A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favs and follows :)) Here's chapter two. It took longer than I planned, but... Supernatural finale kind of broke my soul and... Let me just say, I know this chapter pretty much sucks and I'm sorry for that. I just wanted to get on with this. (I know, I'm terrible.) Also, sorry for the long-ass introduction, but it was necessary to show Alec's interactions with people working under him, to show how different he is than his father and maybe to introduce you to this little nagging voice in his head. In the Malec part, I don't know what happened? They just talk, and I write. Please forgive me for this chapter and let's hope I'll do better next time...?

First thing after breakfast, Alec met with Hodge. Old man Starkweather used to be Alec's and Jace's tutor when they were younger, now he was managing the Institute and the nearest lands. He was the heir's right hand and- Alec liked to think- a good friend. Hodge was never afraid to speak his mind, he offered good advice, he was loyal.

Now his was bending his grey head and speaking in a gruff, familiar voice, "Good morning, my lord. I hope miss Isabelle and master Jonathan are well?" It was an unwritten rule in the Lightwood's house, not to speak of Lady Lightwood's condition.

"Yes, thank you Hodge, they are. You could always ask them yourself, they like you."

"That's really kind, my lord. But I would rather not, it wouldn't be appropriate." Alec just nodded- the older man, as usual, was right.

They started walking across the gravelly forecourt, Hodge filling Alec in with the most recent matters. The weather was quite nice, though the heaviness from the day before still hadn't left the air. It was going to rain soon, Alec noticed absentmindedly, and Hodge agreed with him.

They decided that the most pressing matter is the leaking roof in the main house – winter was coming, and it was high time to do the repairs. Hodge promised to take care of it immediately.

The men parted ways in front of the stable, so Alec used this opportunity to talk to Jordan. The brown-haired boy was sitting in a low, wooden stool and he was polishing metal bits. His brow was furrowed, like he was really focusing on his job.

"How are you today, Jordan?" At first, Alec slipped only his head through the door, and no sooner than the startled boy jumped to his feet, did he fully come inside.

"My lord!" Jordan's eyes flicked up to Alec's face, and then he was back looking at his dirty hands. "I'm well, thank you very much. Would you like me to saddle up Demon?"

"Yes, indeed, I'll need him in a moment. But I came here to ask you something."

"Me?" Jordan mumbled.

"Yes, you've told Simon recently about some newcomer, is that correct?"

"Yes, my lord, I think he's interested in Idris House."

"Very well, do you know his name?"

"No, my lord, but I don't think he gave one. He seems like a private kind of person." Suddenly Jordan looked like he just now remembered who he was talking to, and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, my lord."

Alec smirked a little. "Don't worry, I understand it's big news." People looking for a place so deep in the country side were a rare case. The stableman let out a puff of breath. "Alright, prepare Demon. Lead him out in twenty minutes, would you?"

"Of course, my lord. Have a good day!"

"You too, Jordan." Alec smiled as he was leaving. He decided to go the village first and help farmer Wayland with his problem - he had been complaining to Hodge about something for quite some time already. After that, if a daytime was long enough, he would look into the mysterious man's case and properly welcome him in the county.

First, Alec needed to change his clothes. His tailcoat wouldn't do any good in the village, so he abandoned it. He was left in a simple white shirt and sulphur-coloured vest, knee-high boots on his legs. It wasn't by any means gentlemanly look, but he was planning on working, not attending some tea party. He only hoped he wouldn't meet any ladies, who could have been scandalized by his lack of clothing. He mentally snorted.

Demon was already waiting for him, digging into the gravel with his horseshoe. They set off immediately, and arrived to the village before noon. When Alec appeared among the streets, people recognized him instantly. The villagers started greeting him from afar, bowing at him stopping in the middle of their activities, some of them even waved shamelessly. The heir was eager to respond, hiding his bewilderment under false self-confidence. He still hadn't become accustomed to having people's attention - he had lived under his father's shadow until not long ago, when Lord Lightwood had decided that his son was ready to share some of his duties. And here Alec was, handing his blessings, feeling slightly ridiculous.

