Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We are more alike than you think,” he muttered, back to the increasingly pissed-off warlock.

 Magnus scoffed, “I doubt that, Emrys."

* * *

It was mid-October, and the air of the city was chilly, the morning sun just starting to scare away the traces of last night's frost. Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, had been having a good day. He'd spent the night in London, England, with his good, and old, friend, Catarina, dancing until the sun came up; then he'd portalled back to New York and had breakfast with the wonderful Alexander Lightwood, eldest child of the Lightwoods, who ran the New York Institute. His fat, fluffy cat, Church, had even met him at the door, with an uncharacteristic shower of affection.

 Of course... now he knew why Church had been acting so strangely. That bloody cat had always loved his....co-worker? Comrade? Whatever category he fell into…

  Emrys; the most powerful warlock-- no, sorcerer , to ever walk this earth.

 Emrys was old, older than even Magnus - older than any warlock Magnus has ever even heard of . The thing about Emrys, however, was that he actually looked it… Most warlocks hid their age, if it ever started to show - even Magnus himself was guilty of this. But not Emrys. If he were human, he would look like a pile of ash already.

 His long silver beard and hair were like something out of JK’s books (and half the time he did tuck them into his belt). His face was as wrinkled and sagged as that of a ninety-year-old mundane’s, who’d worked his whole life. His hands matched his face, the skin taut and loose all at once, and covered in old scars and age marks; his joints seemingly huge compared to his spindly fingers - although weak they are not. His heavy, earth coloured robes symbolised his natural connection with nature, and often drew attention in the mundane world (actually, the patterns were so intricate and entrancing, and the material so unusual, he drew attention anywhere . Especially in the Seelie realm - where they hate to be outwitted or treated like children, but especially hate being beat for style). On his right-hand, on his index finger, sliding between two knuckles, was a silver and gold ring.

 Magnus knew Emrys wasn't the sort to hold sentimentality in objects, but Magnus got the feeling the ring meant a great deal to him. When Emrys was lost deep in thought, or sad, he often twisted the second piece of metal atop the ring - an interesting mechanic for how old Magnus knew the ring must have been. Under his over-robe, hung a medallion of sort, Magnus recognised the intricate details of it as most likely a house seal, but he'd never looked it up; the medallion hung on an old, light chain that was so worn in places, Magnus suspected it had been repaired with jewel-smiths and magic countless times. The robes that the ancient warlock donned, looked centuries old, at least, sewn and coloured with long since replaced techniques - yet they were as clean and smart as if they'd been sewn yesterday. The dull, wood-like brown of his hooded cloak was embroidered with leaves, as if it were a tree, and the many symbols along the hem Magnus recognised as Druid Magic. Specifically, what was called ‘Earth Magic’ these days; a magic sourced from the very earth beneath their feet, and that called upon Mother Nature for permission and power. Beneath Emrys’ outer layer, was a billowing green robe; as green as the moss on rocks in the river, as green as summer leaves when the sun hits them at midday, as green as a fresh apple before it's skin is marred; the robes shone like the sun hitting dew-kissed grass, countless jewels sewn into the fabric. Magnus knew the jewels themselves were more precious than anything the mundanes craved, they were of magical origin, banding together to create some of the strongest armour, when the wearer so needed; armour that could withstand the heaviest blows and any number of magical spells or enchantments.

 On very rare days, Emrys wore deep purples or reds. Magnus had often said how the colours suited him, but Emrys never wore those robes more than a few times, in a hundred years.

* * *

As was often the case with immortals, Magnus saw Emrys in frequently. In fact, the last time they had seen each other, they’d had an awful fight.

 Yet, there the sorcerer was, laid across Magnus' couch with a heavy tome propped open on his knees; like the argument had never happened, like they were good friends. Like he expected Magnus to be pleased to see him.

 Magnus hadn't been pleased to see him. Magnus had, in fact, shouted and thrown things. Emrys, the infuriating bastard he is, had taken it all in stride. He’d stood there and let the pots and glasses smash against the wall over his shoulder, or bounce off a simple ward he’d cast, without uttering a word of complaint. And when Magnus had finished, gasped for breath and let his shoulders sag in defeat, Emrys had smiled a small, careful smile, and offered to 'put the kettle on'.

* * *

Now, almost an hour later, Emrys is turning, expression thoughtful. “Why do you doubt it?”

 Magnus scoffs again, unable to help himself. Simply the notion is ridiculous! “Because, although I am a warlock, you’re the warlock. ...Besides, you’re an old cad and I’m—”

 “Also an old cad?” Emrys smirks, eyes twinkling.

 “Ha-ha,” Magnus deadpans, his face twists into a frown.

 Then the (much) older warlock turns serious once more. “Just humour the thought a moment, would you? We’re both warlocks; we’re both immortal; we’re both far older than we care to admit; we’ve both lost people we loved more than anything-”

 “Yours comes back!”

 “-and,” Emrys continues, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “we’re both pining after young men, who’ll probably never admit their feelings for us - short of a miracle, that is.”

 That is obviously a poke at Magnus’ attempts at courting the Lightwood boy - attempts that hadn’t gone unnoticed, apparently.

 "Oh, go meditate in the woods for another hundred years, or whatever it is that you do in the decades between these little visits, Emrys,” Magnus half-snaps (poking at the Lightwood boy was a low blow) stomping away from his unwanted, uninvited house-guest. “Why are you even here? Do you have a reason? Or do you just enjoy turning up, at random points in my life, simply to annoy me?”

 “Because it’s time,” Ermys says cryptically, with a sad sigh that makes Magnus stop dead in his angry pacing.

 Magnus doesn’t know which he’s more annoyed at; Emrys’ habit of talking in riddles, or that Magnus actually pays enough attention to his ramblings that he knows what the warlock is on about.

 “I’ll be around for… awhile until I find him, and then we’ll get out of your hair, I give you my word. ...Unless I can’t persuade him and then…then I don’t know…” he mumbles, face turning grave, his gaze drifting, staring at nothing as he falls into his mind. As is another habit of his, these last centuries.

 Magnus remembers the incident Emrys is thinking of, too clearly.

 The situation, in particular, was a few centuries ago, when Emrys’ beloved (Magnus still hadn’t found out who this man …is? …was?) had returned from the dead - which was nothing new. Except this time, when Emrys finally found him, he was already married. Magnus remembered, in excruciating detail, how he’d comforted his fellow warlock for the next month . Emrys had been unable to get his beloved to leave with him, to even give him a chance to explain. Emrys had disappeared after that month; a decade or two later he was sat on Magnus’ sofa. Acting; as if it hadn’t been a lifetime for some people, as if nothing had ever happened, as if Magnus hadn’t sent him a hundred fire messages.

  A traitorous thought crosses Magnus’ mind; ‘ how would I feel if Alec disappeared for a hundred years and then returned, only to fall in love with someone else before I could find him again? ’

 “You’ll find him,” Magnus reassures instantly, words leaving his lips without a thought, moving to pour them both something strong and in a tall glass. “You will , Emrys. You find me , decade after decade, don’t you? ...No matter the wards I put up.” Magnus hands him a drink paired with a sympathetic look he couldn’t fight off. A realisation dawns on him - not something he wasn’t aware of, but something that caught him off guard in that moment. “We’re old, Emrys…”

 Emrys laughs bitterly, “some of us older even than that, my dear friend.”

 Magnus squints slightly, realising he doesn’t even know the ballpark for how old Emrys is. (Not that he is about to ask. That would be rude. He may not particularly like the warlock, but he isn’t about to be that rude; he respects Emrys, in the least.)

 “I still disagree with your statement; we’re not that similar," Magnus mutters, because he doesn't know what else to say.

 Emrys turns tired, weary eyes, to the younger warlock, “oh, if only you knew how wrong you are…” His voice is quiet - quieter than usual.

 The soft, comfortable silence that slips between them, is only broken when the other warlock jerks as if burnt. Magnus’ eyes grow wide as he watches Emrys sit up, down his drink, change the subject and refill his glass; all in the space of a breath.

 “So,” he drawls, in a tone Magnus guesses is his attempt at casual. The warlock probably hasn’t had a casual conversation in over 200 years. His glass is slowly refilling as he talks. “Men, huh?”

 Magnus groans, “are you seriously doing this?”

 “What?” Emrys laughs, “that Torchwood boy is cute! Nice eyes. Nice ass. ”

 Magnus frowns, peering at his houseguest. “Just how much have you had to drink?”

 “What?” Emrys asks, eyes childishly wide.

 “Firstly, it’s Light wood. And secondly… I hadn’t noticed,” Magnus sniffs, clutching his glass closer to his chest in a subconscious, defensive move.

 “Uh huh ,” Emrys drawls, accompanied with a look .

 “Besides, tell me about your mystery man,” Magnus suggests, changing the subject as quickly as he can. “ How long have we been doing this dance? And I’ve still not met him? Including that… retreat on the Honeymoon island in the--… whenever it was--”

 “Uh! You swore never to mention Honeymoon again!” Emrys sputters, blushing a deep red.

