TRIGGER WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DOMESTIC VIOLENCE; CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE; VOMITING; INTERNALIZED VICTIM BLAMING; MPREG


Chapter Four

It was all a lie.

Numb, Alec could only stare at the words written in the file before him, at the picture that had accompanied them. He could hear his tutor speaking, the clinical tone of the man before him not registering as he stilled the tremor trying to overtake his hands.

How?

How had he missed it?

Worse, how could it all have been a lie?!

How could he have believed it?

Swallowing thickly, he forced his gaze away from the file to the tutor as the man announced that their lesson was ending. He moved to hand the file back, but the elder shook his head.

"Keep it. You will need to read it in order to understand the consequences of Valentine's rebellion and our next lesson."

Nodding he took it back, dismissing the man politely. Once he was gone, he locked the door to his office and placed the file on his desk, staring at it.

The words printed on it were damning, almost as if they were taunting him for his failure, his ignorance.

Valentine Joseph Morganstern

Age: 38

Designation: Criminal

Crime (s): Treason, Mass genocide, murder

And yet, even more damning, was the face of his lover staring back at him.

*/*

In the end, it takes him three hours to read every single word written in the file.

He ignores the knocks on his office door, the buzzing of his phone, even the niggling twinge of concern from his parabatai rune, and just reads.

Every word throws him further into numbness spreading through him, every crime, every photograph driving him deeper into the darkness and once he reaches the end, he can do nothing but stare blankly down at his desk.

Two years.

His lover of two years was a genocidal mad-man, hiding behind the name of his dead parabatai. A bigoted, ruthless man, whose crimes were unspeakable.

A man who was supposed to be dead.

Men, women, children, his lover, had killed them all. Had tortured them, some of his crimes as recent as a year ago.

Trembling hands come up to cover his mouth, bile burning his throat and suddenly the apathy shatters leaving devastation in its wake. With a gasping sob, he finds himself retching into the bin beside his desk, the horrors captured on the pages before him flashing behind his eyelids with that damning face.

He finds himself wanting to shower, sure that those blood-stained hands had left traces of their crimes embedded in his skin, the cruel smirk in the picture searing itself across his lips in a parody of the kiss he'd shared with the man before he'd left their apartment that morning.

Another retch escaped him, and he sobbed harder, wrapping his arms around himself in a parody of a hug that was almost painful, especially with the bruises still painting his skin.

By the angel, how had he missed it?

After all, Lucian had never been quiet about his views on the downworld, and following Alec's return from Spain, his views on them seemed to have grown even harsher.

In addition to that, Lucian had shown that he was quite capable of violence, though Alec knew the latter was more his own fault than his love's.

So how had he missed it?

Worse, how could he have fallen in love with such a- a monster?

How could he still love one?

The questions were daunting, driving his anxiety higher because he did. Even reading what he had, knowing what he did, he still loved the man he knew. The man that loved him so deeply he looked past Alec's faults. That held him on the mornings that he got to sleep in, breath warm against his throat as they slept off the night's passion.

Black spots crept into his vision, and he tried to calm himself to no avail. Barely managing to move away from the trash, leaned against the side of his desk and allowed them to drag him into oblivion.

Yet in that moment, he knows what he's going to do.

He also knows he's going to regret it.

*/*

He's burning.

Screams tore themselves from his throat as he fell, the scent of his own flesh and feathers burning permeating the air around him. For so long, he'd been falling, the ache of betrayal, the agony of his broken mate-bond, and his burning essence making up what felt like the entirety of his existence.

Why?

Why didn't they understand?

Why hadn't they let him explain?

He'd only wanted them to realize that the humans were pulling them away from their family. That by giving the human Free Will and forcing theirs, they'd drive their family away.

So why had they forced him away from his home?

Why were they forcing him through such torture.

Another cry left him, the cold gaze of his mate as he'd been thrown from the Silver City just as painful as feeling his body continuously burn and heal, only to burn again.

