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Revenant [4/5]

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, background Clary/Izzy, mentions of past Magnus/Camille

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Violence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Downworlder Politics, Betrayal, Revenge, Background Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Angry Magnus Bane, Light Romance, Mystery, Prophecy, Minor Character Death, lots of death

Summary:

Alec has heard the legends of Magnus Bane. He knows all the tales and he’s read all the records of his downfall. The High Warlock of Brooklyn who became so hungry for power that he began to mistreat the very warlocks who sought his help. It’s been a hundred years since then, and when a sudden rift opening between realms brings an onslaught of lesser demons, so too does it bring Magnus Bane, insatiable and vengeful for the power and people that locked him away in Edom. As newly appointed Head of the New York Institute, it’s Alec’s job to protect the residents of New York from one of the greatest Demons he’s ever faced. Only, he has no idea how, and maybe things aren't what they seem.

Art by the talented: @abby0007

Beta’d by the wonderful: @squiggly-lines-on-a-page

Read on ao3

Chapter Four

The room is a familiar scene when Alec steps through the portal. The muted colors are still present, and the handful of decorations around the room have doubled since his first and only visit.

Magnus is only seconds behind him, and the soft hum of magic dissipates with the closing of the portal behind them.

Clary is the first to jump on the silence, hands on her hips and words matter-of-fact. “We want to help you get down to the bottom of this, Magnus. Hearing what we know of your past, and what we’ve heard in the shadows makes us question our own history and knowledge from the Clave and wonder what the truth really is. I know if we work together we can solve this, and I promise it can be beneficial for both of us.”

It’s only after a brief hesitation, precious minutes where Magnus seems to size up everyone else in the room, that he finally agrees with Clary’s words and decides to retell his story. He tells them of his past, of the friends that he rose to power knowing, people that sought his help in dire times. He told them of Vampires along the way that he aided, some werewolves too. He speaks of how deep the betrayal cut when he felt the magic crushing him under its weight, how excruciating the pain had been, and the reprieve once he had arrived in Edom.

“It was dark and arid, the complete opposite of the world you know here.”

“Would you ever go back?” Clary queries softly, her eyes drawn in compassion.

Magnus shakes his head. “Never, if I can help it.”

They ask him what he knows now about the attack that day, but a handful of half-answers is all they receive. There’s a core group he knows of, one from almost every basic faction of Downworlders, but he’s not sure who started it and why, or where this so-called prophecy came from. A lie is the most likely answer, something Camille probably deluded everyone else into thinking until mob mentality overcame them and lies became the truth.

It’s interesting to see the explanation told amongst the group, after knowing the one Magnus told him a week ago, alone and injured on his couch. It holds the same impact, the same weight, and it’s been elaborated on significantly in the days he spent gathering information and clues. There’s a distinct lack of his history with Camille, Alec notes, and despite the insane situation he finds himself in the middle of, it makes the corners of his mouth twitch that Magnus trusted him with a little tidbit of information the others don’t know. However small and insignificant it may seem to anyone else, it makes him feel trusted.

“First thing’s first, we need to figure out who came up with this idea that Magnus Bane would use the Shadowhunters to gain power.”

“Please,” Magnus begins with a palm in the air. “Just Magnus works, Magnus Bane makes me feel every bit the monster your kind thinks I am.”

Jace shifts awkwardly where he stands. “It’s what we were told, what we were brought up to believe. We couldn’t have known.”

Magnus nods, though he doesn’t hold any conviction of belief in his actions. “Yes, I know. And now that you do, what do you plan to use that information for?”

“I was thinking of taking it to the Inquisitor, seeing what she knows about it. None of us were around at the time, so we’ll never know the full truth, but maybe she has an explanation, or something of value to offer,” Alec chimes in, directing them back to the matter at hand.

Magnus taps a finger to his chin, watching Alec with careful scrutiny. It doesn’t feel unsettling, but it does make his face feel warm with the attention.

“I don’t know, Alec,” Isabelle interjects, seemingly uncomfortable with the option. “The Inquisitor gave us a very specific set of instructions. If she finds out we not only sought out Magnus Bane, but helped him and are now questioning our history, I think that’s more than enough to ruffle her feathers.”

Jace and Clary nod in agreement, and suddenly they’re back to square one.

They could take the information higher than the Inquisitor, see how far they get, Jace suggests. Maybe they could reach out to Raphael Santiago, Isabelle throws out on a whim, to see if any more information has sprung up since their last conversation. That one holds some support behind it, but the group agrees to wade through more ideas first. After a particularly long bout of silence, Clary rationalizes that maybe they should begin to make a tactical board of ideas and information to help them organize their scattered thoughts. Everyone agrees, and Magnus does his best to summon what they need, though Clary seems put off by the slow, mundane way of putting the information together.

“This would be easier at the Institute,” she mumbles to herself, though she doesn’t exactly hide her disappointment.

“Not exactly welcome with open arms,” Magnus reminds her.

Had they not been who they were in that moment, Alec could almost see the action being warmer, more cordial and friendly.

But not now. Maybe not ever.

He wonders, as they place scraps of information on the board, and connect what little pieces they know together, if their time with Magnus is going to last as long as it takes him to get down to the conspirators of his banishment.

Is Magnus going to stay in New York?