 “Memories are memories,” Magnus shrugs, a grin playing on the corner of his lips. “ So! ” he says, loud and suddenly full of energy, “this mystery man?”

 He may be old but his eyes still work as well as they always have; Magnus watches every inch of Emrys’ face fall. Immediately, he wishes his curiosity wasn’t a cat. Emrys’ sad face kills him. Every time.

 “Uh, you don’t—”

 “No, it’s okay…" Emrys says slowly, "I just don’t particularly fancy remembering someone who’s dead…”

 “With the risk of crossing a line,” Magnus starts (albeit not a great way to start a conversation), leaning forward in his chair, “how exactly does that work? I’ve had a lot of loves, ones I even thought of as true loves - and they’ve never come back.”

 “That you know of,” Emrys answers absently, thinking the question through a little.

 Magnus feels cold suddenly, and hopes that his past lovers won’t come back seeking revenge…(there were countless problems with being immortal and falling for Downworlders. He's managed to piss off his fair share of them).

 “The story is a long one I don’t particularly feel like sharing - not today. But… to make a long story short; he was destined to die in battle, by the strike of someone he once called ‘friend’. Someone we both once saved from a fate as bad as they get for people us," Emrys waves a hand between them. "He didn’t die in the battle, but it was a close thing. A shard of the sword lodged in his chest, heading for his heart. Now, I didn’t know two things about healing magic back then, and no matter what the physician in me attempted, no matter the magic I tried, nothing worked. He was still dying. I was told to take him to the Lake of Avalon. That lake, Magnus..." a fond, yet sad, ghost of a smile appears on his lips, "it was like something out of a dream. I often went there; in the years previous and the years following.

 “I was told, if I could get him to the Lake of Avalon, the Shide would take his soul and he would live a thousand years in their world. Not exactly the life I wanted for him, but I couldn’t let him die.” Emrys sighs, a sound that wavers and shakes his chest and Magnus feels tears well up in his own eyes.

 He is finally hearing the story that is the cause of so many years of hurt and suffering; and he hates himself for every time he’d thought ‘how could one man mean this much? Emrys should just move on and forget him, he’s being an idiot.’

 “We didn’t make it… His greatest enemy slowed our journey just a little too long. But I cut her down before she could kill him. And this was only a day after he learnt of my magic…” Emrys stares at his hands, then meets Magnus’ gaze. Both know of the problems others discovering their magic can bring. “But he was so… down-heartedly relieved that they were finally stopped… That he wasn’t leaving those he cared about alone and unprotected… He always cared more for others than himself... When he finally lost consciousness I called Kilgharrah.”

 Magnus has never met Kilgharrah, but he's seen sketches of the Great Dragon, and heard stories Emrys sometimes tells when deeply intoxicated. The dragon had been centuries old and believed himself to be the last of his kind - oh, how wrong he had been. The warlocks - together - had helped so many dragons. Emrys had to; he was the last Dragon Lord after all.

 “He took us to the Lake and… oh , I’ll never forget how sad Kilgharrah was… He pretended not to care for the humans, for me, but I knew he'd grown fond of me, even of him - despite them trying to kill each other. I never thought I’d see him again.” Emrys chuckles lightly, “I saw him again just a month after… But anyway. ‘My man’ - he…he died and I… Well I was a mess. But the Shide still took him, because despite being dead his soul hadn't yet left his body." Emrys pauses, lost in his own thoughts, he smiles suddenly, a lopsided grin that suits his face, "funny thing? They’d tried to get his soul a few years before, but I stopped them…they weren't so happy to see me then , I'll tell you that.”

 Magnus blinks. “…That’s it? They just send his soul back every few hundred years? That seems a little--”

 Emrys chuckles quietly again, “not quite. While the Shide are untrustworthy, there are High Priestesses that control exactly when he comes back. Though they’re not much better; they only send him back when they deem the world needs him.”

 The look on Emrys’ face makes Magnus speak from somewhere deep inside, somewhere that rarely sees the light of day, somewhere vulnerable and delicate. “But you need him.”

 “Yeah…” Emrys smiles sadly, his eyes shining with tears when they meet Magnus'.

 There is a moment of solace between them; one they hadn’t had for…

 Magnus’ eyebrows draw together, as he realises it’s been over four centuries since either of them have really opened up, since they'd just sat and enjoyed each other's company. It’d been a lifetime for some people - for a lot of people.

 “Emrys—” Magnus starts, face contorted; how had he missed this? But he doesn’t get to speak his words of comfort.

 “Are those what I think they are?” Emrys whispers loudly.

 “ Yes ,” Magnus groans, just as the flashing lights pair with the blaring sirens. He shut the sound off with a flick of his wrist. “My wards have been broken. I’m being invaded - again .”

 He sees Emrys’ face twitch in his peripheral vision.

 “Oh, shut up, you know how much trouble Shadowhunters get us into!” he snaps quietly.

 “Yes, but I also know you: you’re good enough at getting yourself into trouble without help from the new-age cops,” Emrys laughs, almost gleefully.

Chapter Text

“You never get five minutes of peace do you, my friend?” Emrys whisper-laughed, a moment after Magnus’ ward alarms started blaring again - meaning whatever was coming was close .

 “And you do!?” Magnus hissed back just as quietly, glaring at nothing in particular. The other warlock had a point. He never got any peace these days, did he?

 “I get fifty or so years of peace, for every 200 or so years of chaos,” Emrys shrugged, peering around the wide, brick pillar he’d taken cover behind.

 Magnus outwardly frowned, preparing himself for the inevitable fight; inwardly he was beaming. He never loved the barely-man - who really was, possibly his best, friend - more than when he was like this. Cocky and jokey and only small traces of the crushing sadness in his eyes. In moments like this, his eyes shine, for once not with pain, and his smile and laugh are unmatched and contagious. In moments like this, Magnus forgets the nagging in the back of his mind, reminding him that one day he’ll turn into a less-good version of his friend. In moments like this-- he was going to have to move his apartment. Again.

 “Yeah? Is it about time for the two centuries of chaos?” Magnus snapped. Emrys always got him into the worst trouble. Worse than anything the Shadowhunters, Night-Children, Fae or even his more… eccentric warlock friends ever got him into. And Emrys always did it faster than any of the numerous other trouble-magnets Magnus seemed to attract. Wow, he was a trouble-magnet magnet. What?

 “Yeah about time for it,” he muttered. That didn’t make Magnus feel any better. “So who are your unwanted house-guests? Or rather, what? ”

 “You mean besides you?” Magnus half-assed-ly groaned. Of course this time he hadn’t put up identifying wards. Magnus made an angry mental note to not fall short on the wards, just because they took three days to perfect.

 “Magnus,” Emrys hissed in a low voice, “can you pretend you’re not happy to see me, after we’ve had our traditional, reunion fight-to-the-death?”

 Just as the last word passed his lips a human-looking… something burst through Magnus’ double doors like they were wood. Which…technically they were , but the wards were supposed to make then tougher than six-foot thick, bunker blast doors.

 With his usual show-off-ish flourish, Magnus was barely a foot out from his own cover, before he had the intruder in two separate corners of his entranceway.

 “Why can’t I do both?” he asked with a cheeky grin and an equally cheeky wave of his glowing fingers. Out in the open, without the protection from his - meagre, haste - cover, Magnus was seemingly in immediate danger when another human-looking-something burst in through the wall.

 However before the cat-eyed warlock even had time for his eyes to turn slightly golden, the other warlock had stepped out as well, waving his hand lazily and sending the next intruder flying.

 “Always so careless, my dear,” Emrys muttered, slightly exasperated. “Let me guess, you didn’t put up identifying wards?”

 Magnus groaned, rolling his eyes, “they take time! And I was…distracted…” he admitted, staring at one half of the intruders.

 Emrys stared wide eyed at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m guessing you didn’t do any of the longer wards then?” he muttered, looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than to slap his own head into his hand. Or maybe slap Magnus.

 Mangus’ ‘yes I know, I’m stupid you don’t have to keep reminding me’ glare was all Emrys needed to know he was right.

 “One day your laziness is going to get you killed, my dear,” he half-laughed. “You do know it’s going to be even more tedious finding out who they--”

 They’d stopped attempting to be quiet, and that must have drawn the attackers’ attention, because when Emrys looked up his fond smile faded. There were surrounded.

 “Uh, Magnus? Buddy?” Emrys muttered stiffly, out of the corner of his mouth.

 In the back of his mind, Magnus wondered if maybe Emrys hadn’t spent the last century or so in some forest; his friend almost sounded like a common 20th century born-person. When he raised his eyes he almost laughed.

 “Well,” Magnus drawled with a knowing smile that only made the definitely-not-humans growl, “this hardly seems fair.”

 “Fifteen of us , against two evil warlocks?” one of them snapped, “seems fair to me.”

 “Oh,” Emrys gasped, a smile to match Magnus’ on his face, “he meant fair for you.”