He was almost thankful when he hit the burning sands of Edom, even as it stole his conscience.

At least then, he could pretend that it was the reason he hurt.

*/*

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn you in, Valentine Morganstern?"

He can almost see the change the words ignite in his beloved as they leave his lips.

Their relationship had changed so much in the past year that he'd often found himself both yearning and dreading his return to the man before him. His heart craved the moments of affection the older gave him, craved the warmth he gave when he was in his best moods and that tiny smile he only seemed to give him. Yet, he knew the price that came with those gestures. The temper and possessiveness lurking beneath the kindness and warmth.

Those hands that held him so close had also painted his body with blossoming bruises, cut off his air as he threatened to leave only to release him when he promised to stay. They'd driven him to new heights and dragged him to new lows and everything in between, often oscillating between passionate and painful like the swing of a pendulum.

And in this moment, the pendulum would no doubt swing towards painful.

He could see it in the darkening of his lover's eyes, the downward turn of his lips.

The brief clenching of his fists.

"Hm, what gave me away?"

He didn't deny it.

His heart gave a painful jolt in his chest at the notion and something must have shown on his face, because the older man barked out a laugh.

"Were you hoping it was a lie? Poor, poor, Alec." He sneered.

"Y-you- how could you do that?" He whispered. "Children, Luc. No matter that it was Shadow Worder children, they were still children! Innocents!"

"They were demons! Downworlders are a plague! Man, woman, child, there are no innocents, Alexander!"

He faltered back a step, shaking his head, his eyes burning with tears that he only barely kept from falling.

"Valentine Morganster-"

"You aren't arresting me, mio angelo." It wasn't a taunt. It was cold, factual, as if he were stating an observation, yet it sent a trill of fear down his spine because he knew that tone.

"I'm not yours, n-not anymore. You're under arrest for murder, genocide, and treason."

"You're testing my patience, my love." Another observation, just as cold and the fear worsened, his hand trembling as he brought up his steele to draw an incarceration rune, the other retrieving the handcuffs from his back pocket.

"Val-"

He doesn't see him move.

The backhand that whips across his face, stops him mid-sentence and he's curling in on himself before he can really register that he's supposed to do anything else.

"You're not arresting me, not leaving me. Not like she did. Not like they did." Another strike across his face and he hits the ground.

Nothing makes sense.

Yet its all too familiar and something in him is screaming.

Blow after blow rains down on him and the screaming thing in him cries out to his lover, because this is so much worse than anytime before.

This time he's sure that his lover means to kill him, and the man's words do nothing to dissuade this notion.

"No one else will have you. None will know your touch, your love. Not in this life. Perhaps this life is too early for us. But in the next one, you will return to me. In the next one, the plague will not stand between us."

Reaching out weakly to the man standing above him, he tries to see his beloved in the man killing him. He tries to find a shred of truth in those cold, cold eyes.

Its there, just the tiniest gleam of remorse, but he holds onto it even as the darkness drags him into its depths.

As oblivion takes him, he tries to figure out why he feels like he's falling.

*/*

He awakens on the doorstep of the institute, his battered body shaking with the cold, and his mother's dark eyes gazing down at him in horror.

"Alec!"

He tries to give her a reassuring smile, only to wince as the attempt pulls at the bruises on his face. She jerks back, calling for his father as said attempt fails and he wants to tell her he's fine, yet...he's falling back into the darkness before the words can leave his lips.

*/*

"Oh, mijo. Who did this to you?"

"M-mom?" He rasped, hand clenching around the one lying in his own and she squeezes back gently, her eyes dark and tearful as they gazed down at him.

"We almost lost you. Both of you."

His brow furrowed at her words, the fog of sleep lifting as they registered in his mind.

"Both?"

She chuckled, nodding her head down toward the tiny bundle he'd only just noticed she was cradling with her other arm.

