08: Nature

Alec spends the first couple of days after the battlelazing about the house while Magnus leafs through every dusty tome in his extensive, privet library. Alec's hope withers with each discarded book; Magnus just grows gradually more frustrated and his furniture suffers. The books end up piled on the floor like a trail from one room to another, some thrown under the couch, about half forgotten on the kitchen counter under coffee mugs and empty plates. "I'll find something," Magnus keeps telling him, eyes slowly growing tired. Alec just hopes Magnus won't pass out before he can.

No warlock or witch connects them for four long, dreadful days- during which Alec wakes and falls asleep on most available surfaces, following Magnus' crusade around the flat, lulled by the sound of paper and hushed breathing. He never asks, "Did you find something?" or "Do you think you will?"; he asks, "What would you like for dinner?" and offers coffee in regular intervals.

The first call arrives well into the night between the fourth and fifth day. Alec's already deep asleep on Magnus' lap. Magnus wakes him up with the phone still glued to his ear. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he murmurs, shaking Alec gently but getting up as soon as he cracks his eyes open. Alec's head drops to the sofa cushions with a soft oof.

With a flick of his wrist, Magnus has his coat on and Alec's leather jacket in his arms. "We're going to visit Sarah Palin's back yard." Into the phone he says, "We'll be there in five."

He hauls Alec up before he's even managed to croak, "Who's Sarah Palin? She a witch?"

Magnus laughs and hands him the jacket. "Put this on, it's cold where the evil witchdocor lives." He turns around and disappears into the bedroom. Alec puts on the jacket. Magnus comes back with chalk and a bowl of something that smells like spiced oil. He spills the oil right before the front door, the line somewhat uneven and rather wide. He draws a series of symbols on the door, curled around each other like starved snakes. With a snap of his fingers, the oil is set ablaze. The fire shines green and blue but throws no heat. It dies a moment later. Magnus steps back and takes Alec's hand in his, tugging him along and through the door into another room entirely.

Panels of wood decorate the walls, a simple, trodden red rug covering half the floor. The furniture is scarce and old, dark wood and bright cloth. All of the windows are wide open, some of the snow falling outside filtering in with the wind.

"We're not in the stairwell," Alec observes dryly, suddenly glad for the jacket.

"He's a sharp one," a voice says to his right. When he turns to look he sees a girl, maybe a few years older than he, a colorful shawl around her shoulders. She's even shorter than Clary, her hair black and short, skin dark. Her face is an interesting patchwork of sharp lines and wide planes, in many ways more beautiful than any of the girls Alec has ever seen. The scales on her palms and the sharp talons at the tips of her fingers almost escape his notice. The almost tangible aura of magic, however, is prominent enough even for him to notice.

"You never had the patience to deal with the slower ones, is that a new fetish?" the girl eyes Alec like a scientist checking a favorite rat's reaction to a new concoction of chemicals- expectant but not terribly invested.

Alec scowls at her. Magnus gives her a mild glare, drawling, "Stop it, Chumana." Magnus' tone holds ostensible dislike. The feeling appears to be mutual on all three fronts.

The girl's lips twist. "He is your Shadowhunter?"

"He's my boyfriend, yes."

Alec's heart skips a beat.

"And you say that without being prompted," she turns her eyes to Alec. "You should be honored, Nephilim. It's a first."

Magnus' hold on Alec's hand tightens. "Let's get down to business." His tone bears no argument. Chumana smiles. Her face remains as cold as if she hasn't moved a muscle. She turns her back on them without a word, heading for a door down the hall. They follow her into a room full of mirrors. There are symbols on the floor, the same ones Magnus used on the door. There's a large circle in the middle of the room, a pentagram in its center, inscribed with the symbols and made entirely of salt. "Don't just stand there, Nephilim-" Chumana snaps her fingers, her magic like red smoke curling about her wrist and claws, so different from Magnus' and much darker. A small ceramic bowl appears in her hands. "-Off to the center you go. I'm going to extract the fey residue from you."