 The moment their enemies lurch forward, the moment their feet leave the ground, Magnus and Emrys were back to back, waves and clouds and webs of blue, red, bright green and neon pink surrounding them.

 “This is just like the North Pole all over again!” Emrys laughed loudly, as the swirls of colours - never quite mixing - held the attackers off and attacked them in return.

 “Which time?” Magnus frowned, wondering how this was anything like the time they accidentally wandered into a Polar Bear den, or when they’d accidentally portalled there in…inappropriate clothes, while taking another head off.

 “What year was it…” Emrys mumbled, hands falling to his side while a thoughtful look covered his face: except the enemies he had been fighting kept falling and taking blows. “Oh, sometime between the 14th and 15th century!” he cried, raising his hands again, concentration restored.

 Magnus’ cat-eyes grew wide, “you and I obviously remember that very differently!”

 Emrys just chuckled. (Although whether at Magnus, or the not-human he’d picked up and thrown into a group of his friends like a bowling ball and pins, was unclear.)

 “You’re under attack by an army and you have time for a trip down memory lane!? ” one of them hissed from where they were crawling along the floor, either pinned by one of the warlocks or simply unable to stand.

 Magnus and Emrys both paused, turning to glare at their fallen enemy. After a moment Magnus turned to his comrade.

 “Are you as bored of this as I am, my dear?” Magnus drawled, turning his gaze to his friend.

 “If not more so,” Emrys said in an emotionless voice, eyes never leaving the fallen, mouthy, enemy.

 “Well then, let's finish this.”

 Emrys rolled his shoulder, hand coming back up to hover mid-air, a slightly burnt-umber colour rushing as if from his fingers and covering the room. Only a hint of Magnus’ own blue magic could be seen. The warlock brought his hands together, in a prayer, except he was not praying. The smoke rushed back into his palms but left numerous bodies in its wake. All but three were dead.

 “You want to do clean-up?” Magnus asked cheerily a moment later, cat-eyes gone but his fingers still holding an afterglow - literally.

 “Uh, no . After your job with the wards, I’ll keep the prisoners in check, and fix your wards for you. You can clean up your apartment however you like,” Emrys grumbled. Magnus had forgotten how he got after fighting, after taking lives. “After all,” he continued with a fake, half-hearted smile, “if I did it, you’d just complain and spend hours redoing it.”

 Magnus chuckled lightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes either. His friend’s - only ever fleeting - absence of pain was obviously over. The, previously, cat-eyes were now pain filled. Pain for his friend’s pain.

 However, the High Warlock Of Brooklyn’s sympathy was short lived as the Lightwood children burst through the mess that had been his doors.

 “Magnus!” Izzy shouted as she rounded the corner too fast, almost skidding along the floor in her effort to stop. The physical challenge to turn fight mode off was obvious in her body language.

 Alec, however, barely glanced at the chaos as he rounded the corner, heading straight for Magnus.

 “I’m okay,” the warlock uttered, holding a hand up to stop Alec from advancing any more. He knew the Nephilim wanted to hug him, to hold him tight - maybe even as much as Magnus wanted it - but the warlock wasn’t going to let the man do something he’d only end up apologizing for later. No. For now, it was better to wait until Alec was ready, not when he thought he was ready.

 After confirmation that their friend was okay, Izzy and Alec turned on Emrys in an almost creepily synced, single, swift and smooth movement.

 In a way that simply screamed, ‘are you serious right now?’ , the unknown warlock tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. Then rolled his eyes in Magnus’ direction as if to say ‘Shadowhunters these days’ .

 Just as Magnus stepped slightly around Alec (when had the man stepped so obviously, defensively in front of the, far more durable, warlock?) and opened his mouth with a small ‘ah’, the usually much-harder-than-that-to-defeat Shadowhunters had been relieved of their weapons and frozen about a foot off the blood spattered floor.

 “That’s really not necessary,” Magnus hissed, looking like he wanted to slam his face into his palm or crawl into bed and sleep for 30 centuries. He’d really been hoping Emrys wouldn’t meet Alec while he was in one of these moods. But when it came to his oldest friend; he never had much luck getting what he wanted.

 “Oh,” his frustrating friend, mock-pouted, “but how will they learn manners?”

 “ Emrys ,” Magnus hissed again, “ first impressions! ”

 That seemed to mean something, to the warlock; who had just not only disabled, but disarmed two of this generation’s best Shadowhunters, without doing much more than blinking; because he let them down. Although was hesitant to give them their weapons back.

 “I’ll return your silly toys , after Magnus explains that I’m not the threat you obviously think I am,” Emrys shrugged. “Are all your house guests treated this way?” he asked the fellow warlock cheekily.

 “It’s not like I invited you,” Magnus groaned, then turned to his younger friends with an apologetic look, “he’s in a mood. I swear, he’s usually a little nicer. And he’s not a threat. Believe it or not… he’s my oldest friend.”

 “Aww!” Emrys cooed, spinning back to the trio with wide eyes, “and here I was starting to think you really didn’t like me!” He chuckled lightly - one of his contagious ones - and suddenly the Nephilim's hands were full with their weapons once again.

 Emrys stalked up to Alec, walking a circle around him, dragging his eyes over the half-angel. “You really know how to pick ‘em, darling. Not bad, Torchwood.”

 Alec’s eyes narrowed. “ What? ”

 This time Magnus did facepalm. “Lightwood. Lightwoods. If I didn’t need your help re-doing my wards and sorting this mess out I’d--”

 “You’d what?” Emrys asked with a cheeky grin.

 Magnus deflated immediately. The pain was so close to forgotten, he could see it in his face. He couldn’t stand to be the one to ruin that. He sighed heavily, “just help these two get the prisoners back to the Institute while I clean up.”

 The warlock turned his goofy grin to the frowning Shadowhunters. “Let's get to work shall we?”

 ‘Get to work’ apparently meant the Lightwoods stand there looking (and feeling) rather useless while the warlock does all the work and creates a portal - literally all with a snap of his fingers.

 “Uh, dearest?” Magnus called in a, more-than-slightly, condescending tone. “Maybe dial it back a bit? These days there aren’t many warlocks who can conjure a portal with just a snap of their fingers. …Actually, only one.” As a different tact, Magnus added, “remember when I brought you to London in the early 1800’s? Remember the culture shock? Well, try to think of that when doing magic in front of… anyone.”

 “I thought you liked my showing off,” Emrys drawled in a tone, easily perceived, as flirty. Except it wasn’t. The two pretended and acted and joked, but that’s all it is.

 “Lets just get this over with,” Alec glared. With his voice (however you do that…).

 …Of course Alec didn’t know they two were joshing.

 “Why yes,” Emrys agreed, smiling warmly at Alec, seemingly unaware of the Nephilim's dislike towards him, “the sooner we finish this, the sooner I can continue to get to know the Lightwood children.” The charming smile he threw at Izzy made the girl giggle lightly. Emrys always did have a knack for winning people’s hearts…

 “Wait,” the girl cried out suddenly when Emrys stepped towards the portal, “you can’t portal somewhere you’ve never been! You’ll get stuck in limbo.”

 Magnus couldn’t help the snort, from across the room.

 Emrys shot a glare into his back, but turned a kind smile to the girl, “don’t worry about me. I’m a little bit better at magic than Magnus, limbo won’t stick me.”

 “You know curiosity killed the cat, right?” Alec grumbled at his sister after the unfamiliar warlock had stepped through the portal with the prisoners.

 “But satisfaction brought it back,” she laughed again.

 Alec shot an unreadable look towards Magnus, then stepped into the portal with a huff.

 “He’ll come around,” Izzy said softly, “you just have…difficult old friends.”

 “Trust me, I know .” Magnus groaned, still facing away from them, hands waving through the air as things righted themselves in front of him.

Chapter Text

“What is the meaning of thi-!” Maryse’s voice was shrill across the Institute control room, but the sight of the man silenced her. A man that hasn’t aged a day. But it must have been over twenty years…

 “ Ah! Hello, Maryse!” Emrys called out cheerily, then added with a confused head tilt, “what are you doing here?”

 The entire compound slid to a halt, all staring, watching the scene unfold with curious eyes.

 Emrys shrugged one shoulder, turning away from Maryse’s shocked face, “Magnus and I have three prisoners for you. I swear that warlock’s laziness is going to be the death of him. He didn’t have any identifying wards up, so I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re dealing with. But I’m sure your wonderful forensic-expert could tell you all we need to know - with no trouble,” he smiled sweetly at Isabel.

 The young woman smiled, but when Emrys turned, her brows suddenly furrowed, confused. She hadn’t told him anything about her roles at the Institute.

 But Emrys continued speaking, now staring around the control room as if it was fascinating him, “of course I could in a matter of breaths... But you wouldn’t want my bill. I’ve had a long decade I’m not feeling very …generous.” He finished with a smile that no one returned.

 Silence fell over the Institute, the soft beeping and electric whirring of the machines the only sound.