It’s doubtful. Even if everyone that hatched this plan against Magnus dies by his hand, there’s surely no way the Warlock would ever consider setting his home back up in the place filled with the memories of his downfall. People that turned on him, whether intentionally, or under the pretense of him being willing and capable of turning on them at a moment’s notice, still reside in New York. They’re still a part of the home he once knew and loved, still a sore spot in the history he will continue to live with forever.

There’s nothing tethering him to this place, no reason for him to stay. Warlock friendships last in spite of distance, and with the ability to portal back and forth at a moment’s notice, there’s nothing and no one substantial enough to keep him here.

Izzy, Jace, and Clary are huddled together, arguing over scraps of paper on the coffee table of Magnus’ living room when Alec notices the swift, whimsical motion of Magnus summoning himself a drink across the room.

It’s just a few solitary moments isolated in time, that Magnus let’s the tension fall from his features with that first sip. When, for just then, he looks younger and less deadly than Alec has yet to see thus far. The hatred and anger that covers and surrounds him lessens, and in the soft sunlight peering through the window, he looks reminiscent to the photos of Magnus a hundred years ago, joyful and entertaining with stories ready to pour from his mouth.

He wonders how different Magnus was back then. How pleasurable and welcoming it must have been to be present in his company. Long nights, and even longer mornings. Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, at the peak of his social standing, elevated in mind, body and spirit.

The contentment fades after that drink, and Alec watches the slow arrival of exhaustion, of hurt and pain and anger. He notices all the minute ways those feelings etch their existence into small lines that crease Magnus’ brow. He can see the way Magnus’ eyes open to him in shining clarity, before they’re dulled back down to protect himself.

Alec won’t ever understand, he knows this. He’ll never be able to see the world through the same perspective Magnus does, no matter how good his intentions are or how hard he tries. He doesn’t expect to, and honestly, he doesn’t want to. He only hopes that his assistance can help Magnus heal, can help him see that there are still people here who will fight with him.

Even if it goes against everything they’ve been ordered not to do.

Time passes quickly as they strategize. The morning sun settles into an afternoon haze, and weariness begins to creep into their voices.

“I think we should take a break for now and reconvene later, once we’ve all had some rest,” Isabelle says, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

Murmurs of agreement sound from Jace and Clary, and Magnus is all too quick to rise from his spot on the chair across from Alec. His fingers wring together where they rest at his side, and he seems almost nervous.

To see them go? Alec doubts it, but he’s unsure what else could cause this reaction.

Cautiously, as though he’s anxious to leave the Shadowhunters out of his sight for even a second, Magnus heads over to the next room to retrieve something, and returns promptly with a small vial. Before anyone can get a word in, soft blue magic emanates from Magnus’ upturned palm and illuminates the room, circling and twisting around the glass. It’s steady, calming even, and they watch transfixed as the creeping magic seeps through the cork that seals the vial, and trickles inside.

“What is that?” asks Alec, finally.

Magnus peers over at him, mouth twisted and searching for the right words. “My trust. It would be foolish for me to let you all leave here alive, but I did it once and though you almost got me killed against Lorenzo of all people,” he pauses, throat catching for reasons that Alec may never know, but suspects, “I trust that you won’t let my plans and whereabouts get into the hands of the wrong people.”

Solemnly, Alec nods and reaches out to take the small bottle.

“It’s a healing potion I prepared, infused with my magic.” Alec already knows what it means before Magnus says it, and guilt starts to weave through his mind. “I injured a few of your Shadowhunters the day I arrived. I have no reason to believe they’re still alive, but if they are, one drop from this bottle on each wound should be enough to heal and close them.”

Clary smiles, brilliant and ecstatic and reaches to grasp the bottle from Alec between her small fingers. “Magnus, thank you.”

Jace seems to sense the onset of Alec’s shame before anyone else, and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t forgotten, not entirely. He had intended to get an antidote from Magnus that first day, but…

Well, he had almost died, too. His life had been at the mercy of this powerful Warlock before him, and he had to ensure he made it out alive in order to be able to help anyone else. They had been in Clary’s care this whole time, safe enough that he knew if things had gone wrong she would have alerted him to it immediately. Still...

“Do not make me regret it, Shadowhunters.”

They nod simultaneously, and Clary is careful to slip the vial into her pocket as they head towards the door. They’ve chosen to forgo a portal to the institute on the basis that knowing Magnus’ location will be important if they’re expected to find their way back later in the evening. With a smile and a wave from Isabelle and Clary, and a nod from Jace and Alec, they head off into the daylight, back to the sanctuary of the Institute where sleep and the opportunity to process and corroborate everything Magnus has told them awaits.

---

It’s hours into the evening when Alec makes his way to the infirmary to see Clary and the results of Magnus’ elixir.

He expects to see more than just the redhead, but opens the doors to find the room empty, save for Clary at a desk typing away into a file. She peeks over at him briefly, and nods her greeting.

“They’re recovered?”

“Fully,” she says. “Magnus’ magic worked like a charm, not that I doubted it would. Just in time, too. We were depleting a lot of resources quickly with how long we kept them in here.”

The guilt shoots to the forefront of his mind, not as strongly as before when Magnus first brought it to light, but enough that Alec visibly grimaces.

“Hey,” Clary’s voice lilts, and the typing stops as she reaches over to squeeze his arm in reassurance. “You did what you could, as quickly as you could. Even if they hadn’t made it, nobody would have blamed you. This was a result of Magnus, none of us could have stopped it or found the antidote any sooner.”

Alec shrugs. “I could have gotten it the first time I saw Magnus, I could have - “

“Alec.”