Alec lets go of Magnus reluctantly and heads to the pentagram. Chumana follows. She grabs his arm and makes a swift cut near his veins with the talon of her index finger, drawing blood into the bowl. Alec lets out a hiss. "The hell?"

"You want your marks back, don't you?" she doesn't look at him at all. She lets him move away only when the bowl is half full. Alec jerks his arm away. Magnus snaps his fingers. The torn flesh heals.

"You're far too sentimental," Chumana throws over her shoulder at Magnus as she heads to the nearest wall. "No wonder you need me."

"It's called concern," Magnus snaps.

She rolls her eyes. Alec feels a bit queasy when she dips her fingers in his blood to draw the symbols around the room in red. When she's done with the mirrors, she paints her face- bold strokes across her cheeks, a spot of color on each eyelid, a line on her lips. She moves closer but doesn't enter the pentagram.

Chumana's voice is low when she starts chanting spells. The air cools quickly. The blood marks on the mirrors glow. The lines on the floor erupt in flames as high as Alec's knees. The hiss of the fire swallows the words of the spell, but Alec can feel the magic building around him, smothering and oppressive. It sinks into his skin, gathering in his bones and searing the nerves. Alec falls to the floor and doesn't feel it when his knees connect or when his head hits.

He writhes- control lost- his whole body like a phantom limb seizing. The spell rips him apart from within, pulling viciously on his core, trying to extract something Alec didn't even know he had but must be the foreign presence of the curse. He can't see or think past the pain tearing him limb from limb, staining his mind black.

It's cold. He can't breathe.

Alec doubles over when a sharp pain- like a knife to his gut- penetrates the darkness of his mind. It pulls insistently until Alec's sure there'd be nothing left of him by the end of it all but a broken, empty shell.

Then- there's a sound like an explosion, like something breaking, and the pain stops as abruptly as it came.

Slowly, the darkness recedes, sound filters in. The insistent pulls are gone. "Alec-" he opens his eyes. "Alec-" The mirror above his head is fractured- thin, silver cobwebs all across its surface. Alec stares at himself for a long while, sprawled on the floor with Magnus shouting in his ear. "Alec!" there's blood where he hit his head. He turns slowly to look at Magnus' panicked eyes.

"I'm fine."

"You always say that. You also always happen to be bleeding profusely at the same time, so forgive me if I don't take your word for it." Magnus' fingers connect with Alec's forehead, the tips of his fingers glowing- the same he did with Izzy. Magnus' magic is as warm as his touch- it's light and comforting and clearly affectionate. Alec's skull stings as the flesh knits itself back.

"How sweet," Chumana's voice holds a note of cruel amusement. Magnus whirls around, hand still on Alec's face. "I'm sure The Order would love this."

Alec briefly wonders what Order before his head explodes with a headache.

"The Order can bite me," Magnus snaps at her. She seems mildly surprised, though not affronted.

"What about your coterie?"

Alec's head pounds. Through the haze he hears Magnus hissing, "It's none of their business."

"Dully noted," Chumana's gaze slides to Alec, still lying on the floor, the blood around him drying. "Looks like you won't be a Shadowhunter much longer," she says, her voice far away. "The mirrors broke. Whoever did this to you- they're not letting you off the hook anytime soon." There's a hesitant pause before she adds, "Good luck, Magnus. You'll need it."

Chumana's blessing doesn't do them much good. Magnus spends the rest of the week splitting his time between frantically hovering over Alec and burying himself in potions, molly books and lengthy scrolls. He leaves the house several times a day to fish for more books, advice or potions. Alec leaves the house once- when Magnus is somewhere in France- to meet up with Luke.

"Can't say I wasn't surprised to get your call," Luke tells him as soon as he sees him.

"I had no one else to turn to," Alec tells him honestly.

Luke nods with a slight, rueful smile- as if he'd hoped for something else. Alec hands him a small cloth bundle.

"It's silver," Alec says in warning.

"I know." Luke pockets the wrapped threat. "I had one of those once."