 “Mum?” Alec mumbled, breaking the silence, stepping out from behind the warlock.

 “ Oh!” Realisation crossed his face. “ You’re a Torch- Light wood? Good for you, Maryse,” Emrys smiled warmly, a twinkle in his eye.

 The woman’s face hardened.

 Emrys sighed, a strange look on his face, “well. I tried.” His whole demeanour did a 180 in a matter of nanoseconds, his shoulders straightening, the fallen look cast aside for his usual cheery façade (a façade you wouldn’t even realise was an act until you paid close attention) “I’ll be leaving these buggers with you, Mrs Maryse Lightwood. Meanwhile, I have to borrow your children for a few hours. Someone has to catch me up on the Accords now, don’t they?” he added when she opened her mouth.

 Maryse looked like she wanted to argue, and everyone expected her to. However she simply pursed her lips, looking furious, and gave a short, curt nod.

 “Thought so. Toodle-pip,” Emrys chuckled, linking his arms with the Lightwood children’s, and, before they could react, pulling them back through the portal.

Chapter Text

“--Dangerous and stupid!” Alec finished shouting, as their feet hit the wood of Magnus’ freshly blood-free floor. “What in the Angel…”

  “Emrys,” Magnus groaned, turning the corner to where his guests had reappeared. “What did I say?!”

  “Oh! Yeah…” the other warlock mumbled, suddenly looking sheepish. “Sorry, I forgot…”

  “What just happened?” Izzy asked under her breath, “we could have been stuck in Limbo!”

  “Uh, no!” Magnus jumped in, “no, you were perfectly safe. Trust me, I would not have let him take you if you would have been in danger.”

  Alec turned disbelieving and furious eyes on him.

  “Um… let me explain!” Magnus rushed, “you see, Emrys isn’t any old warlock - well he is an old warlock but he- off point! What I mean, is he doesn’t treat portals like normal portals.”

  “What does that mean?” Izzy gritted out, the nauseous feeling - usually associated with portaling for the first time, sneaking up on her suddenly. And by the looks of it, Alec was feeling much in the same boat.

  “I mean, he literally doesn’t treat portals like normal warlocks do,” Magnus gasped, eyes wide as if this was something constantly bugging him. “It’s a pain, honestly. Makes the rest of us look bad.”

  The children (because even compared to Magnus they really are just children) didn’t look any less confused. Although that might have been because their focus had shifted to not throwing up.

  “It means, with my portals there is no Limbo,” Emrys explained: just as equally, unhelpfully. “You two look like you need a sit down. And a bucket…” he muttered, and the two felt like they were falling - felt that feeling you get when you’re lying in bed and then your body suddenly jerks you awake - only to land in soft chairs with buckets between their knees.

  “Emrys!” Magnus snapped harshly, “would you think before you just…magic everything!? You’re making me feel like I’m only a century old again…”

  “Sorry!” the obviously extremely powerful warlock, squealed, hands shooting into in the air, palms facing outward in a universal surrender. “I’m not used to being around mundanes!”

  “We’re not-” Alec started to snap.

  “Trust me, sweetie, compared to my usual company, you’re as mundane as one can get,” Emrys muttered absently.

  “Emrys, would you please, try to remember what ‘polite’ means to those without magic,” Magnus half-begged.

  If Izzy wasn’t on the verge of revisiting her lunch, she would have found the warlocks unusual behaviour amusing.

  Emrys gave him a look. A look that seemed innocent to the Lightwoods but Magnus knew his friend better than that. He knew his infuriating friend better than that. He saw the mock in his look. “I swear, I’ll try to keep that in mind. I’ll try my best!”

  Magnus inwardly groaned. And outwardly muttered, “and to think, this morning my biggest worries was stocking up my… uh you don’t want to know…” he finished unexpectedly, getting the look he sometimes got when the past came up.

  “Oh!” Emrys cried out, “I’ll give you the details for a guy I know, he’ll only be around maybe another hundred years but he’s got good product. The contact spell is a little more complex than your favoured fire-messages but it’s still pretty simple - even with the twist he adds.”

  Alec and Izzy were looking at them with horrified looks.

  “What?” Emrys asked. He turned to Magnus, “I didn’t think that was so bad?”

  “Their minds are probably just thinking up the worst possible scenarios,” Magnus muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Wait,” Izzy muttered, a thought crossing her mind and changing the subject, “you know our mother?”

  “Knew.” Emrys corrected. “She was probably your age, or younger.”

  “No!” Magnus cried with a small scoff, realisation spreading over his features, “Maryse is the Shadowhunter you--”

  Emrys shot him a look and he clamped his mouth shut. But it was too late.

  “Oh, ew,” Izzy and Alec groaned when realisation hit them.

  “Oh, don’t be so judgy,” Emrys scoffed lightly, “everyone has a past.”

  Alec was too busy staring into his bucket like it was a life line to notice, but Izzy caught the looks the warlocks were shooting each other - as if they were having a whole conversation without words.

  “I can hear you,” Alec grumbled, after a minute of silence, and Magnus flinched lightly, straightening stiffly.

  “I need a drink,” he mumbled.

  “That’s a good idea! I’ll help you,” Emrys followed his friend, turning back to the two only to smile and cheerily (if slightly cryptically) say, “don’t worry, I already know what you want - and what you need.”

Chapter Text

After the two Lightwoods could clearly hear the unmistakable rustle and soft, light rumble, of a silencing ward around the two warlocks in the next room, Izzy leapt forward.

  Or… leant slightly closer to Alec. Leaping wasn’t something she could do with out puking at the moment. “I think he’s charming but - I don’t trust him.”

  Alec snorted, “obviously. I can’t believe you find him charming…”

  “I can’t believe he slept with mum…” she muttered.

  “Oh,” he groaned, “don’t remind me, I don’t need another reason to be sick.”

  “It’s interesting though,” she said with a small smile, “don’t you think.”

  Her brother raised his eyes, a ‘what are you on about?’ look in his features. “What’s interesting?”

  “Meeting one of Magnus’ friends!” she said as if that were obvious.

  “He’s not that impressive.”

  This time Izzy gave him a look. “Alec, he made us about as common butterfly, without much more than blinking. He summoned a portal with a snap of his fingers! We’ve both seen a great deal of warlocks cast portals. And none have done it so easily!”

  Alec grunted a ‘I guess you’re right’.

  “You’re just jealous,” Izzy teased, but her face was soft when Alec looked back up with a glare. “You have no reason to be, o, brother mine.”

  “She’s right you know,” Emrys’ voice made them both jump. Today was not their day, apparently. “What Magnus and I once had was a fire that burnt out long, long ago. We joke around now, but that’s all it is: two friends who have known each other too long - longer than anyone should know anyone, truth be told - joking around. You have no reason to be jealous. Besides,” he said with what was, probably, meant to be a reassuring smile, “Magnus is infatuated with you.”

  Izzy smiled, as if saying ‘see! Told you!’.

  But Alec’s mind was stuck on ‘what Magnus and I once had’.

  “Now, you both drink up,” Emrys said with in surprisingly good ‘dad’ voice, “there’s something for your stomachs - sorry about that, my fault - and a good stiff drink. I suggest just downing them both as fast as you can.”

  A minute after Emrys disappeared back into the other room, and Izzy was making a face after downing one drink, and Alec was making faces at the first one he’d picked up, the silence ward was broken.

  “YOU TOLD HIM WHAT!? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU’RE KILLING ME HERE, EMRYS!” Magnus’ voice - although they’d never heard him quite so loud or quite so angry - was unmistakable.

  “Uh oh,” Izzy murmured, downing the other drink before she could think too much about it.

  Magnus spun around the corner, nearly skidding like Izzy had earlier, “whatever he said it’s not what it sounds like!”

  He stood there for a moment, hands out and eyes wide, breathing heavily.

  “Man, always such a drama queen,” Emrys mumbled, strolling in behind him. “I didn’t say anything incriminating.”

  Magnus didn’t miss the way Izzy’s eyebrows raised. He turned on his fellow warlock, “yes you did! What did you say!” Then he turned to the Lightwoods, “what did he say!?”

  After almost two minutes of silence Emrys spoke up again, leaning around his friend to point his question to the Lightwoods, “who’s the blond dude?”

  “What?” Alec blinked.

  “The blond-” Magnus muttered, rapidly blinking, “do you mean Jace?”

  “I don’t know,” Emrys said slowly, “that’s why I asked.”

  “Again,” Magnus snapped, losing his patience, “why are you here? Go stay with the witch until he comes back, I can’t deal with you right now.”

  Something passed over Emrys’ face and he jerked, “oh shit!”

  Before anyone could react, the strange warlock created a portal, stepped through it, and it disappeared as quick as it appeared.

  Once the sort-of-human headache was out of his apartment, for an indefinite amount of time, Magnus fell onto the sofa next to Alec like a sack of potatoes and ran a hand over his weary face.

