Agony

Magnus conjured up a fire ball on the palm of his hand, at least that is what he thought he had done. It was perfectly possible that his eyes were playing tricks on him, and the ball was not actually a ball but a cube and it was not fire, but ice. In any case, it didn't matter what it was as long as it hit the target. He swung his arm backwards as if he was about to throw a baseball and with all the anger and desperation he felt, he sent the fireball flying through the air with the speed of a bullet. It hit the empty whisky bottle he had just set on the bar, sending pieces of glass and sparkles in all directions. Still it was not enough, and soon another deep crimson fireball, the color of anger, was flying through the air, this time hitting the fruit bowl on the table by the entrance. Pieces of half-burnt fruit flew everywhere, and the room was suddenly enveloped in a faint scent of apple pie. But Magnus didn't notice or perhaps he didn't care. Instead, he took a long pull from the already half-empty bottle of scotch in his hand, the bottle that a few minutes ago had replaced the empty one that now lied in pieces on the floor by the bar.

Magnus was drunk, he knew it; likely drunker than he had ever been in his whole life. That was a lot to say considering how long his life had been and how much debauchery he had been part of during the said long life. He had achieved his current state of inebriation in record time by drinking in quick succession a yet undetermined number of cocktails – potent mixtures of magical and mundane ingredients –followed by a bottle of whisky and now the almost empty bottle of scotch. Yet, he knew he was still not drunk enough, not by a long shot. The alcohol hadn't yet erased from his mind Alec's look of agony, his lips tightly closed in a thin line as he resisted the urge to moan or scream; the memory of Alec's tears falling like runaway diamonds down his face; or the sight of his muscles tightening and stiffening as Alec stoically withstood the torture that Magnus inflicted on him. Neither could the alcohol erase the image of Alec's still figure, his eyes closed, his face pallid, his lips turning blue. He took another drink trying in vain to drown in alcohol the dark memories, but when he noticed that this latest bottle was also empty, he threw it against the wall, smashing it by sheer human force.

Magnus had not always liked or accepted himself, but he could honestly say that, despite his many misadventures and the countless loses and heartbreaks that were part of immortal life, he had never hated who he was. That is, not until now. Now, he hated his condition as a warlock; he hated what his magic powers had done; what he had done to the man he loved. He hated with more ferocity than he ever imagined possible the day a demon crossed the veil and came to this earth to impregnate his mother. If he hadn't been born a warlock, he would have never met Annaliese or Khuno; he would have never been responsible for countless deaths; and he would have never lived long enough to cross paths with a nice Shadowhunter boy. That boy would have never had to endure what he had endured because of his relationship to a warlock, and what that same warlock had just done to him.

He looked at his hands as if they were his worst enemy, and hated those hands for being the instruments of his magic. He loathed the feeling of magic flowing through his veins, down his arms and through his fingers. Even at this very drunken second, his hands betrayed him by being the only tool at his disposal to give free rein to his despair. He closed those hands in tight fists determined not to use them ever again. From now on, Magnus thought, and until he became a worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila, he would hold his drink with his knees.

Noticing the absence of the bottle he had just smashed against the wall, he looked around the room searching for the bar. The thought of not ever using his hands again was washed away by the alcohol inundating his brain and drowning all thoughts but those he truly wanted to forget. Magnus stumbled as he made his way to the bar in search of something else with which to drown his sorrows. His body tilted to one side and he briefly wondered who had constructed a room with an uneven floor, but somehow managed to reach his destination. After opening the third bottle in less than an hour, he took a look drink of what he thought was tequila. Suddenly, another pair of hands appeared in front of his eyes, blurry and distorted, but he was sure they were hands. He wondered whether those hands were his. But then realized that if they were, it would mean that he was in the possession of four hands. No magic could do that. In any case, these new hands were annoyingly intent on taking his new friend, Jose Cuervo, from his own very friendly hands.

"Magnus, come on, that's enough," said a voice that was not his own voice.