Alec smiles.

Luke eyes him carefully, not with judgment but with pure, unadulterated concern. "Are you sure about this?"

Alec shrugs. "I have nothing else."

Luke shakes his head. Alec is surprised to realize that even with this small gesture he can see the wolf in him. "I mean, are you sure you have to sell it? That you have to buy-"

"Yes." Alec shifts his weigh cautiously. He doesn't want to appear defensive, but his stance shifts automatically for better footing. "I can't stay there forever."

"I don't think he will mind," Luke says, gently enough.

"He might not," Alec agrees. "But it's not fair to impose myself on him because I messed up."

Luke clasps his shoulder with his right hand, his grip tight, probably without meaning to. His eyes shine with something unfamiliar but nonetheless pleasant and warm. Alec thinks he might've seen the look on his father's face, a long time ago. "It's very mature of you," Luke says, his tone somehow not condescending. "It's good to see someone your age taking responsibility for his actions."

Alec shrugs Luke's hand away. "Call me when you get something," he tells him before taking off.

Alec gets in twenty minutes before Magnus returns. He doesn't notice Alec's in the living room at first, so he keeps growling into the phone. "I'll pay you-" he says. "What do you want then? What do I have to do to-" Magnus makes a clean, three hundred and sixty degrees spin on his seven inches high boots before violently breaking the oil line on the floor, effectively shutting the portal to France. "You know as well as I do that I can't ask another Djin- No, I can't-" Magnus practically growls. "Your folk is so tightly knit together no one would-" he slams his fist on the wall and turns around to see Alec, hidden between the sofa cushions. "No, it's my problem," Magnus snarls before hanging up. He stares at Alec and his jaw tightens. "It's gonna be alright," he says. Alec wonders if he even believes himself.

x

Jace and Iz come to drag him away for a 'second opinion' on Friday night. Magnus doesn't say a word, but his expression tightens. Alec reminds them what color his face acquired the last time Jace asked for a second opinion- "Blue," he tells them, "Blue!". Jace ignores him gracefully and shoves him out the door.

It's a faerie they go to this time, her skin dark green and her eyes grey. She takes one look at Alec and slams the door in their face with a shout of "I will not betray my Queen!".

The same evening Izzy comes over with five potions in her purse. Magnus puts on a smile and thanks her profusely, assuring her she's tremendously helpful. As soon as she's out the door he swoops them off the counter and dumps them in the garbage bin below the sink.

x

A fire message comes early Saturday morning. Magnus' shoulders lose some of their tension. They head to Washington a few hours later. Their stop is what Alec thinks is a junkyard. It turns out to be a small mansion hidden beneath some heavy glamour Alec can no longer see past. The witch standing at the door is older, her head like a garden- vines, flowers and delicate branches sprouting from her scalp instead of hair. She has the face and the wardrobe of a forgotten century and an air of faded beauty around her like a cloak. "Magnus Bane and escort," she greets, warmly enough, "it has been a while since I last saw you."

"My name is Alexander."

The witch turns to look at him with a perfectly polite smile. It's a rehearsed courtesy Alec is familiar with from the occasional visit to Idris and the expression his mother wears around his father. "I haven't denied that," she says softly, "your name doesn't change your role."

She seems to dislike him as much as Chumana did.

Magnus' hand grips Alec's shoulder in warning before he can lash out. "Willa, this is Alexander Lightwood. We would like your help."

"You need my help," Willa corrects, "or rather, he does." Her eyes do not shift to look at Alec again. "Come in," she says, and they follow her inside. The doors almost close in Alec's face; Magnus grabs him by the waist and pulls him in before they can.

The interior of the house is rich in texture- satin and velvet especially prominent. The general color scheme seems to lean towards the dull and unobtrusive. Magnus takes one look around the lounge and pulls a face. Alec laughs at him. His voice echoes. They walk past several showcases of full-body plate armor, stuffed heads of Hydras and Griffons and gemstones the size of a grown man's head before they reach their destination. It appears to be a study lined with packed shelves, cauldrons strewn across the floor. All the windows are shut.

