Title: Eternally Bound
Summary: Alexander Lightwood was only three when his parents died. Now he's a servant of the Morgensterns, bound to their secrets more tightly than any could imagine. Now he must free himself and experience life before his runs out.
Note: I apologize for this taking so long! I meant to have this up on Monday, but Tuesday contained my history midterm and I really needed to study. Therefore, I was unable to finish the chapter until, well, today. Midterm Week actually lasted two weeks this years, so it was a bit of a mess. That plus the fact that i rewrote the second half of this chapter two or three times didn't help with my speed (I was trying a new POV and I was having trouble getting it right... I'm still working on it a little). Anyhow, here is the moment you've all been waiting for! I know things are moving slowly, but we have one more chapter of Gard stuff and then we bust Alexander out and introduce him to the world!
Which, of course, is bound to be interesting. Enjoy!
I'm sorry I didn't get to reply to most reviews for the last chapter! I loved every single one of them but I don't have time to go back and catch up on replies! I DO intend to reply to them all for this chapter, so don't think I'm slacking! Life is just nuts! And those of your speculating in the reviews... I just love it. It gives me ideas, sometimes, it reiterates others I've had, and sometimes it just makes me think "Oooh. Why didn't I think of that? But... it doesn't work into my plot!" Keep on speculating, you guys are great!
Disclaimer: I do not own MI. Cassandra Clare does.
Chapter Four
Magnus Bane was never mystified by Idris. He was never awed by the gleaming buildings, he never had to stop and just stare at the clear blue skies.
Certainly, the country was beautiful. Magnus appreciated beauty of all kinds and he'd never deny that the Shadowhunter homeland was gorgeous.
But that splendor was superficial, manmade, rarely changing or fluctuating. Not as precious as the beauty that had to be conserved and protected.
Magnus found life in itself stunning. That breath that could be easily stopped, the fluttering heartbeat that too easily ceased – despite all that, life was determined to continue, no matter the hardships, no matter the worries or danger.
So, he followed the Inquisitor through Alicante without the eye of a tourist, only gazing briefly at the glimmering glass towers. The lavish pebbled streets were nearly empty, diminishing what could have been a lively, pretty sight.
He would be lying if he said that Alec Lightwood didn't pique his interest. He'd spoken little with Isabelle – a gorgeous girl, with her spirit and drive to succeed – but knew that the boy was a mystery to even his family. Abducted and raised by Valentine as a child, finally recovered yet entirely different than what they expected. Magnus could only hope the boy wasn't another obnoxious Jace-like Nephilim. There were enough of them in the world.
When he learned of the poison, Magnus set a spell to feed Chairman Meow while he was away and packed immediately for Idris. He didn't even ask for the price. Well, he hadn't yet. He'd wait to see what kind of condition he was in before charging.
The Inquisitor barely spoke to him as she led the way through the Gard and into the prison. Magnus was content with that. He had never liked Imogen Herondale much and small talk was a waste of time for both warlocks and Shadowhunters when work was involved.
"This is it," she said when they reached a cell and jangled her keys. "He's been ill all morning, vomiting again."
Magnus wrinkled his nose without meaning to. He'd admit to having a bit of a queasy stomach. "Again?"
"We think it's part of the potion's effects," she said shortly. Her hand was on the knob, but she didn't twist it. "And before you ask, we haven't got a clue what it is."
Magnus rolled his eyes and examined his nails, not to check for chips as it appeared but to prepare to ruin the new manicure with sparks. He knew it was a foolish thing to expect any job to last for more than a few days with the amount of magic he did, but he did like when his hands were nice. They gave a good impression to clients. "So, I'm guessing you want a diagnosis?"
"And a cure," the Inquisitor added firmly. "You will be able to find a cure, correct?"
"I can try," he said honestly. "But until I know what it is, the most I might be able to do is stop the symptoms. Anything else I ought to know about the Boy Who Lived?"
