The Art of Survival

Chapter 6: In Chains


Alec isn't sure what he expected upon their arrival to Aurum, but he supposes being bound in chains and stripped of his weapons should have been right at the top of his 'when you find yourself imprisoned by a prince of hell' checklist.

He feels the loss of his bow keenly as it's forced from his hands by a nameless guard and passed to a waiting servant. A band of anxiety constricts around his chest, squeezes until he feels like he can't get enough air into his lungs. It's only his years of training that keep him from giving in to the panic.

All shadowhunters are trained in a variety of combat techniques and Alec is no exception. He can wield a seraph blade or a staff like an extension of his body, is deadly even without a weapon, but the beautifully carved recurve bow is his.

That bow has been with him through some of the most difficult times of his life, has never once failed him in battle. It's saved his life more than once, the lives of his family and friends. Every rune etched into its surface is a symbol of who he is and who he hopes to be. Even when Magnus had demanded it as payment—so long ago, before he understood what the warlock would come to mean to him; before Magnus understood the gravity of his demand—the loss hadn't felt like this. When he'd handed it over to Magnus it had been willingly surrendered to protect his sister, a sacrifice he was making to protect one of the people he loved the most. It had hurt, of course it had, but it had been his choice. And Magnus had given it back, had never truly intended to keep it, though Alec hadn't known that at the time.

It isn't his choice now.

To see his signature weapon in the hands of a demon, to have it handled so callously, taken from him like a trophy? It feels like the worst kind of violation. Like another piece of him that has been stripped away, another layer of his identity forcibly removed. The pain of yet more loss burrows into the parts of him that are already broken, already raw and bleeding, and picks at those wounds mercilessly. Gehenna is slowly tearing Alec apart, and he thinks that if he didn't have Izzy's steady presence to ground him he may have already gone a little mad.

Around them a crowd is starting to gather, demons of all shapes and sizes pausing to gawk unabashedly at the captured shadowhunters. They murmur among themselves, point, gesture excitedly. They look delighted by the spectacle. The difference between the people here and those of Jurak is glaringly obvious in the way the crowd watches them with hungry eyes. Like they expect these alien creatures to provide them with fine entertainment, like they expected them to perform for their enjoyment. The intense scrutiny makes Alec's skin prickle uncomfortably. He forcefully tamps down the urge to hunch his shoulders, to curl inward and make himself appear smaller. It's a defense mechanism from childhood that he's worked too hard to overcome. He refuses to give this place that kind of power over him.

He grunts and stumbles forward a step when the butt of a spear is jammed, hard, into the middle of his back. It will likely leave a bruise. He shoots a glare over his shoulder at the offending guard.

The guard sneers. "Get moving Shadowhunters!" He jabs Alec with the spear again. "The king has plans for you and it won't do to keep him waiting." He leers at them, his smile maliciously delighted. It's clear he knows something about what's going to happen and is excited by the knowledge.

Massive, gilded doors sweep open on silent hinges as they're herded into an opulent palace. Guards surround them on all sides and Alec can't suppress a shudder as tainted warding magic brushes over his skin. It claws its way deep inside the core of his magic and settles there, cuts him off from the source of his strength and leaves him reeling.

The loss makes his body feels sluggish and heavy, the world around him appearing blurred and muted. Like someone ran a photograph through an old filter and fuzzed out the edges. All of his senses feel dampened, unreliable.

There's a harsh popping sounds as the magic tethering his wings shatters, unable to sustain itself without access to his angelic energy. He feels exposed and vulnerable like this, feels like his body is not his own. He wonders if this is what it's like to be deruned?

It's awful.

Isabelle doesn't appear to be faring any better under the press of dark magic, but her gaze is fierce and defiant despite the grey tinge to her skin. Her wings are pressed tight against her back, cobalt feathers bristling, and a grimace twists her lips.

Alec doesn't miss the faint tremor in her hands.

He isn't sure if she can feel the magic in the same way he can, but being cut off from their angelic energy, forced to summon her wings against her will, is enough all on its own. He knows she feels as violated and vulnerable as he does. He wants to wrap her up in his arms and protect her, to shield her from every bad thing they are likely to face in this place. He knows Izzy doesn't need his protection, but he'll never stop being her big brother, never stop wanting to keep her safe regardless.

Alec struggles to clamp down on his own warring emotions, forces himself to concentrate on their surroundings. He is a soldier, a shadowhunter. He's learned how to compartmentalize, to shutter the emotions that cloud his focus so he can lead his people with a clear head no matter the situation. This is no different. They may not be going into battle physically, but this is going to be a battle none the less and he needs to have every edge available to him.