He turned his head in the direction of the voice and a faintly familiar angelic face, with long black hair and the most striking black eyes looked back at him. He moved the bottle away from the intrusive hands that belonged to that face and took another long drink.

"Come on Magnus," the voice pleaded again. "Give me the bottle."

Isabel Lightwood, Magnus thought, that's who the face reminded him of. Isabel Lightwood, daughter of Robert and Maryse.

"Yes," said the voice of apparently Isabel Lightwood, "It is me Magnus. Give me the bottle."

Magnus looked back stunned because he hadn't realized that he had spoken out loud. "You are Isabel Lightwood," he repeated, making sure that this time he was actually speaking and not just thinking. He had difficulty forming the words, because his tongue had become a rag that refused to obey him. "You are Isabel Lightwood," he tried again, "daughter of Robert and Maryse, and sister to, to, to Alexand…" Magnus couldn't finish because a great sob escaped him and his face crumpled in an expression of deep sorrow. Through the veil of drunkenness, he saw once again Alec's expression of pleading agony just a second before he closed his eyes and the echo of his heartbeat went silent on Magnus's chest, leaving him submerged in the most absolute of silent emptiness. "I am sorry," he said, and he covered his eyes with one hand wishing not to look upon Izzy's face.

He lifted the bottle to his lips for another drink and when Izzy tried to stop him and take the bottle away, he slapped her hand. He took a long drink, longer than the ones before, the alcohol burning all the way down his throat. Still the memories didn't go away, and he hated himself even more.

"Magnus," called another familiar voice. "Give Izzy the bottle. You have had enough."

Magnus turned in the direction of where this new annoying voice was coming from and a vision from the past looked back at him, golden hair, blue eyes, and the face of an angel. Edmund Herondale was calling to him from the grave, Magnus thought. Edmund Herondale, whose screams and sobs had been present in Magnus' thoughts in the last few days, was here to demand an explanation. Edmund Herondale, the boy that had given all up for the love of a mundane, had come to punish him for inflicting on another Shadowhunter the pain his own people had inflicted on him.

"I am sorry Edmund," Magnus said, his voice slurry and almost unintelligible, "I had to do it." He brought the bottle to his lips yet again and took another drink, the room spinning but his mind still stubbornly holding on to memories he wished forever to forget.

"Come one, Magnus, give me the bottle," Edmund said and extended his hand in Magnus' direction. But prepared to defend Jose Cuervo, his new friend, Magnus snapped his fingers. When nothing happened, he snapped them again. Edmund took a step back as if understanding what Magnus was trying to do. Magnus looked at his hands. 'Great,' he thought, 'the alcohol is smothering my powers.'

"Come on Magnus," repeated the voice of angelic Edmund Herondale and this time he walked more decidedly in Magnus' direction.

But Magnus was not about to give up. He was the High Warlock of somewhere that didn't matter at this moment. He snapped his fingers again and, by the third time, a new ball of energy flickered and crackled in the palm of his hand and he threw it at Edmund. With swift movements, the young golden Shadowhunter moved out of the way and the fireball hit the wall behind him.

"Wow, wow, Magnus, come on. It is me, Jace."

"Jace?" Magnus tried to say but wasn't sure what kind of sound came out. "Jace," he repeated, this time the anger he infused in his voice made the name sound clearer. "Why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me hurt him?" He lifted the bottle to his lips and drunk, determined to drown himself from the inside out.

The mission of apparently Jace must have been to distract him, for as soon as he took the last pull from the bottle, another pair of arms grabbed him from behind, wrapping themselves around him while apparently Jace took the bottle from him. As he did, the other attacker trapped Magnus' arms to his sides.

"Let me go," Magnus protested with all the indignation his present state allowed. "Let me go," he repeated as he tried to free his hands so he could use magic to rescue Jose Cuervo from apparently Jace's hands.

"It is okay, Magnus," said a gentle girly voice in his ear. "It is okay, I know you are hurting but we are your friends and we will take care of you."