Magnus felt a little clever for the book reference – despite never liking the fantasy genre, he felt skimming through the Harry Potter series had been worth a few days in his obscenely long life. The Inquisitor either didn't understand it or didn't care. "One of our young soldiers has become rather attached to him, and vice versa. I feel it's only fair to warn you that if you harm the boy, Carstairs will drown you in holy water."
Magnus narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure I can fight off a Carstairs, just as I can fight off a Morgenstern, a Lightwood, or a Herondale." He raised his eyebrow as if to dare her to argue.
Imogen lifted her chin. "I don't believe you've fought any of the sort, warlock, and I ask you to refrain from such threats or we'll have to revoke the job offer."
Magnus snorted but said nothing more. As if they'd change their minds. The way Isabelle had put it, he was the only candidate for the job.
Clearly bristled, Imogen snapped her head away and flung open the door.
Immediately, Magnus felt the urge to hurl. He clutched his stomach as inconspicuously as possible, resolute in keeping a professional front. This was work, he couldn't just show them the contents of his breakfast.
But the retching from within – it was turning his insides.
"Come," Imogen said, as if he were a dog, and strode into the cell. Magnus dropped his pride and witty retorts and followed, focusing on simply keeping his own bile down.
A blonde Shadowhunter in full gear stood outside of the tiny bathroom, his back to Imogen and Magnus. "I'm sorry, Alexander, I didn't – I won't – are you okay? Do you want a glass of water? I shouldn't have tried to get you to eat anything."
There was coughing and more retching from within the bathroom. Magnus caught of peek of ink black hair, similar to Isabelle and Max's. "I'm fine, sir," a hoarse voice responded once the coughing slowed. "Please don't be –" There was the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of a toilet and Magnus shut his eyes tightly.
The Nephilim in gear was pleading. "Alexander, let me – you're going to fall in if you don't let me help. And – no, Alexander, stop moving, you're putting too much pressure of your injuries, just let me hold you up, I'm not going to –"
"Sir, please, I'm –" The hoarse voice was cut off by more vomiting. A moment later, after a few hacking coughs, he spoke again. "I think that was the last of it, sir. May I go back to bed?"
"Of course. Let's get you cleaned up first, though, all right?"
"Carstairs, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the Inquisitor said sharply and Magnus open his eyes in a rush. No need to have anyone notice he was seconds away from puking.
The blonde turned around, alarmed. "Inquisitor! I – I didn't hear you come in. How… how long have you been there?"
Magnus checked his watch with a glance. "Three and a half minutes, I'd say."
The boy snapped his direction towards the warlock. He looked serous for a boy that looked so young. Granted, he was physically older than Magnus, but he'd stopped judging age by physicality long ago. "You're the warlock that's come to cure Alexander?" he asked.
Magnus tried to peer into the tiny bathroom again to see this so called Alexander. Carstairs was effectively blocking him from view. "Yes. And it'd be helpful to see my patient, so if you'd kindly move I could begin my work." He was only putting up an act, of course. He was more than happy to allow the boy to remain there until all the vomit had been cleaned up.
The boy, thankfully, did just that. "You're Magnus Bane?" he asked incredulously. "But you're…"
Magnus crossed his arms. "I'm what?" The boy didn't complete his statement and just stared. "I'm what? Not powerful looking? Don't look like a High Warlock? Well, Blondie," he cringed internally at giving away his nickname for Jace, "There are more than appearances to me." He snapped and felt the heavy weight of a book in his hands. "Spell book," he explained and held it up. "Let me see the kid."
Carstairs stepped backwards into the bathroom. "Actually, I – Boss, no offense, but I don't want to leave this guy alone with Alexander."
Magnus snapped with his other hand and vanished the book back to its shelf in New York. "Why the hell not?" He liked this kid less by the second.
The Inquisitor looked towards Magnus and then at Carstairs again. "Carstairs, I will remain here for Bane's examination. He's a competent warlock and won't harm Alexander in any way."