He doesn't know what Mammon wants with them, but if he has any hope of striking a bargain with the demon, of protecting his sister, of finding a way to get them home, then he needs to keep a clear head.

He takes in every detail of the palace as they walk, catalogs where guards are stationed, the types of weapons they carry, hallway placements, windows, the servants who scurry around them like mice. Nothing stands out as a possible escape route. He also notes the statues of hell hounds that line the hall, gemstone eyes glinting in the torchlight. There's a static tingle of magic that bleeds off them, a good indicator that they are more than simple decorations. He's sure there are plenty of traps—magical and otherwise—that are not visible to the naked eye. Mammon keeps his home extremely well-guarded against both intrusion and escape.

If Alec wasn't so frustrated he'd be impressed.

He can't help comparing the extravagant palace they're being led through to the crumbling castle Asmodeus kept in Edom. It's an irrelevant comparison, probably won't offer any useful insight, but the disparity piques his curiosity none the less. Asmodeus is the demon of lust, yet his domain reflected nothing of the sort. Mammon's glittering city is very clearly an example of greed and flagrant wealth.

It is because Mammon has no one to challenge him as Lilith had constantly challenged Asmodeus? Does this make him more dangerous, or less? If Mammon has grown complacent, assured in his own power, then that can potentially work in their favor. Laziness leads to sloppiness and Alec knows that even greater demons are not infallible.

His musing is cut short as they are shoved through yet another set of massive golden doors and into a cavernous throne room.

Floor to ceiling windows are edged in gleaming copper and gold, sunlight streaming in through polished glass to cast an almost ethereal glow over the room. Veins of silver run through white marble floors and spiderweb up thick pillars. The pillars are inlaid with precious gems in a rainbow of colors that glitter in the light. It's undeniably beautiful, a blatant display of wealth meant to inspire and intimidate.

At the center of it all a grotesquely ornate throne sits on a raised dais—bracketed by two more carved hell hounds—and on it lounges a deceptively beautiful man with piercing eyes and an unreadable expression.

They are forced to their knees before the throne and Alec feels the cold metal tip of a spear kiss the back of his neck, a reminder that a single wrong move will likely spell his death. It would take the barest of movements for the demon behind him to skewer him where he kneels, to slice his throat open and let him bleed out all over the gleaming marble floors. He knows he doesn't have the strength or speed right now to avoid the blow.

Alec has never feared his own death, still doesn't, but he does fear what his death will mean for the people he'll leave behind. The thought is enough to keep him still and silent as he kneels on the cold floor and waits.

Mammon regards them both with unnerving interest, eyes sharp and calculating as they rake over first Alec and then Isabelle.

Alec bristles, a burst of anger shooting through him when Mammon's eyes linger on his sister, something hungry glinting in his gaze. He's not even aware he's made a sound until the demon's eyes snap back to him. Green eyes are more intent now, assessing.

"Oh, this one is important to you, isn't she? Sister? Lover?" His eyes flick bac to Izzy for just the briefest of moments. "She is lovely."

Alec curses internally, holds himself as tall as he can from his kneeling position. He meets Mammon's eyes unflinchingly, unyielding. He says nothing, won't give the demon the satisfaction of baiting him into revealing anything else. Everything in him rebels at the idea of being on his knees in front of a prince of hell, but he has to play this carefully. He can't let anger make him do anything rash.

Despite the palpable unease rolling off Isabelle in waves, she is equally as immovable at his side, the two of them presenting a united front in the face of the king of greed.

Mammon's smile is all sharp teeth and self-satisfaction. "Most creatures in your place would prostrate themselves before me and begged for leniency. You are fierce aren't you, little Nephilim?"

It's posed as a question, but it's clear Mammon doesn't truly expects a reply.

The narrowing of his eyes is the only movement Alec allows himself as the greater demon rises gracefully from his throne and circles them like a predator sizing up its prey. Even with his senses dulled as they are by the wards he's still acutely aware of where Mammon is in the room, can practically feel the way the demon's eyes bore into him as he studies them. He doesn't jump when Mammon is suddenly kneeling in front of him, but it's a near thing.

Long, graceful fingers dig into his jaw painfully, sharp nails biting into his skin. They draw pinpricks of blood as Mammon forces Alec's head from one side to the other, examines him like a prized pig on display. Alec barely suppresses a flinch when the demon leans closer, runs his nose up the length of his throat and breathes in deep.