The voice must have been magic because Magnus' body involuntarily relaxed against the smaller but soft body of Izzy, the tears he had been fighting finally flowing unrestrained. Izzy's body relaxed even more and his body obeyed as if Izzy was the one commanding it. Bending her knees, she brought them both to sit on the floor, Izzy's warm and comforting body wrapped around Magnus. Magnus put his head in his hands and cried, like he had not cried in centuries, tears of sadness, desperation and guilt burning as they run down his cheeks.

"Finally," said Jace. "I was afraid he was going to demolish the whole place. Remind me never to get a warlock drunk."

Magnus sobbed in silence for a long time while Izzy's arms held him, providing him shelter and comfort. Meanwhile, Jace picked up a garbage pail and began to collect the pieces of broken glass and half-burned fruit that were strewn all around the room. Every time he bent down, however, his whole body ached, and he felt exhausted and almost breathless, as if he had suddenly aged a hundred years. The last few hours had not only taken a toll on Magnus. Jace was also exhausted and was craving a long night sleep, hopefully in Clary's comforting arms. He couldn't wait for this day of sorrow to end.

"What was that ruckus?" came Kat's quiet voice from the hallway that led to Alec and Magnus' room. She looked unusually pale and exhausted, and it was evident that she had used up quite a bit of her powers. The sight of Magnus sitting on the floor, his body leaning against Izzy told her all she needed to know. The young Shadowhunter run her hand up and down Magnus' arm in a caring gesture that Kat thought was unusual in the young girl. She always appeared to be as tough as nails. Izzy, like everybody in the room, look exhausted and the marks of countless sleepless nights were evident in her otherwise lovely face.

"Oh Magnus," Kat said as she crouched beside her friend. She put her hand a couple of centimeters above Magnus' head, and sent a flow of cerulean magic in the direction of the warlock's forehead. "Everything is going to be okay. You had a hard day. This may help with the worst of the hangover tomorrow. I cannot do anything about the stench, though," she added and smiled. "You smell like a cantina. Please take a shower before you go see Alec."

Magnus looked up from his hands; his eyes still wet and glassy from the effect of the alcohol and the crying; his hair in disarray; a question clearly written on his face.

"He is sleeping," said Kat in reply to the unspoken question. "He will likely sleep for the next several hours. I suggest you do the same; I suspect you burned the last of your energy trying to redecorate the room."

Magnus wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and tried to rearrange his features in a resemblance of his usually dignified look.

"Thank you my dear," he said patting Izzy's hand, his voice still slurry. He stood up on shaky legs, and when the room refused to stop spinning, he extended his arms trying to hold on to anything that would prevent him from falling. What he found were Izzy's strong arms, as she stood beside him.

"It is okay Magnus, I've got you," said Izzy.

"Thank you," Magnus repeated.

"Don't thank me yet," replied Izzy her voice suddenly recovering its usual sharpness. "I am still pissed with both of you," she said pointedly looking at Jace. "I will never forgive you for not telling me what you were planning to do. I cannot believe that I had to find out by pure chance. If I hadn't come looking for Alec you would have never told me what was happening, would you?" she asked looking at Jace with fire in her eyes.

"Alec didn't want anyone to know," said Jace apologetically.

"Yeah, I will have a word with my big brother as soon as he is strong enough," she said, the tone in her voice reminding Jace of Maryse's voice when he and Alec got in trouble as children.

Magnus looked between Jace and Izzy and it was evident by the expression on his face that he was having a hard time following the exchange between the two siblings. Remembering the reason why he had gotten up, he let go of the anchor of Izzy's arms and half stumbled and half walked towards his bedroom.

"Hey," said Izzy, "let me help you."

"I am okay," Magnus replied, even though he doubted very much that he would ever be okay again. The room continued spinning and he was sure he was about to get sick, which he didn't want to do in front of everybody. One thing was to get drunk in front of his friends; another was to throw up all over them. "I will be fine," he added as he held on to the wall and with uncertain steps walked out of the room.