Carstairs looked hesitant. He looked back towards the black haired boy. "Boss –"
"Tobias Carstairs, you will wait outside of the cell," she demanded sharply.
The boy's shoulders lumped ever so slightly in defeat. Magnus nodded at the Inquisitor with a little more respect than before. He'd never had one, but the scary grandmother act was always a good one.
"Can I at least… you know… help him get to his bed?" Carstairs asked.
The Inquisitor looked at Magnus as if it were up to him. He shrugged – he didn't really care what the Shadowhunter did. As long as he'd be able to get the job done efficiently, it didn't matter.
"Go ahead," the Inquisitor allowed.
Carstairs jumped to his job. He turned around and was suddenly helping the black haired boy to his feet and handing him a towel. "Wipe off your face," he advised gently. "Can you stand?"
"Yes, sir." The boy's voice was meek and feeble.
"Good. I'll be right back. You brush your teeth and drink that glass of water. It'll help, I promise." He emerged from the bathroom and hurriedly straightened worn sheets and fixed pillows on the lumpy cot. Magnus watched in amusement at the Shadowhunter's care. The Inquisitor seemed to be right – he had formed a rather strange attachment to the Lightwood boy.
Contrary to popular belief, Magnus did not always crave attention. He was an observer by nature, a participant by survival tactics. He knew the best way to make connections and business, to fend off loneliness and despair, was to make sure he was never alone. In time, he learned to love it, learned to embrace the staring eyes. He taught himself to attract the gazes and keep them there.
Still, sometimes it was nice to step back and just watch.
Carstairs was exceedingly careful when he led the boy in the bathroom to the bed. He was still partially shielded from view, but Magnus could tell how his shoddy clothes slipped off his shoulder and how his legs trembled. He tried not to imagine what Isabelle would do when he reported about her brother's health.
If that didn't convince him to do his job well, he didn't know what would.
The bed creaked as Carstairs helped the boy lower himself onto the mattress.
"You going to be okay?" Carstairs asked in a low voice. "There's a, uh…" He glanced back at Magnus, who flashed him a dazzling smile. "There's a warlock here to see you. His name is Magnus Bane and he's going to find the cure for the poison."
"I'll be fine, sir." The voice was slightly less hoarse. "Can you please pass me that glass of water?"
Carstairs handed the boy a glass and stepped back slowly, finally revealing the boy completely.
Magnus was glad that he wasn't the one holding anything. He'd have dropped it. The boy looked barely alive. He was a living corpse, paler than a vampire and thinner than a stick. His cheeks were sunken and his teeth had a yellow-ish tinge, which Magnus suspected was from the vomiting.
As he thought about it, the smell got to him again. He concealed a groan and snapped his fingers. Sparks flew and the room smelled like lilacs.
The boy's eyes widened and Magnus saw they were a dazzling blue. They were too big for his thin face, though, and guarded as if they held a precious treasure.
"Never seen magic before?" He laughed. "You'll get used to it. Do you like lilacs? I can always switch it out for something else."
The boy shook his head and averted his eyes instantly. "No, sir, it's fine."
Silence ensued. Magnus took a deep breath and inhaled the flowery scent. Was lilac supposed to help you relax? Or was that lavender? Either way, it wasn't really working.
"So!" He clapped his hands together once and sparks flew from his palms. "We ought to get started. Inquisitor, you just want a report on the state of the poison, I'm assuming?" He looked towards the woman expectantly.
The Inquisitor observed the boy for about ten seconds. "No. Bane, if you don't mind, could you do a full examination? We haven't managed to get a Clave doctor near him long enough to look at his injuries for long."
Magnus frowned and snapped his gaze towards the boy. He seemed to shrink under the glares. "You haven't had him treated?" If they weren't the ones paying him, Magnus was sure he'd have gone on a twenty minute rant about the idiocy of Shadowhunters right there and then.
"Of course we've had him treated," the Inquisitor snapped. "But we had to put him under for even the slightest bit of cooperation and there's only so much we can do with a boy who isn't fit to handle an iratze."