Willa snaps her fingers twice. From all across the room, ingredients shift, jars open, flasks uncork. "Since when do you consort with Shadowhunters?" she asks Magnus, her back still turned.

"Since genetics conjured that particular shade of blue," Magnus tells her, warm by Alec's side. Willa laughs and turns around to face them. "What's your blood type, Alexander?" she asks Alec instead of responding. She says his name like the Inquisitor did Magnus'.

"O."

Some kind of root leaves its shelf and heads to the largest cauldron, perched above a burner in the center of the room.

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

A Handful of dried leaves are added to the forming mixture.

"First demon you killed?"

"Onmoraki. On Valentine's boat."

"A late bloomer, aren't you?" the witch flicks her wrist and a veil pours its contents into the brew. "Most Nephilim children kill far, far sooner."

Alec grits his teeth. Willa ignores him. "Last time you've had sex?" she asks next.

Alec sputters, blood rushing to his cheeks. Willa's eyebrows shoot to her eyebrows and she murmurs, "A late bloomer on all fronts, then." She gives Magnus a pitying glance. "He's a bit vanilla for you, darling," she says, snaps her fingers and sends a bunch of dried, white flowers into the cauldron. "Not your usual type."

Alec's insides clench. It's the second time someone's said that. The second time a Downworlder has said that. Alec can't help but wonder if Magnus sometimes thinks the same- if he ever regrets it.

"I think I know more about who is my type and who's not." Magnus' voice is strong, unwavering. There's no doubt or hesitation in his eyes.

Willa's lips stretch; Alec presumes it to be a smile. "Perhaps," she says. "But you never had much luck with the Angel's Children."

Magnus holds back a snort. Alec wonders exactly what she means.

"Does The Order know about any of it?"

That again. The mysterious, phantom order Magnus has never mentioned and the existence of which remained but a vague, arbitrary concept up until now. The mysterious, phantom organization standing in their way.

Magnus' eyes narrow with all the anger Alec knows he should feel. "The Order, the gilds, the coterie, you- none of you has a hand in my personal affairs," he says firmly. Willa's eyebrows rise slightly. Magnus remains silent, his eyes growing distant and brittle. She nods, curtly, and turns to Alec with a cold, "Alexander," before he can ask for a clarification. Her eyes remain intent on Magnus' sour expression as she speaks. "What's your biggest fear?"

"Spiders," Alec replies automatically. The witch seems disappointed with his level of intelligence but not surprised- as if he has fulfilled her expectations perfectly. As if she never expected more. She probably didn't.

"What's your biggest fear?" Willa repeats, hand poised to perform a quick summoning spell. There's a note of exasperation in her otherwise mellow voice.

Alec doesn't answer right away. Maybe he has too many fears- equally large and terrifying. He fears death and rejection, he's scared of coming short and failing, of coming out to his parents, of letting Iz and Jace down, of ruining what he has with Magnus. He's petrified by the thought he might lose his marks or lose his family. He's afraid of anyone finding out about him, about them. He's afraid hiding would pull them apart. He's afraid he's not enough- for Magnus, for the Clave, for his father- and never will be.

"Screwing up," he says finally. "I'm afraid of screwing up."

Willa cocks an eyebrow but summons another herb from a basket by the door and sends it into the cauldron without a word. With a snap of her fingers, fire flares up beneath the mixture and a wooden spoon flies from a shelf to the right to stir it. She turns away from Alec, dismissing him with a wave of her hand to keep adding in ingredients Alec can't phantom the origin or name of; colorful smoke rises from the cauldron to meet the ceiling with each one.

"I always did think her brewing looked like Ursula's," Magnus says with a smile. The potion explodes with another puff of smoke. It tints Magnus' skin green. "Though she won't ask for your voice as payment."

"Why would she?"