Magnus approached the bedroom door slowly and with half-closed eyes. Everything around him spun out of control but he concentrated all his attention on staying upright.

"I need to go see Jeremy," said Kat who had followed him. "I will put up wards around the suite so you two can rest safely."

"I can do it," said Magnus though he was not sure he could.

"Mags, you are not only drunker than I have ever seen you before, but your energy is drained," stated Kat opening the door so Magnus could enter.

The bedroom was in semi-darkness, illuminated just by the faint late afternoon light filtering through the drawn blinds. Magnus walked towards the bed where Alec slept, covered by a white sheet, an ugly red burn on his bare chest, a burn that reminded Magnus of the gaping mouth of a volcano. He took a deep breath and tried to stop his face from dissolving in sobs once again.

"He will be fine, Magnus," Kat told him, her tone reassuring. "He is tougher and more determined than most Shadowhunters I have met. After a few more spells, the burn will heal."

"Are you sure he is fine? Did we get all of it out?" asked Magnus apprehensively.

"Yes," Kat replied. "You did it; you removed the rune."

"And I almost killed him in the process," he said, guilt joining apprehension.

"But you didn't," Kat said and placed a hand on Magnus' shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort his friend. It had come close, she thought, but thankfully Alec had pulled through. She didn't want to think what would have happen if Magnus had not succeeded.

Magnus took Alec's hand and squeezed it, as if it was a lifeline, a direct connection to Alec's heart. The hand was warm as if Alec had a fever, but otherwise it felt solid and strong in Magnus' hand. He brought both their hands to his own chest, where the omamori mark pulsated at a steady pace, echoing the rhythm of Alec's heartbeat. The pulsations had been unnerving at the beginning when Magnus first cast the protection spell, but in time he had gotten so used to them that his heart felt incomplete without them. This afternoon, for the few minutes that Alec's heart had stopped, Magnus had felt an emptiness as abysmal as a black hole when the echo of the heartbeat on his chest had gone quiet. He never, never in all eternity, wanted to feel such emptiness again.

"Take a shower and get some rest," Kat told her friend. "By the time Alec awakes, you should be rested. He is going to have questions and you need to answer them. I will send Jace home too and Izzy and I are going back to the hotel Du Mort. You guys can sleep in peace." Kat then walked out of the room and a couple of minutes later, Magnus felt the energy of the wards that his friend was raising, and the room went very quiet, all outside noise muffled.

Magnus stood by the bed a while longer, his and Alec's hand resting on his chest, as he watched the Shadowhunter sleep. The room still spun as if it had been caught in a tornado, but as long as Magnus looked fixedly at Alec's sleeping face, he felt steady and balanced.

"I swear, because of you, I aged at least a hundred years today, your stubborn Shadowhunter" he whispered as he brushed the hair away from Alec's forehead. Magnus had always thought that Alec looked younger when he slept, and watching him sleep had been a hobby of his since they started sharing the same bed. His youth was even more pronounced now that he also looked so incredibly vulnerable, fragile and mortal. "I would have gladly given up all the years left in me if only to save you from all this suffering," he added.

Magnus didn't know how long he remained standing beside Alec, their joined hands resting on his chest, but eventually, all the alcohol he had drunk finally overpowered his stubborn determination to keep his stomach from doing summersaults. He reluctantly let go of Alec's hand and with unsteady steps made his way towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, his stomach completely emptied, he stood under the shower, the cold water washing away the effects of the alcohol and leaving just the miserable memories of a day he wished to forget.

The rune removal procedure had been brutal in its cruel simplicity, Magnus had thought as he and Kat discussed the best course of action over breakfast. The Nephilim usually burned or used seraph blades to cut the marks from those who either decided to leave the Shadowhunters, or were expelled from their ranks. No many had witnessed the procedure, and it was, as Magnus had learned with Edmund Herondale over a century ago, not only dangerous but also excruciatingly painful. As the London Shadowhunters had explained to Magnus, de-runing required the remaking of the Nephilim into a lesser being, and thus, it was like plucking the wings off an insect taking away forever its capacity to fly.