Magnus shut his eyes. They were beginning to hurt. "All right," he said and shook his head. "Fine. Carstairs, out." He jabbed his thumb towards the door.
Unsurprisingly, the blonde shook his head. "I'm staying here."
"Out. I don't work with an audience." It was bad enough that the Inquisitor was staying to supervise. Carstairs didn't move. "That means get out or I don't do it."
His shoulders slumped and he squeezed Alexander's shoulder gently. "I'll be back when he's done," he murmured. "If he hurts you, you should kick him."
A rosy red rushed to Alexander's cheeks. "Um, sir, I don't know if –"
"He's a Downworlder," Carstairs said dismissively. "Kick him as hard as you want."
Magnus glared when the boy passed him on his way out, but didn't bother defending himself. It was better to keep the knowledge that he could easily cut off Carstairs' air supply with a flick of the finger to himself.
He put on the friendliest smile he could muster in Shadowhunter territory and approached the bed with a slight bounce in his step. "So, Blue Eyes, are you going to cooperate with me or will I have to force you?"
The blush that had begun to fade came back full force. "My name is Alexander, sir."
Magnus shrugged. "And my name is Magnus. As long as you get to call me sir, I get to call you nicknames. Deal?"
Alexander narrowed his eyes his confusion. "Sir –"
"Blue Eyes, listen." Magnus put a booted foot on the bed and leaned his elbow on his knee. "We have the time in the world to argue about names and such. I've got the next twenty seconds to start this examination before our darling Inquisitor kills us both. Can you cooperate?"
Alexander flicked his attention towards the stoic Inquisitor and nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good, then." He stepped back and tried to take in this frail boy's appearance from a medical, not pitying, point of view. He was injured, that was definitely true. Magnus could see the bruises curling up under his sleeves and shirt. It'd be impossible to treat them without seeing the full extent. Gently as he could, he asked, "Blue Eyes, is there any way I'd be able to convince you to take off your shirt for about… oh, ten minutes or so?"
Magnus waited patiently for a response, but Alexander had frozen.
"Blue Eyes?" he prompted. "I really need to see those bruises."
The boy began to tremble violently. "Y-yes, sir," he mumbled and reached for the hem of his shirt with a shaking hand.
"Whoa, whoa, hold on!" Without thinking, Magnus grabbed the boy's hand and pulled it away from the shirt. A jolt of energy – not magic, not even painful – zapped through his fingers at the touch. "I don't want you to be scared, Blue Eyes," he said, scrambling for an excuse as to why he reached out. It had been a reflex, not something he thought about.
Alexander stared at their entwined hands with horror but didn't move. Magnus gulped and gently pulled away. He held his arm out, palm facing upwards, but didn't touch the boy. He had an idea.
"Alexander, I promise that I'm not going to hurt you," Magnus said softly. He knew the Inquisitor was staring them down, but he also knew that she wouldn't dare interrupt in case he got somewhere with this. "If you believe me, just take my hand."
Alexander was too busy staring at his own, flexing and rubbing his fingers in confusion.
"Alexander, please pay attention," Magnus said a little more sharply in hopes to hold his focus. The boy's wide eyes snapped to face him. "Take my hand if you trust that I won't hurt you."
"Who are you, sir?" Alexander asked and cocked his head to the side like a young child.
This was killing Magnus. He didn't know how Isabelle would be able to handle this. He smiled warmly, though, and kept his front. "I'm Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn. I'm here to help with your injuries and the poison."
Alexander chewed on his lip and slowly slipped his hand into Magnus's. "You look normal," he commented quietly. "Not like a Downworlder. I thought Downworlders were… bad. Not normal. They don't look normal." He paused and frowned. "Right?"
Magnus didn't squeeze Alexander's hand at all, but flipped it over to look at his palm. "Have you seen my eyes?" he asked and widens them slightly. "They're like cats'. That's my sign. If you don't mind me saying, you look pretty not normal for a Shadowhunter. I'm here to help fix that." He traced the lines of Alexander's palm gently with hopes that it would convince him that there would be no harm. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you."
