In the warmer months the sun would have already risen, yet being as it was – the cold heart of winter – it was dark still. Valentine was relieved his parabatai was still asleep; he needed the rest: pale, sickly. Regardless, he could not deny the inner rightness he ascribed to having Lucian right beside him, in the bed he was occupying, covered and surrounded by finery. Shame it was not actually his – only his favorite set of rooms and furnishings in this place: simple and sleek, solid colors, plenty of glass, with a few bold accent pieces – the velvet couch one of them.

He could also confess, he had wanted to see what Lucian would wear to dinner. From the times he had observed him, in the year before he approached, Lucian was always wearing jeans and a shirt; it suited him. Nevertheless, it was nice to see him dressed in formal wear. More than nice, if truth be told. Lucian had always been handsome, pleasing to the eye; at least Valentine had thought so. Yet perhaps it was not the type of good looks that caught undue amounts of attention, judging by the fact Lucian had remained single for some time. Valentine still was not sure what to make of that story: his celibacy. Did not entirely believe his reasons yet there had always been something rather elusive about him, that seemed to keep him out of other people's sight.

Certainly Jocelyn never did bite. Valentine could not say he was surprised. It was partly why he married her – though he had not known Lucian's feelings until nearly the wedding. But he never anticipated it being a problem, Jocelyn being in love with Lucian. She was too much like himself: enjoyed the hunt, was only interested in a challenge, and Lucian was simply too kind, too loyal to ever provide that for her. He played the role Jocelyn loved him for: her trusted friend, and continued to do so, for all these years.

He also suspected with hindsight there was a certain comfort it provided her, knowing her friend was so close to him when she agreed to marriage, and Valentine now wondered if he had done some version of the same. Had he picked her not in spite of, but because of her connection to Lucian. And he wondered if he had subconsciously known Lucian's love for her, and done it not anyway, but because, a cruel motivation yet one that matched his personality. He had simply not known himself as well as he did now, however there were hints: how focused he had been on Lucian on his wedding day and not his wife. He cherished actually, knowing that Lucian would remain his and only his. He could have his cake and eat it too, marry the woman of his choosing and keep his parabatai separate, drive a wedge between them – that was the most shameful part: while he had no desire to deny his wife her friend, he did intend to deny his parabatai his.

Perhaps his view of himself and his actions as a young man were harsh, yet he could not deny his talent for collecting and directing others, conducting them where he wanted them to go, and that his reasons for doing so were often selfish. He had not thought so at the time; and that is where the danger truly lied. It was probably why he had so easily been able to accept Jonathan was a killer, and adapt accordingly. Valentine was a manipulator. When his motives were pure it could be put to great good: to organize, uplift, motivate. Teach, as he had Lucian.

However he could just as easily incite, terrorize, tear down everything others had built. A fine balance to maintain, requiring immense precision on his part – to not let his darkness take him over completely – that he managed with highly regimented activity: intensive exercise and training, copious studying, travel and teaching Jonathan, quiet contemplation, and every now and then indulgences: food and drink, female company – transitory. An evening out for a show or exhibition.

Nevertheless in light of current events, his desire for possession of Lucian made more sense, his delight that Lucian was currently in his bed, not Jocelyn's. Even taking Lucian that night in his bed had not been strictly necessary – only that he wanted to so badly. Enjoyed covering him completely on the bed and as petty as it was, that no one else had entered him, how tight he was and continued to be throughout – had never heard Lucian emit a whine like he had nearing the end, it haunted him many nights.

Of course, the sound of Lucian's cries afterwards and the sight of him burying his face in the crook of his arm haunted him too. Particularly when Valentine learned what became of him shortly afterwards. There was irony, no doubt, in his choice of the kindjal, that Lucian had not used when Valentine wanted him to, only to wield when he most certainly did not.

It still lit a fury within him that a werewolf's bite had the power to break his bond, that its teeth possessed more power than angel's blood. Yet it had, it did. A fact he had refused to accept – was easier to believe Lucian had died – at the time. At least they were spared whatever terrible fate was supposed to befall parabatai who knew the taste of each other's skin, who had stolen each other's breath.

Lucian looked so young in repose, and when he was younger he had not appeared so drained. Whether that was due to lycanthropy or heartbreak, Valentine could not say. Only that the throes of passion were also rejuvenating, and Valentine preferred him without the glasses – the prescription was weak, there was no issue without them at the range Valentine sought.

Yet in his haste to return to said throes, Valentine had not given enough weight to signs something was amiss. More so than he had expected, anyway – already well aware of the difficulties between them and the harrowing experience Lucian had just been through. Also cognizant of the major changes that occurred after, in Lucian's life. When Amatis told him there were young children of the moon in the shop, he had hazarded a guess at Magnus' ultimate goal and could not fault him for it. Valentine too, would want an ally in an opposing position of power and particularly one who owed him greatly. Perhaps the two young women coming to live with him was part of the plan, and perhaps Valentine was biased, however he thought it a lot to ask to settle a debt.

The point of all this being, Valentine already knew Lucian was under a fair amount of strain in his day-to-day life when he proposed this meeting, and he already knew his own presence was a personal strain, yet what he had not anticipated was the decidedly fey quality Lucian projected when he arrived at their booth, that never ceased throughout their meal together.