A few times over the last several hundred years, Kat had assisted another warlock in the removal of runes from Shadowhunters who, for reasons that she didn't explain, wanted to break away from the Nephilim without going through the regular channels. When Magnus asked about her success rate, Kat looked pointedly at Alec and said that most of the Nephilim who wanted all their runes removed had died in terrible pain. However, those who had asked for only partial de-runing had made it. "Of course, those runes were nowhere near the heart. I am not going to lie," she added her eyes fixed on Alec as if wanting to be absolutely sure that he understood, "the procedure is very dangerous so you better be certain this is what you want."

Alec, who had silently listened to their discussion from the sofa where he sat with a cup of coffee in his hand, had looked at Kat squarely in the eyes, his mouth set on a stubborn line and had simply nodded.

"Okay then, I think we have two things to our advantage in this situation," she had explained. "Your parabatai can help by sharing some of his strength with you, and the link that Magnus created when he cast the spell to protect you can shield you. Of course, the protection spell will be more effective if the connection between you two remains strong at all times."

As the cold water slowly brought Magnus out of his drunken stupor, he realized that he should have refused to continue with the procedure the moment that he saw the look of uncertainty in Alec's eyes when Kat spoke of the strength of their connection. Alec had been unusually quiet this morning and had only half-heartedly laughed at Magnus' usually sassy remarks. Magnus had thought that perhaps Alec was more nervous about the removal of the rune than he let on. But now in hindsight, he should have seen the hesitation, the concern, the doubt.

"Is there anything I need to know Magnus?" Alec had asked when Kat left to collect some of the potions she would need for the healing spells she would use during the procedure. He had looked at Magnus with even more intensity than usual, as if he was trying to see deep into his heart. "Anything you need to tell me?"

Magnus should have told him the whole truth right there and then. Perhaps Alec would have reconsidered and decided not to proceed; perhaps Alec would have decided that Magnus was not the right person to remove the rune. But wanting to hold on to his secrets for a while longer, Magnus had replied that there was nothing for Alec to worry about. Not only had he been scared, but he had also wanted Alec to think about no one and nothing else but himself during the procedure. Magnus understood now that this had been his biggest mistake. By trying to spare Alec, as well as to save himself the pain of having to reveal the last of his secrets, he had provided confirmation to Alec that he, Magnus, was hiding something. Alec's natural reaction had been to protect himself and pull back. They both went into the procedure with unfinished business between them: Alec only half-heartedly trusting Magnus and Magnus protecting his own secrets rather than Alec. By not telling Alec everything hoping to protect him, Magnus had done exactly the opposite: he had weakened their link when they needed it to be the strongest.

Yes, Magnus thought again as he stepped out of the shower, his body trembling but his head clearer as a result of the cold water, the removal spell had been brutal in its cruel simplicity. It relied on the concerted efforts of three people: Magnus would use his magic to peel the rune layer by layer; digging deep into flesh, muscles, heart and soul; searching for and extracting every last vestige of the rune; and burning away any pieces that could not be removed. As he did, he would reach with the protection spell and shield Alec's heart to stop it from giving out. Meanwhile, Kat would use her healing powers to mend flesh and muscle as Magnus went along, and Jace would lend his strength to Alec in order to help him withstand the pain.

Magnus' second mistake was to not have stopped when he reached with the protection spell and felt Alec's resistance and hesitation. He should have stopped when he felt the weakness in the protection spell, but when he asked Alec if everything was okay, Alec had simply nodded and rather than heed his instincts, Magnus had continued. As a result, neither of them had been sufficiently prepared for the pain and difficulty of the procedure. At the end, Magnus had placed Alec's life in danger.