Alexander was watching their hands intently. "Will I be able to eat again, sir?"
"I hope so."
Alexander took a deep breath, drew his hand away, and nodded. "What do I have to do, sir?" he asked meekly.
Magnus pressed his lips together. He sent out a silent prayer to no one that this wouldn't make this short victory backpedal. "Your shirt, Alexander. For just a few minutes."
Alexander looked towards the bathroom with what Magnus construed as loathing and stripped his shirt so quickly that Magnus could barely blink. He crossed her arms over his chest self-consciously, but Magnus couldn't do anything but gape.
The boy was a mess of scars and bruises and marks. Five long scratches curved around from his back and the white skin that looked as if it had never seen sun was interrupted by purples and blacks and reds. He was past skinny and clearly malnourished with his ribs clearly countable. Magnus couldn't move, he couldn't even bring himself to read the bright red raised scar that appeared to spell something out on his upper left arm. He could only stare in amazement and disgust at whoever would do this to a person.
The boy's face, on the other hand, was bright red. "I… I don't like throwing up, sir," he said timidly. "I'd… I would really like to be able to eat again. Please."
Magnus shut his eyes from the sight. "I'm going to have to do some magic," he warned and gathered the sparks at his fingertips. This was going to be more difficult to deal with than he expected.
"I don't know what it is."
Tobias's stomach sunk at the warlock's words. He had waited for over two hours in the meeting room with the Lightwoods for good news. This was anything but.
The warlock rubbed his temples in circles as he plopped into a chair. "I've been looking at the blood sample for ages. I isolated the poison – I know it's poison, that much I could figure out – and I've been studying it, but it's nothing I've ever seen before. Nothing I've heard of before. I can't even find it in one of my books."
"So what are we going to do?" Mayrse Lightwood asked. She was sitting stiffly beside the Inquisitor. Her eyes weren't red anymore, but she looked like a woman trying to hide her emotions. Which, Tobias figured, was mostly true. "Is there anything we can do?"
Bane sighed. "He's in bad shape, I'll give you that. I'd have to say that, at the moment, all we can do is try to fix the symptoms. Right now, he's vomiting." He looked a little sick at the word. "I gave him something that will keep his stomach down ordinarily. Hopefully, it will work and he'll be able to eat again. Once he gains some weight and his bruises clear up, I think there will be a better chance of him being strong enough to last a while."
"Long enough to find a cure?" Tobias asked skeptically.
Bane looked at him morosely. "We can hope."
Tobias was generally an optimistic man, but Alexander had introduced him to the world of pessimism. There just didn't seem to be a way for this boy to live. "Did you find anything about his past?"
The Inquisitor spoke from the head of the table. "Nothing we didn't already know. He's been abused." She shrugged. "He doesn't like human – or humanoid - contact. Bane managed to get through to him for a short while, though. And I believe he's afraid of needles."
Bane made a discontented expression when the Inquisitor implied he was inhuman, but Isabelle stopped any impending argument swiftly. "Ugh, I hate needles," she agreed. "Are phobias genetic?"
Bane looked amused. "Most behavioral psychologists would say no. But perhaps you two can bond over hatred of blood tests?"
Isabelle wrinkled her nose. "I'd rather not." She brightened quickly. "When can we meet him?"
Tobias couldn't deny that he had an incredible amount of respect for the girl. She was fierce and knew what she wanted. Unafraid of what it might hold. Strong enough to face it. She reminded him of his older sister. Felicity had only been Isabelle's age when she jumped into a situation too difficult to handle.
The vampire had barely left her remains.
Isabelle's intensity was overwhelming. She stared everyone down with her dark eyes, demanding to have an answer.
"Not until we perform a small experiment," the Inquisitor said. "Clarissa, Jonathan, I'm going to need your help."