It was particularly disturbing to Valentine, for it was Lucian's steadfastness that had so majorly factored in asking him to be his parabatai. He acted as a lightning rod of sorts, bringing to ground some of Valentine's more outrageous pursuits, his more preposterous ideas. His instinct had been correct, that he needed someone like that by his side, yet his ambition overpowered his good sense, when his parabatai had dutifully asked him to stop.

Lucian now, however, lacked density and it was deeply disturbing, the dissonance between his energy and his actions: groomed and dressed, on time, conversed and ate – heartily, Valentine would hasten to add – and by all indications, including his immediate reaction to seeing Valentine's true face, taking hold of and kissing his hand – terribly sweet, a gesture no one in all his years had ever greeted him with – followed by their immediate flurry towards each other after the dust had settled and the doors were closed behind them here at Renwick's – Lucian apparently did not regret their earlier and sudden intimacy of the summer prior.

And then it seemed terribly obvious what the problem was, for it was one thing to know Lucian had attempted to take his life, it was another to see the physical evidence, the ring of scar tissue wrapped around his inner thigh – it induced in Valentine a wave of remorse, and it gave Lucian far worse, catapulting him from the bed and towards the bathroom.

Valentine left him to his privacy, had much to contemplate silently in the meantime. Came up with many things he wished to speak of with Lucian, only when he eventually emerged from the bathroom he appeared so incredibly fatigued, nearly shaking on his feet, Valentine quickly decided to forgo any further, serious conversation for a more appropriate moment. Instead, bid Lucian to take care of himself with a shower, while Valentine privately decided he would watch over him for the night.

Lucian had laid down with damp hair – practically asleep before his head hit the pillow – which had caused already unruly curls to become twisted and tangled. Would have provided him a change of clothes to sleep in, except Lucian had practically crawled under the covers stripped mostly bare. There was overlap from their past, the sight of Lucian's skin which he had marked many times with runes: his arms and his back, his sides, wherever he happened to be injured with an iratze, with Lucian returning the favor many times.

Valentine rose from the bed quietly, making sure Lucian was still covered completely in his absence. Knew Lucian would be missed, if he were to remain here too long. He would wake him soon. Completed a short series of exercises, to clear his mind for the task ahead. An abbreviated version of the work-out he usually engaged in before breakfast. He did better keeping to a schedule, but was capable of making concessions and when he was finished, went to rouse Lucian, still asleep. His shoulder was slightly cool to the touch, yet he blearily opened his eyes at Valentine's call. Smiled – Valentine could still barely believe it – but was in no rush to get up.

"Do you still feel unwell?" he asked, however Lucian shook his head. "Merely comfortable." Valentine did not entirely trust he had recovered, however had to take pains to remain seated on the edge of the bed when Lucian closed his eyes and cat-like, stretched his arms and arched his back. Recalled how he often greeted the day in that way, when they were out hunting. Valentine had forgotten that, just as Lucian had apparently forgotten then suddenly remembered where he was: that they had shared this bed as something decidedly different than they ever had, and Valentine's efforts were made more difficult when Lucian – still seeming to not want to rise – reached up a too cool hand to cup the side of his face. He had done something similar in the summer, yet since Valentine enjoyed the feeling, Lucian's thumb along his temple, he did not question him why – even though he knew there was a reason he was not saying. Lucian was methodical, that way. Though perhaps his gamble to stay silent would supply an answer, after all, because Lucian asked, apropos of nothing else, except the way things had played out: "Did you ever have a sense of foreboding? About us becoming parabatai?"

An intense question for the morning, yet a curious one. "Some omen, of what was to come? I did not."

"I did. I… had a bad dream." Lucian trailed off, unlike him, however Valentine lost – not entirely – his self-control. Situated himself more firmly, leaning over and planting a hand by Lucian's far hip. Noted with increasingly poor detachment, Lucian's eyes slowly dilate; Valentine was fairly certain his did too. Was surprised, how quickly it came upon them; how little it took to trigger, so in order to keep some semblance of order, he asked, "Care to elaborate?"

"I can't remember what it was – couldn't that morning either. It was the morning of the ceremony – only I felt it would not end well, but it would be worse not to."

"...I cannot say you were wrong. The second part though, do you believe that still? Would you rather we had not?"

"...Amatis told me she gave you an earful."

"And was she pleased with my answers to her questions?" A sudden recollection, her holding his arm when the two arrived at the Council building that morning. She had known her brother's reservations.

"She… believed you cared." Lucian could or would not add the subject to that statement – that it was him, Valentine cared about. That Amatis had believed he cared about. And that was not the word he had used, to express his sentiment, or his reasons, yet Lucian continued, "If you had not been my parabatai, I would not have been so keen to stop you at the Accords. If I hadn't been so close to you, seen how you were changing, I wouldn't have believed you could do what you did."

"A sacrifice for the greater good?"

"Something like that."

"I had a dream I remember clearly. About you and I – I did my utmost to forget, at the time. Shortly after you were turned."

"Really?" Valentine nodded, surprised by the memory, and surprised he had not thought of it sooner. "Your dormitory at the Academy. Night and the moon was full. I stood at the window, the cherry tree in the courtyard was in bloom, and only belatedly realized I was without any clothes, and only belatedly realized I was not alone: I turned and found you in the bed – partly under a sheet, needless to say, with much skin showing. I knew what we had been doing previously, in the way one knows things in dreams.

"My rational mind told me this was wrong: you were gone; it was forbidden even if you were not; but above all, you should have been a wolf. Yet you simply opened your eyes and smiled. That was all. I explained it away as grief. Jocelyn and I were trying for a child at the time – Clarissa, as it were."