People seemed to like him, they trusted him with their problems, they confided in him. And he was always there for them, ready to listen and help. Unlike his father before him, who was always absent and communicated with them through various managers, Alec was ready to step right into the mud, to dirty his hands. The people had been surprised at first – sometimes they still were – but grateful all the same. They called him kind.

It turned out Wayland had some troubles with one of his machines: it was most likely broken. That problem Alec could solve easily, he was there to support his men and as a lord he was the one who sponsored needed machines. Wayland insisted to show him the exact damage, even though Alec trusted his word right away (oh, Father would have laughed). He led Alec to the fields and they spent the majority of the day there. Discussing inventive techniques, assessing this year's crops. Wayland's wife had packed his husband some blueberry pie, and the farmer and Alec shared lunch. Oh, Alec prayed to God that his father's spies' eyes weren't on him at the moment. Robert Lightwood would despise him: an heir, sharing meal with a peasant, eating without a napkin, getting his fingers dirty with crust and blueberry juice! Unthinkable! Alec shook off those dreadful thoughts and soon he decided it was time to go back home. It was five o'clock, he missed the afternoon tea, but at least he always tried to be at home for dinner with family. His remaining family.

A path through the fields seemed more convenient, Alec thought he could use a walk to cool off. He was sweaty, his shirt stuck to his shoulder blades, his hair damp and messy. His hands were dirty with grease, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms shiny. He looked such a sight. He'd left Demon in the village, so he asked Wayland to bring him home the next day. The farmer walked away in deep bows.

An hour later Alec was still wandering around the moors. He realized he was too exhausted- but in a good, satisfied way- to be in a hurry. Besides, the light evening breeze was so pleasantly cooling… The sky was pink above his head, the ground warm and soft under his feet. Soon, Alec found himself in the vicinity of Idris House, he could almost see the white building, peeking through sparse trees. His legs must have carried him there unconsciously. He decided to take just one small look, maybe he would catch a glimpse of this newcomer, just a silhouette?

His general state was far from presentable, as a county representative he couldn't risk meeting the mysterious gentleman. He would just go around the house and in the back (this was his path anyway) and try to stay unnoticed. Maybe, with a bit of luck, he would run into a random servant and he could ask about their master. That sounded like a wonderful plan (Lightwood, you sly strategic).

He turned around the corner of the black iron fence (the trees blocked his view of the house) and… someone was there. In the high yellow grass, on a rock that looked more like a post marking old crossroads, there was a man sitting. His back was hunched, his long slim legs threw before him. From his clothes: simple black trousers and a white shirt, Alec couldn't make out if the stranger was a nobleman or a servant, if he was rich or poor, but he for sure was young. His head was hung; his black shiny hair, long and reaching halfway to his shoulders was like a curtain around his face. Alec couldn't see the man's expression, but he seemed deeply troubled. Alec was only few steps away and he couldn't resist coming closer. As if there was some invisible force pulling him towards this man (or maybe, it was his gentle heart that ordered him to help the stranger, but it was truly ridiculous concept), he simply couldn't stop.

"Hello," Alec said, his voice both loud in the peaceful evening and incredibly small. "Do you need any help, sir?"

The dark head snapped up at him, and Alec mentally gasped. Or maybe he gasped for real, puff of air violently kicked out from his lungs. They were the most extraordinary eyes Alec had ever seen. Yellow-green, like a cat's, amber from one angle where the setting sun was playing in them, and unimaginably green from the other where the sky was already darker (yes, Alec checked, he must have looked like an insane person, cocking his head to peer from different angles at a damn stranger). The man was like a cross between a panther and an elf (what a ridiculous simile, Alexander). Maybe he was a fairy prince, maybe Alec should ask?

"You have the most amazing eyes," and, to Alec's immense surprise, those weren't his own words, "sir. Are you an apparition?" The stranger's voice was really pleasant, silky and warm, with a slight accent.

Alec cleared his throat. "Ah. No, I am not. I don't think so." What on earth was wrong with him?