Tobias frowned. He knew about this, but he didn't like it at all. He didn't see why it was necessary to possibly put the boy through the pain. It was legitimately torture and wasn't that violating some sort of Law? But he had no authority in this. He barely had authority at all. Right now, the only thing he could do was listen and keep his mouth shut.
The redhead cocked her head to the side. "So you're finally going to tell me why I was called here?"
"What do you want with us?" Jace asked in a more demanding than curious tone.
"Just a moment, Morgenstern," the Inquisitor said sharply. "Learn patience, it's a useful skill to have." The boy looked doubtful, but she continued on. "Bane, besides treating symptoms, what do you suggest we do?"
Bane chewed on his inner cheek for a moment and held up his hand to look at his nails. "His mental state is in horrible shape, perhaps more horrible than his body."
"What's wrong with him?" Robert asked urgently. Tobias watched him lean forward with eagerness. "Is it something that can be fixed?"
Bane's green eyes swept around the table and rested on Tobias instead of Robert. Tobias straightened his back slightly and leaned as far away as possible while remaining in his chair. There was something predatory about Downworlders that he despised.
"He's been abused, tortured, stripped of freedom, and now robbed of even his life. What do you think is wrong with him?" Now Bane looked at Robert and Mayrse and raised his eyebrows. "No answer? Well, he's certainly depressed. Suicidal, I can't say, but that's a moot point, he's dying as it is. I'm not sure how many of those injuries were self inflicted, but I know that most if not all weren't, so no need to worry about that. He's afraid of human contact, he seems to be programmed to serve others – I haven't got the official diagnosis, but I can do some research in psychology if you'd like me to. My suggestion – place him with someone he trusts as often as possible. Maybe it'll help him assimilate." Bane shrugged. "There are medications that can help with the depression, but I think that we ought to try and see if maybe just giving him better living quality will help."
"Is there anyone he trusts?" Jace asked. "It sounds like he's had a crappy life, I sure wouldn't trust anyone if I were him."
"You don't trust anyone, Wayland," Bane said lightly. "And similarities between you two would be minimal."
"What basis do you have for that?" Jace snorted. "You barely know him."
Bane smirked. "Well, for starters, his ego doesn't fill a house." As if he suddenly remembered something, he clapped his hands together. "Housing! Right!" He turned to the Inquisitor. "Get him the hell out of here."
The Inquisitor raised her eyebrows. "Why should we? He's a flight risk. He could go back to Valentine. He could be a danger to everyone, including himself. There's no reason to release him, especially as he hasn't recanted."
"It would be torture to force him to recant, perhaps a death sentence," Bane stated plainly. "And give him a guard, a caretaker or something. I was under the impression that Carstairs would fill a role like that." His gaze fell back on Tobias, who felt his eyes widen.
The moment of sudden fondness towards the warlock was ruined by Mayrse's protest.
"He's a child!" She stood from her chair, clearly ignoring Robert's attempt to make her sit down. "Why should a child take care of my son?"
Bane didn't seem affected by this outburst. "Yes, Mrs. Lightwood, you were very good at taking care of your child when you left him alone while knowing a twisted Shadowhunter was out for your family's skins. And, again, your capability as a mother was showcased most wonderfully when you took in a child without even knowing his true identity. Of course, that's not very fair, is it? Wayland didn't know either… I suppose I'll have to go with the simple fact that you left two teenagers to handle all demon hunts in New York City on their own and didn't bother checking in long enough to learn that they were going after a Mortal Instrument. Oh and did you know they faced a Greater Demon? No? Interesting."
Tobias watched Mayrse's face turn from red and angry to pale and shameful. She sank into her seat, her hands over her face.
"We are Shadowhunters, Bane," Robert said quietly and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not sure how your mother raised you, but we do things differently in our world."
Bane laughed hollowly. "I won't even get into Shadowhunter fathers. My dad wasn't much better, though I suppose I have to give him credit. He did give me pretty awesome powers." He snapped and sparks flew. "Now, are we going to argue or are we going to give Carstairs the job? Provided you'll take it, of course."