"A sign of things to come?" Lucian asked weakly.

"More than that, a message I did not heed: your nature had been altered, but your essential self was the same. I am sorry, it took me so long to see." Valentine refrained, from saying in this light as well, the implication already being obvious, so instead returned to the original reason he had woken him. "I am assuming your absence will be noted?"

Lucian replied dutifully that it would, thanked him for thinking of him. Hurried to get dressed, his clothing wrinkled. Valentine offered breakfast in-suite – testing to see how well he was truly feeling – and Lucian accepted but picked bland items: toast, plain; half an apple and a glass of water.

Walked him out, down the hall and the stairs, out the front doors and to his truck, still dark. He supposed the evening was not too long to wait, to see him again.

Luke cautiously opened the back door, just in case. The girls had texted, saying to not expect them home till noon, at least. Whether they were crashing somewhere or still partying, he couldn't say, but sure enough, the house was empty, and he was relieved to not have to deal with their pointed staring and silent questions, particularly if they had caught him sneaking into his own house shortly before dawn, in evening wear.

He was tired, but could not sleep. Energized in an uncomfortable way, feeling a whole mess of things: embarrassment at his sudden bout of sickness, confusion, a rather overwhelming level of affection – reminded him of when they first met, excited for every study session.

Still had plenty of misgivings, but was mostly relieved his judgment was not entirely shot. That whole summer night had lately begun to seem something his mind had constructed, rather than an actual occurrence. The evening prior at least proved it hadn't been a fluke. Under similar circumstances, it could happen again. Almost had in fact, if he had been in better condition.

Yet maddeningly, the nausea came back, and he felt tugged in two opposite directions, unsure where to go, as he worked the shop that day on his own. While doing so, his mind drifted to some of his usual concerns – waiting on customers, work that still needed to be done at headquarters. He could almost forget where it was he was going, returning, tonight. And that forgetting both soothed and hurt him. Yet in the light of day, it was all so and too easy to revert to his previous thinking: those nights were removed from him and hazy. Valentine was the dream he had always been.

And Luke could not make up his mind. Which he despised. Could relate why Jocelyn just wanted to leave everything behind, make a clean break. It was what he'd wanted to do himself, after a long childhood struggle, realizing he wasn't fit for the task of living amongst the Nephilim. Until Valentine showed up.

So no more of this nonsense. He was not this naive. He knew what he was doing, going to Renwick's. Knew he had a self-inflicted scar across his leg that would be inevitably exposed. Knew he'd been wined and dined. Didn't see much harm in it. Valentine would be gone in a matter of days, wasn't staying, and they were no longer parabatai.

Ran out to a drug store during his lunch break to grab something else he knew he needed. Didn't think about it too much, picked up some other basics while he was there, and set it all down on the counter along with some cash. Thought about a conversation he'd had with the younger members of the pack at the elders' urging, on his way back. They'd expressed concern about accidental new additions, or as they had more bluntly put it: "We've got enough trouble as it is. Don't need anybody getting knocked up, or knocking anyone else up."

No one needed the basics explained, and he wasn't entirely sure what they expected him to be able to do, but he sat them all down, told them all to be careful and not to take any chances, he'd pay for and provide birth control, make sure they carried it on them, especially at Magnus' parties. But to Luke's surprise, the youngest had other concerns and questions.

"Have you ever like… changed in the middle of it? Does that happen?" Malarie had haltingly asked, to the nodding approvals of the others.

"If you're with another Downworlder, well, at least they'd already know…" Bat said, while Luke quickly reflected on an appropriate answer and something that would hopefully be somewhat comforting. Settled on, that had never happened to him; rage and deep pain were what had triggered his uncontrolled changes – not passion, and he'd never told a mundane he was dating he was a werewolf. It was difficult to hide, but only they could decide who they wanted to be with.

"And since you're friends with Magnus, if we tell somebody and it doesn't work out, we could always get him to do a memory spell on them, right?" Duff joked, but Maia seemed to consider it a serious possibility. "One of the many perks, of having an in with the high warlock."

Had never been particularly embarrassed, making good on his end of the bargain: if they agreed to use them, he'd agree to buy them, and he'd much rather buy protection than have them not use it. Just… it'd been awhile, since he'd bought anything of this sort for himself. Managed to keep a stone face while in the store, but pocketing it on his way back to Renwick's gave him pause, threatening to bring red to his cheeks. Even had a moment where he wondered if he was being presumptuous, in his purchase.

