A/N—This is set in a 'verse where Valentine decided from the beginning that experimenting with demon blood on his own child would be too risky, and experimented on the Lightwood's first son, Alec, instead.
: : : Chapter Three—Alec as Jonathan & canon!Magnus : : :
The smile on his face is as ghastly as though it had been gashed open with a knife. He's even sporting blood to match the thought, cherry bright against the white of his teeth and the pale skin of his face. It's an image Magnus won't soon forget: a young man with eyes like an oil slick, grinning madness while modeling the blood of his own sister.
"Get Izzy out of here," Magnus commands the others, and is a little bit relieved and a little bit hurt when no one argues to stay behind so he won't be alone. He can't exactly afford to fight with anyone other than Alec right now, but a little concern would have been nice.
"Playing valiant protector again, Bane?" Alec asks, looking at him from under a veil of dark hair that's definitely seen better days. His stance is relaxed, his tone almost idle. If not for the blood staining his hands and the blade held casually at his side, the scene would probably resemble two old friends who ran into each other and started to chat, if old friends ever ran into each other in the middle of a city-wide assault on all living creatures. "I don't know why you bother."
"You?" Magnus drawls, arms crossed. "Unable to comprehend the basics of friendship and the lengths people are willing to go because of it? Color me surprised."
"Is that what you call them?" Alec glances behind Magnus, presumably at the retreating backs of Jace, Simon, Clary, Jonathan, and Izzy. Instantly, Magnus calls up a barrier to defend them, but Alec only grins. The gesture is every bit as sarcastic as Magnus's quips. "I thought friends stuck together. That's what all the movies tell me, anyway."
"You heard me. I told them to leave," Magnus says, calling up magic to his hands. The familiar shine of blue light dancing around his fingertips is reassuring. "I'm not dumb enough for you to try to convince me otherwise, you know."
"No, you're definitely not dumb," Alec agrees, still as cool as a cucumber and as seemingly uninterested in fighting as one. "You're just desperate enough to convince yourself that they're more than just a couple of Shadowhunters using you."
He runs a finger down the edge of his Seraph blade, slow and careless. Once, before everything went to Hell and Alec had revealed himself a traitor, Alec had done similar things with Magnus's spine, fingertips cool against his back. Following behind his caresses, Alec's lips had pressed gratitude and praise into his skin, thank yous breathed out like bedroom hymns. It had been a comfort, then. Even now, facing Alec down with shimmering magic and luminescent adamas between them, the gesture sends a shiver of yearning through him, for times when every moment spent with Alec could be considered a happy memory.
The look Alec sends him is distinctly knowing. "Jace is a pretty face, but he's never been very grateful," Alec continues. "I would know, being his parabatai and all. It was a thankless job."
"I don't quite think you understand," Magnus growls, forcefully ripping his thoughts from the past. There's no use lingering on things that never actually were. Instead, he funnels his hurt into his actions, and with a swish of his hand Alec is propelled through the air. He sails backward, weightless, until he connects with the brick wall behind him. "I don't heed the warnings of psychopaths trying to bring about the world's destruction, darling. Even if I did have reason to think none of them cared for me, why in the world would I believe anything you have to say to me?"
Even held fast to the wall behind him, Alec remains detached and aloof. He lets himself hang, and tilts his head to the side with another calm smile. It's a shame that he's so inclined to horrific misdeeds; the way his hair flops to the side as he does it could be called charming on someone less deranged. "You'll listen because you've already been having these thoughts. I was the only one from that ragtag little group that ever thanked you, that ever cared just how much you were putting yourself on the line for fights that weren't even yours. You say you have no reason to think none of them care about you, but that's not true, is it? Doesn't it concern you that the only time they ever seem to come to you is when they need something?"
"I don't know if you've noticed, but all of us have been in almost constant mortal peril for months now," Magnus points out, palm held out before him as he focuses on keeping Alec immobile and in place. His hand is as steady as the measured beating of his heart. "We're all I need now, constantly. There hasn't exactly been time for anyone to stop over for a chat between friends."
"I stopped over," Alec points out. "I stopped over all the time, before Alicante. We talked…amongst other things, obviously. "
For the first time, Magnus feels Alec's words draw blood. "That wasn't you. That was some show you put on, a human ruse to make me think you weren't a threat. A way to weasel into my bed, my trust and my-" My heart. He falters before he can say it, swallowing the words down like a bitter pill. Even thinking them feels condemning.