All eyes turned to Tobias. He didn't have to think long – protecting Alexander was his main job at the moment anyhow. "I'm in."
Bane nodded. "Excellent. And, Inquisitor, I ask that I remain Alexander's primary physician?"
"Why would we appoint you as physician?" Mayrse snapped.
Bane shrugged and started watching his glowing fingers. "Perhaps it's because he actually allowed me to touch him and heal his injuries? He looks about ten times better now, I assure you, and he's in the middle of eating breakfast." A small grinned crossed his face and made him look like a Cheshire Cat. "He nearly cried when he managed to take three bites and not feel the urge to puke it up. I think he missed food."
Tobias glared at him as the image formed in his head. "It's not a laughing matter."
Bane looked shocked. "Of course not," he said. "I wasn't laughing. I simply think his joy was… infectious."
"Bane, you're hired," the Inquisitor said and broke the growing tension. "You'll visit the Institute daily once he's settled in for examinations. And you'll continue looking for a cure?"
"As long as I'm paid."
The Inquisitor shook her head and flipped open a notebook. "It's a deal, Bane. Tobias, you'll be ready to leave Idris in a few days?"
"Hold it." Robert slammed his fist on the table. Possibly the first authoritative move Tobias had witnessed from him. "We did not agree to this!"
The Inquisitor was cool and cold. "You don't have to agree. The Clave mandates the orders here. He may be your son, but he is my charge, and therefore, what I say goes. Tobias?"
"I'll be ready, boss," Tobias responded quickly.
"Bane, you may leave," the Inquisitor dismissed with a wave of her hand. Bane pushed his chair away from the table and sped away with barely a wave. "Clarissa, Jonathan, we have to discuss your job now. This is very important because…"
A blast of hot air hit Tobias's ear. "Come with me," Bane whispered and tugged him by his elbow. "We need to talk."
Tobias shot Isabelle a confused look, hoping for some backup from the confident girl, but she was paying keen attention to the Inquisitor. Uneasily, he kicked his chair back and followed the warlock into the hall.
Bane wasted no time beating around the bush once the door to the meeting room was shut. "He'd probably be better off dead."
Tobias leaned against the door and looked at the ground. "Aren't you trying to make him better?" This was why he didn't like Downworlders. They didn't care about actual life, just about getting something out of it. Bane was doing it for the pay and nothing else.
"Certainly." Bane's tone was innocent, but Tobias knew he couldn't trust that. "I thought you might want to know more details about your friend's condition. I was hesitant to reveal it while sitting next to Isabelle. Do you want to hear?"
Tobias scuffed up the toe of his shoes and crossed his arms. He didn't want to know what Bane had been doing to Alexander. He didn't want to know how the boy had been scarred. Was it really impossible that Bane could have hurt him? Nobody else seemed to believe it. Even if the Inquisitor was nearby, there were countless ways he could have been emotionally traumatized by the encounter.
"Every detail, Bane," he finally decided in a low voice. "I want to know how much you scarred him."
The warlock nodded and ran his hand through his glittery spikes. "I hope I didn't, but if there is lasting damage, I assure you I will blame myself wholeheartedly." He shut his unnatural eyes and sighed. "He's been abused."
"We know that." Tobias didn't understand why it had to be restated every time Alexander was mentioned.
"No, Carstairs, I don't mean how you think." Bane put his hands over his face and, for a split second, Tobias wondered if this meeting had been more damaging to the warlock than the patient. "He wasn't only physically abused. He's been… Well, all signs… I'm fairly positive he's been sexually abused."
Tobias felt frozen. He forced his mind to think, forced his jaw to move. He barely succeeded. "What?"