Mammon lets out a pleased hum and grins in feral delight.

"My my…that is certainly interesting." The demon sounds thrilled by whatever he's discovered. "You absolutely stink of Edom," he whispers. His voice is soft and low, intimate, as though they're lovers sharing a secret. His breath is hot across Alec's cheek where he still lingers inside his personal space and he smells of ash and rotting pine. It makes Alec's skin crawl, makes nausea rise in the back of his throat. He swallows, clenches his jaw and fights down the bile threatening to make him sick.

The demon's grin grows wider. "Oh, I know who you are. Even way down here gossip spreads. What a…fortuitous accident." He stands again with a flourish, dragging those razor-sharp fingernails across Alec's cheek as he does. Blood blooms in lines across his skin, drips slowly down the contours of his face and stands out starkly against his pale skin. Mammon towers over him as he continues to regard him intensely.

Alec does flinch this time. If the Prince of Greed knows who they are, knows who Magnus is, and felt the need to share that knowledge, then that means he's already one step ahead of them in a game they don't even know the rules for. With a sinking feeling he realizes that there are going to be no bargains made here today.

It's clear the demon wants them for something, but Alec can't fathom what use they could possibly be to him. Maybe Mammon simply wants to torture them, to relish in their screams as he flays them alive.

Above him Mammon taps his chin in false thoughtfulness, lips turned down in a mock frown. "Last I heard, my brother's realm had collapsed. His failure of a son choosing the stay topside rather than rule in his rightful place." He sneers. "The disgraced king of a fallen realm. And all for some mortal…pet. I imagine Asmodeus will be terribly disappointed when he eventually crawls back out of whatever hole he's wallowing in."

A muscle in Alec's jaw ticks as anger floods in, hot and vicious, to replace his fear. It hits him with a quick, startling ferocity and he grinds his teeth so hard he thinks they might crack. He doesn't care what the demon says about him, but he wants to tear Mammon's pretty face off for insulting Magnus.

On some unconscious level he thinks, perhaps, the intensity of that violent desire should frighten him, but he's never been shy about the lengths to which he'll go to protect those he's claimed as his own. He'd been willing to go to Edom for Magnus, to face down the mother of demons in her own territory, there isn't much he wouldn't do for him.

Beside him Izzy makes her own angry sounds of protest, spits a colorful curse in Spanish, and Alec is reminded just how similar they are sometimes, despite their obvious differences. Izzy is all vibrant colors, laughter, freedom and a passion for life, but she also knows how to utilize that passion, how to channel it into a vicious precision when she's protecting her people.

Mammon throws his head back and laughs, clearly amused by their indignation. The sound echoes though the throne room, loud and grating. "Fierce indeed. Yes, I think you'll both do nicely. My subjects will pay handsomely to see Nephilim in the pits." His eyes flick to Izzy again, linger briefly, before coming back to rest on Alec again. "And if you don't want to comply I'm sure I can find alternative uses for your lovely companion here."

Alec feels a chill run through him at the demon's words. Izzy's startled inhalation cements the fear thrumming through him.

Mammon must read the revulsion in his expression because he's leaning down again, trailing a finger across Alec's jaw, smearing blood down his deflect rune in a twisted imitation of a caress. "You'll put on a spectacular show though, won't you? You're absolutely drowning in Edom's magic. I can't wait to see what you can do once you learn to harness all that power."

Alec's eyes widen, his heart thumps painfully against his ribcage.

Mammon can't possibly mean…

The demon cocks his head to the side, looks almost surprised. "Oh? You know exactly what I'm talking about, don't you? You can feel it I bet. All that anger, all that power."

Alec knew something had changed the day they'd vanquished Lilith and destroyed Edom. He's been able to feel magic—not just Magnus's—in ways he never could before. He can sense the way the wards wrap around him like a warm embrace when he's at the loft, or the static tingle when someone near him is casting. His runes burn sharper, last longer. He'd thought it was simply a lingering remnant of the alliance rune, that it would fade over time. He'd meant to have a conversation with Magnus about it, but it had been relegated to the bottom of the priority list in favor of trying to keep the planet from being overrun by demons.

And now he's here in Gehenna, in the clutches of a greater demon who is happily plucking his secrets and weaknesses out of him like he would pluck a chicken's feathers.

The irony of the comparison isn't lost on him.

Mammon shakes his head in mock pity. "What did you think would happen by swearing fealty to a prince, silly little bird?"