But when he stepped out of his truck, warding off the cold in a puffer jacket, onto the remnants of an old road, nothing more now than gravel, outside the former hospital, Valentine was there under the arch of the entryway, waiting. Handsome as could be, and Luke ducked his head in shame, which could be blamed on the wind, as he approached, but not the hammering in his chest, that hopefully the roar of air concealed. The weakness in his legs, however, when in lieu of a greeting, Valentine simply leaned forward, warm lips demanding an answer from his, he could not ascribe to anything else, nor the desire to take the stairs at a run, also the halls, get where they were going, as he put last night out of his mind, as much as he could once they were in the suite and the bedroom they'd shared, for he was feeling alright, better tonight than he had before. No nausea, stomach flipping and dizzy for other reasons, skin breaking out in goosebumps when exposed and senses on high alert, particularly smell, the too strong scent of pine seemingly everywhere, Valentine's hair, his skin, the sheets, Luke's coat and shirt removed out of sight, deserted, Valentine's too, and the flickering firelight sending patches of shadow across muscle and runes Luke could either not see or couldn't focus on properly to identify, swimming across his vision without his glasses, and then he was unsteady on his knees after Valentine encouraged him up onto them to straddle his hips, with firm hands gripping the sides of his jeans, then slipped into his back pockets, yet nevertheless, he found the strength to keep his balance, planted his palms somewhere near the pillow to lean down and push his tongue past Valentine's teeth, then later take his lower lip between his teeth, but froze when fingers wrapped around his waist, nearly making fists along his sides, then jolting up, horizontal along his torso, and he stiffened his shoulders and clenched his jaw but it did not entirely stop the whimper in the back of his throat from coming forward, did not stall the sensitivity, the prickling chill Valentine's touch sent through him, and he lost his position when Valentine took the opportunity to flip them so it was Luke's head against the pillow, looking up, as Valentine shed his belt, undid the top button, then the zip of his trousers, and Luke chided himself for being unable to control his breathing, chest heaving, goosebumps forming on his eventually exposed legs. Also felt he did not possess the stamina for this pace, yet objectively, the pace was nothing significantly quick. Regardless he was exhausted, unsure even whether he could continue, and could not stop himself from slowing down, resting heavily against the bed, and the pillow underneath his head. He tried to hide how difficult he found it, just to lift his hips enough so that Valentine could remove his jeans. And he had prepared himself for this, knew it was there, yet the scar out in the open made the world start spinning in a most uncomfortable, disquieting manner, and he closed his eyes, willing it to stop. Not now; there was so little time, a precious few hours where he could hold his parabatai's attention, and where in turn Luke could focus on him undivided, so he would not be deterred from his original plan, and directed Valentine to his coat pocket, to the small bottle of personal lubricant he'd purchased earlier in the day, and asking him if they could try again. Yet each moment Valentine manipulated the bottle, turning it over and over in his hands without saying a word made Luke choke on his, until after what felt like a terribly long while Valentine whispered to him urgently, held him tight as a vice to his chest. "I fear the strain for you."

And Valentine did not enjoy watching how that utterance curdled what little confidence Lucian came into this with. But the fact he had asked also threatened to break the little patience Valentine possessed, waiting for this. He had absolutely intended to repeat their previous activity, return to Lucian's bedroom, before he had needed to make his hasty and harried retreat. And he enjoyed Lucian's company in this manner very much, more than he ever could have anticipated. Even Lucian's unexpected shyness contributed to his boiling blood, his raging fever, and so even though he had declined as politely as he could Lucian's invitation, he had no intention of stopping as he cracked open the cap of the provided bottle, only to have nothing come out, when squeezed, which confused him temporarily – admittedly his reasoning ability was greatly diminished, at the moment – until he realized he needed to unscrew the cap, remove a safety seal, and that revealed his teeth, lips pulling back into a grin, and Lucian's face flushed a brighter red than it had already been, as he looked away to mutter, "Just bought it."

And Valentine wasted no more time putting it to use, and was rewarded with Lucian's attention in spite of how clearly tired he was, but Valentine had no issue with him resting on his back as long as Valentine was flush against him, pressing him down so that Lucian was forced to push up into him to fill his lungs with air. Or resting on his side, as long as he did not mind his lover entangled around him, hands in his hair, on his back, then lower, under the elastic waistband of his boxers, until they mutually reached an abandonment, Valentine steadying himself between his parabatai's splayed legs – which loosely caged him in a weak ankle lock – and his arm under Lucian's back, holding him up, and his other hand in between them, holding them together, driving them both mad, causing his normally contained partner to fling his arms searching for purpose only to slip against the sheets, even slip against sweat-slicked skin when he reached for his partner in this enterprise until Valentine took pity, adjusted their positions, leaned further down so Lucian did not have to reach as far for him, and so his ears could be closer to the source of his normally soft-spoken partner's continuing whimpers. Still soft, just not a sound he was accustomed to, audible proof he was burdened when normally Valentine had needed to trust his own observations and the fluctuations of the bond between them.

However there was no questioning, nothing to doubt or misinterpret afterwards when Lucian overtaxed and out of breath told him he loved him, and once he had said it, had to repeat it, like a man possessed, or at death's door, and it made Valentine's hands into claws, fingers tearing into the sheets for some semblance of self-command, jaw clenching uncomfortably, shoulders painfully tense, and made him vividly visualize Lucian's earlier initial suggestion, viscerally want him, until he managed to take a breath, then two, then three; then as calmly as he could reminded his parabatai he was not a patient man, and to kindly not test him. Before of course informing him, his feelings were returned ten, twentyfold.

And when Lucian was curled on his side at rest, eyes closed, breathing slow and deep, Valentine also experienced a rare moment of peace, and surprise, that he could be so blessed after his crimes to receive a second chance.

When he laid his own head down, it was in deepest gratitude, for his inordinate, unreasonable luck. And when he rose the next morning, still in the dark, and went out into the living room to carry out his usual routine, only to have the door to the suite open and a familiar face step in with a flourish, he knew he had pushed too far, that same, ever-present luck.

She regarded him openly, curiosity lighting up her eyes; her delight, at catching him red-handed causing her green snake-scale skin, which she normally hid, to emerge and shimmer.