With a sigh, he nods and suppresses the self-reproach that still lingers. Clary’s right, their injury wasn’t his fault, and he could have tried harder but it doesn’t change anything now. Everything worked out in the end.

“Almost done?”

“Yes. Just a few more details to notate and then we can head over to Magnus’. Grab Izzy and Jace?”

Alec leaves with every intention of doing just that, and upon leaving the double doors of the infirmary he immediately spots the familiar blond head of hair one floor below.

He’s stopped, however, before he even makes it to the descending staircase.

“Alec, there you are,” his mother’s stern voice seems to chide from the hallway leading away from Jace. Regretfully, he turns to meet her, files in hand and lips pursed in the ever-present line he always recognizes.

“Mother,” he acknowledges, stepping towards her with a wide stride. The quicker he gets this over with, the quicker he - they can see Magnus.

“You’ve been busy,” she states, and Alec feels a spike of dread shoot through him that she’s somehow been made aware of their plans with Magnus. There’s no way, he tells himself. No way for her to know something that only happened hours ago.

“Ah, yeah. Underhill had some questions about a patrol route that’s seen no activity in the past few months and we decided to reallocate our resources elsewhere.”

While not entirely a lie because this was a discussion he and Underhill had a few days ago, Alec stills holds a fraction of fear for being caught, and only hopes it’s enough to quell his mother’s curiosity.

She watches him for a second, and then nods, easing the tension inside of him.

It’s unfortunately short-lived, because the next words she speaks bring him right back to the edge.

“The other day when I arrived, you had a stack of files on your desk,” she begins, searching the hallways quickly before continuing. “There was nothing correlating those incidents besides the date, and now I worry that you’re trying to insert yourself into a dangerous position that you’ve been advised not to.”

Alec’s jaw sets, and he realizes that worse than being caught in a lie, is having his plans figured out so easily by his own mother. “Of course not.”

“Alec, you don’t know the danger you could be causing if you seek out this demon. He’s threatened us once with his first attack, do you truly think he would spare us again if you test him? You’re here to protect these people, not lead them into slaughter.”

“I know, but - what if -” Alec shakes his head, struggling to find the words he needs.

“What if what, Alec?”

He has a choice to make, here in front of his mother, a decision that could throw out everything they’ve worked to achieve. He could come clean, could confide in her the conversations had with Magnus, the story of his truth and what that means for the history they all thought they knew. He could explain to her the trust he gave them and how they intend to help him get down to the bottom of it. He could ask for her help, could see if in all her time at Idris with the Inquisitor and Clave officials, if she has ever heard anything about the Shadowhunters working with Magnus Bane.

Or he could lie. He could tell her it was just a coincidence, that she has nothing to worry about.

But there’s a look in her eyes, deep down and almost hidden, a look of concern that calls to him, something honest and maternal and unlike the superficial concern for their status he’s used to seeing.

Before he says another word, Alec motions to the end of the hall and rushes towards his office with his mother in tow. They make it in no time, and once the door has shut behind them, Alec turns to her with the calm intonation of conviction.

“What if Magnus Bane is not the Greater Demon we believed he was, but a falsely imprisoned Warlock?”

His mother’s eyes go wide with shock, and she quickly shakes her head, refusing to believe his words. “No, Alec, don’t be silly. You know the implications of that question.”

“I didn’t want to believe it at first either, but I’ve seen and heard things spoken amongst Downworlders, things that don’t add up with what our records say.”

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood!”

“No!” Alec exclaims, rounding on his mother who startles before him, looking affronted. “I know you don’t agree with the way I run the Institute, I know you’ve always doubted my potential, and I know you expect me to fail. But I’m not wrong about this. I know what I’ve seen, and I know what I’ve heard. I know what’s true.”

The moments of silence between them are thick and heavy with the weight of Alec’s declaration. He hadn’t meant to turn the conversation around, to make it about anything other than Magnus. It’s personal now, and he’s not sure he’s prepared for her to address it with answers that might hurt more than they’ll help.

“Alec,” his mother’s voice comes out tight, and Alec feels like he’s a child again, preparing himself for a scolding. But her next words soften, and the hand that finds itself resting upon his arm is unexpected enough to bring a jolt out of him. “Alec, I’ve been hard on you I admit, but I thought that was what you needed. I thought that was the best way I could provide for you as your mother. You never seemed satisfied with my approval, no matter how old you were or how I chose to give it. You always sought more, you always responded better to me pushing you than coddling you. I tried to be the mother you needed to succeed.”

Her words register as a shock to Alec, a cold wash of honesty in a moment of rising tension. All of her harsh criticisms, all of her stern looks, and disapproving condemnations… All of it was because she thought he wanted it?

He isn’t sure if he believes her at that moment. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he doesn’t want to. The doubt begins to invade the parts of him that do believe her, that cling to the hope that she’s more than the admonishments she’s dished out over the years. All his life he just wanted her to be proud of him, to accept his choices and not knock him down for making them.

And now…

She steps closer, the hand against his arm rising to his cheek with warm affection. “Alec, you are my son and I will always be proud of you. I’m sorry that I ever made you think I wasn’t, and I can see that my actions have done more harm than good. But look at what you’ve accomplished,” she motions to the office surrounding them, “you’ve become a leader, a great one that is going to make this Institute prosper under your care and guidance. And I can’t wait to watch it happen.”