A strangled sound tears itself free from Alec's throat, his breath hitching in his lungs as he stares at Mammon in abject horror. Cold dread washes through his veins. That's not possible. Alec would have certainly remembered bartering away his soul in exchange for power.

All Nephilim are told the story of The Fallen as children. Three rebellious brothers who swore allegiance to Bael, the greater demon of wrath, in exchange for the power to take revenge against a group of downworlders who'd killed their sister. And Bael had made them powerful. Frighteningly so. They had been capable of augmenting their angelic runes and weapons with the tainted magic of their Fallen Angel benefactor. They were faster, stronger, more deadly.

Immortal.

But with that power came a soul-deep corruption. They became weapons of indiscriminate destruction, incapable of telling friend from foe. They had cut a path of death through the Shadow World for nearly three weeks before they were finally subdued. It had taken almost an entire garrison of elite shadowhunters and several warlocks to kill them. The casualties had been staggering, their body count estimated to have surpassed even that of the Circle's.

The Clave considers The Fallen the ultimate abomination, creatures so twisted and dark they're thought to be worse than demons themselves. The brother's names were stricken from the history books, their family line severed, but their story has never been forgotten. It's a cautionary tale to warn the Nephilim away from coveting such power, for any reason, no matter how good or righteous they think their intentions may be. There hasn't been a fallen shadowhunter in over 300 years, but the protocols are still in place. Fallen are to be killed on sight, no right to a trial, no right to plead for mercy.

"Alec, what the fuck is he talking about?" Isabelle sounds frantic. Her dark eyes are wide and filled with alarm as she stares at him imploringly. She's breathing hard, hands fisted in front of her so hard her knuckles are white with the strain. "Did you…was there more to that deal…?"

He knows which one she's talking about without her having to speak the words. That ill-conceived deal he made with Asmodeus to get Magnus his magic back. The deal that had nearly broken both their hearts beyond repair.

Alec shakes his head in vehement denial. He may have made a deal with Asmodeus but he never swore fealty to the bastard.

"No! Raziel, no." He's shaking now, can hear the clatter of the chains that bind his hands ringing loudly in his ears. They sound like alarm bells, sharp and piercing. "I've never sworn loyalty to any demon, especially not Asmodeus." He can't hide the desperation in his voice as he speaks. Desperation for Izzy to believe him, desperation for Mammon to be wrong, desperation for the terrible puzzle pieces to stop falling so neatly into place.

Mammon laughs again. "Oh, but you did little bird. With Lilith dead and Asmodeus off who knows where-" he waves his hand carelessly, "-Edom's power needed somewhere to go. Who better than her creator's wayward heir? And then you pledged your life to his. For better or worse, isn't that what your precious humans say? Till death do you part and all that." He widens his eyes dramatically, grin firmly in place. "So, you see, you will fall." The demon spreads his arms wide, a showman entertaining a rapt audience. "I imagine you'll be stunning when you do. All that darkness and raw potential. It's rather fascinating really, I can't wait to see how it plays out." His smile is all sharp teeth and anticipation.

Alec can't breathe. Dark spots dance along the edges of his vision as panic presses down on him. He can't push it back. He's gasping, struggling to fill his lungs with air. His heart pounds a staccato beat in his chest and a deafening noise roars inside his head.

This isn't possible.

After everything they've worked for, fought for, everything they've sacrificed…this can't be how it ends. His marriage—born of love and devotion, of trust and hope for a better future—can't be the catalyst for this kind of destruction. It will tear Magnus apart, the guilt will destroy him and there will be nothing anyone can do to bring him back from that.

For the first time since coming to Gehenna a small part of Alec begins to hope he doesn't make it home. If he never leaves Gehenna his husband will never have to witness the abomination he's going to become.

He is vaguely aware of Mammon barking orders to his demos, of Isabelle shouting his name, of being dragged to his feet and out of the throne room, but it barely penetrates the numbness that has begun to settle inside him.

Alec's greatest fear has always been that he won't be able to protect the people he loves. Now he's afraid he'll be the one that destroys them.

oOoOoOoOo

Alec comes back to himself what could be minutes or hours later. He feels numb, hollow. He doesn't remember anything Mammon said to them after his startling revelation. Doesn't remember where they were taken or how long they've been here. Izzy is hugging him tightly, her fingers twisted in the back of his shirt. She's trembling, clinging to him so hard it's almost painful. She exhales a harsh breath when he brings his arms up to hug her back.