"Well, well," she began, enjoying her immediate sway, even if it was only over him. For the time being. Surely she knew someone, was in the bedroom behind him. At least for the moment, she did not know whom. All the better for her; she loved the thrill of discovery and collecting the latest gossip, if only for her own personal files.

He had hoped she would not come to check on him, at such an unreasonable time. The clock had only just struck five. All part of her game, he supposed, and he already knew she had no qualms about interrupting such things. At least she had not caught he and Lucian in the act – though she possibly would have, if Lucian were not so fatigued. Her timing happened to be decent, but that was not entirely intentional on her part. His luck may have dwindled, but it had not completely run dry.

"Who've you got back there, sugar?" she asked, in a honey-smooth drawl. "Anybody I know?"

It would do no use to lie. "By reputation, but I doubt personally."

"Ooh, keep the details coming. I'm all ears. Most entertainment I've gotten in a long time, trying to guess. Least you can do for me; you getting free board, as you are. And your guest."

"I will of course, introduce you."

"You sound proud."

"I am."

"I love the zeal of you Shadowhunters, and your ardent declarations. But in that case… my oh my, it wouldn't happen to be your former parabatai back there, would it? He's done rather well for himself lately, so I've heard."

"It is."

"Goodness gracious. Chasing literal tail, were you? And an alpha at that? Quite an accomplishment, getting him to lay down for you. But of course, we both know you can be rather domineering. Maybe he'd lay down for me too? Since I can be domineering too?"

"Make your jokes now, before I get him."

"Bold of you, to be ordering me about. Sly too, trying to turn the tables in your favor, but allow me to politely remind you, I will see him whenever I damn well please. So go, get a leash and fetch him."

Valentine walked without another word to the bedroom, ignoring the taunt: "A tad protective, are we?" Quickly opened and shut the door without knocking, to find Lucian already risen and dressed, looking wide-eyed at him in return.

"Her name is Rita, and she is a warlock," Valentine began to explain. "She is also the owner of this place. I was not expecting her, however – and this should come as no surprise to you, yet I apologize anyhow – I took a chance she would not disturb us. She is friendly enough, though highly flirtatious, as you are about to find out. She will not divulge anything about your presence here; only you will need to play along with her games.

"Also, for full disclosure, she and I have had relations in the past."

"...Good morning to you, too," Lucian replied, equal parts shocked and bemused, and Valentine smiled and sighed. "Good morning, dear heart. Did you rest well?"

Lucian nodded, eyes averted, no doubt at the unfamiliar form of address, then indicated with his head toward the door, only to be interrupted by Valentine stepping forward – Lucian's lips cold against his, yet eventually warming up to this perhaps poorly timed display of affection, but most relieved the attempt was well received, Lucian leaning his forehead against his.

When he stepped back he appraised Lucian's appearance: casual, hair no messier than it ever was. Paler than Valentine would have liked, and far too dark underneath his eyes. Also gave him an inkling why the neighboring pack leader thought Lucian was easy pickings. His mistake, obviously; misled by his feyness, as Valentine himself had been, however Rita was an adversary of a different sort, would not be looking for the same weaknesses as another alpha. Fortunately, Lucian had always been rather honest. Not Rita's favorite sort to tease, and not as easy to instigate. The only thing he had to hide was what she already knew: that he was here with Valentine.

"It'll be alright," Lucian assured him, which Valentine silently questioned, yet Lucian got the message all the same. "I took a chance too. Not asking you, what this place is. I'm ready, let's go."

Rita remained seated as they walked out, and Valentine saw her a moment, through Lucian's eyes. A large fur coat on a petite frame, that she now removed and set to the side, settling in for in her mind, scintillating conversation, revealing a sleeveless dress and a sparkling diamond necklace, set off beautifully against her dark skin, and hanging low on her neckline. She always did enjoy, showing off her figure. Usually Valentine appreciated it, but currently was more concerned with what she would say to his parabatai.

"How do you do, ma'am?" Lucian greeted her first, to her immediate pleasure. "Rare to find a werewolf with manners. How do you do yourself? Sorry to interrupt your sleep, since I'm sure Valentine put you through the wringer last night."

"I would have been waking up soon, anyhow."

"Hitting the road, jack? Glad I caught you then. You can imagine my surprise, at finding you here – no hard feelings, I ain't mad. Honored, to have an esteemed man such as yourself staying at my humble hotel."

"The pleasure was mine."

"Oh, I bet it was – but you can also imagine my surprise, after asking around, no one knew where, or with whom, Valentine was laying his head down. I even saw you just a few days ago, sugar, and you weren't thoughtful enough to inform me of your plans. But I have to admit, there's something charming about you two, you've got a prince and the pauper thing going on. But hey, pauper, your prince here is going to hit the road too – always does, I'm afraid, left me aching and lonesome – and since you're pretty fine yourself, maybe we can help each other out. I'm always looking for a good canine companion. I'd keep you on a short leash, and give you plenty of treats."

"For you, no leash would be necessary."

"Ooh Valentine, I was just having fun before but you better put a collar on this one, if you want to keep him."

"Will that be all, Rita?" he asked, pointedly. "If you have other business you wish to discuss with me, we can do so after I have escorted him out."

"You never made it a point to escort me out," she pouted, "but very well. Go pack your things, pauper, while your prince keeps me company."