"You heard me," Bane said and shook his head. "He has scratches, like from nails, all over his body… he's bruised all over, and there are handprints in several places, most noticeably his wrists… Love bites, marks, in various spots… To sum it up, he looks like he's had a really rough night of sex. Or a rough couple of nights. Weeks. Months. I don't know. He wouldn't tell me anything outright, but he certainly implied that he's had sex and that he didn't want it."
"What do you mean, he implied it?" Tobias questioned warily.
Bane still hadn't opened his eyes or uncovered his face. "I asked if he ever had sex. He didn't seem to know what that was. So I asked if someone had ever touched him inappropriately. Again, he wasn't sure what inappropriately was. But he did admit that he had been felt 'all over' by someone. I can't see this kid wanting it, he's too… Too…"
"Naïve?" Tobias suggested.
Bane shrugged. "It'll do." He pressed his palms in front of his face as if he was praying, but Tobias knew he wasn't. He was a Downworlder. What reason would he have to pray? "It's going to be tough for him and I thought you might want to know. He'll… Try not to take advantage of him."
"Me? What about you?" Tobias scoffed. "I'd never do anything to hurt Alexander!"
"Nor would I," Bane said tersely. "Intentionally. He's far too prone to following orders, even if he doesn't want to. I asked him to remove his shirt for the examination –"
"You what?"
"And it didn't take long for him to basically throw it off, even though he was clearly uncomfortable. He'll do what you say because he thinks he has to."
"You made him undress?"
Bane's eyes flew open now, bright green and incredulous. "How else was I supposed to see his injuries? I thought you were one of the intelligent Nephilim, Carstairs! It wasn't because I wanted to count his ribs, which, by the way, seem like they've been broken and fixed a few times. Not well, I might add."
Tobias gritted his teeth and tried not to let his hands curl into fists. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Bane gazed behind him at the door that led to the prisons. "Perhaps you can tell him that he doesn't have to follow all orders. Or that to not do anything he's uncomfortable with unless it's absolutely necessary. Whatever. I don't care." He rubbed his temples in circles. "I need a drink."
Tobias flinched when the warlock snapped and a spark of blue erupted from his fingertips. Nothing happened.
Bane rolled his eyes. "Of course. My magic won't give me alcohol in the Gard. Fantastic. What's the use of being High Warlock if I can't even get a goddamn drink when I need one?" He threw his hands in the air in despair. "I'm going back in the meeting room to find out what's going on. Feel free to join me or visit the boy. He might be a little shaken. I didn't mean to scare him but," the warlock shrugged. "Magic can be a bit jarring."
"A bit?" Tobias crossed his arms and frowned.
Bane smiled tightly. "It'll be a pleasure working with you."
Tobias moved away to let him re-enter the meeting room, but didn't follow.
He headed straight towards the prison.
The pleasure certainly wasn't returned.
End Note: Well, I'm off to hide Tobias in my reviewer proof hide out. I didn't even know he was prejudiced until I introduced him to Magnus. -shakes head- And they were meant to be good friends. Way to screw up my plot, Toby. Way to be. Oh well. In my mind, as long as he cares about Alexander, Tobias will deal with it and do what's best for him.
Other notes - I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I intend to begin it tonight and then work on the outline a little more. I'm still only up to Chapter 6, though I know some points I need to hit before the (already planned) final chapters. I haven't had a chance to write anything out yet, due to work, and that will likely continue with the semester. But I will try as hard as I can to be good about updating!
I also updated the summary. It's a little bit changed, due to the fact that I didn't like it and I'm not a fan of displaying pairings in the summary for multichaptered fics. Sure, you guys already have seen it, but I never said things couldn't change. And now that Malec isn't in the summary, I have some leg room to play with them before (probably) ending them up there. But nothing is for sure, dear readers, please know that! So, my wuestions for you reviewers: What do you think of the new summary? What do you think of Magnus POV? (I personally loved writing the whole thing about beauty, it was a nice perspective of things). What did you think of Tobias POV? (It took me a while to get and I'm not loving it yet). Overall, what did you think? I can't wait to hear from you guys!
Thanks for reading! Feedback is my life source!