Arms wrap around him, pull him forward until he gives in to the emotional embrace of his mother. It feels awkward at first, foreign to him to be given affection so tenderly and unasked for. But… this is his mother. It’s what he’s always wanted, to feel welcomed and accepted. To feel loved.

They pull apart after a while, the longest hug he’s shared with his mother since he was a child, a sniffle in his ear, and his mother’s tears being wiped away before he can even get a look at them.

“Forgive me,” she begins, offering a tiny, hesitant smile that she smooths down quickly behind her serious demeanor. “You were speaking of Magnus Bane.”

Alec pauses, holding his tongue for fear of reprimand, before his mother’s watery, earnest eyes probe the words from him. “Magnus isn’t a Greater Demon. And I know that’s hard to believe, trust me, but I’ve seen the emotion behind his eyes. The hurt and betrayal. He was a Warlock that was wronged, mother. He was a victim and we helped cover it up.”

“But why would they do that? The legend says he was too powerful - “

“Exactly, the Downworld thought he was seeking out more power, some sort of power that would destroy them. For some reason they believed he would turn on them because of the Shadowhunters. Whatever influence the Shadowhunters had on Magnus back then is the reason he was sent to Edom. We just don’t know what, and Magnus claims he never had any sort of dalliance with Shadowhunters.”

Maryse chews her lip, her eyes searching around the books and files that litter Alec’s office for some sort of answer. “But if the Shadowhunters had something to do with it, if they knew everything you’re telling me right now… That would be a violation of the Accords.”

“I know,” Alec sighs, threading fingers through his hair haphazardly.

“Are you -” Maryse pauses, and Alec waits. His mother seems hesitant, but continues eventually. “Are you sure you can trust Magnus Bane?”

Alec nods, the only thing he’s certain of right now.

“I’ve seen him kill someone he loved for hundreds of years. I saw just how deep his wounds are rooted, and how heavy the betrayal sits within him. The man in the photos from a hundred years ago is not the same carefree Warlock I studied. I don’t think lying to the only people who are willing to listen and help would do him any benefit.”

Deep brown eyes peer into his, searching and wondering, before his mother nods finally. “I trust you, Alec. I’ll do some digging of my own and let you know if I come across anything that may be useful.”

“Thank you,” he says. “For trusting me.”

The tender smile that meets him feels like it finally quenches the deep-seeded need for his mother’s approval.

---

The nights grow long between the five of them as they settle around Magnus’ living room every night, speculating theories and gathering what threads of evidence they can find. Sometimes, on the nights when their eyes are strained from searching through files and documents, they’ll accept the drinks that Magnus offers them so casually. On those nights, the research becomes less important, and the questions become more superficial.

Even Magnus, who still manages to keep himself protected behind a placid, tough exterior, sometimes cracks.

With a handful of martinis in his system, Magnus’ smile will settle between conversations, and Alec will catch his eyes lingering just longer than necessary. Isabelle, with no shame and all the craftiness of an annoying sister, will sometimes steer the conversation to a topic that ends with a soft chuckle on Magnus’ lips and a hot face from Alec.

The days pass by in a blur of information, midnight smiles, and exasperation.

They’re not much closer than they should be, despite days of scouring and theorizing and planning. They still don’t know who specifically, if anyone, could have told the Downworlders that Magnus would be their demise, or who could have tricked the Shadowhunters into believing Magnus was a Greater Demon.

The information is there, it has to be, they just haven’t found it.

And if they have, they’ve been too blind to notice.

A call from his mother during one unsuccessful evening brings him out of the small base of operations they call Magnus’ living room, and into the kitchen.

“Alec, it might not be anything, it’s more of intuition at play, if anything here, but…”

His mother’s voice trails off in the crackle of static in the phone, and he presses her to continue.

“In all of my searching around that time, one instance kept sticking out to me. I know Magnus suspects the Fair Folk to have had a hand in it, but has nothing to go off of, and… Well, there was a meeting that took place between the Faeries and the Clave. There’s not much to it because it’s been brushed over with little context, and I’ve overlooked it several times. But there’s a part of it that sticks out to me. ‘To protect and uphold the standards maintained in the Shadow World, per the Accords, the Seelie Queen divulged schemes and disguises deciphered through internal communications between the Fey and Downworld committees previously unbeknownst to the Nephilim.’ It was only a few weeks before Magnus’ banishment Alec, and if the Faeries are the source of the attack on Magnus, I feel like this meeting has something to do with it.”

Alec swallows roughly, feeling both elated and unnerved with this new puzzle piece. “I’ll bring it to everyone’s attention and see if Isabelle can get in contact with Meliorn to see if he knows what might have transpired at that meeting.”

“Alec,” his mother’s voice comes through loud and clear with warning. “Be careful.”

“I will. Thank you, mother.”

---

Getting information from Meliorn proves to be more difficult than they imagine, and it takes Isabelle three attempts before she manages to come back with something useful.

“That meeting was definitely a pivotal point in Magnus’ past,” She begins. “I couldn’t get anything from Meliorn about what specifically was spoken between the Fey and the Nephilim, but whatever it was scared the Clave and made them believe that Magnus was a Greater Demon in disguise. It’s not the Downworld that thinks that, for the most part they’re all aware of Magnus Bane’s status as a Warlock, but misunderstandings and failure to correct those misunderstandings lead the Clave to believe that Magnus was something he’s not.”

Alec’s brows rise high as he soaks in the new information, and beside him Magnus paces the length of his living room, arms crossed and the frustration evident across his face.

