Alec was certain he was going to die.

The pain. The fire. The searing in his veins, his throat, his skin.

It was the sort of pain that you didn't live through. Almost the sort of pain you didn't even feel, you were just somehow aware of it. Because if you really felt it, you would lose your mind.

That was the kind of pain, that Alec was going to die to.

Magnus had been up all night.

He looked up and he saw the spears of so-pale morning light falling through the high windows, and that was the thought that occurred to him.

He sighed.

They hadn't stopped the ceremony. After Alec and Jace tumbled to the ground.

There had been a few alarmed shouts from the soldiers, standing and watching in pure fear at the obvious pain their comrades were now in because of the cup. Then Magnus had appeared at the front of the room in a flourish of blue fire.

"This is what's supposed to happen," he said, calmly. Keeping his emotions off his face. He looked down at where Alec was writhing, his jaw slack with pain. "This is the transformation."

An uneasy murmur flooded the room.

Magnus' eyes snapped up in a sudden flash of anger.

"This is what you asked for," He said, waving a hand over the two boys lying on the marble ground. "This is what you wanted."

For a moment a wave of protest started to rise from the ranks of men, and a rising fury burned in Magnus' chest.

So this was the bravery of the royal army. Only Alec, who had gone in with his eyes open, was brave enough to accept it. And he was at the edge of dying on the palace floor.

"Hey, what's she doing?"

Magnus' head snapped up and he whirled around, only to see Isabelle Lightwood standing behind the Mortal Cup in her blood red dress, glaring at the crowd.

"What cowards," she said cooly, and then she snatched up the goblet and brought it to her lips.

Magnus' eyes widened in utter shock.

That girl is made of fire.

There was a scream. Magnus watched as Maryse Lightwood threw herself out of her throne and caught her daughter as she slid unconscious into her mother's arms.

There was loud astonishment from the crowd of men.

Suddenly two other girls, one with straight black hair and the other white-blonde and with the pointed ears of fairies, stood before the crowd.

"We want to enlist too," the fair-haired one said.

Maryse looked up at them in shock.

"Helen–," She stared to say.

"Go ahead."

The girls turned to look at Magnus as he spoke, his expression smooth and thoughtful.

They looked confused.

Magnus raised his eyebrows. "Well the cup is mine. Or at least… it is as long as Alec is–," Magnus swallowed and went on. "And I say, go right ahead."

Maryse looked like someone had slapped her. "Magnus–,"

But what ever she was going to say it broke off as Helen lunged for the cup.

She turned to the girl beside her, and smiled. "Aline, we'll do it together?"

Aline returned it with a nod. "Together."

They lifted the cup.

(A/N: I know this isn't accurate to the books, I just liked the idea of this.)

Magnus watched them with an almost…. envy. Especially when he noticed their hands were clasped together between them.

Their devotion was obvious on their faces, and for some reason… it felt to him like a slap in the face.

Perhaps because image ever so slightly mirrored the moment when Alec and Jace…

Magnus shook his head.

After that, a flood of soldiers began to move toward the stage.

But Magnus couldn't help but notice…. a smattering of long hair and glittering skirts mixed in among the uniforms.

Now, Magnus was sitting in between rows upon rows of infirmary beds, watching men and women writhe beneath the weight of the cup's power.

Only a few had died so far, and Magnus was both relieved and surprised. What a strong bunch these humans must be.

Magnus sat beside Alec– though Isabelle was placed on his other side– watching the glowing-gold burn from inside the young man's veins.

Magnus lifted his hand as if to touch him, but hesitated. He was about to lower it again when suddenly Alec's hand snapped up and gripped him around the wrist.

Magnus jumped in surprise and his eyes went to Alec's face. He found Alec's eyes were opened at staring at him, half blindly.

Even the veins in his eyes glowed gold.

"M–m—Magnus? is that you?"

Magnus covered Alec's hand with his own. "Yes."

Alec took in a raspy, shuttering breath. "I thought— *cough, cough*—dead by now."

Magnus' lips parted in surprise, and then he ground his teeth.

"If you thought it was going to kill you then why the hell did you drink from the damn cup in the first place?" he hissed.

Alec made a choking sound that might have been a laugh. "I– wanted– be the hero– once."

Magnus blinked, then raised his other hand to his forehead and sighed.

"What a hopeless boy you turned out to be." he breathed, "What on earth was I thinking?"

Alec rasped a breath and sort of choked. "Don't know."

Magnus gave a tired but fond smile. "It's morning now, you know."

"I make it?" Alec coughed, his eyes fluttering open and closed with exhaustion.

"I think you might have." Magnus replied squeezing Alec's hand. "Too bad I'm going to have to kill you tomorrow."

Alec was definitely trying to laugh this time. "Maybe— strong enough– challenge now."

"A challenge for me?" Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Not likely."

Alec's chapped lips split when he smiled. "Glad– you– here– Magnus." Alec broke into a fit of coughing.