  “That man is either going to kill me, or drive me into an early grave,” he grumbled, a strong-smelling drink suddenly in his hand.

  “I think you’re a little past an early grave,” Izzy offered, trying to make light of a plain bizarre situation.

  “Good point,” Magnus smiled. Then his face turned serious, “hang on, why isn’t your mother driving everyone nuts looking for you? Why are you still here? You took the attackers back, right?”

  Alec opened his mouth to answer, but Izzy interrupted before he could speak. “Protection. In case there are more.”

  Magnus didn’t look convinced, and Alec was glaring harshly at his sister: who just smiled sweetly and winked.

Chapter Text

A minute of, uncomfortably, tense silence later, Izzy stood up.

  “Well, I’m feeling better,” she declared, “I’m going to check the perimeter.”

  Alec glared holes into her back as she half-skipped from the room.

  Magnus wasted no time. “I don’t know what he said; honestly he could have said a thousand different things, and he has the free-flying imagination to make up another thousand things - probably worse than anything I’m imagining. But whatever he said I swear it’s not as bad as he made it out to be.” Magnus was nervous, ringing his hands slightly. His mind was reeling, trying to think of what his uninvited house guest could have possible said. The older warlock could be nice, he could be mean, he could be cold, he could even be just a damn pain in the ass: it all depended on his mood.

  Years, and years and centuries and millennials of history, meant the two had a lot of stories. Emrys had, personally, caused Magnus to lose people he’d thought he was in love with. The cat-eyed warlock lost his right to be angry at the fellow warlock when, soon after, he discovered his loves had, in fact, not loved him. Or held an alternative agenda, or meant to hurt him. Somehow, the legend-old warlock, was only ever looking out for Magnus. Hurting his friend himself, instead of letting his friend be hurt by those who would control him, use him.

  That didn’t mean the warlock could easily forgive him. Of course he understood why Emrys had done all he’d done; why he always shoved his way into Magnus’ more serious relationships. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

  Magnus felt his panic was well reasoned. If Emrys decided himself; that Alexander wasn’t good enough for him, or he wasn’t good enough for Alec, or Alexander’s end game was meant to hurt him (Magnus hated to think that; but a voice in his head confirmed, the warlock would let the Shadowhunter hurt him - if only he was allowed to know the mere boy)…well, then before Magnus could realise what was happening; he’d find there would be a split between Alec and himself they’d be unable to fix.

  Alec turned to him, after what felt like an age. “Do you have so little trust in your friends?” he asked, expression neutral and unreadable.

  “What?” Magnus muttered. He’d expected shouting or swearing or breaking things. The clam, controlled and cold voice of the eldest Lightwood child hurt more… “No! I love him! He’s been around since… well he was old when I was just a babe. I love him, I do. And…in his own way, I know he loves me too.

  “But you have to understand; he has his own version of right and wrong, these rules he follows. I know he’s seen things I couldn’t imagine. I know he’s been to hell and back, I know he lives his own personal hell each and every day. He watches the love of his life die every century or so! I have no clue how he’s even partially sane! But he’s not entirely…there.”

  His voice turned softer as he continued, “I think he’s scared to admit how much he cares for me because everyone he’s ever cared about ends up hurt; but he thinks of me as family. I think of him as my best friend - no matter how much he grinds me the wrong way. But he has a… reputation for sabotaging my… uhm…” Magnus trailed off, realising he couldn’t yet say ‘relationship’ and infer Alec. They hadn’t really talked… At all.

  “If you love him so much, why don’t you be with him? He’ll live as long as you. He won’t age and you won’t have to watch him fade away.”

  It took Magnus a moment to read the emotion in Alec’s voice, in his face. “Oh, Alexander,” the warlock breathed, wanting to reach a hand out to the hurting man, understanding Alec’s worries suddenly. “I don’t love him like that. And he does age; he’s a bastard like that. You just wait; he’ll age himself maybe ten years each day he’s here, then he’ll reappear a few centuries later, bright and shiny and just like new. No one fades away quite like Emrys…” he whispered, feeling his own eyes starting to sting with the familiar feeling of tears. He refused to rip his eyes from Alec’s, however.

  “But you did once. You were together once,” he insisted. It was both a question and a statement. An accusation.

  Magnus’ eyes fell shut. “Damn him.”

  He opened them and faced his body to Alec, needing the man to understand his next words, to see he was serious. “Once. We’d been friends maybe half a millennia, we thought, ‘might as well give it a go.’ We were both lonely; both needed another to ease our pain. It lasted only three years - which is nothing to us. Not back then.

  “But he left. He always leaves. We tried it; it didn’t work out. But we remained friends after. We need each other, more than we care to admit; we’re each other’s rocks. We need each other and I’m not going to pretend we don’t.”

  Alec’s face hadn’t changed. He still looked hurt. He looked broken. Magnus rushed to fix that.

  “No, you don’t understand; he’s in love with someone else.” The warlock’s sharp eyes caught a small break in Alexander’s expression. And he pushed it further open. “He’s in love with someone else. He always has been. And the way he talks… I’ve never met them, but I can’t imagine two people more in love. Or more in hate… The idiot gets his heart broken so many times… I love him like you love Izzy. He’s family, but…more than that. I can’t explain it…” he finished with a soft sigh, shaking his head. He truly had no idea how to ease Alec’s worries…

  “He’s your parabatai,” Alec uttered gently. Understanding on his face.

  The warlock - who obviously knew the phrase - considered it for a moment, eyes wide. Then nodded; it wasn’t a perfect analogy - but it was a Shadowhunter term - but it was fitting. “I just don’t want you to think there’s something more between us. There was, but we don’t talk about it and we’re not going to give it a go again. Trust me, it was chaos.”

  Both the people seated on the couch jumped - Alec went straight for his dagger only to find it gone - when arms wrapped around Magnus over the back of the sofa.

  “Aw! I knew you could do it!” the suddenly smiley and friendly warlock pressed a messy kiss to the side of Magnus’ head, then walked around the sofa.

  “You- what?” Alec sputtered.

  “Uh, this is yours? I believe,” the warlock asked mock-innocently, bowing slightly with a hand out. Sat in his palm was Alec’s dagger.

  “Wait, did you plan this?” Magnus asked, mind catching up.

  “Of course I did.” Emrys shrugged, “you two weren’t going to get anywhere without talking. And you’d,” he pointed a finger at Magnus, a cheeky grin on his lips, “only get in trouble if you tried to hide that we had history - the type that matters here.” He made little circular motions with his hand and sunk into a chair - as if he owned the place. Then waved his hand in the air absently, as if he was bored of this conversation now.

  “Emrys!” Izzy’s silky voice carried into the open room easily, “you’re back!”

  Magnus turned suspicious eyes to his friend, “where did you go?”

  “To see a man about a dog,” he smiled, eyes glistening.

  “What?” Alec asked, mouth twisted into a smile like he thought Emrys was telling a bad joke.

  “It’s a saying, Alec,” Izzy sighed.

  “You’re not bringing a dog into my apartment,” Magnus warned hesitantly, eyeing his cloak as if he expected the warlock to just pull a dog from it.

  The Lightwoods turned to Magnus.

  “Is that likely to happen?” Izzy blinked.

  Emrys chuckled, “well, technically: a woman about a dragon.”

  Alec and Izzy spluttered slightly.

  Magnus began to laugh at them, but his face turned deathly serious before it’d fully formed. “You didn’t hatch another egg did you?”

  The Lightwood siblings shared a look. The breeding of magical creatures was a complex topic. Many species were forbidden; more were forbidden only in specific countries; others were allowed only under constant watch, care and supervision. This warlock did not seem like someone the Clave would trust to raise such creatures.

  …This day was not going how they’d expected.

  “If I did, you’d know about it,” Emrys chuckled, “because they’d be in your front room.”

  Magnus flopped back on the sofa with a strung-out groan.

  “…Dragon?” Izzy asked carefully.

  “Dragon eggs?” Alec clarified, his relaxed tone shoved aside for his work voice. Serious as ever.

  Emrys jerked ever so slightly, looked at Alec, then Izzy, then back to Alec, as if he’d forgotten they were even there. “Yeah. Kinda my job.”

  Both Lightwoods blinked at him. In unison.

  “Your job is protecting the mundanes, killing demons and following the Clave’s orders blindly - ‘the law is the law’ and all that - while mine is protecting Dragons, killing whatever threatens their existence and following the laws of being an under-thanked, over-worked, glorified Dragon-nanny.”

  “Dragons?” Alec repeated, shaking his head disbelievingly.

  “Dragons,” Emrys confirmed. “Hatching and raising their eggs until they’re able to fend for themselves is just another part of my job.” He continued, obviously caught up in his own little world, because he didn’t notice the way Alec and Izzy were gaping at him, “they’re pretty much over-excitable puppies - …that breathe fire… And, much like dogs, they need training. So when I find an egg - which doesn’t happen twice in a millennia - I bring them over to meet Magnus,” he smiled cheekily and Magnus groaned again, sinking deeper into the sofa - if that was even possible.