Magnus blinks at him, dismayed astonishment all over his face. "The Little Mermaid doesn't ring a bell?" he asks, but Alec only shakes his head, mildly confused. Magnus seems alarmed. "You've never seen the movie?"

Alec shakes his head again. Magnus gives him a pitying glance, his face pained. "You Shadowhunters have deprived childhoods. Have you ever even heard of Disney?"

There's another loud explosion from the cauldron. Magnus' face darkens at Alec's silence. "We'll have to change that," he says. Alec wonders if he should be afraid.

The room starts shaking beneath their feet as the brewing comes to a close. Thick, smothering smoke turns it bright, neon red. Willa waves her hand and the whole room clears instantly without a sound. "It's ready," she declares, summons a mug and pours in some of the brew. She hands Alec the potion as if it were an exam sheet- measuring him with her eyes. "Drink."

Alec does. It tastes like chicken soup with too much pepper and a generous dose of spoilt milk mixed in. He nearly spits it but Willa tips the mug up so the liquid pours straight to his throat and he has to swallow.

At first, Alec doesn't feel anything, only the need to brush clean his tongue. Then- slowly- heat gathers in his stomach, gradually climbing up and spreading to his limbs. It swallows him whole from head to toe. It doesn't burn, just numbs his nerves, paralyzing his muscles. Everything around him tips and grows out of proportion, shelves towering over him, Magnus and Willa stretching out to be giants. He is trapped in the folds of something that smells strongly of detergent.

"I believe I got him with shorter ears," Magnus says, staring at Alec, voice slightly shrill. It's only then that Alec realizes something must be terribly wrong.

"He lied," Willa murmurs, crouching down before Alec. Her eyes are huge and pale, clouded. "Did you two sleep together after all? You know it wouldn't have deterred me, even though he's a hunter." She seems pleased with her own offer of tolerance. Alec wonders if it's the best offer he's going to get. He opens his mouth to reply, to say something scathing. Nothing comes out but a soft clicking noise. Willa frowns. Magnus does too. His hands come to grip Alec. In a moment of sheer terror Alec is suddenly aware that they're as big as his whole body. He is forcefully lifted, pulled up for what feels like eternity and a hundred thousand miles. He ends up curdled securely against Magnus' chest.

Alec can feel Magnus' voice reverberating against his own back when Magnus asks, "What's gone wrong?"

"If he lied-"

"He didn't." Magnus' conviction makes Willa look up in surprise.

"Then you know what it means. My potions deal with the physical. The curse must be on another plane."

"Chumana's mirrors didn't work either."

Willa nods. "Then you know what's wrong."

"When will it wear off?" Alec can tell Magnus is not talking about the curse.

"A day or two at most," is Willa's answer. She inspects Magnus' face before adding, "You are calmer than I thought you'd be, considering."

Alec shivers when something strokes his back, following the line of his spine in one long, languid motion. With a terrified glance up, Alec sees Magnus' face looming above his own, a devilish grin plastered across his lips. "I do find him extremely adorable like that," he says, eyes twinkling. His fingers come to stroke Alec's back again. Alec leans into the touch instinctively. He tries to say something the sounds of which his mouth seems unable to produce. "I suppose a simple deatuse won't work."

"Probably not, I won't recommend trying it out either."

Magnus nods. "So you can't unrabbit him."

Willa shakes her head with a slight, rueful smile. Alec's brain grinds to a screeching, sudden halt. I believe I got him with shorter ears, Magnus said.

He's been turned into a rabbit.

He's a fucking rabbit.

Alec bites Magnus' arm in frustration, and surprisingly enough- his teeth are sufficiently sharp to tear the flesh. Magnus gives him an unimpressed, though apologetic, look. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, stroking Alec's back again. Alec lets go of his arm reluctantly but tries to convey Magnus' imminent death with his eyes. Magnus seems unable to read the expression on his face. He turns to Willa and says, "I guess we're done here, then." He heads to the door, Alec still in his arms. "Thanks for trying."