“It explains why the Shadowhunters never stepped in and just let it happen,” Clary sighs. “They believed you didn’t belong here all because of some stupid misunderstanding.”

“But the Seelies tell the truth, why would they lie about Magnus?” Jace questions from his spot beside Alec.

Isabelle shakes her head, “The Seelies are manipulative, Jace. They’ll speak half-truths and lie by omission if they can manage it. Whoever was present at that meeting must have believed that was what they needed to get the outcome they desired.”

“Amara,” Magnus seethes, the crackle of magic humming low in the air around him. Alec stands, preparing to calm Magnus in some way, but stopping short when he realizes he doesn’t know how or what would help him right now.

“Are you able to get us access to the Seelie realm?” Clary turns to Isabelle, who shakes her head regretfully.

“Meliorn was very careful with the information he gave me, but he was very open about how the resurfacing of Magnus Bane has rendered the Seelie realm inaccessible by non-fair folk. Every entrance is closed and heavily guarded unless you have an escort, and Meliorn would never willingly let Magnus in.”

They sit in silence for the next several minutes, the gears turning in everyone’s heads and the half-formed plans playing out in their minds. What other options do they have to get into the Seelie realm without assistance? Is there something they’re missing? Some other way?

It isn’t until they feel the whirl of magic and hear the crackle of the portal opening do they realize Magnus is already leaving. With a cry of his name, they hurriedly step through after him before the portal snaps shut behind them.

Alec realizes quickly they’re in Central Park, in the middle of a bridge settled in a quiet undisturbed area surrounded by the dim light of the streetlamps. There’s not a single person around them at this time, not even the rustle of footsteps from afar, and Alec is thankful for the solitude.

“Magnus, what - ”

“If the Seelies have blocked me passage to their realm, I will make my own,” he growls, the sizzling crack of magic sparking around him. Where his hands are raised dark red magic begins to form, coiling around his outstretched palms sinuously.

“Will you be able to even open access to the Seelie realm without permission or an escort?” Clary asks from beside Magnus.

His face is scrunched and teeth bared, and he pushes against the Seelie magic that visibly fights back against him in a swirl of geen and yellow. “The Seelies have multiple entrances, hidden from Mundanes, hidden from Downworlders, hidden from the Nephilim. But for all that they keep hidden, they forget that they leave some connections open as well. There is a direct tunnel to Edom, one that they use to dispose of what they believe to be those deserving of that punishment.”

Jace shields his eyes from the bright lights of Magnus’ magic, his voice louder when he speaks to be heard over the wind that makes his jacket billow and dishevels his hair. “How is that going to get us into the Seelie realm? It sounds like we’re just going to Edom.”

Magnus huffs, and pushes harder against the magic that hisses loudly, the gusts of wind picking up and the thunderous clap of magic striking the night like a storm.

“I was prisoned in Edom for a hundred years, my power comes from there, it’s attuned to me. I can - “ Magnus cries out as a flash of magic whips at him, fighting the torrent of Edom’s magic that he pushes through. He shoves, the red spiraling magic that seeps out of him pouring thickly into the beginnings of a portal to another place. “I can use Edom’s magic to hijack the tunnel that leads into the Seelie realm and get us through that way, but we will need to be ready for a fight when we get through. They will know we are there the moment we step foot.”

Magnus gives another grunt as he takes a step back against the onslaught of warring magic.

“You guys are not required to fight my battles with me. I don’t expect your assistance, and while I appreciate your help, I will not fault you for letting me do this on my own.” Magnus says as calmly as he can manage, though it comes in the form of yelling over the roar of wind blocking most sound.

Briefly, he catches Alec’s eyes, pure gold on hazel, and Alec can’t stop the steps forward he takes towards Magnus. Before he realizes what he’s doing, how dangerous this could be, how he could easily be struck with the wild magic in front of them, he places a promising hand to Magnus’ shoulder.

“We are with you, Magnus. We won’t let you fight this alone.”

The small smile that graces the corner of Magnus’ lips is enough for him. It’s enough to show that they will stay by his side, that they will help his cause for justice, that they are… his friends.

By the Angel, he never thought he’d be saying that. Never in a million years did he believe he’d ever be calling Magnus Bane, the previously believed Greater Demon, his friend.

His hand tingles where it sits atop Magnus’ shoulder, and for a moment he wonders if the magic that surrounds Magnus is burning him, if he’s not strong enough to handle being this close to Edom’s power. But quickly, he realizes the magic is siphoning the tiniest energy from their contact, is using it to fuel one last push to open this portal. His stomach feels warm, he feels lighter and bubbly, and he’s not sure if it’s entirely the magic’s doing, but he doesn’t question it. Instead, he channels whatever he can into their connection, pushes what shreds he can offer to Magnus, and with one final grunt Magnus shoves his hands forward with a wave great enough to overpower the Seelie magic that blocks them.

A loud whipping sound cracks the calm atmosphere of the night, and the buzz of magic settles to a low hum as the portal before them opens up. It’s almost transparent, and were it not for the sheen of magic that highlights it, Alec’s not sure he would even know it’s there.

Beside him, Magnus huffs in deep lungfuls of air, and Alec slowly lets his hand fall back to his side. They share a brief moment of questioning gazes, wordless communication where Magnus reassures Alec he’s fine.

A few moments is all they allow themselves now that the portal is open, just enough time to gather their thoughts and ready their weapons and ignite their runes, before they take that first step through.