Magnus gripped his hand more tightly until the fit subsided.

"Me too," he whispered, watching as Alec's eyes slipped closed and he laid still against the bed. "Me too."

How long had it been, Magnus wondered, since he had cared about these sorts of parties.

"I thought you said this was the prince's birthday." He sighed, as Ragnor stood by his side sipping his drink.

Ragnor glanced at him. "It is."

"Huh," Magus slid gracefully into a chair. "Then why is it so boring?"

Ragnor laughed. "I heard the prince doesn't like a lot of attention."

"That blonde show-boat doesn't like attention?" Magnus looked at Ragnor questioningly.

"What?" Ragnor raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? That's not the prince. That's the king's adopted son. He's the head of the royal guard."

"Oh," Magnus didn't really care. "So who is the prince then?"

"Alexander." Ragnor explained. "He's looks like his mother. Black hair, blue eyes, ringing a bell?"

"Not particularly." Magnus shrugged.

Ragnor rolled his eyes. "Well it's not like he goes out much. But you should at least know who he is." Ragnor seemed to see something interesting. "There's someone I have to talk to. Try not to leave while I'm gone."

"No promises." Magnus swirled his drink around in his glass. "Don't be long."

Ragnor waved over his shoulder.

Magnus was hopelessly bored. And that wasn't normal. He used to love parties, but lately… he just felt…

He shook his head and tried not to think about it.

No. He was not growing colder. He still loved life. He was still just as alive. He would not give up on that.

And yet…

Magnus stood up.

He needed some air.

He stepped out into the castle hallways. They were dim, with only the guards posted at the ballroom's entrance to watch him, and when he walked further down the long, flickering corridor, the sound of the party's music started to fade into the distance.

He was about to round a corner– into a surely dark and quiet area of the castle– when he suddenly heard mumbling from the other side.

Magnus stopped.

"Come on," said a voice. "Come on. I said it was going to be tonight, I said…"

Magnus blinked.

No one responded to the determinedly male voice. He seemed to be talking frustratedly to himself.

"It's time," there was an almost misery in his tone now. "If I don't do it now, then…"

Magnus felt a wave of sympathy. He didn't know what this person was fussing over, but he could relate to the terrible desperation in their voice.

With a deep breath, Magnus pretended to stumble drunkenly around the corner.

The figure– who was standing with his head in his hands– jumped in surprise, and Magnus turned to look at them. Convincingly sloshed-looking.

"Oh!" He slurred, glancing around confusedly. "I seem to have gotten lost."

The figure quickly straightened up. He was wearing a finely made, but miserably plain suit. His hair was black and sticking up where he'd been nervously running his hand through it, and his eyes were a startling blue.

Magnus felt a rush hormones. This boy was beautiful. His sharp cheekbones and the curve of shoulders alone…..

Magnus smiled. Suddenly glad he had stumbled onto him.

"I'm sorry," He said genuinely, "Did I startle you?"

The boy blinked.

"Oh, I…" The boy gave Magnus a curiously invested look. "Not at all. I was just…"

His eyes darkened for a moment, but then he shook it off and gave Magnus a pleasant– but clearly nervous– smile.

"Are you all right," He asked, "Do you need to sit down?"

Magnus tried to keep the amusement off his face. Had he really been acting that drunk?

"I'm all right," He assured him. But then he noticed the bright flush on the boy's cheeks. "You don't look totally sober yourself."

The color darkened and the boy laughed, "No, I guess not. I don't usually drink much… but tonight it seemed appropriate."

Magnus tilted his head, "Why is that?"

The boy blinked, "Well…" He seemed uncomfortable. "Since it's my eighteenth birthday…"

Magnus eyes widened. No….

"Are you…" Magnus hesitated, "You're Alexander?"

Magnus slowly blinked his eyes open.

Morning had already gone. The room was cast in the light of a warm amber sunset.

Magnus yawned and looked around.

Alec was still lying in his bed, but the glowing underneath his skin had stopped.

For a moment, a flash of panic burst inside Magnus' chest, but then he noticed the steady pulse of blood in the boy's neck.

"He's alive," Magnus breathed, and a swell of relief washed over him.

Alec Lightwood was alive.

Which meant…. Alec Lightwood was a Shadowhunter.

Alec was dreaming.

"You're Alexander?"

Alec heard a voice. It sounded so clear… so familiar to him. But he didn't remember who's it was.

What were we talking about? Alec wondered. Why can't I remember?

There was something, just at the edge of his memory. Something nagging at him. He got the feeling if he could just remember… all the pieces would suddenly fall into place for him. But somehow it was just outside his reach.

What had he forgotten?

"Can I ask you something?…. What are you most afraid of?"

Most afraid? Why?

"You know… I like you, Alec."

Hmmm… Maybe it was just a dream after all. Maybe he hadn't forgotten. Because after all…

Alec would never forget, if someone had actually liked him.