  “…Why?” Izzy asked, still gaping slightly.

  Mythical and magical creatures were not new to Shadowhunters - not even these Shadowhunters - but dragons? Dragons didn’t exist. Hadn’t for thousands and thousands of years. Or…weren’t supposed to.

  Emrys blinked, again as if he’d forgotten they were there. Or maybe where he was… “To introduce them to other people, other warlocks. To normalise them to not just me. A dragon that’s never seen a human is a whole basket of chaos.” He shrugged slightly, “I know they never naturally come across humans themselves - they’re far too scared of them to even accidentally get anywhere close - but it’s easier to get them used to the culture shock while they’re still young.”

  The Lightwoods couldn’t do anything but blink. And blink some more.

  “What?” the warlock laughed on a breath, confused at their reaction.

  Again, Magnus groaned, but this time pulled himself out of the little hole he’d buried himself in - instead of sinking deeper. “Dragons don’t exist, remember, Emrys?” he drawled in a irritated tone.

  Emrys froze, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “Oh yeah…” he uttered sheepishly, glancing near-frantically between the shell-shocked Shadowhunters.

  “Dragons…” Alec breathed, nodding almost trance-like, eyes not really focusing on… anything. “Dragons are real… Of course they are. Why not?”

  Izzy burst into laughter, “why are we surprised? How much do the Clave ever actually tell us?”

  “Less than you’d think is fair,” Emrys shrugged automatically, without thinking, “there’s a whole country, almost the size of Russia, just for the dragon species; you need all that space because the different breeds don’t all get along.”

  Izzy stopped short. “Okay, that’s a little much…” She fell into a nearby chair, with none of her usual grace, eyes bug-wide.

  “Oo-kay,” Magnus sighed, getting to his feet, “I think we all could use another drink.”

  “I agree…” Izzy mumbled.

  Alec made an affirmative noise in his throat, still staring into space.

  Magnus left to make drinks, shooting concerned looks at the young adults before he turned the corner.

  The silence was setting Emrys’ teeth on edge. After a beat or two,he broke it. He had to. It was too quiet.

  “So-oo.”

  “Uh-uh,” Izzy muttered, waggling her finger in a ‘no’. “No words.”

  He huffed out a breath, this time being the one to fall further into his chair. “Uneasy silence it is then.”

  “Shh,” Alec snapped, eyes more than a little glassy.

  “Uh… Magnus?” Emrys called out the side of his mouth, “I think I broke your little half-angel toys…”

  Magnus started shouting profanity loudly but not clearly - except cut himself off before he’d even really started.

  He strode into the room, drinks following at shoulder height behind him. “They’re not ‘my toys’,” he snapped, face only turning soft when he knelt in front of the Shadowhunters, gently pushing the drinks into their hands. “And it’s your fault; you need to think before you speak. Really, you need to think before you do anything.”

  Emrys opened his mouth with a cheeky grin, but Magnus interrupted.

  “Yes, I know. It only took me a thousand years, to learn that thinking is both your best and worst trait.”

  Emrys smirked, amused. Magnus ignored him.

Chapter Text

It took nearly twenty minutes for Izzy and Alec to break out of their trance.

  “So…dragons?” Alec asked, now smiling slightly and looking at Emrys.

  “Yeah… dragons,” he grimaced lightly.

  “How many are there, these days?” Izzy asked, now extremely interested. How often do you learn a species supposed to be extinct isn’t extinct and get to talk to the man that raises them? “…Approximately?”

  “Seventeen,” Emrys answered, without missing a beat.

  Izzy blinked. “I… wasn’t expecting such an exact number…”

  “Well I raised most of them. They’re family. I feel each of them - not unlike a parabatai bond, but so much stronger, so much harsher and…dependant,” explained Emrys, as if he were explaining a fight move, not the lifeline of an entire species. “There’s far more than there used to be: trust me I was worried they’d go extinct for a good 500 years.”

  “That’s a lot?” Alec asked, head snapping up.

  “Of course,” Emrys frowned, “some of the breeds have gone extinct: a lot of the water-dwellers, and those that preferred the human forests were hunted into extinction years before I was even born.” He sighed quietly, “they were hunted near extinction even when I was young,” then he smiled fondly, “I hatched my first egg just half a human life in…”

  Magnus huffed fondly as well, smiling obviously at a memory, but the Lightwoods didn’t notice.

  Izzy fidgeted, an excited smile on her face. She obviously wanted to say something.

  “Ask, child,” Emrys laughed after a minute of this. People under a hundred are so cute.

  She smiled almost thankfully, vibrating with the effort of keeping it in. “Do you need any help? Training them? It’s not everyday the chance to meet a dragon pops up…” She flashed the warlock her sweetest smile.

  He just chuckled, “I know a few that’d love to meet you.” Before she could get too excited, he added, “I can’t promise anything. I don’t know how long I’m sticking around. But if I’m still here; I’m sure I can arrange a portal or two.”

  Izzy squealed excitedly, even Alec looked almost excited.

  “Don’t get your hopes up too much,” Magnus warned gently. He wasn’t being mean, he just knew his friend too well. One day, it’d seem like he’d be around for months, and the next he’d be gone. Just gone. Almost as if he’d never even been there in the first place.

  Emrys didn’t deny it. He fixed his eyes on the floor in shame. Izzy tilted her head slightly, but didn’t ask.

  “Oh!” Emrys cried suddenly, making everyone jump slightly (which was starting to piss everyone off; they never jumped this much. It was hard to surprise a warlock and even harder to sneak up on a Shadowhunter. Except, apparently, for this warlock: who hadn’t seemed to have noticed, let alone be doing it purposely. Which was more irritating than if he were doing it for fun) “Magnus we need to go!”

  The whole room stilled. This time all three of them blinked together.

  “Why?”

  “Huh? Oh, because I may owe a visit to-”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Magnus groaned, for the thousandth time that day.

  “Not exactly, no,” he shrugged sheepishly. “Come on, it’ll go so much smoother if you’re there! Maybe she won’t kill me this time!”

  “Won’t kill you?” Magnus scoffed, “how many years late are you this time?”

  The warlock actually gulped audibly, “maybe a little bit late, yeah…”

  “How late?” he grumbled through his fingers. “Are we talking a hundred years late? Or is it closer to a thousand?”

  Emrys just made a small noise in his throat.

  Magnus’ head snapped up. “Oh, we’re both dead!” he exclaimed.

  The Shadowhunters just sat there, watching the exchange between the warlocks. On any other day they’d feel out of the loop. But today had already been long and tiring - it wasn’t even 3pm yet - and they didn’t have the patience to even ask what they were talking about. That much history? There could easily be hours of back-story to hear, before they’d even get to the point. There wasn’t any point in even attempting to understand. They both knew that …and yet were unable, to simply block the conversation out. Even the little of the conversation they understood, was fascinating. Even if just in the unusual way Magnus interacted with the strange warlock (strange even for an ancient warlock …Not that they knew many of those).

  “Well… yeah. But if you’re there she won’t-”

  “Yes, she will,” Magnus argued, expression close to pained, “she’ll just smile while she does it.”

  Emrys sagged slightly, “but if you-”

  “Emrys, hush,” he sighed lightly, his mouth fixed in a tight-lipped smile. It looked closer to a grimace, than a smile, like he was agreeing to something that - for anyone else - would cost a bloody fortune. “I’ll go with you. Hopefully, she’ll be glad enough to see me that she’ll go easy on you. …Though I doubt it.”

  Magnus moved to the closest door-frame, moving to create a portal. But, before he could move a finger in the complex pattern required to form a portal (unless you’re a certain, irritating, legend-old warlock), Emrys stopped him.

  “One moment, there’s a few things I need first.”

  Then he rushed off, around the corner and out of sight.

  After a moment of light footfalls, there were some muffled crashing and rummaging-type noises.

  Magnus sighed and turned to the Lightwoods. “He’s raiding my supplies. Oh, that’s going to put a dent in the bank…” he explained, a pained look clear on his face.

  “I’LL RESTOCK IT!” came the shouted reply…sounding awfully like his head was in a box. “How you can call this ‘supplies’ I’ve no idea,” he muttered a second after.

  A look meant to be irritated, but landing closer to exasperatedly-fond, was shot at the Lightwoods, followed with a muttered, “see what happens when you invite old friends back into your life? They bring an army into your home, scar your guests, act like they own the place and insult your magical capabilities.”

  “I do own the place,” he mumbled, stumbling into the room, arms full of… the Lightwoods didn’t even want to know what, “and I’m not insulting your capabilities. I’m insulting your meagre demand of the skills we both know you have. You should find more interesting clients.”

  Magnus glared at him. “Are you ready to go yet?”

  “Yep,” he smiled widely, as if he hadn’t just insulted his friend and then confirmed he was, in fact, insulting his friend.

  “Can we go then? The sooner we get this over with the sooner- actually I don’t know why I’m so eager. It’s going to be painful no matter what.”

