I apologize profusely for the delay, my life has just been really, really insane lately.
And no one saw the things I was talking about (though many got the meaning). So, I'll just tell you. Azrael. Raziel. They're almost anagrams. Random, I know, but that was the first thing my mind saw.
REVIEW. Please?
Disclaimer: I'm not Cassandra Clare. If I were, would I be spending my time writing fanfic?
"Death's stamp gives value to the coin of life, making it possible to buy with life what is truly precious." - Rabindranath Tagore
Alec wasn't dead. Not yet. He would be soon, but for those last few moments, Magnus would pretend. He would pretend that the love of his life was simply asleep, and would wake up soon, asking what was for breakfast. He would pretend that he would feel the so familiar touch of his lips one more time. He would pretend that he would see the deep clear blue of his eyes again.
But it was a lie. And he knew it.
Magnus didn't want to cry. He hated it, the feeling of the tears on his cheeks, the stinging that lanced through his eyes, and the knowledge that he was unable to stop. Because he knew if he started crying now, he would never stop. Not ever.
He was sitting in the middle of the cave, squeezing Alec's frail hand, forcing back tears, when he heard the crackling. His head snapped up in time to see a section of the wall fade away, letting pure white light filter into the room, making Alec's skin look pale as paper and throwing his wound into terrible brilliance. A pair of figures stood in the improvised doorway, their shadows stretching menacingly over the ground, dancing and flickering as the light pulsed.
Magnus' lip curled back over his teeth, like a dog getting ready to growl. "Bastard," he hissed, recognizing the green-haired knight standing to the left, his face ordered and impassive and beautiful. Magnus hated him more than he thought he could ever hate anyone.
"On your feet," he said, his voice high and musical as the chime of a silver spoon striking porcelain. And yet somehow terrifying and authoritative. "Warlock."
"You son of a bitch," Magnus whispered, only slightly aware that he was crushing Alec's hand, the tips of his painted nails digging into his skin. Alec was beyond caring. "You did this to him!" Suddenly he was on his feet and screaming, Alec's arm flopping to the ground, scarred with five pink crescent moons, like tiny Marks. "You killed him!"
The other figure took a silent step forward, beckoning with one pale hand. The leaf-haired knight. "Come with me," he said, his voice like branches rustling with the wind, crackling and rough. But Magnus had eyes only for Alec's murderer.
"I'll kill you," he whispered, grinding his teeth together. "I'll kill you."
The knight's face twitched, but not with anything resembling fear. It almost looked like he was…annoyed. "The Queen wishes to see you," he said, with just the slightest hint of inflection to color his dead voice. He nodded towards Alec's prone form. "Both of you."
"I don't give a shit," Magnus said, refusing to look Alec's way. Because if he saw the Shadowhunter's pallid face, devoid of any of the animations he had come to recognize so easily, he wouldn't be able to hold back the tears. And he wouldn't show the knights weakness. "The Queen can go screw herself."
The green-haired knight sighed, and gestured to his companion. The leaf-haired one bobbed his head so slightly it almost didn't count as a nod, and then—in a move so blindingly fast that Magnus found himself stumbling backwards from shock—bent down, lifting Alec and tossing him over his shoulder no more carefully than had the boy been a sack of flour.
"No!" Magnus yelled, stepping forward, only to find his path blocked by the green-haired knight. A strong hand wrapped around his upper arm, slowly tightening it's grip like a blood pressure cuff. Magnus tried to pull away but the hand held him still, making his nerves scream out in protest. "Go away! Get off of him!"
But the knights ignored him, ferrying the pair of them through the door and into a room that was becoming far too familiar.
The knight threw Magnus to the ground, where he fell to his hands and knees, scraping the skin of his palms. Above him, the Queen smiled lazily at the knight.
"Thank you Uaithne," she said, in her painfully lovely voice that had mesmerized stronger men than Magnus. Only the demonic blood flowing through his veins kept him safe from her power.
