Chapter Three—Olde Walled Garden
He'd opened the box on a deserted park bench. The silver latch had popped open the second that his fingers traveled over the seal, as if preprogrammed for his touch. It had fit neatly into the palm of his hand, and he'd rested it there as he glanced to the glowing, blue words inside: Olde Walled Garden, midnight.
Curiosity became his downfall. Although wanting nothing to do with the Shadow World, a request from the Seelie Queen was too intriguing to discount. He had listened to Clary telling everyone about the Queen's alliance with Sebastian, how she'd monitored their conversations months before through the rings Clary had stolen from the Institute. Meliorn's sudden appearance only sparked his compulsive desire to protect Alec, bringing it to the forefront of his mind again. If he could weasel his way into the court, perhaps he could find a way to destroy the second cup.
He knew it was a foolish idea, that it went against the very foundation of his new, boring life, but Magnus couldn't help how he felt. He still loved that stupid Nephilim. Hiding away from the world would never change that. Months of silence had only strengthened it.
The world around him was as dark and foreboding as the thought of Alec himself. He loved someone who could never love him in return. There would always be something standing in the way like age, evil, and so called friends. Alec didn't belong with him. The Shadowhunter deserved happiness with someone at least of his own species. Happiness was inconsequential to Magnus now. Maybe in a few centuries he would find a sliver of joy again, but for the time being, anger and hurt infected his heart. But even so, he would not sacrifice Alec to the demons because of his emotions. There were bigger things at stake—the same things that Magnus had already decided to stay away from.
But just because he was planning on speaking to the Seelie Queen didn't mean that he was getting involved in her feud, or whatever nonsense she was up to. He was merely curious as to why she wanted to speak with him one on one after so many years of disgust. What he did with the information he learned was his own business. He might choose to tell the Clave, and then again, he might not. He preferred to keep his nose out of their quarrels. If he was off the grid, the Lightwood's would never find him. And that was the way it needed to stay.
As much as he loved Alec, their relationship was over. Trust had been broken, hearts had been crushed. There was no going back to that. What he did now was for his own survival. If he happened to help Alec along the way, then so be it. But it wasn't his main interest.
Magnus came to a stop at the entrance of the Olde Walled Garden. A massive iron gate rose up before him; delicate ivy clung to the metal bars. Beams of moonlight glimmered across the tips of the lush greenery on the other side, beckoning him forward as though being greeted by an old friend. He'd been here before; the enchanting garden was a passageway to the grim tunnels beneath the soil. But it was a mirage, harboring a terrible secret. Only those who wished to grieve came to this place. All appeared tranquil on the surface, underground it was another world completely.
Known to some as the City of Wailing Hearts, its inhabitants survived off of pain, agony, and heartache. The garden, as beautiful and peaceful as it seemed, absorbed the gutted energy like a sponge, feeding it through the roots to the people dwelling below—a mixture of warlocks who'd lost their way, twisted, self-centered Goblins, and trolls. Once the negative emotions released from the victim's body, they were left feeling light, happy, and carefree. Your troubles were all but forgotten. Downworlders flocked to this place like moths to a flame, though only a few knew the reality of the garden's magic. One ounce of despair sustained the underground hodgepodge for decades, and Magnus had given them all a triple dose when he'd broken down in the garden after leaving Manhattan. It had been his first stop, and it had not worked. Magnus had too many pent up emotions to be fully cured.
He pushed the heavy gate open, feeling the familiar rush of warm air he associated with the garden. Nothing had changed. A long dirt path stretched out before him, winding through the large, brick-walled enclosure. Lampposts sat at five foot intervals along the path, their light casting shadows on various sculptures of gargoyles, angels, and demons. A few benches with iron legs painted in green ivy peeked out from the heavy shrubbery, but only one was occupied.
Her hair fluttered in the light breeze like autumn leaves. Colors of red, gold, and orange cascaded down to the long, sheer yellow dress hanging slightly off of her narrow shoulders. In her hand she clutched a daisy, pulling off the petals one at a time and sending them along the air current where he had no doubt that they would land and take up root. His body tensed as the vines drew in the sorrow resting in his heart, but he carried on towards the Queen as though nothing was amiss.