Valentine knew it would not take Lucian long, so he did not sit down. "You're looking fine, as always Valentine," Rita continued. "But that boy back there, he's looking mighty peaked. He alright? Can't have him conking out on me, just when things are getting hot and heavy."

"It is rather early in the morning."

"Is that all? – I didn't expect an answer, anyhow. Wasn't expecting you here with a man either. Different for you. Me? I enjoy men who look like they're good with their hands. Hear he's been fixing up the werewolf den mighty nice, but you sure you ain't making a mistake? I've known you a long time; gotten a pretty good idea of your tastes. And that one, sweet as he is, don't fit the bill."

Valentine was spared having to reply by Lucian coming forward, duffel bag over his shoulders. "You too were in a rush last night, I take it?" Rita remarked, at Lucian already protectively ensconced in his jacket. "Can't say I blame you, but off you get, pauper. Need me some alone time with your man. And you need to get back to those two girls of yours. My treat, they'll stay fast asleep, won't be asking you no questions, where you've been. Won't be asking you no questions either, when I turn up in this same fur coat of mine with nothing on underneath, expecting you to show me a good time."

"It's terribly cold, as of late. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you for my sake."

"Quite the gentleman."

"Though if you're in need of any reading material, feel free to stop by. I'll cover the expense."

"And a businessman, too. No, Mr. Pauper, you're already good, in my book."

"Good day then, ma'am."

"Bye doll. And I know it's a whole lot of stairs, but don't be taking too long, Valentine."

The sanctuary of the hallway was appreciated, but he dared not linger, and apparently neither did Lucian, as they made their way in silence to the front doors. Though once there, they both stopped to exchange a few words.

"I apologize."

"You really are full of apologies." Recalled Amatis saying the same; sometimes she and Lucian happened to mimic each other in speech.

"Nevertheless, I am sincere."

"She seems like quite the handful," Lucian commented before, in a rare display of uncertainty, he raised his hand to rub the back of his head. "Hope she liked me alright."

"On the contrary, she liked you rather too much for my preference."

"Is she angry? That I was here with you?"

Valentine shook his head. "If she were angry with you, she would let you know more directly."

"That's what Magnus said to me about the fay. Is it odd sometimes I forget, I'm part of the Downworld too? – sorry, I know you need to get back. I should get going too."

"Please do not concern yourself with her. She truly did take to you."

Luke nodded, then was locked in place, internally debating what to do next, until he clumsily shrugged off his duffel bag, let it fall haphazard to the floor, the sound echoing off high ceilings and tile, then with too much force locked his arms around his parabatai's shoulders. Didn't know when he'd see him again, and he'd hoped this would be enough, something to hold on to, to get him out the door, except his parabatai was not on the same page, dipped his head, pressed lips to his and eventually backed them toward a wall. This didn't make it any easier to go, wondered why they were always interrupted, then realized in a bittersweet way they always had been. It was no different in Idris. No sooner had they become parabatai, than Valentine set his sights on Jocelyn; then the ever expanding goals of the Circle. Add in Valentine's father's demise, and the cherry on top, Luke getting turned. Maybe he should take it as a sign. So he didn't insist Valentine get back upstairs and not keep Rita waiting.

And despite having just come to that conclusion, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the heavy knocking that started to shake the door, then wasn't sure whether to laugh or be horrified, when the doors burst open with a showy display of bursting colors, and Magnus, coat whipping in the wind, surrounded by a flurry of snowflakes, announced with all the energy he could muster, at this hour of the morning, "Rita, honey, I'm home!" only to stare at Luke and Valentine, as though he too, could not quite believe what he was seeing.

Magnus had not wanted to come to Renwick's. Would much rather be sleeping. Only that seeing Alexander had created within him the most horrible of habits: rising before dawn. He couldn't very well be unconscious while Alexander frolicked, or vice versa, and sadly, Alexander had not been persuaded by Magnus' impassioned defense of the night hours.

And the worst of it was Alexander was not even currently here. Magnus of his own volition had risen at this most unholy hour, and since he was up, decided to cross something off his to-do list. In exchange for looking the other way on a minor offense, a fellow warlock advised him that the old asylum was not all it seemed. "But you didn't hear it from me!"

"As long as I don't hear about you selling anymore Zenzite."

Magnus generally considered himself an understanding fellow; he'd lived a long time, made his fair share of mistakes and then some, but he was the law and sometimes he had to draw the line. Zenzite wasn't the worst – Magnus had occasionally partaken, the translucent crystals were appealing to look at as well – but it could make Downworlder's a little too happy. Leading Magnus to cast hasty, memory altering spells on mundanes to cover up the following festivities. For a bunch of immortals, many of them had still not learned how to imbibe responsibly. Or perhaps it was because they were immortal, they had not learned to imbibe responsibly.

In either case, Magnus didn't want to deal with its aftereffects any longer… and he was trying to make a better impression on Alexander. Such a straight-laced, buttoned-up, prim and proper young man he was!