Alec – Alec, who had been the first Shadowhunter in decades to extend him any sort of sympathy; Alec, the sweet young man who never acted as though he was entitled to Magnus's abilities even when they were dating; Alec, who used to leave his shirts and sweaters lying around so often Magnus finally broke down and cleared out a space for him in his closet; Alec, who was the most lovely lie Magnus had ever fallen for, literally and metaphorically— watches him, his eyes like dark holes, twin models of the void behind the stars. Analyzing. Taking everything in. Magnus almost thinks he could see a bit of his Alec in the man before him now, studiously considering every angle before deciding what step to take next. His Alec had always been so careful, so cautious. If only they'd all known why.
"Of course it was me, Magnus," Alec says finally. His voice is soft, and painfully familiar. Calculated to perfection. "I'm the same person now that I was then. I haven't changed."
Magnus snorts. "Yeah, tell that to all the people you slaughtered when you took down the wards in Alicante that night, or your sister—"
"Those people were corrupt bigots," Alec interrupts. He's glaring now, and his angular cheekbones are flushed with anger. It figures that the first time Alec reacts tonight, really reacts, and it's with hatred. "They would have sooner joined Valentine and let your kind die than fight beside you without a secure claim on your power. I'm doing this to help our kind find our true potential, stripping away the corruption and weakness."
"Stop, Alec," Magnus says. Alec sucks in a harsh breath, and Magnus quickly unclenches the fists he'd been subconsciously closing in pure reaction. "You would have seen my kind killed too, Alec. You would have slaughtered an entire people, all for this sick dream of yours. And you still would. You've hurt your family, the people who've loved you your whole life."
"I hurt Izzy because there wasn't another option, Magnus, I swear," Alec says. His eyes are wide, pleading. It's so much worse than the vitriol and hate. "Once she sees reason, once all of you see reason, everything will go back to normal."
"No, it won't."
"It will, Magnus," Alec says, pulling futilely against the force Magnus is still restraining him with. His neck and wrists are strained with the strength he's applying, but Magnus just presses him down harder. "It will, I promise it will. This is for everyone's best interest. The world will be better, for all of us."
"Oh, Alec," Magnus says, and pity makes his voice heavy, dragging it down like an anchor. He takes careful steps toward him, to this man who is all conviction and poison and lies, the broken product of a desperate madman. A person that, in part, may actually be capable of love. If only it mattered. "The sad thing is, I really think you mean that—"
"I do, I swear-"
"And you can't even tell how terrible that is," Magnus finishes sadly. He rests his hand against Alec's cheek. His touch is gentle, because even if it was all a lie, he used to love this man. "I'm going to put you to sleep now, Alec, and then I'm going to deliver you to the Clave."
"Magnus, please—"
"They will put you on trial for your crimes, and if there is any justice in the world, you will be put to death for everything you've wrought," Magnus continues, swallowing thickly. He looks anywhere but at those dark, fathomless eyes, does anything but linger on how he used to find them sexy and enigmatic.
"You don't have to do this," Alec begs. His voice cracks, and Magnus reminds himself that Alec has spent his whole life lying, not only to him, but to everyone he pretended to be close to. His family, and his friends.
"Between Luke and myself, as well as the voices of your…family, we should be able to push for a painless execution," Magnus presses on. He's shaking minutely, a small tremble in his fingers as he brushes Alec's bangs from his face. He considers hiding it, but figures there's little point. Dead men can't tell secrets. "You won't suffer needlessly."
"But I've been doing this all for you, you have to understand, please don't do this to me!"
"I hope that wherever death takes you, it is somewhere that you can finally find peace, Alec."
"Magnus!" With a final, desperate wrench of his hand, Alec manages to take advantage of Magnus's weakness. He grabs onto his shoulder and clings to the fabric of his coat. "Please, just… Kiss me."
From the moment Alec says it, Magnus knows he shouldn't. It is stupid and dangerous to give Alec any part of himself, to expose himself to the man's toxicity again. But the truth is he doesn't have to give anything to Alec, now. Not when he's still got the bits and pieces that Magnus already left behind.
