Kind of brief. I'm not very pleased with it, but this is where it went and it has since refused to budge. Anyone is welcome to expand on this, as long as they speak with me first. This might be riddled with errors.
How long it's been, since I wrote for Mortal Instruments. And to think, my most popular story was for Alec and Magnus until about Mid-December. Insanity.
The queen fell and shattered on the floor.
And suddenly it didn't matter who won the game.
…
He raced after the vile woman, the knife, darkened by dark red blood, glinting in the streetlights behind him. He held it close to his body and rounded the corner, sliding fluidly between some late night wanderers of New York, not catching a second glance. Or and fist glance, for that matter.
He narrowed his bright blue eyes, reaching out with one hand and lifting the knife in the other. He caught her by the hair, and pulled her down, the knife swiftly and smoothing fitting itself between her ribcage. Her green eyes widened, and blood gurgled at her lips, spilling down her front and over his uniform. She dissipated under his hold, the dust falling through his fingertips.
He stood and stared at the place where she once was, feeling a little more than empty. More than disappointed. He had expected more.
She had terrorized the city for weeks, now, giving everyone so much grief. To think, all it took was a good aim.
He should have shot her down.
His hand moved to his abdomen, and he felt the stickiness of blood under his clothes.
His vision darkened.
His head swam.
He never hit the ground.
…
The king was all that was left.
Even that didn't seem to matter very much.
…
"That bitch," Magnus snarled, taking a wild swing at the wall, and his fist collided with it violently. Isabelle winced and Jace made a face, both of them unhappy with the new hole in the wall. "If she weren't already dead, I'd kill her for this!"
Jace sighed from his place in the chair next to the bed. Isabelle made no movements to go farther into the room, content with her place by the door. Alec remained unconscious on the bed.
Magnus sank to the floor, holding his hand and staring the young adult on the bed.
"Yelling about it isn't going to change anything," Maryse said coolly, walking into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. "She's dead, and Alec is injured. Focus on his well being, not impossible revenge. He has avenged himself," she added, quieter.
Jace reached over and covered her hand with his larger one, and she looked up. Jace nodded to her and then leaned back again. She smiled gratefully and redirected her attention to Alec. She ran a hand through his hair, praying inwardly.
…
Game Over
…
Alec woke a week later, free of a stab wound and the poison that had run through it. He groaned and tried to sit up, abandoning that idea when the wound tinged painfully. He fell back and looked at the ceiling, breathing slowly.
The door creaked, and Magnus stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned around and his face lit up when he met Alec's eyes. "Darling!" he grinned, rushing over the bedside and pressing a quick kiss to Alec's mouth. "How are you, darling?"
Alec blinked up at his remarkably non-sparkly boyfriend and wondered how long he was out, while he replied, "I'm okay," in a scratchy voice.
Magnus smiled, looked relieved. "Good," he muttered, "that's good. I love you, Alexander."
"Love you, too," he whispered, and he closed his eyes.
…
The woman had been a spy.
She was the lone pawn that would've ruled the world.
…
They told him what had really been done when he killed her.
He was the catalyst.
Not to a war…
But to the peacetime they had sought for many years.
…
He hung the bow on the wall and closed the closet door. Arms wrapped around his waist and he leaned into them, tilting his head back to receive a kiss.
"Love you," he whispered, and cherry-flavored lips drew into a smile against his. The sentiment was repeated.