"Magnus," she calls before he exits the room. Magnus turns his head. "You do know there's a simpler way. If it's not physical, then-"

"I don't think he's ready for it." Alec lifts his head, almost missing the forlorn expression making a brief appearance on Magnus' face.

"Are you?" Magnus doesn't answer her. The tight line of his mouth, with just a hint of a downward curl, tells Alec that it's a definite 'no'.

"It can't be the only way," but Magnus' voice implies he believes it might be. Willa's calm exterior cracks.

"If it is, would you?"

Magnus' hands tighten around Alec's form. "I think that at this point, there's nothing I wouldn't do."

Willa nods resultantly, eyes wide and frightened. They leave before she has the chance to say anything else.

Magnus doesn't teleport them back to New York this time. He takes a flight and spends an hour petting Alec's fur under the disguise of glamour.

x

The apartment is quiet and cold when they enter. Magnus flicks on the lights and puts Alec down on a stool in the kitchen while he fiddles with the intricate coffee machine. He seems too distressed for magic. "The thing is," he says to Alec, "we have five days." Alec cringes at the reminder. Magnus pours water into his cup before he continues. "Five days before it all goes to shit and fuck, Alec, I think we just might have to."

Alec has no idea what the hell Magnus' blubbering about. His long, goddamn rabbit ears twitch in annoyance. Magnus sighs. "You'll hate me forever for it," he says, voice small. Alec truly doubts it; he doesn't think there's a universe in which Alexander Gideon Lightwood- rabbit, human or Shadowhunter - hates Magnus Bane. "And it might not work anyway. They might still kick you out." Magnus' golden eyes hold something much deeper than ordinary sadness, tinted dark with pure, wild fear. He sits down besides Alec and puts his face in his hands, the coffee forgotten on the counter behind him. "I ran out of books to read and I don't-"

Alec hops on to Magnus' lap, clawed little feet kneading in Magnus' expensive designer jeans. Magnus lifts his head to look at him. Alec stares back squarely because he can't really say anything, comforting or otherwise.

Magnus' hand comes to rest on Alec's back, thumb stroking the soft fur on his side. Fur, Alec thinks, a grimace on his face. His whiskers twitch in frustration. God, he has whiskers.

"I'm sorry for this," Magnus tells him for the second time that day, for the umpteenth time since they've met. "You make an adorable rabbit, though." Alec bares his sharp tusks in warning. Magnus smiles. "You still have blue eyes. Never seen a rabbit with those." Alec's ears droop. Magnus laughs softly but keeps on petting Alec's sides. He finally summons the coffee from the counter and gulps it down too quickly, probably searing his tongue. "A rabbit fits you, actually," Magnus says, distracted, looking for something on the table. "I've been told my form's a cat." He finds a stray piece of paper, scribbles something on it and burns it. A fire message.

Alec wonders why not use the phone.

Magnus takes Alec to his bedroom as soon as he's done with his awful coffee. He sets Alec on the bed with extra care. The sheets are cool and the bed is enormous, clearly meant for more than a single person.

"I would take you to your own room but I think Chairman Meow might eat you," Magnus tells him while taking his shirt off. Alec turns his head until Magnus is done with changing out of his clothes, trying hard not to look. "He has bad history with rodents."

I'm not a rodent, Alec tries to say. Talking doesn't work for him.

Magnus climbs on the bed beside him and pats the second pillow by his side. Alec isn't sure if this- sleeping with Magnus as a rabbit- actually qualifies as sleeping with Magnus. He hesitates for a moment too long. Magnus sighs but doesn't make a move to lift Alec or grab him. He just snaps his fingers and the lights go off.

"Good night, Alexander," Magnus says and pulls the blanket to his chin. He turns on his side, his back facing Alec.

They don't get to sleep through the whole night. A fire message arrives at the crack of dawn, appearing right above Magnus' head. Magnus opens his eyes and growls, "Someone's gonna die," into the empty night air. Alec laughs; the sound comes out like a rasping cough.