However he was overcome with curiosity at the intel, and a deal was a deal. Sure, he imagined all sorts of shenanigans occurred around the ruins, but he never imagined anyone would try to occupy the place full-time. Terribly drafty and rather dismal, the haunted appeal of the place wearing out fast. Except as he approached, he recognized potent spell-work at play. Though it may appear forlorn on the outside, he was positive it did not on the inside, and he was determined to get a peek. It was even an enchanting guessing game, of who could be responsible. The mastery apparent in the design ruled out many; few were capable of a feat such as this; the glamours hiding it were exquisite. Of course, he held no compunction about shattering them to make his way through. And once pressed against them, he knew exactly who had laid them down. His old friend, Rita. My, it'd been a century, since he'd seen her last, what a reunion this would be, except that he inadvertently had interrupted another reunion and soon Luke would think Magnus was doing it on purpose, because truly, how could he twice stumble upon knowledge of him and Valentine, except this time, Valentine was able to speak for himself, and was regarding Magnus, perhaps not entirely cross, but certainly vexed, by this turn of events, and judging by their close proximity to each other and Luke's reddening face, Magnus feared he had interrupted a rather intimate embrace with his poorly timed entrance.

He did not have to linger long however, for the woman he had actually sought to appear, all but dancing down the stairs, so truly delighted was she by what was transpiring, and she effortlessly took center stage, donning her metaphorical top hat and instantly rising up to be the ringleader of their three ring circus.

"Magnus! My love, my heart! It's been far too long. Welcome to my jewel, my treasure, my home away from home; the high style way station I humbly provide for weary travelers. I take it you already met my grateful guests?"

"Rita, you know fully well I live here. And you set this up behind my back? I thought we were better friends than that."

"Yes, you're the high warlock, and all that. No need to toot your own horn. Not all of us need a title to feel impressed with ourselves."

"Not the point I was intending."

"But true, nevertheless. However, Magnus, I also hear you are seeing a Shadowhunter, of all creatures. And a rather stuck-up one, too. You've always made such regrettable decisions, in that aspect of your life. Always going after the ones that are hard to get, I don't understand it… I suppose that's why you and I never got together. But speaking of couples, you don't seem all that surprised to find these two canoodling. Knew you and the pauper were friendly, didn't realize you knew his prince, too."

Magnus sighed. Rita already had nicknames for them. Couldn't deny they were somewhat accurate nicknames: Valentine even at this early hour appeared noble, even in for him casual dress, athletic wear. Luke on the contrary looked terrible, his hair more of a bird's nest than normal, and the blue of his puffer jacket seeming to reflect back upon his face, causing him to either appear frigidly cold or severely anemic.

"We are all acquainted, yes."

"Wasn't my question."

"I am well aware."

"Everyone's so tightlipped this morning! I know you have questions though, Magnus, so come on in, let's sit down, have a talk you and I. And pauper, I changed my mind. Stick around a second. Don't worry, I'll still get you home in time so those girls of yours won't know. I kid you, honey, but takes a real man, to take on kids that ain't his. Just makes me want you more. But we'll talk more about that later. Make him comfortable, Valentine. Get him something to eat. Magnus and I will be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

Magnus could not help shake his head at Rita's forwardness in her flirtations. Particularly because Luke while being a handsome man, because of his rather introverted manner was not the obvious choice of someone to flirt with. And to then do so in front of his lover, who while tolerant, was clearly was not happy about it.

Though he had an inkling, knowing Rita, and knowing men like Valentine, who seemed to draw admirers in far too easily, that the two of them had also been intimately acquainted at one time or another, which Rita confirmed once they did indeed sit down.

Magnus, once he got over his initial shock, did not truly mind Rita's take over of the old Renwick's ruins. He trusted her well enough, and she was more than powerful enough to take care of any trouble, should any arise. He often liked to let sleeping dogs lie, finding it best, particularly when one was immortal, as the two of them were, to not pick a fight unless it was absolutely necessary. Best not to hold grudges, if possible, and he decided he would look the other way, to her relief, once he expressed he would be doing so.

"Guess I owe you one then. How could I forget after all: you've understood for awhile now, you catch more flies with honey."

"It's only a hotel of sorts, correct? No human or animal sacrifices?"

"Of course not. What do you take me for?"

"No wicked spells being cast?"

"Depends on your definition."

"Rita-"

"I'm only foolin'. You know I haven't gotten into anything real dark in ages."

"And I haven't heard of any real trouble coming from this place, and I'd rather you be running things here than someone else. Everyone knows it's your territory? You've staked a good claim?"

"Those in the know, at least. And the warding speaks loud and clear it's mine."

"There aren't many I know who could get past it."

"Quite a compliment, coming from you, but really, you're leaning towards letting me stay?"

"I've got enough on my plate, and believe it or not, I do appreciate what you've done with it."

"Sure you don't want it? It's all set for parties – Why, you could even live here."

"I am perfectly happy with my own living quarters, and besides I could never find my cats in a place like this."

"You and your good deeds… but what about Valentine? Surely, you won't be ruining those two lovebirds' chances?"

"I've spoken to him before about this. As long as I don't hear word he's causing any trouble, and I currently have not, I am fine letting him pass by and continue on his merry little way."

"And what about your own little love affair? You gonna introduce me? Maybe have brunch, after all this?

"I would be more than happy to brunch with you, however Alexander is unavailable. Not in town. In Idris, currently."

"You sound awfully relieved 'bout that."

"You know not everyone can handle your... how shall I put it? Candidness."

"Really, Magnus, you know I only say the truth as I see it."

"That's exactly the issue, Rita."

"We'll agree to disagree. Oh, and one last thing before we go out there and let them know what's happening, what's wrong with the big bad wolf?"

"In regards to what?"

"Why's he look like a vampire just made a feast out of him?"

"It's diabolically early, I don't know."

"That's what his prince said too. Funny, I don't believe either of ya. But let's not keep them waiting any longer."