Again, the fairy prince surprised him – he laughed, short, clear sound. He threw back his head, exposing his throat (he had no cravat) and Alec could see the bobbing Adam apple and a patch of caramel skin, leading under the white thin material. Alec needed to find some sense, and soon, because he was quickly getting lost.

He licked his lips, his throat suddenly felt dry. "Is everything alright, sir?" he asked again. But the man didn't look miserable anymore, with his back straight and his eyes finally visible and so, so bright.

The stranger tilted his head. "Nooo," he answered slowly. "It is not."

"How can I help?" Alec jumped in. "Maybe there's someone at the house who could help us? Are you hurt? Sir?"

"Nah, I've just left it." There was something charming about this nonchalance, like he didn't care if the Heavens were burning or it was just a lightning storm. "I needed to get out of there, even for a moment."

Alec squinted his eyes. "Pardon?"

"Just, finding a new home is really troublesome. I bought this house yesterday and it's already driving me crazy." The stranger- the mysterious newcomer- massaged his temple in a theatrical gesture.

Alec's head was spinning. So this man, this was their new neighbour? He blurted out, "Oh. Welcome to the county. I'm Alexander Lightwood."

The man slowly turned his head to look at him – earlier, he'd found something fascinating on the horizon, and he just stared. (Maybe he did care.) Then he stood up, slowly, lazily, with his eyes still on the heir. Alec was suddenly remembered of the state of his clothing, his sweaty and dirty shirt, his lack of tailcoat and hat (though the stranger didn't have them either), of his messy hair, probably calloused hands, muddy shoes. He felt himself blushing.

"Forgive my rudeness, lord Lightwood," the man murmured. "I didn't know. My name is Magnus Bane." He bowed slightly.

Alec fought the urge to say the exotic name aloud, to taste it on his tongue. Instead, he responded in the same manner, just a light nod of his head. "I'm not the lord. I'm the son." He smiled at the look on the stranger's, Magnus', face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. How should I address you?" Maybe it wasn't the most subtle way to ask, but the man gave him only his Christian name and a surname. He knew nothing of his background, but the man seemed to do it on purpose.

And indeed, "I told you my name. Isn't that enough?"

Alec blushed, again. He stuttered, "I couldn't possibly- I can't-"

Magnus waved his hand - very elegant, long-fingered hand. "You can, and you will, Alexander. I'm not from here, you'll just have to bear with my barbarian manners."

A very inappropriate thought crossed Alec's mind: Magnus' words meant they were going to see each other again, and that he would have to get used to Magnus' quirks, that he would have time to get used to them… Oh, of course they were going to see each other again. They were neighbours. Magnus didn't mean anything special by that. What was Alec thinking, anyway?

"Actually," Magnus started and Alec's attention was back at him, "before you showed up I was contemplating leaving this place. And then you brutally interrupted me-"

"I didn't-"

"See, you're doing this again, my lord. Anyway, I was fed up with the weather. It's too… muggy."

Magnus sighed, as if trying to emphasize his point, and Alec slowly lifted up his palm in a 'halt' gesture and he would have stopped him mid-breath if Magnus had taken him seriously.

"Just wait for the winter," Alec said simply. "I promise you will breathe again."

The long-haired man blinked: once, twice. "I've made my decision before you said that."

"Oh."

"I'm staying." Then Magnus smiled, but there were hints of something trembling around the edges, as if he wasn't accustomed to using those face muscles or he didn't quite mean what he said or he knew he shouldn't have. The smile stabilized though, when Alec mirrored his expression- with much more proficiency, but shyer at the same time.

"Well," Alec said after a moment of silence, "do you need any help with the house?"

"If you are offering…" Alec made a deep obeisance, sweeping the ground with his invisible fancy hat and hiding a playful smile in the collar of his shirt. "…then I gladly accept. Would you do me an honour of meeting me here tomorrow morning?"

Alec agreed and they parted company. It was nightfall, the final battle of the sun against the moon. On the way back home, Alec started whistling quietly. No matter how childish it sounded (there were no spies inside his head, he thought) it felt amazing to talk to another human being who, for a change, was about his age. He wondered if he could hope to have a friend in this one.

Oh, and he didn't make it to dinner. Little sister was furious.

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