  “So pessimistic,” Emrys teased, despite his own face looking pained - more-so than Magnus’.

  The warlocks stepped through the shining portal and a moment later it closed, a breath of crisp, fresh air pushed through the room.

Chapter Text

The Shadowhunters blinked.

  “Did… they just leave us here?” Alec asked the room, glancing around a little as if expecting this all to be a prank and they had in fact portaled only behind them.

  “…Seems like it,” Izzy frowned. Then grinned. “Want to go nosey through Magnus’ draws?”

  Alec looked at her. “There are…a hundred reasons why that’s a bad idea. But most importantly; I want to say yes. It’s official. You’ve pulled me down to your level.”

  “All I heard was yes,” Izzy grinned, jumping up.

* * *

Five chest of drawers, a human skull, several pairs of sparkly hot-pants, and far more lipstick or eye-liner than one man could ever need, let alone use, Alec and Izzy had come to the conclusion that Magnus wasn’t nearly as secretive as he pretends to be.

  “Well… I’m going to get a drink, you want one?” Alec sighed, tossing what must be the fiftieth sparkly item of clothing back into a drawer and standing.

  “Like you need to ask,” Izzy chuckled, eyes wide as she stared into what looked like a sock drawer. Alec didn’t want to know; simply the thoughts manifesting his mind was too much information. 

  He was chuckling when he reached Magnus’ liquor cabinet. A shimmering section of air, almost like an invisible wall, caught his eye, freezing him for a moment. But it dissolved into flecks of dust, in the light beams that cut through the air, before Alec had time to start assuming anything. He stared, debating calling Izzy, or… well he wasn’t sure what. What had he even seen?

  Realising that, if it had been something threatening, Magnus’ wards would have gone off, Alec relaxed, shrugging and turning back to making drinks.

  “Alec!” his sister called a moment later, sounding…out of breath? “Alec!”

  The almost desperate tone made Alec drop the drink he’d had in his hand and start running back towards his sister.

  “What? What is it?!” he huffed as he skidded around the corner, purely making the turn by his grip on the door frame.

  She looked up, a pout on her lips, until she saw her brother’s hair. “I can’t get this draw open!” she laughed.

  Alec’s shoulders heaved. “That’s it? I thought a demon had shown up or something!”

  “I can tell!” she continued to laugh.

  “Izzy-”

  “How about you open this drawer and I’ll go make the drinks?” she bargained.

  His face turned sour, “why? What’s in it?”

  “Nothing!” she defended automatically. “Uh… I don’t know. I can’t get it open!”

  Her brother sighed. “Fine.” When she was halfway through the door frame, he added, “you may need to clean up a bottle of tequila though.”

  She swore quietly.

  Alec turned to the drawer. It looked like a normal drawer… Well, a mahogany, engraved, hand crafted and probably hundreds of years old set of drawers. But otherwise pretty normal.

  “Izzy, what have you set me up for?” he grumbled. He’d faced a hoard of Shax demons, with only his short sword and a half-dead Jace; he could handle whatever Izzy had found in this drawer. …Probably.

  He gently put his hands on the intricately engraved handles (unconsciously so careful with Magnus’ things), pulled gently and- Nothing. Not even a budge.

  “Huh,” he mumbled. The thought, briefly, crossing his mind that maybe Izzy hadn’t in fact lied.

  He tugged. Still nothing. So he pulled. Then heaved. Then swore and blinded and pulled and tugged and heaved some more. Still nada. He tried pulling with all his might, he tried asking it to open (this is Magnus we’re talking about, after all), he even tried kicking it - in case it was one of those annoying backwards drawers that you have to push to open.

  “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

  Wait…

  He raised his hands slowly, placing just the tips of his fingers around the handles, and slid the drawer out. Nice and gently.

  “Iz, I got it!” he shouted, eyes leaving the drawer for a second.

  A second too long. A bright light escaped the drawer, blinding Alec despite his facing away from the source, and an electric current ran through his fingertips. He felt a rush of air, as if he was being thrown across the room, and finally a sharp, dull pain to the back of his head, before passing out.

Chapter Text

Everything happened so fast.

  Only a second after Alec had called her, Izzy heard a piercing crackle, like an energy conductor over-loading, followed shortly by a heavy thud. One she could - unfortunately - identify as her brother hitting the floor, hard. Within thirty seconds she was in the room she’d left her brother in, within another twenty second she confirmed there were no intruders and was at her brother’s side. Hesitating for only a breath, she confirmed her suspicions; Alec was alive and breathing, but out cold, only a nasty bump on the back of his head as far as she could tell.

  “So why aren’t you waking up?” she mumbled, close to frantic. This was supposed to be a safe place…

  She ran her stele over his healing rune and it ignited. It’d worked. It’d healed him. Still he didn’t wake up; although his breathing evened out from the erratic rhythm it had been.

  “Alec!” she called, reduced to helpless shouting. She had no idea what had even happened. There were no traces of a demon having attacked, or a Circle member or… any trace of anything. “Alec, wake up!”

  As she opened her mouth to shout again, she heard the shimmer of a portal, two sets of footsteps, and the groans of Magnus Bane, that she seemed to have become an expert on this morning.

  “MAGNUS! GET IN HERE!” she was close to shrieking, only now aware of the tears pooled under her chin and dripping onto her knees.

  Another breath of hesitation, before a flurry of movement. The warlocks ran full pelt towards the shout, not hesitating for even half a moment when they saw the two Lightwoods, a tangled mess on the floor. Alec was a heap of limbs, hair stuck out at all angles and slumped against the floor and wall in a way that could not be good for his back or neck. And Izzy, usually so elegant, had make-up streaming down her face in the trenches of the tears, clothes ruffled and wonky, her own hair a mess, not to mention the panicked, grief-stricken look painting her paled face.

  “What happened?” Emrys found time to ask, slowing just before reaching the two.

  Magnus, however, didn’t stop or slow or ask pointless questions, Izzy didn’t have answers to. He ran straight for the pair, the wall just beside Alec stopping his momentum. He placed his hands a few inches over Alec’s limp body and his hands glowed a light orange, while his cat eyes gleamed bright.

  “He’s okay,” Emrys said pointlessly, from just behind Izzy; no one was listening to him.

  “Magnus I-” Izzy almost sobbed, “I don’t know what happened! One moment he was fine, the next he’s unconscious and won’t wake up! I only left the room for a minute!”

  “It’s okay, pumpkin,” the warlock uttered soothingly, although his words and tone did not match up. His movements were stiff, probably only flowing, with the small elegance held, purely from willpower alone. His eyes were as hard as the line of his mouth, and Izzy could see the panicked tears pooling in his eyes, as clearly as she could feel hers, running down her cheeks.

  In the end, only a minute after, it was Emry’s hand, on Magnus’ shoulder, that brought them both back to reality.

  “Hey, snap out of it,” he spoke gently, and Magnus knew he was using Emotional Influence magic, but was too strung out to fight it. “He’s okay. Let’s take him to the Institute to keep an eye on him, and you’ll see. You’re no good to him, emotional and not thinking.”

  In a sharp intake of breath (and thanks to many years of constant training), Izzy hardened her exterior. The unfamiliar warlock was right. They were no use to Alec barely functioning. Although she couldn’t say his reassurance, reassured her any.

  “Emrys is right.”

  Izzy tried to ignore the hurt glare Magnus shot her, and push it aside to the warlock’s biggest weakness being her brother, but it still burnt like a fresh rune.

  “He can portal, right?” she asked the other warlock.

  Emrys’ face twisted slightly, but he covered it with a small smile. “He’ll be okay,” his voice firm with conviction.

  “Don’t just tell me he’ll be okay, Emrys!” Magnus snapped, hands no longer surveying the damage, instead pulling Alec’s head into his lap. There were fresh tears in his eyes, but still they refused to fall.

  “Magnus,” he warned, “I’m on yourside.”

  “Are you!” the warlock hissed fiercely, “it’s your fault we weren’t here! Its your fault-”

  “This isn’t helping anyone,” Izzy snapped herself, trying to focus on her brother. Once people start pointing fingers, everything goes wrong. She didn’t even want to think about faults…

  Emrys’ hard eyes stayed locked on the near-weeping warlock for a moment longer (despite everything, Magnus hadn’t taken his eyes off Alec), but eventually forced his gaze to Izzy, softening his eyes. “What happened?”

  Magnus froze, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Hands absently stroking through Alec’s hair, his eyes snapped up to Izzy - thankfully much softer than they had been previously.

  “I-” Izzy stuttered, glancing at Magnus, debating hiding what they’d been doing. She cursed herself; she’s not some kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, besides, this might help them save Alec!

  “Izzy?” Magnus asked, voice soft as fresh snow, but he looked confused and…disappointed.

  “We were snooping!” she blurted out, eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment.

  She heard Emrys gasp, and her eyes flew back open just in time to see the warlock backtrack Alec’s projection path.

  “The drawers,” he muttered, rushing over to them faster than Magnus had to Alec.

