Chapter 1 – The Pigeon

It was winter. The lanes and sidewalks of New York City were laced with swirls of ice, and the dark evening sky hung heavy with cloud. Magnus' numb fingers fumbled with his keys, while Alec trailed gloomily behind him. The frosty silence seemed to mount as they climbed the steps to Magnus' apartment, and Alec slammed the door closed behind them with unnecessary force. The warlock winced at the sound, and turned to face his boyfriend with his arms folded. Alec's face bore the same thunderous expression he had been wearing for the past half hour – his jaw set in a belligerent scowl, his poignant blue eyes glimmering with resentment – but the young Shadowhunter made no comment as he stalked past Magnus and flung himself down on the couch.

"So, are you ready to tell me what you're sulking about?" Magnus asked, frowning as he gazed down at his boyfriend.

"I am not sulking," Alec insisted, studying his hands moodily. "I'm fine."

"You are far from fine, Alexander. On our way home you kicked a pigeon."

"I didn't kick it, I nudged it with my foot," Alec replied coldly, still refusing to meet his boyfriend's gaze.

"Do you have any concept of the kind of adversity a pigeon faces in its day-to-day life? The cold? The hunger? The social prejudice? I'm sure the poor creature had problems enough without finding itself on the receiving end of one of your tantrums."

"Will you shut up about the damn pigeon?"

"No, I'm going to lecture you about it endlessly until you tell me why you're so mad at me."

Alec let out a shuddering sigh, but said nothing. In truth, Magnus could hazard a fairly competent guess as to why his boyfriend was behaving this way. The pair of them had spent a very pleasant day out together – it had been almost perfect, in fact, so perfect that Magnus really ought to have guessed that something would promptly come along and ruin it all. Sure enough, as they had begun to make their way home, a tall figure had emerged from the crowd and barred their path. It had taken the warlock a few moments to recognize the blond, handsome man before him, which was understandable, as they hadn't seen each other for almost a century. His name was Angelotti – he was a vampire, and an old friend of sorts. Alec stood there in surly silence while Magnus and Angelotti exchanged a few polite but stilted words (no matter how close you'd once been to someone, that intimacy always seemed to wither away in the end, leaving a tentative sort of awkwardness in its place). After a few minutes of decidedly hollow conversation, Angelotti had finally turned his ice-blue gaze upon Alec and extended a cordial greeting, but Alec merely glared coldly at the vampire in reply, before stalking off without a word. Magnus apologized to his friend and bid him a very hasty farewell before hurrying off after the young Shadowhunter, and try as he might, he had not been able to get a civil word out of his boyfriend since.

"You were extremely rude back there, you know," Magnus said at last, remembering the shocked expression on Angelotti's face when Alec had snubbed him.

"What a shame," Alec replied mutinously. "I'd hate to offend the illustrious...what was his name again? Count Biscotti?"

"Angelotti," Magnus said, beginning to lose his patience. "And yes, I imagine you probably did offend him. Frankly Alexander, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop insulting and alienating my friends."

"As far as I'm aware, you don't even have any friends," Alec exclaimed bitterly. "Just an endless line of lovers and conquests. And don't look at me like that, you can't even deny it! You haven't exactly been living like a nun these past eight hundred years."

"That is not fair," Magnus said, his voice dropping to a low growl.

"Why did you have to tell him where we live?" Alec shouted, finally hauling himself to his feet. Magnus stared straight into Alec's eyes, realizing with a jolt that he had never seen his boyfriend quite this angry before. He felt his own temper rising, but forced himself to remain as calm as possible - if both of them started shouting, the situation would only escalate.

"I was just being polite," the warlock replied through gritted teeth. "You should try it some time. Anyway, I very much doubt he'll bother visiting."

"Why? What kind of history do you two have, anyway?"

"That's none of your business."

"See, that's exactly the problem, Magnus," Alec cried, his voice cracking with emotion. "Your past is a part of who you are, and you just won't share it with me! How can you expect me to trust you when you won't be honest with me? When you won't even answer a simple question?"

"It wasn't a question, it was an accusation," Magnus replied coldly. "Look, you can't keep punishing me for things that happened before we met, before you were even born. The past is nothing to me, it's gone. I know I've lived a long time, I've had a lot of experiences, and that's hard for you to deal with – I get it, I really do – but if you're upset I wish you'd just talk to me about it like a normal person instead of whining and screaming at me like a spoiled brat."

"Better a brat than a whore."

"What did you just say to me?" Magnus felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach, and his eyes narrowed as he glared at his boyfriend.

"You heard me," Alec's voice was steady, but his gaze had dropped to the floor. His jaw was still clenched with anger, but something in his stance had softened – his shoulders had slumped a little, and his voice had lost its raw, ragged quality. He was clearly already beginning to regret his words, but was still too annoyed to swallow his pride and admit it. It was strange, but Magnus had always been able to decipher Alec's expressions with astonishing accuracy – perhaps Alec was a remarkably easy person to read, or perhaps Magnus simply knew him very well. In any case, Alexander Lightwood was unfailingly honest, and utterly transparent. He rarely lied, and when he did, his eyes always told the truth. Life taught most people to become sly and duplicitous, to place a mask over their face and let it gradually grow into the skin. Magnus had been hiding behind a facade for many years; lies had always sprung easily to his tongue, when he needed them. But Alec was always true to his emotions, and never uttered empty words just to please people – it was one of the most enchanting things about him, but on occasions like this, it could also be rather exasperating. In some ways, he was the most stubborn person Magnus had ever met.

"Take it back, Alexander," Magnus said, keeping his anger in check with some effort. "I'm giving you one chance. If you take it back right now, then we'll just pretend you never said it."

"No, I won't," Alec answered, with a hint of petulance. "At least not until you tell me the truth about that vampire. Did you sleep with him or not?"

"You know what? I refuse to be dragged into this right now," Magnus sighed, rolling his eyes wearily. "It's late, I'm tired. I need a shower. And then I need to sleep." He turned to leave, but Alec seized his arm.

"Will you just give me a straight answer, for once?" Alec asked, sounding thoroughly desperate now.

"Sure I will, the minute you start treating me with some fucking respect."

Magnus tore his arm from Alec's grasp and made his way to the bathroom, leaving his boyfriend staring forlornly after him.