---

The Seelie realm is beautiful, Alec thinks to himself as his boot thuds dully onto a thick bed of grass. A glade surrounds them, a small clearing in a mesmerizing landscape of tall green trees. The air he inhales is crisp and calming, and he only allows himself one more breath of admiration for the beauty of the Faerielands before he focuses back to the matter at hand.

In front of him, Magnus is already heading towards the brush, his shoes snapping on twigs and crushing leaves on the earth below him. Isabelle and Clary follow behind, wariness barely concealed under the wonder that lights their faces as they soak in the sights before them. Jace trails them, focusing solely on the path straight ahead while he guards the back with his seraph blade in hand, knuckles white from gripping it tightly.

It takes longer than Alec expects for them to finally come across someone, time passing by in minutes before they come to another clearing in the woods, a gathering of Seelie waiting for them to step through.

Knights stand tall on the outskirts of the group, all of them covered in armor and brandishing weapons. The others, onlookers, no doubt court members waiting to watch whatever show they think is about to transpire. And in the center of it all, stepping out from the tangle of trees emerges the Seelie Queen, her gown sparkling in the soft light that settles over them, the leaves of her elegant headdress swaying with the movement of her steps.

Alec has seen her before, once when he was younger, and several times in the files back at the institute. They researched what they could when Magnus was sure the Seelies were connected with his downbringing, but information on the Seelie Queen was sparse and rarely filled with anything other than comments on her physical prowess.

And he understands why, now. Before him she stands, regal and commanding with an ever-present charming smile and high cheekbones to lure people in. Her hair cascades around her in a bright red, almost mirroring the color of Magnus’ magic, though not even half as entrancing to Alec.

“Magnus Bane,” she begins, her voice clear and lilting with amusement. “I see Edom has done you no favors.”

Against the grip of his bow, Alec feels his fingers tighten around the leather in annoyance at the gall of her words, but he makes no show of his emotions otherwise. Magnus seems unaffected, showing an air of nonchalance as he waves his hand with a flourish. “It was tough to find a skincare regimen that suited the dry winds of Hell, but I did my best.”

It’s a different Magnus than they’re used to, than the one they’ve been shown during the weeks of planning and strategizing together. This must be the old Magnus shining through, an act put on to show indifference to the actions of the Seelie Queen that landed him directly in Edom. As much as Alec doesn’t buy it, the Seelies seem to shift uncomfortably where they stand.

There’s a pause where they wait in silence, attempting to calculate the other’s next move, before the Seelie Queen breaks it with her words. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I doubt you brought your little army to talk about skincare, though I don’t quite put it past you.”

Magnus chuckles and shakes his head. “In another time, perhaps. Maybe before you had me banished and sent to Edom to suffer for whatever unspeakable crime you believed I might commit.”

With the shift of his tone, the Seelie Queen curls her lips.

“Whatever information you think you know, you’re sorely mistaken, Magnus. I never accused you of a crime, nor had you banished and sent to Edom. You seem to be confusing me with those people you called friends.”

“With how you’re dancing around my words, you may as well be lying,” Magnus hashes out, and the onlooking eyes narrow before them at the accusation. “I know you don’t believe that I’m truly that foolish. You had a meeting with the Clave two weeks before I was taken down, a meeting that led to the Nephilim believing I was a Greater Demon and doing nothing to step in and offer their help.”

Her eyes stay sharp, and her features tighten, but she otherwise gives no indication of Magnus’ words having an effect on her. “I did have a meeting with the Nephilim, that is correct. But I don’t know what this business about me telling them you’re a Greater Demon is all about. You know better than that Magnus.”

“Tell me the truth,” Magnus bellows, his cool facade finally cracking like the magic that begins to form at the tips of his fingers.

The Seelie knights gather closer to their Queen, weapons drawn and trained with complete focus on Magnus. Beside them, she smiles knowingly.

“If the Nephilim took what I said and believed it to mean something else, that is not my responsibility.”

“What did you tell them?” Magnus asks hastily.

Though she pauses to consider her words, she ultimately speaks the truth. “I told them what they needed to know. The scrying glass foretold events from the future. Events that could result in one of the greatest Warlocks siding with the Nephilim to command over the Shadow World. It showed me a world where Magnus Bane stopped putting his own people before Shadowhunters, where he was weak to their will and pliable to their doings.”

Their minds begin to race, and Alec can see on Jace, Clary, and Isabelle’s face the question that springs forth. What could make Magnus do that? Before anyone has the chance to respond, the Seelie Queen catches Alec’s attention and brings him out of his thoughts when she speaks his name aloud.

“Alexander Lightwood, newly recruited Head of the New York Institute. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Alec does nothing to acknowledge her but meet her gaze. She watches him carefully, sizing him up and hiding the sinister nature of her smile beneath the charm she exudes. He suspects she wants to say something else, but Magnus speaks first.

“How did they come to be under the impression that I was a Greater Demon?”

With seemingly all the time in the world, she turns back to Magnus with a frown and the smallest shrug of her shoulders. “I told them that you might not be the Warlock we think you are. That there might be some hidden secret laying underneath it all, that you were biding your time to unearth it and take over the Shadow World. I only meant that in the sense of the prophecy, that you would become too powerful ruling both the Nephilim and Downworlders, but they took it to mean something more, to assume you were a Greater Demon hiding in plain sight.”

At that, Clary jumps in. “And you didn’t correct them?”

