Dean said politely as he subtly gestured for the team to back away.
"Wait a moment," the Queen purred.
Dean’s smile faltered. Michael immediately keyed into the sudden, sharp curve of the Queen's lips. Mischief. Absolute, malicious fun.
"You don't think you little Nephilim can just waltz in, fling accusations, and take your leave, do you?"
"Apparently not," Michael murmured under his breath, which caused Celine at his side to promptly elbow him in the ribs.
"What can we do for you, Your Grace?" Cassie asked politely, though Michael could hear the faint, microscopic tremor of nerves in her voice.
"It is quite simple," the Queen nodded, leaning back against her throne of roots. "I require amusement in return. We fae thrive on entertainment, you see."
"In that case, I would be absolutely delighted to perform my finest interpretive dance for you," Michael offered, flashing his most dazzling smile.
The Queen tilted her head, studying him, before her eyes glinted with a predatory look that made his blood run cold. "Perhaps a different sort of entertainment. I sense a great deal of suppressed emotion in you, little Nephilim, and I wish to help you release it. Consider it a favor."
Michael’s brow rose. He knew he should be playing the respectful diplomat, but he could feel the sudden wave of animosity radiating off her. It felt entirely unfair. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"
"I wish for you to kiss the person for whom your heart secretly pines for."
Michael's instant thought was: Fuck my life.
The silence that fell over the clearing was absolute.
His jaw nearly dropped at the suggestion but he forced his face to remain entirely unfazed by the question. If anything, he grinned wider, as if the suggestion, as if the mere thought that he harbored any secretly buried sentiments, was ridiculous. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm not secretly pining for anyone."
To his left, he felt Lia instantly bristle at the lie.
As if his predicament couldn't get any worse, the Queen continued. "You mean to tell me you're not in love with anyone?"
"No."
She frowned at his response. "Such a dirty habit of lying your kind has developed."
Michael’s mind raced. He didn't know the full extent of the Queen’s magic, but the fae were masters of reading human desire, maybe even more so than himself, and she was speaking with absolute, terrifying certainty. Michael had no idea what powers the Seelie Queen had. The fae folk were certainly adept at reading emotions, but this was the Queen they were talking about, and her abilities were surely more expansive and powerful. There must have been something that made her so certain about his confession when he hadn't even truly admitted it to himself yet.
"Who is he in love with?" he heard Sloane whisper to Celine.
"I'm not sure," Celine muttered back in a hushed tone.
"No one!" Michael snapped at them. Catching himself, he took a deep, stabilizing breath and turned back to the Queen with a tight smile. "I’m not lying, and I am most certainly not in love. Now, if that’s all..." He pivoted sharply on his heel.
"You will find leaving to be an impossible task if you do not comply," the Queen called after him.
Michael gritted his teeth, stopping in his tracks. "Yeah? And why is that?"
"The gardens are enchanted, of course," she replied, her melodic voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "You cannot cross the threshold. But if grant me this small wish, I will gladly let you pass. If anything, I think it's quite a small price to pay for your freedom. Otherwise, I am content to wait. Decades mean nothing to me, though I know your lives are far more finite than my own."
"It's not a small wish, it's an impossible one because the premise is flawed," Michael quipped, not turning around. "And frankly, I think you're bluffing about the not being able to leave bit."
"I believe it's already established that my kind cannot lie," the Queen pointed out. "You seem remarkably dense for a Shadowhunter."
Michael had a few choice words for her queued up, but instead, he shrugged. "I'm more than happy to call your bluff."
There was no way in hell he was going to confess to her. Not like this, not ever if he could help it, but most certainly not with their entire team watching like they were at a movie theater.
He marched toward the exit. But the moment his boot neared the tree line, a thick, violent wall of thorny vines erupted from the dirt, weaving together to block the path. Michael pulled his seraph blade, hacking and slashing at the wood for what felt like a grueling ten minutes, only for the vines to instantly regenerate, unbreakable and mocking.
Breathing heavily, he walked back to the clearing. The team hadn't moved. So much for having confidence in his abilities.
"As I said," the Queen spoke, her voice grating against his nerves. "Now. Will you kiss them?"
"No," Michael growled. "As I keep saying, I don't love anyone."