  Magnus frowned, peering at his friend suspiciously, “what drawers?”

  Emrys was muttering to himself now. From where Izzy was knelt, it looked like he’d pulled the drawers she’d been unable to budge open like any other, and was now rummaging around in them.

  “Emrys,” Magnus called, irritably.

  His friend (not that he’d call him that in this moment) froze, back straightening, “yes?” he squeaked quietly.

  Izzy would forever ponder, how such a powerful warlock could seem so…tiny…

  “What drawers?” Magnus repeated, glaring at Emrys’ back, “I don’t enchant the drawers in here, I don’t see any need; they’re just drawers.”

  The way Magnus was glaring at Emrys reminded the conscious Shadowhunter of something Emrys had said earlier; ‘I do own the place’. She flicked through her memories, but didn’t remember Magnus correcting him. She watched, feeling rather out of her depth, as the two warlocks conversed, as if she shouldn’t be here for this…argument. But her brother was unconfirmed okay (she may think him charming, but she didn’t trust the strange warlock - especially now), she wasn’t leaving; if they wanted privacy they should leave themselves.

  “So maybe I…commandeered a drawer or …shelf or two, I own the building!” Emrys babbled, managing to look sheepish and annoyed all at once.

  Magnus blinked, going over this new reveal slowly. “Why didn’t you just use your own place?” he asked, like that was the most important thing from his friend’s statement. Izzy thought she’d never understand warlocks…

  “Because it’s not safe! Too many people know where I live - in this world… Besides even you didn’t think to look here!” he snaps, like ‘duh, Magnus! Use your brain, stupid!’

  “…I don’t know where you live!” Magnus frowned. Then realised Emrys’ words, “wait, how didn’t I notice that!”

  Because you have too many drawers full of just sparkles and eye-liner, Izzy thought, glancing between the two.

  “Uh, have you seen your rooms? I don’t know how you keep track of anything!” Emrys muttered, obviously hiding something else. Magnus gave him a long, hard look, Emrys squirmed under it. “And maybe a little perception spell…”

  “What?” Izzy and Magnus muttered. Izzy thought it was more magic she didn’t understand, but, judging by Magnus’ look, Emrys was talking nonsense.

  “Uh, a little…thing I’ve been working on…” Emrys muttered, turning a rather impressive shade of light pink, “it’s a little spell that makes your brain not notice things…”

  Magnus huffed out an annoyed breath, and the Shadowhunter was half-expecting him to just knock Emrys over the head with a spell and leave him unconscious on the floor. He didn’t, but she had half a mind to suggest it to him. “You’re telling me, that you created a spell - another one, by the way, and really, did you not learn after last time? - a spell that hides parts of my room to me?”

  Emrys’ shoulders sagged, and he seemed somehow even smaller, “um…yes?”

  Magnus closed his eyes, begging for another ounce of patience for his friend. “What’s in the drawer? Why is Alec not waking up?” his voice was clipped, tightly controlled. He spoke slowly and only opened his eyes at the end, a silent warning that Emrys should answer his question (his last far more important than his first), or face pain of an angered warlock who’s long run out of patience.

  Emrys explained, in his overly roundabout way, that the contents were ‘his’ (which Izzy didn’t understand, but apparently Magnus did, because he swiftly moved on) and that it was spelled to prevent unwanted entry but will not permanently harm the nosey-whoever - apparently he assumed Magnus would one day notice it and he didn’t want his friend to be left dead on his bedroom floor for, potentially, a long time - but will knock them out for possibly several hours.

  “He’ll be fine,” Emrys reassured for the thousandth time. Magnus’ hand had returned to snake through Alec’s hair.

  “We should take him back to the Institute, to keep an eye on his recovery,” Izzy suggested, shooting concerned glances at her brother. His chest was moving rhythmically, solidly up and down now.

  She could see in Magnus’ look his want to argue. He didn’t trust those at the Institute, let alone trust them with Alec. She could hear his words of ‘he’d be far safer here!’ “I know,” she whispered softly, as if, if she spoke any louder, she would shatter the moment, “but they have the right equipment and medical staff to keep an eye on him. You can’t run yourself into the ground with worry. Besides,” she added with a light hearted smile, “if Alec doesn’t wake up, Emrys won’t get very far in an Institute full of warriors that love the goofy idiot, also known as my brother.”

  Magnus smiled thankfully at Izzy, both ignoring Emrys’ spluttering from across the room.

Chapter Text

They stepped into the Institute, Alec floating along in between Magnus and the old and creaky warlock, Izzy lead the way. They’d almost made it to the infirmary before running into anyone.

  “Oh, Izzy. I thought you were out-” Maryse froze when she saw Emrys, close behind her daughter, “…for the…day… Emrys, what are you-” she froze again, when she saw Magnus. And her son. “What did you do?! Alec!”

  “Mum! Mum, he’s okay!” Izzy shouted, stepping into her mother’s path.

  “He is, Maryse,” Magnus said softly.

  She shot him a glare. “Then what happened! Where are you taking him? Alec!”

  “Maryse,” Emrys stepped in, “how about you come with us?”

  She blinked, confused and irate all at once.

  “We were on our way to the infirmary, Mum,” Izzy chirped in.

  “Well hurry up then!” Maryse snapped, but without her previous fire, her eyes locked on her beloved son.

  Of course they only made it a few more feet, before bumping into Jace.

  “Oh for-” Emrys rolled his eyes, shoving past the angry Shadowhunter, Alec and Magnus on his heel.

  “What’s happening?” Jace asked Izzy when she hurried after them.

  “Alec got hit with a spell,” she explained, “he’s fine, but we can keep a better eye on him in the infirmary.”

  Jace walked faster.

“Put him on the bed in the corner!”

  “Emrys, don’t snap at me,” Magnus muttered. But Alec landed softly on the bed.

  The two warlocks got to work, rushing around.

  “Where’s the vital scanner?” Emrys frowned, searching through the drawers at the end of the long room, throwing things aside and over his shoulder.

  “Uh, here,” Izzy said, stepping around the warlock to grab one of the ‘vital scanner’s - not that they called them that.

  Emrys didn’t say thank you, simply snatched the little box, and rushed back over to the bed, his long robes billowing around him. He attached it to Alec with practised ease.

  “What are you doing?” Magnus muttered, hands halting in their movements to check Alec’s vitals. With magic.

  Emrys paused, “what? It’s for the mundies,” he shrugged like it was obvious, “Izzy may believe us, but the other two won’t. I’d rather like to not have my life threatened any more today, if that’s okay with you.”

  Magnus shot a look at the Shadowhunters over his shoulder, and nodded. He moved his body to block Alec from their view, and smoothed Alec’s hair with shaky fingers.

  Emrys leant over the bed, glancing fleetingly at the Shadowhunters, before uttering under his breath, “he will be okay. I swear, Magnus.” He placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to him, you know that.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Maryse snapped, heels clicking as she stomped to the foot of the bed. Nothing annoyed her more than warlocks that kept secrets. Well they all did that - but right in front of her was where she drew a line.

  “Nothing,” Emrys declared, straightening and facing the Shadowhunters, “well…everything.”

  Magnus glared at him, straightening as well. “He’ll be fine. He just needs to rest.”

  “‘Rest and recuperate’? Seriously?” Jace scoffed.

  “Jace, just…give them a second,” Izzy frowned, but she was tapping her foot with unconscious nervous energy.

  “Ah! This is Jace then?” Emrys asked (although it sounded rhetorical), jumping around the bed, grinning goofily once more. “Heard a lot about you.”

  Jace frowned deeper, “you have?” He glanced at Izzy, who looked as confused as he felt.

  “Well…no. But, you know…” he shrugged one shoulder, face falling for only a moment before he grinned again. “Well?”

  “Well...what?” Jace muttered, blinking in confusion.

  “Well, tell me a bit about yourself! I’ve met a few Shadowhunters in my time, but they’re all different!” He looked pleased, like they were collectors items and he was determined to collect them all.

  Jace’s frown deepened further, on the edge of a scowl, “who are you again?”

  Emrys looked offended, gasping at Izzy as if it was her fault, “who am I!? What sort of question is that!”

  “A pretty reasonable one I thought,” Magnus muttered from beside the bed.

  Jace snapped his head at the warlock, suddenly remembering the situation. “What is he doing?” he asked his sister, “what the hell is going on?”

  Emrys sighed, as if irritated by the whole thing. “Alec and Izzy were snooping, Alec got hit with a defence spell, he’ll be fine in a few hours. I’m Emrys, Magnus’ friend--”

  “Not right now you’re not.”

  “--and basically better half, better… better everything. Oh, and I dated your mum a bit, but I think she’d put a sword in me if I told you that,” Emrys made a face, as if considering his words - despite it being too late.

  Maryse made a tight noise in her throat and Jace’s eyes were wide as saucers.

  “It’s been a long day,” Izzy sighed, falling onto the bed beside Alec’s, eyes locked on her brother.