Rita led them down the hall, back towards the lobby, where Valentine and Luke were sitting around a coffee table, in separate seats, no doubt trying to mitigate any more comments from Rita, but alas, it did not work. She was coming in strong. "So Magnus and I are good, and he has most kindly allowed me to keep my establishment. And following that thought, pauper, maybe you should just hightail it over here with your wolf-pack. Stop that fix-up job you're doing, plenty of rooms to go around. Course, you'll be spending lot of time in mine. What do you say, sugar? Plenty of benefits to being one of my favorites."

"I'm sorry, my pack would ruin the place and that would be a shame."

"Keep the idea in your back pocket, sweet-cheeks. Never know when it might sound more appealing. And you know, the more I look at you, what star-crossed lovers you two be! Parabatai, betrayal, revenge. Beauty" – with a wave towards Valentine – "and the Beast" – then a flourish towards Luke. "Romeo and Juliet! Can't be together, but can't stand to be apart. But we don't need none of those shenanigans: keep away from poison and knives."

Magnus had many times been awed, as well as completely intruded upon, by Rita's intuition, yet he willed himself not react – and Luke and Valentine kept a straight face as well – so as to do nothing to confirm that unlikely hit, and Valentine answered evasively, with a dry, "Indeed." Though Magnus was not sure how he managed, to not betray any emotion, that Luke had recently poisoned himself, then attempted to kill himself with a knife.

Rita was appeased, however. "Good, good. Well, Magnus, we'll be seeing each other later this morning – don't worry about finding me, I'll come to you – so for now, let's give these two unfortunate souls a chance to say goodbye. I'm assuming you're going to want to be heading out the door now too? How about you can wait outside, walk the pauper to his wheels? Valentine, I still want to have a word with you, but I'll wait upstairs. Parting is such sweet sorrow! Bye, pauper; I'll be seeing you."

"Goodbye, Rita," said Luke.

"Alright." Magnus agreed, then turned to Valentine. "I will not be so forward as to call us friends, but I have done you a good turn in the past, not revealing your whereabouts. Whatever your business here is your own, as long as it does not betray my confidence."

"I think it's fairly obvious what his business was here, Magnus," Rita chided, and he shook his head that she managed to get one more dig in, on his way out the door.

"I will be outside, Luke."

Luke nodded, and Magnus braced himself for the cold, and once out in the howling wind, closed doors behind him, he sighed and remembered Camille. She and Rita were similar in some ways: fiery, larger than life. Camille and he, when they were together, threw lavish parties, painted whatever town they were in red. And while that fire of hers was invigorating, it could also burn. Hard to handle in large doses.

It wasn't long before Luke stepped out, head down, and Magnus kept a respectful silence, as they walked a respectable distance away from the door – and the scene of the crime.

"Are we alright? You and I?" apprehensively asked Luke, and Magnus was quick to reassure him. "We are fine. And I am sorry, to have trespassed once again. It truly was not intentional. And I seriously doubt that you are conjuring up some wicked scheme. I'm more embarrassed than anything else, that this was here and I was none the wiser. But I know you need to be going. I will see you soon."

"See you," Luke bid him farewell, despite being still obviously flustered. Magnus couldn't blame him; wasn't exactly the way he'd like to start off the day either: getting interrogated by an ex-lover of his current lover. Nevertheless, Magnus was unduly unsettled, watching Luke walk away. Something about Rita unintentionally hitting a little too close to home, homing in on his suicide attempt, and her appraisal, that Magnus had to concur with, that Luke looked decidedly unwell.

Also, just… Rita had been flirting extraordinarily hard. Luke kept his composure – so did Valentine, for that matter – but Magnus seriously doubted that was something well within his comfort zone. So Magnus fought the wind and followed him, would just feel better knowing he'd at least tried to say something – actually tried yelling after him to get his attention, but couldn't manage to make his voice carry. So he couldn't catch him until Luke was already in his truck, and Magnus knew it already wasn't a good sign that Luke had no sense he was being followed, particularly by someone who was trying to get his attention – but when Magnus reached him, Luke was leaned back in the driver's seat without having bothered to start the engine, simply staring off into space.

Magnus knew this would be delicate, but he knocked on the passenger side window, to Luke's immediate alarm, then near instant relaxation upon recognizing him. Luke then reached over and opened the door for him, and Magnus was relieved, momentarily, to sit down shielded from the elements, until of course, Luke naturally asked him what he was doing there.

"Is there something else? Do you want a ride?"

Magnus shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's… I know Rita can be quite shocking, she leaves no stone unturned. This is none of my business, but – are you alright, my friend?"

Magnus could see the pain in his eyes, in the growing morning light. but it did not break through. "It's darkly funny, really," Luke said, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

"I know," Magnus soothed, "love makes fools of us all. Take me, for example. My dear Alexander enjoys waking up at 5 o'clock in the morning. I, left to my own devices, have not even gone to bed at that hour. Yet, look at me now. I awoke at 5 o'clock this morning, on my own – resulting in this altogether delightful trip here."

Magnus reached over, placed a hand atop one of Luke's. "Please know that I am here, and that I have your back." There was a glimmer of something very complicated at those words, only for it to settle out, into the calming effect Magnus hoped they would have, and Magnus withdrew his hand.

Luke thanked him then asked, rather haltingly, "Uh, Magnus? Rita said something earlier about coming to my house. I thought she was joking, but… you don't think she was serious?"