"Those words are not truthful," the Queen retorted. "And I'm not letting you leave until I see you give into temptation."
"I am not staying in this greenhouse for the rest of my life," Lia finally hissed, being the first of the team to really speak up on the matter, stepping into his space. "Just do it, Michael."
Michael squinted down at her. Was she serious? Did she have any idea what she was actually asking him to do? Did she even want him to? "I can't. I told you, I'm not—"
"You're a liar and a coward. A stupid one, too, if you think she's going to just let us walk," Lia interrupted, poking him sharply in the chest. Michael noted the tension in her face, the light downturn of her lips, and the subtle droop of the eyelids. Annoyance and buried hurt. For what reason, though, Michael had no idea. "So just suck it up and kiss her. Sure, Dean might punch you into next week, but it's worth it if we get to go home."
Michael’s brow furrowed. The gears in his brain ground to a violent halt. "Who the hell are you talking about?"
Lia looked at him flatly, as if he were an idiot. Then, in a tone low enough for only him to hear, she expanded. "Cassie, obviously."
Michael paused as his brow shot up at the sudden realization.
She thinks I'm in love with Cassie.
Granted, he had aggressively pursued Cassie when she first arrived at the Institute a few months ago. And sure, it had hurt when she officially chose Dean the previous month. But for Lia to think he was still pining? He hadn't been in love then, and he definitely wasn't now.
He glanced back at the Seelie Queen, whose eyes were glittering with cruel amusement. She knew exactly what was happening. She sensed exactly how complicated the situation he had with Lia was, and she was ruthlessly exploiting it with a smile.
"You promise that if I do this, you let us leave? No tricks, no loopholes, nothing?" Michael demanded, coming to the inevitable conclusion that he was screwed. Maybe he should have swiped some of their wine earlier. He absolutely had to be drunk for this. But then again, no amount of fairy liquor could ever truly prepare him for what he was about to do.
"You have my word," the Queen confirmed.
Michael let out a long, exhausted sigh. "For fuck's sake."
Before Lia could utter another word, Michael reached out, caught her by the waist, and pulled her into him. His lips instantly met hers, kissing her as they'd done countless times before.
Lia gasped, stumbling back from the sheer momentum, but Michael’s hand slid flat against her spine, stabilizing her as he dipped her slightly backward. For a fraction of a second, she went completely rigid, her lips unmoving for a mere moment before she kissed him back. Hard.
The sweet, heavy scent of the garden faded into the background, completely replaced by the overwhelming proximity of her. Blinded by the sudden rush of heat, his fingers betrayed his careful restraint. His hand slid up from her waist, his bare fingers slipping effortlessly under the hem of her loose, soft black cotton T-shirt.
Lia let out a soft breath against his mouth, her own hands instantly trailing up his sleek leather jacket. One hand looped around the back of his neck while the other tangled itself into his hair to pull him impossibly closer. He let out an entirely unprofessional moan at the sensation.
Michael lost track of time, not quite sure how long they were kissing but a loud, sharp wolf-whistle from Celine caused his attention to snap away from the softness of her lips back to their current situation. Back to why he was kissing her in the first place.
Michael pulled back just enough to break the contact, his hands reluctantly sliding back out from under her shirt, though he didn't let go of her waist. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them.
"What do you think you're doing?" Lia panted, genuinely confused. Her hands, having unburied themselves from his hair to rest on his leather jacket instead, burned right through the thick material, almost scorching him.
Michael didn't answer. Instead, he turned his head to glare at the Seelie Queen with pure, unadulterated loathing.
"Satisfied?" he drawled. He didn't need an answer as he could already see the Queen was sporting a thoroughly smug, victorious grin. She gave him one anyways.
"Immensely," she affirmed, waving a careless hand to get rid of the vines blocking the exit. "You are free to leave."
"Finally," Michael muttered. He straightened Lia up, deliberately avoiding her eyes as he let his hands drop. He didn't want to read whatever expression she was wearing right now.
Turning on his heel, he marched toward the now-open path. Dean fell into step right beside him.
"And you always get mad at me for suppressing my emotions," Dean muttered under his breath.
"Shut up, Redding," Michael snapped, picking up the pace.
He officially hated the fae folk, and he really should have stayed in the car today.