The Seelie Queen shifts her eyes towards Clary, barely a movement, and tips her head to the side. She’s the picture of virtue, though her words suggest otherwise. “Why would I do that?”

“Because Magnus was innocent!”

“Innocence is subjective, my dear. Is he a Greater Demon? Of course not. Will he bring destruction and chaos to the order of the Downworld?” She pauses for effect, taking each one of them in with her scrupulous gaze, before continuing. “I absolutely believe so.”

“How did Camille and Lorenzo get involved in your little scheme to get rid of me? I was under the impression your terms with Camille were rocky at best.”

The Queen hums and turns to admire the greenery around her in feigned disinterest, as if she’s told this story a thousand times. The trees are sprinkled with twinkling gold, Alec notices, and upon further observation are actually pixies that have arrived late for the conversation. It’s serenely beautiful, and under different circumstances where a battle was not the foreseeable outcome, Alec would do his best to appreciate his surroundings and commit it to memory.

“Lorenzo has everything to do with your journey to Edom, I’m afraid, though he is not the ultimate culprit” She begins dramatically. “He sought me out one evening, just on the cusp of dawn, blabbering about your unorthodox ways and wondering if there was going to be a chance at him taking your place in the near future. He was keen on it for at least half a decade before then, but he believed if he was patient enough you would slip up and lose your position. It was for him that I checked the scrying glass, and it was because of him that I saw what you would do to your own kind.”

“He ate it up, of course. He took every scrap of information I could give him and ran with it. Camille was first, because he knew where he lacked in charisma and charm, she could seduce others with the idea of taking you down. You were of little use to her by this point, not an easy prey that she could manipulate anymore after your falling out in London. Lorenzo would assist her, help her jump through whatever loopholes she needed if she would help him out, and what an enticing offer that was for her. You know Camille loves nothing more than being in charge, pet Warlocks, and loopholes. Or, loved, should I say?”

The magic brewing just under Magnus’ palms flares at the nod to Camille’s death, but he remains silent.

“It wasn’t easy at first, for them to convince the other Warlocks. Ragnor and Dorothea certainly put up a commendable united front for your honor. They were almost successful, too, very few Warlocks chose to side with Lorenzo, believing him a jealous fool to try and take you down. It wasn’t until someone let it slip that your reign as High Warlock would include a front row seat for the Nephilim with whom you’d eventually choose to align yourself with. And you know there’s nothing more that the Downworld hates than the Nephilim embedding themselves where they do not belong.”

Jace scoffs behind him, and Alec knows there’s an insult brimming on the tip of his tongue, though none leave his mouth.

“What is this ridiculous infatuation with my siding with the Nephilim?”

A coy grin is the only precursor to the next words the Seelie Queen speaks.

“You asked me how Camille and Lorenzo involved themselves with your departure as High Warlock, but you never asked me who was responsible for it all.”

At that moment, she looks every bit the cat that caught the canary. Crystal blue eyes, intent and foreboding, drift towards Alec and hold him in place.

“Alexander Lightwood, son of Maryse and Robert Lightwood. Right under your nose and you never had even a hint that you were harboring the very person who caused you so much pain and suffering.”

“Wh-What?” Alec manages, meekly through the rush of cold that invades his body. He feels heavy with the weight of the Seelie Queen's words, and the rush of blood in his ears drowns out everything but his own spiraling thoughts.

He’s the reason Magnus was banished to Edom? A hundred years ago Alec didn’t even exist, wasn’t even a thought or concept in his ancestral lineage. He had no bearings on the future, had no holds or ties to Magnus that would cause him to turn on his people and cause the chaos and ruin he had been accused of. It can’t be true. It can’t -

“Alec Lightwood wasn’t alive during the time of my banishment. Your words hold no credibility behind them, and I will not let you cast blame on innocent people once more, Shadowhunters or not. I demand the truth.” Magnus responds icily.

“Oh, it would be quite the tale if the Seelie Queen herself had newly acquired the ability to lie, wouldn’t it? But alas, I can only offer you the truth I know, it is what you choose to do with that information that lies within your hands.”

“Your truth is nothing but a self-fulfilling prophecy in the making, for which you hold no remorse” Magnus bristles, the magic at his fingertips sparking wildly.

“You seem to be under the impression that you will be leaving this realm to make this prophecy a reality,” comes the twinkling of chimes that Alec wouldn’t recognize as the Seelie Queen's laugh if he hadn’t seen firsthand the bare white of her teeth.

At the command of her words, they’re surrounded by the encompassing Seelie knights, weapons of wood steel held high in the air and ready to strike. They fall into stance quickly enough to retaliate, Jace and Clary with blades drawn close to their chest, and Isabelle’s whip curling around her wrist. Alec is the only one to fall behind, the shock of the Queen’s words still reverberating through him and slugging him down with delayed reaction.

She takes a step forward towards them, then another until she is just a few feet away from Magnus, whose magic begins to bleed out in fiery tendrils seeking a target for their power. “Your resurgence from Edom is unfortunate timing, I will admit, but the fact remains that whether in Edom of the Faerielands, you will never be allowed to - “

A whistle sounds high and shrill in the night, and it isn’t until the Seelie Queen hazards a gasp and reaches up to her neck that Alec begins to notice the line of blood that dots it.

Time feels slower in the glades of the Seelie realm, and slower still with the blood of the Seelie Queen that begins to stain the ground with the steady flow from the wound across her neck. Alec watches in shocked horror as she clutches her skin, hastily clamping her hands around her neck in a failed attempt at stopping the blood loss, the smattering of liquid making her skin slick and soiling the sheer gown that covers her body.