Alec slumped to the ground beside Magnus, his eyes closed, his limbs twisted in a way that had to be painful. If he could still feel pain at all. The Queen nodded her acknowledgement of the leaf-haired knight. "And you too, Eoghan."
The Queen rose from her couch in a single fluid movement, her pale blue and silver gown giving her the appearance of a burbling stream, set off only by her lurid scarlet hair that bounced languidly down her back. Her courtiers were scattered around the room, unmoving, like horrible and beautiful statues, only their eyes twitching as they followed their Queen's actions.
"Bane," she said, looking down at him, clearly enjoying his subservient pose. He hated it, but some unseen force held him still. "How lovely to see you."
"Bitch," he hissed, just loud enough to be sure everyone in the room could hear. Normally he wouldn't dare be so bold, but today all bets were off. He no longer cared what happened to him. He might even welcome a knife to the head. It would stop the aching of his heart at least.
To his ever-growing surprise, she simply smiled, cocking her head to the side. "Not feeling very complimentary today," she said, raising her eyebrows in a manner less questioning and more curious. "Are you?"
"Go fuck off," he said, bunching his hands into fists. How good it would feel to swing, to feel his fingers connect with her flawless skin, to feel her jaw crunch, to wipe that awful smirk from her face. It physically hurt to stop himself.
Uaithne stepped forward, bringing his blade to half-draw, but the Queen held up a long-fingered hand, waving him back. He fell back into place with a look close to disappointment. Magnus was sure the knight's expression was mirrored on his own features.
The Queen turned back to Magnus, a dangerous gleam in her eye. "That's not the way you talk to the only person who could save him,"—she gestured to Alec with a look of contempt that she didn't try at all to hide—"is it?"
Save him? The words echoed in Magnus' head, his ears ringing with the sound of them. He felt his eyes widen and his lips part, all the air leaving his lungs in one slow breath. Save him? Was it possible? Could it be possible? Could she save him?
Magnus ducked his head with forced respect, pressing his lips together to hold back the things he wished to say, the names he wished to call her. Instead, he whispered, "My Queen." From her wicked smile, Magnus was sure every single creature had heard.
"That's better," she cooed, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. It rippled with sparkling candlelight, glowing vivid orange-red. "Now, what will you offer me?" The Queen bent down, like an adult talking to a child. She reached out to him, her fingers almost unbearably icy against his skin.
"Shall I capture your smile?" She pulled the corner of his mouth, forcing his lips into a strained half-grin. He shuddered at her touch.
"Bottle your tears?" She stroked the creases of his lids, tracing the shape of his eyes, brushing away the budding tears. Her fingertips shimmered wetly.
"Make you beg?" She seized his chin, forcing him to look up and meet her gaze. Her eyes were a perfect clear blue, the color of her dress. The same color as Alec's. It was amazing how similar their eyes could look, but so different at the same time. Hers were filled with a mix of malevolence and cunning. Alec could never look so evil.
"Anything," Magnus whispered, feeling his throat throb against her freezing hand. It made his head ache. "I'll give you anything. If you'll just save him. Please. Anything."
"You would offer me anything," she said, irrepressible mischief in her voice. "To take what I will?"
"Yes," Magnus said, knowing that he was digging himself deeper into a hole that he would never be able to climb back out of, but not caring enough to stop. "Anything."
The spread of her grin was drawn-out, and so cruel Magnus felt his heart skip a beat. "Even your last hope?"
"Take hope from the heart of man and you make him a beast of prey." -Ouida
I'm such a quote whore.
And just a reminder (because some people seemed confused), Magnus is still a warlock. He has yet to drink the potion Nerissa gave him. This will become a big freaking deal.
The knights finally have names! It's amazing how tiring it is to endlessly write "the green-haired knight" and "the leaf-haired knight". If anyone is confused which is which, Uaithne=Green knight and Eoghan=Leaf knight.