The burnt paper of the fire message glows ominously in the dark, the foreign symbols inscribed onto the parchment red as blood. Whatever it is Magnus is able to read from it, it makes him bolt upright instantly. He practically falls off the mattress in his haste, flailing his arms and summoning clothes from his closet before he even properly detangled himself from sheets. Alec does not to stare at the exposed skin quickly getting covered by layers of clothes. At all. "Thank Merlin," Magnus murmurs over and over again, so fast it takes Alec a moment to distinguish the words.

The message remains stranded in the air even as Magnus grabs Alec by the scarf of his neck and walks purposefully out the bedroom door and into the kitchen to grab a knife. He makes a swift cut below his elbow, draws some symbols- not unlike the ones of the fire message- on his skin with the blood and murmurs a series of spells. The magic builds and whisks them both away.

Magnus' kitchen fades to black. The world tilts and moves like the scenery behind a train's window- too fast, just bouts of color in the dark, bursts of disconnected sounds and a temperature shift. Everything twists and spins around them like a bad trip desaturated. When the scenery stilts and the process of transportation halts- colors chase the dark away and reality snaps back into place like a rubber band. Everything is hyper-sharp and loud, too vivid and much warmer than it had been in New York when they left it.

Their stop is on the driveway of a small cottage; an ordinary, mundane house. Magnus walks to the door and knocks on it thrice. It opens almost immediately to reveal a man much taller and broader, his face wide and rough, sharp canines in a sharper smile. He has a wild, mud-brown mane and dull, murky eyes. His voice is thick like a growl when he says, "Magnus, me man, I missed yer pretty face."

The man lets them in. Alec wonders just who he is to Magnus.

"It's been a while," Magnus says wistfully as he enters the living room.

"Donkey's years," the man agrees, his voice warm, affectionate. Alec tries hard not to feel threatened.

"You haven't changed at all," Magnus eyes him quickly, not entirely impersonally.

The man laughs throatily. "Y'haven't either. Though t'clothes are tighter than I remember. Yer a right Mickey dazzler w'all the glitter."

Magnus grins. "The 21st century has its perks."

The man snorts. "Ya were a slut even in Victorian England. It 'as nothin' to do with the time."

Magnus' smile widens, just a hint of teeth visible. "Takes one to know one, Phelon dearest."

Alec frowns at the exchanged words. Phelon huffs a chuckle. He gestures towards Alec, still tightly held in Magnus' arms. "That yer pet?"

"My boyfriend."

Alec's heart skips a beat like it did the last time Magnus has applied the term. He can't help but feel a bubbling sort of excitement every time he hears it and he's not entirely sure he wants the feeling to stop.

"Away with ye." Magnus doesn't react to the jibe. Phelon hikes an eyebrow, his mouth uncertain. "Yer a sick man, Bane, completely warped."

Magnus shakes his head with a soft laugh, slipping onto a plush sofa. "He was human before Willa happened."

"I wouldn't 'ave been surprised if 'e weren't."

Magnus gives him a mild glare. Phelon grins. "So now yer 'ere askin' me to turn yer bunny back?"

Magnus shakes his head. His eyes harden. "You know why I'm here. I'll assume that's why you sent the message."

Phelon sobers quickly, catching Magnus' mood. He lets go of the rabbit jokes. "I'll help, don't think I won't- but 'ave ya thought of askin' Alistair? 'e knows more 'bout that shite than I do. Been through it an' all. I just did t'research."

"Alistair is a douche and I hate his face," Magnus states calmly. He lets go of Alec. Alec doesn't move from his lap.

"'e does have one ugly mug," Phelon agrees, settling on a couch opposite Magnus. "Might be helpful, though."

"Didn't you hear when I said he is a douche?"

Phelon quirks an eyebrow. Magnus scowls in response. "I am not talking about it. I came to see you. Make it worth my while."

Phelon laughs. " 'nd y'say that in front of yer beau?"

Magnus' scowl deepens. His hand strokes Alec's back absentmindedly, digging into his sides. "If I had any interest in your tender regions I'd have had you bent over a desk centuries ago."