"Well met, Magnus. I wasn't sure you would accept," she whispered, prying another petal loose. Her voice was soft and reassuring, but her blue-green eyes, as she looked up, were as hard as Magnus remembered.
"You piqued my interest." Magnus took a seat next to her on the bench, stiffening slightly as she laughed dryly. It sounded more like a cackle in his mind, a stark reminder that she was no one to be trifled with.
"How have you been?" asked the Queen. "I am told you have parted ways with your Shadowhunter friends. Pity, that. You seemed happy. I'm sorry things didn't work out."
He knew sarcasm when he heard it. Although the Queen couldn't lie, she could certainly bend the truth to suit her needs. She was as sorry for his current circumstances as she was innocent of any wrong doing with Sebastian.
"I am well," he lied. The garden knew his secret sorrow. "Though, I am surprised that you bothered to contact me."
"My interests have changed. Funny how that happens when you least expect it." She flashed him a knowing smile, one that insinuated her words held more meaning than he realized.
"And where might your interests lie now?" inquired Magnus, thinking over her last words. He wondered what else had changed in his absence.
"With the victor, of course." She smiled at him, her sharp teeth bright and deadly.
"I'm going to assume you mean Sebastian and his army of lunatics?"
"Now, now…let us not judge until we have the full synopsis. I do dislike hasty discussions when one doesn't have all the details," grinned the Queen.
Magnus casually leaned back on the bench and crossed his legs, presenting a false bravado to the woman beside him. The longer he stayed in the garden, the more he felt drained and restless—the complete opposite of what others felt. It was as though his heart fought to keep the memory of Alec, rather than submitting to the thrill of release.
"You didn't drag me all the way to Denmark to play games. What do you want from me?"
She smiled again, the corners of her eyes narrowing in delight. "I have a proposition for you. As you well know by now, I am in contact with Jonathon Morgenstern." The Queen would never use the name Sebastian, but it still caught him off guard. "This is no secret, Magnus," she carried on as his eyes widened. "Surely Clarissa told you?"
Magnus nodded. "But to have you admit it is surprising."
"I do not lie, Magnus Bane," she roared. "Why should I hide from the Clave? They are no match for me. And since you have cut all ties with them, I am offering you a chance to join me in my conquest."
"Don't you mean Sebastian's conquest?"
Her lips pursed, contorting only for a moment before smoothing out into the same placid grin. "Jonathon's victory is my own. I have lived under the Clave's rule for far too long. Do you not feel that same sense of repression? Jonathon offered me a way out and I took it."
Magnus thought it over. Ever since he could remember, he'd always aided the Clave. He'd been the one they'd called at all hours of the day and night, begging for help. But not once had they viewed him as an equal. He would always be a Downworlder, always disposable. The only person that he had ever truly loved beyond any shadow of a doubt had tried to change who he was. Alec had tried to turn Magnus into a mortal. Was it possible that he'd done it not because of his age or mortality, but because he couldn't stand to be with someone of lesser stature? Did Alec secretly detest the fact that he was a Downworlder?
"Yes," he answered truthfully. "I feel it too."
"Love does strange things to people, does it not?"
Magnus huffed. "What do you know of love?"
"Do you not think I love my people? I am in a position of power, and with that comes certain obligations and responsibilities. Do not judge me on what you see or hear. If I did not act accordingly, my society would crumble."
"Your people are fickle and devious. Why should I trust you?" He folded his arms defiantly, knowing better than to insult the Queen. He just couldn't allow himself to walk straight into a trap if he could do something about it.
"Of all the people in this wretched dimension, you know me the best. We have history, Magnus. You can either be a great ally, or a dead opponent." She pulled the last petal from the stem and blew it down the path.
"So it's a kill or be killed situation then, is it?"
"As I said, things change. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good." She flicked the stem into the bushes.
"You're right, things do change. What did you have in mind?"
A/N: Hope you're enjoying this. Next chapter coming soon since this was so short.