The procedure had been the warlock equivalent to an operation to extract a cancerous tumor. The only difference is that this operation was performed without anesthetics. Like a tumor, it had been impossible to know in advance just how deep the roots of the rune had grown until Magnus began to cut it away. With streams of red hot magic, Magnus had cut, dug, burned, cut, dug and burned some more at the same time that he extended the protection spell on his chest to create a shield around Alec's heart. As Magnus went on, Kat sent blue streaks of healing magic mending and knitting muscles and flesh and stopping the bleeding. But, the closer to Alec's heart Magnus got, the worse the pain that Alec suffered.

Alec had been stoic until the very last minute despite the evident pain he was in. He had held Jace's hand while his parabatai wiped away the sheen of sweat forming on both their foreheads as they shared strength and pain. But the deeper Magnus dug, the harder it became for Alec to dissimulate or contain the agony. Alec's skin had begun to take the complexion of ash, all color drained; his cheek bones had become even more pronounced as his cheeks sunk giving his face a gaunt expression. Bags had formed under and around his eyes, their color a deep blue, as if with the rune, Magnus was draining Alec's life force away. Still, Alec had refused to cry out in pain, his mouth set on a thin line.

Magnus would never forget the look of pain in Alec's face, as he, Magnus, reached deep into skin and flesh removing the rune as one plucks a weed, roots and all, reaching into the very depth of Alec's heart and soul.

Magnus had stopped a couple of times, first asking and then pleading with Alec to stop, but Alec refused, and Magnus went on. And then the worse happened. As Magnus reached deep into Alec's soul to extract what he thought was the last of the rune's roots, the protection spell finally faltered. Alec cried out once and then went silent, his body suddenly limp, his eyes closed. Jace abruptly reached for his parabatai rune as he fell on one knee beside the bed where Alec laid. At that same moment, Magnus experienced the most terrifying of sensations as the echo of Alec's heartbeat went utterly still on the mark on his own chest.

"Alexander," he had called out, as he pulled the last of the rune's root, leaving just an angry burn, red and raw, on its place. "Alexander," he called again as he reached for Alec's hand, panic and desperation in his voice. "Come on, Alexander, don't do this to me, come on." He had placed his shaking hand above Alec's chest and had sent small and then not so small shocks of electricity directly into Alec's heart, but to no avail. For an eternity of minutes, Alec lied inert and irresponsive, his heart completely still while Magnus beckoned him back to the world with all his powers, his mind, his heart, his soul and his spirit. During those interminable moments, Magnus silently called on all deities –Nephilim, mundane and downworlder –offering his very life in exchange for Alec's.

Someone must have been listening, Magnus thought now as he donned on pair of pajama bottoms, and looked at his exhausted face in the mirror. Someone must have been looking out for them because when Magnus had begun to feel that an abyss was opening up under his feet, an abyss that would swallow him whole and take him to the most horrendous of hells, Alec had gasped loudly and then taken his first full breath in who knows how long. After a few tentative tremors, Magnus had finally felt the echo of the Shadowhunter's heart flicker and then restart at a relatively steady pace against the omamori charm on his own chest. Magnus had fallen to his knees and had buried his face on Alec's hand and would have remained there, hadn't Kat forced him and Jace to leave the room so she could finish healing Alec's burn.

Yes, he thought as he walked out of the bathroom, the angel was looking out for Alec, if not for him as well. As he walked into the bedroom, he noticed that day had finally given way to night and that the room was now in complete darkness. He walked towards the bed, and with a snap of his fingers willed the lamp on the bedside table to turn on. He gazed at Alec's sleeping figure once again, as if wanting to make sure that he was not an illusion, a trick of his drunken mind.

Today and for the second time in as many weeks, Magnus had foreseen an eternity without Alec, without his smile, his touch, his love. As he had sent shocks of electricity into Alec's heart, willing it to beat once again, he had seen an endless life in darkness, an endless life alone and untethered to anything, like a ship lost in a storm without port, without home or kin. "I swear this will be the very last time you ever leave me like that" whispered Magnus as he got in bed beside Alec, the warmth from Alec's body settling his shivering, his steady breathing a lullaby taking Magnus towards the deepest of slumbers.