Alec lets out a sharp hiss and twists around to bite Magnus' fingers. Magnus pulls away with a light groan of pain. "I was actually saying I wasn't going to, you know?" he says, seemingly offended. Alec lets out a huff.

"Ya had it coming, yeah?" Phelon says between barks of laughter.

"Shut it, Mud."

Phelon pulls a face at the name. "Careful, Sparks, yer t'one who needs 'elp."

"You're the one who offered."

"True," Phelon's eyes slide to Alec. "You sure he'd agree?"

"He'll agree to anything to keep his marks."

"And yer gonna let 'im?"

"I have a feeling that'll be the only choice we'll have left."

"No potion?"

Magnu shakes his head.

"'nd no spell."

"Nothing I could find that didn't backfire," Magnus' tone holds a note of regret. "Even Chumana's mirrors failed. Willa confirmed it's not physical, so it's the essence. Maybe if I had the Book of White-" his voice trails off and his face hardens, mouth a tight, grim line.

"No one's seen it fer years," Phelon completes the sentence for him. "Yeah, right-o, I get it. D'you want to, though? He's a-"

"Shadowhunter," Magnus cuts him off, voice and face a hard, cold mask. "Everyone seems terribly hung up on that."

"Y'want to tie yourself to a Shadowhunter- 's no wonder."

"He's a person who happens to be a Shadowhunter, whom I also happen to genuinely like. Killing demons is just part of the sex appeal," Magnus grumbles, visibly not too keen on explaining. He leans against the back of the sofa but doesn't relax; his shoulders remain tense, the line of his spine rigid. His grip on Alec is almost painful- a feeble shield against words that are aimed to hurt more than just himself.

Phelon's eyes remain neutral, his voice level when he says, "Ya need more than just mild affection in order fer it t'work."

"Who said anything about mild?" a smile claims Magnus' lips. It's mellow, somewhat subdued and thoroughly broken. His eyes shine with all that's beautiful in the world.

Alec forgets how to breathe.

"Yer Coterie won't like it."

And perhaps he might never be able to again.

"I don't give a fuck," Magnus snarls back, eyes bright and wide- daring. It's the same look he had about him on Valentine's ship, the same expression he gets whenever Alec's injured- a sort of fierce protectiveness, like the barrier his hands provide. Alec leans into him and his confidence, hiding behind the wall that is Magnus' faith and Magnus' strength, surrounded by everything he wants to believe is possible.

"Corpus et mens et cor junge ut anima ligetur," Phelon recites. He eyes Magnus with a certain amount of awe and fear, disbelief etched in every line of his body. Alec does and doesn't get the meaning of the words spoken. The literal, dictionary definition is crystal clear. He has no idea what's the implication is, though- what it might or might not mean regarding him or them. "I can't believe yer actually thinkin' of tying th'knot."

Magnus lets his head roll back, facing the ceiling to avoid Phelon's protruding gaze. "I think that maybe- maybe that's what she wanted it to come to all along."

"Eirlys?"

Magnus nods.

"It's not 'bout 'er though, is it?" Phelon's eyes turn to Alec, confusion and doubt in his gaze. "It's about 'im."

"And me."

Phelon shakes his head. "No, it's about 'im," his eyes remain on Alec as he continues, "you'd've never considered it before."

Magnus sighs. "I wouldn't have," he admits softly. "But I am now. And I want you to tell me everything you know."

Phelon nods, "O'right."

A/N: any guesses what Magnus has in mind?

Also, next chapter includes major cannon bending related to an issue Clare introduced in later books. It's not half as dirty as it sounds.

We're close to the end, guys!

Excerpt from next chapter: The last memory is at the very back of Magnus' mind, but it's brighter and warmer than the rest. In it, Alec sees himself- blood smeared on pale skin, gear on, fire and demons and death behind a head of black hair and eyes as blue as the sky. There's anger and crushing relief and an echo of what Alec can feel in his own heart.