Resounding gasps sound from the witnesses of the Seelie court, and before the knights have a chance to attack first, Magnus heaves his body up with the rising power of his magic that he pulls from the ground below, knocking them down with the tremor of the earth.

There are cries as the Fey reach out for their Queen, roots of the trees rising from the dirt to catch her as she falls in their arms. Vines twist around her legs, quickly snake across her body and Alec wonders if this is an attempt to somehow save her from Magnus’ attack. She coughs, once, twice, blood coloring her lips darkly and falling from the corners of her mouth in as steady a stream as the rows from her neck.

Magnus is quick to respond with another swift attack, giving her no time to recover, the sharp iron spear from before finding its home inside her heart with the loud crack pierced flesh and broken ribs.

Wails echo through the trees that begin to shift with a howling wind, as if the earth itself is crying out for it’s Queen. The knights are on them at once, and with the advantage of surprise, Alec is struck first with a steel blade that slices through the material of his jacket and punctures the skin of his arm. It burns where it draws blood, and the knight wheezes an ominous laugh that spurs Alec into action. With a quick response, he connects the heel of his boot to his attacker who stumbles back just enough for Alec to pull an arrow from his quiver and project it immediately into their chest.

Behind him, Jace takes part in his own small skirmish. Seelie knights fly past him, a blur to their eyes with the incredible speed they’re capable of, and as soon as Jace jabs his seraph blade into the sternum of one, the other is quick to avenge his partner with the stab of a wooden spear tip through the thick material of Jace’s pants and into his thigh.

It stings Alec's leg, but the distraction only lasts long enough for another Seelie knight to try and close in on him unsuccessfully. Clary and Isabelle fend off their own attackers, metal on metal for a knight with a sword, and the crackling of his sister’s whip as it meets the temple of the attacker closest to her. The wind around them grows erratic, weaving its way between them, vigorously swaying the trees side to side with branches coming down on them like whips of their own.

Beside him, Magnus fights it all off, torrents of red flames severing the roots and vines that reach for him, and rushing fireballs towards the Seelie knights that run towards him with weapons hoisted high to kill.

It’s so much, too much to take in all at once if he doesn’t focus. Another spear lunges towards him that he barely manages to dodge at the last second, and he takes the knight out with a quick seraph blade to the back.

It’s a bloodbath out here, a true battle. Seelie blood covers him - them, and it feels like hours of fighting has taken place before Alec can finally scavenge a breath without the imminent attack at the expense of his moment of rest. There’s heat against his back, fire from Edom that matches the maniacal glint in Magnus’ eye when he catches him from the side. Too much, too much, Alec notices as Magnus strikes again and again at the Seelie Queen, iron rods protruding from her lifeless body, held tightly in the roots that cover her from any more attacks.

Deliberately, Magnus rises once more, and the flames that surround them burn brighter. The ground is singed and flickering beneath them with fire, the once beautiful glades of the Seelie realm now destroyed and covered in blood and ash.

Magnus turns to him then, soiled and dirty and eyes glowing brighter than he’s ever seen before. It’s a sight to behold, with magic encasing him as he steps towards Alec and the backdrop of his slaughter behind him.

In spite of it all, all the destruction and ruin in the near distance, Alec can’t help but keep his eyes trained on Magnus, his brilliant golden gaze holding nothing back now, bare and open and offering Alec every ounce of emotion that lay behind them. Every drop of betrayal, every sliver of hurt, every moment of happiness. He sees it all, he feels it inside of himself, projected and put on display for him and him alone.

The weight of Magnus’ gaze is almost too much to endure, and Alec feels his knees buckling beneath him. But he doesn’t fall, he hardly even slumps because Magnus draws closer in an instant and pulls him in, presses the heat of his body to surround Alec and offer comfort in the most unsuspecting place.

It’s suddenly as if the air is clearer now, as though the fog of the Seelie glades has been lifted and Alec can breathe again. So he does.

He inhales deeply, Magnus’ scent filling his senses as he grabs fistfuls of his coat, as he clings to the amalgamation of salvation and destruction he encompasses. He gasps, so hard that his throat burns with the taste of Edom in his mouth. He wheezes when the guilt begins to overcome him because this is all his fault, in some sick twisted way.

“I’m sorry,” he laments, a low agonizing croak into Magnus’ chest. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s his fault Magnus was banished to Edom. It’s his fault that his own people turned on him, that friends and lovers cast him aside with just the possibilities of the Seelie Queen’s prophecy. He’s responsible for the havoc that Magnus reaped, for the death of Downworlders who got in his way and tried to stop him from seeing his revenge through to the end.

But he couldn’t have known. He couldn’t have ever suspected it was his doing, and it’s the comforting press of healing magic that flows into him reminiscent of that first morning that kicks Alec back to his senses. Magnus knows, he said himself it was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He claimed his innocence, and refused to place blame on Alec.

The blood pulsing in his ears is far too loud for him to hear anything, and the racing thoughts distract him from the weaving magic that threads through the air with little resistance now, opening a portal back to their realm in Central Park.

There’s movement around him, words being uttered and plans being made, but Alec is oblivious to it all. He doesn’t remember moving, he doesn’t remember being dropped off on the footsteps of the Institute by Magnus himself, or even the walk to the infirmary. The only thing he remembers is his head hitting the pillow and the world turning black.

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