"He has to be lying." Isabelle's voice is horse where it's muffled against his hair.

"I…I don't think…I don't know…" Alec desperately wants to believe that Mammon is playing with them, but the more he thinks about it the more he fears it might be true. He doesn't know how to explain to her the things he's noticed, the changes he's been brushing off. How does he tell her about the irrational flashes of anger, the way his can feel magic, the way his runes feel just the slightest bit different? The changes have all been subtle so far, but he's terrified that it won't be long before they stop being subtle. "I don't want to hurt anyone Iz. I…I can't…" He chokes on a sob. Fear claws at his chest, balloons out to fill every piece of him that has been empty and aching since being cut off from his parabatai and his husband. He can't remember what it means to feel safe anymore.

Has his connection to Jace been holding these changes at bay? Is it getting worse now because he doesn't have that steady bond to temper him? He has so many questions and the only one with answers is their captor.

He wants to make Izzy promise that she'll kill him if he starts to get worse. He opens his mouth but can't force the words past the lump in his throat. To extract that kind of promise from her is to make her live with his blood on her hands for the rest of her life. He knows she will never forgive herself, even if she's doing it to save her own life.

Izzy swallows, pulls back so she can hold him at arm's length, can look him in the eye. She searches his face, opens and closes her mouth several times. Alec can see her struggling to find words that will reassure him. It only makes the agony inside him grow. She's trapped here with him. If he falls she'll be his first victim. He doesn't know how to protect her.

"Maybe…maybe the stories are wrong. We both know the Clave likes to twist history to fit their own narrative. What…what if The Fallen really didn't go crazy? What if the Clave just said that to justify killing them because they feared the kind of changes they could bring to the Shadow World? It wouldn't be the first time they'd lied to protect themselves."

Alec can see the way hope and grief war in her eyes. They're glassy with unshed tears. He wants so badly to agree with her, to tell her that everything will be alright, to wrap her up tight and protect her from every bad thing in the world.

But he isn't sure it will be alright.

"I don't know…maybe." He shrugs helplessly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of this terrible possibility. "First we need to figure out how to get out of here. We can worry about everything else later, ok?" Even as the words leave him, he tastes the lie. He has to get Izzy out of here, but he isn't sure he'll be joining her.

Isabelle sighs softly, pulls away to arrange herself next to him against the cold cell wall. She rests her head on his shoulder, hooks one arm through his and laces their fingers together. Her hand feels so small and fragile like this, even though Alec knows she's anything but.

"I'm not sure how we're going to do that."

He nods absently, glances around their prison. It's all solid gray stone, no windows, a thick iron door the only way in or out. There is a small grate at the top, barely wide enough to get an arm through, and a narrow hatch at the bottom, presumably for food. If he focuses, he can hear the faint hum of the warding magic woven into the rock. Isabelle is right, it's going to be virtually impossible to break out of here.

Several long minutes pass in quiet before Izzy speaks again. "He wants us to fight for him, in the arena," she says, summarizing Mammon's earlier words to them. It's an idle statement, a way to make conversation maybe, to break the oppressive silence. She snuggles in a littler closer, her presence a warm comfort at Alec's side.

Alec leans his head back against the wall and blinks up at the ceiling. More gray stone. His eyes burn, his wings ache and he feels so helplessly unsteady. "Then…I guess for now, we fight. We'll try to use this to our advantage."

Izzy glances at him curiously. "How do you mean?"

"Well…he's going to want us to put on a good show, right? That means he's not going to have us beaten or tortured or starved. He's old, knows how to be patient and play the long game. He understands that we're more valuable in one piece." He licks his chapped lips, tastes blood. He must have bitten them at some point. "So, that likely means we'll have time between fights to properly heal, to regain our strength. We use that the time to learn what we can about the people here, learn the layout of the city, the arena. Mammon isn't going to be escorting us everywhere we go, which means someone will eventually make a mistake. We just need to be ready to capitalize on that."

Isabelle gives him a wry smile, nudges him gently with her shoulder. There's a glimmer in her eyes now, a hint of that fire and determination from earlier. She's always been a fighter, fearless, willing to go against impossible odds.

"Ok. Then we fight."

TBC…


AN: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. So much has happened since the last time I posted, but I promise I'm not loosing interest or abandoning this fic. I just started going back to school to finish my bachelors degree so updates may be a bit slow but they will still be happening. Thank you to everyone who reads and/or reviews, you all keep me inspired. 3

-GPO