Sentiment is something Magnus has always told himself he grew out of. As he leans in to kiss Alec, thinking back on the man who blushed and stuttered when he'd sent him a wink, whose knees had buckled during their first kiss, he admits to himself that, perhaps, his friends are right. Maybe he is a soft touch. Maybe romance has always been his weakness.
Magnus is still kissing Alec when he feels the sharp sting of something thin and small being driven into his arm. There's pressure, followed by a pinch.
Magnus rips the needle out of him, but whatever was inside of it is already spreading fast. He can feel it creeping through his limbs like icy waters, his blood thickening and slowing within his veins. His magic, always present beneath his skin, is being extinguished bit by bit, snuffed out like a line of candles, one at a time without pause.
"What did you do to me?" Magnus demands. He backs away on unsteady limbs, calling crackling flames of blue fire to his hands as he does. The fire gutters like a tongue of candle flame subject to a child's breathe, at risk of going out at any moment. Instead of the testament of strength he'd been hoping for, all it does is point out how quickly he's weakening.
"Nothing serious," Alec says, getting gracefully to his feet. Any trace of emotion he'd had on display is wiped clean, as blank as a chalk board before class begins. He swipes the dirt off of the knees of his pants and returns his Seraph blade to its sheath, replacing it for a small but wicked looking dagger. "I've neutralized your magic. It's not permanent, if you're worried about that. I just can't have it getting in the way right now."
"Getting in the way of what?"
"Taking you, of course," Alec says matter-of-factly, as if it should be obvious. Maybe it should have been. "Your Mother needs your help."
"Lilith is not my mother," Magnus hisses. With his strength ebbing fast, he puts everything he has into one last burst of pure kinetic force, hoping to take Alec out before it's too late.
Quick as a blur, Alec dodges the blow entirely. With his preternatural speed he's on Magnus in moments, pressing him into the ground with the steel dagger lying gently against his throat, as soft as a kiss. "She may as well be, Magnus. She loves you like she does all warlocks, and she wants to help you."
"She wants to use me," Magnus says, and he has to choke back the sudden urge to laugh. Of course she wants to use him. Who doesn't? He feels like a top, empty and spiraling in tight circles without a fixed point to keep him steady. With every circle he makes, he lists closer and closer to the ground. "Just like you did when you said you loved me."
"One day, you'll believe me when I tell you I mean it," Alec says with a surety that terrifies Magnus to his core. No force on Earth has ever been able to force a person into real, true emotion, but if anyone can find a way, it would be the man only too happy to burn the world to cinders for the love and affection of his family.
"If you really loved me," Magnus begins carefully, closing his eyes so he doesn't have to watch the clouds above Alec's head swirl and shudder in the sky, "you would let me go."
"Mmm, who was it that said that, anyway?" Alec muses softly, dragging the tip of his dagger across Magnus's throat and then down, teasing along his collarbone until Magnus's breath quickens. "You're so skittish," he laughs. The kiss to Magnus's cheek is as terrible as it is fond.
"Kahlil Gibran," Magnus says. He is faint, and tiptoeing the line of consciousness. Part of him thinks he should be afraid right now, but mostly he's feeling hollowed out and empty. He wonders if Clary and her little friends will try to find him, or if they'll even care. What's the life of one Downworlder to that of an entire race descended from the Heavens?
"Who?" Alec asks absent-mindedly. He traces Magnus's throat with his blade one last time before drawing it away, then rubs delicately at the path he'd made on Magnus's skin, as though he thinks Magnus will find it soothing.
Magnus does not bother explaining himself. There is no wound on his body, but he feels bled out, not just of blood but of emotion and concern and strength. Eventually, he will plan, and he will find a way out, because escape and survival are all Magnus has ever done consistently throughout his life. Escape, survival, and magic.
But for now, he lets himself go. Alec picks him up and cradles him within his arms, resting Magnus's head in the crook of his neck. His grip is gentle as the breeze and as firm as steel girders. "Mother needs you, Magnus," he says softly. After a moment of hesitation he adds, "I need you."
When Magnus loses consciousness and falls into dreaming, he sees himself in the darkness, kissing Alec with his heart in his hand, setting it ablaze. He hopes that it is prophetic, and dreads that it is, too.
Next up, I promise some actual romance in the form of Clary!Alec and Simon!Magnus. If you have anything you'd like to see, remember to let me know.