"Your magic, the one tied into your glamour, sensed your fear, your desire to keep your relationship hidden and hid this little one as well. When the silent brothers brought us here to heal you and removed your glamour, they found him."

He blinked, the words taking a moment to process and once they did, his heart stilled in his chest.

That was his son.

His son with...him.

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly wide-awake, he stared at the baby in his mother's arms, making no move to take the infant.

"H- How old is he?"

"Just over an hour old. He's been waiting to meet you."

She leaned forward, moving to place the child in his arms and for a moment, he almost refused. He was too tainted, his hands stained with the blood of his lover's victims. Their son, despite his father's legacy, was innocent.

Pure.

He couldn't.

"Alec?" His gaze drifted to his father, who'd been watching them both silently.

"I can't."

The man shook his head, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your child needs you, son. The rest we can deal with in time, but for now, hold him."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

He shook his head. "I'll hurt him." He whispered, the partial truth leaving his lips nearly inaudibly. He couldn't bring himself to say it all, as if doing so would make it more real.

"Is it because of his father?"

His head shot up, shocked starburst gaze meeting steady chocolate ones. "W-what?"

"His father was the one who hurt you." Robert murmured, the certainty in his voice shocking the younger man into silence. "That would be the only reason you didn't fight back. Outside of sparring, you would never raise your hand to someone you love. Not even to defend your life."

"I'm sorry." He replied, fist clenching at what he perceived to be his father's disappointment, but to his continued shock the man shook his head.

"In most cases, it is a trait to be admired. In this one, I almost lost my son and my unborn grandson, then had to watch my son fight for his life in a three week coma."

"T-three weeks."

His mother nodded, gently placing his son in his arms while he was too stunned to deny her. Automatically, his arms shifted to cradle the babe in the same fashion he had with Izzy all those years ago. Hesitantly, he looked down, only for his heart to melt at the curious dark eyes looking back at him, a faint shimmer so much like his own, leaving stardust sparkles across the baby's skin. A tuft of ebony curls sat atop the child's head mirroring his, and he was smiling before he knew it, even as his mother continued to speak.

She told him of trying to heal him in the institute's infirmary only to move him to the City of Bones so that the silent brothers could help, when his iratze kept vanishing and he began to burn. About being happy that his siblings were away on a mission for the Los Angeles Institute, even as Jace had called her frantic about his parabatai rune.

She told him of the way the Silent brothers had been startled to discover he was one of Mihael's blessed, and that he was carrying. That it was his magic, which had been locked away all those years previous that was causing his body to burn as it fought to escape its bonds and heal him. The way they'd been forced to perform an emergency surgery to deliver his son after the babe's heartbeat began to drop.

"We'll have to find a way to explain him to the Clave." She finished, gaze softer than he'd ever seen it.

He tilted his head in question, but it was his father who answered.

"Your son is proof that you had treasonous relations, Alec. If they find out you could be deruned, worse if they discover your glamour and your magic."

He stared down at the babe, watching as he started to mouth at his shirt. Beside him, Maryse smiled.

"He's hungry."

Showing him how to nurse the child, she watched as something dawned across his face. "You and Dad have been in Idris for almost a year and it's not that uncommon for shadowhunter women to hide pregnancies, especially if they're as high in the Clave as you are." He began, pain and reluctance in his voice and she knew what he was going to say before the words left his lips.

"You want us to claim him as our son."

He nodded, staring down at his son, his heart aching at the reality of their situation, the lie he would be forcing on his child.

"Yes."

"If- if we do this, your mother and I will have full parental custody over him. We will consult you in everything, but in the eyes of the Clave, he will be our son, which means he will be Idris more often than you are."

A tear escaped the teen before he could stop it. "I know. But if the Clave finds out, they'll kill him."

Maryse closed her eyes, pained. "What will his name be?"

"Maxwell. Maxwell Joseph Lightwood."

He whispers, and tries not to feel like he'd just signed his son's life away...and that somewhere, his love would hate him for what he'd just done.

TBC...