Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane / 1080 words / Rated G / Judaism
Jewish Alec spends some time at the synagogue after a long day.
Read on AO3
The chazzan’s voice resounded in the synagogue. Alec’s eyes followed the lines on his siddur. He liked following the text this way, even if he had known this prayer by heart for years. This chazzan was good. He was a new one, and there was something special about his voice, that stuck especially deep in him.
He straightened up his tie a little. He hadn’t been able to get out of work early enough for Maariv lately, and it was nice to be back. It was maybe his favorite of the three daily prayers, followed closely by shacharit, in the morning.
His day had been long but he’d been able to get to the synagogue around nightfall. There was nothing more comfortable than this. Sitting on his usual seat, with his siddur, and his friends sitting at their own seats. There was an amazing familiarity to everything.
One of the reasons he enjoyed this service was because talking was forbidden during it. It was entirely made for prayer, for looking in yourself and up to G-d, and damn, didn’t Alec love every single second of it. Only the chazzan’s voice was resounding, filling up the room with an adoration that Alec rarely felt elsewhere.
They’d just finished Borchu, and were in the middle of Maariv Aravit. G-d had created the darkness, the stars and the night, and for that, they were thankful. Many wonders happened in the night, many a birth, many a love blossoming, many a miracle.
Ahavat Olam started, and they all prayed in thanks for the protection G-d gave them during the night. For every miracle, there was a danger, but G-d would keep them safe from the dangers, so they could rejoice and survive. G-d had given them the Torah, and a sanctuary from everything that could hurt them.
Alec closed his eyes for a second, as Shema Yishrael started.
“Sh'ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Ecḥad.”
This was strong. This was a call that had always moved him, always made him feel part of the community. He could remember clearly being moved almost to tears the day of his aliyah to the Torah, when the Shema had been recited.
Hear, O Israel, the LORD is our God, the LORD is One.
This blessing was ancient. It was the link between Alec and his people, between Alec and those who had written the Torah, Jews thousands of years ago.
“Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed.”
Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever.
“V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha.”
And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.
The melody and the words were so familiar that Alec knew he would always remember it, no matter where and when. He’d always known this melody. It was one of his oldest memory. Sitting at the seat he was occupying now as a man, next to his father, chanting the Shema, not yet knowing how deep it would resound with his adult life.
It was over too soon, and the service continued on to Emet V'Emunah. It served to recall the Exodus from Egypt. It was a reminder of the way the Jewish people had been chosen by G-d to fulfill the task of bettering the world, it was a reminder that the future was certain, that the redemption was certain to the Jewish people.
The daily worries of Alec’s day gently left his body, and soon enough, there was in his mind the certainty that everything would be alright. There was no reason why it wouldn’t be. The chazzan’s voice guided the stress off of his shoulders, taking every last weight off of him until he was home and happy.
With Hashkiveinu, Alec asked for G-d to grant him protection for the following day, and the coming night. He would lay down in his bed with his fiancé and wake up in the morning, safe and whole, and protected as ever, if G-d was willing.
He stood up for the Amidah, and stayed up through the Aleinu prayer.
The prayer was over way too fast. He stood up, closing his siddur and putting it back in his bag.
“Buenas tardes, Alec!” A family friend called as Alec was stepping out of the sanctuary.
“Kedavos en buenora,” he replied.
The synagogue hosted a Spanish Sephardic community, and most people enjoyed speaking Ladino as well as English. Alec did enjoy it too. That and Hebrew. The tongues of his culture.
He slipped on his coat, and decided to keep his kippah tonight. He knew Magnus didn’t mind him wearing it around, and he liked the light weight of it on the back of his skull. He said goodbye to a few others, told them he would see them for Shabbat anyway, and walked out.
Magnus was standing, leaning against a lamppost on the other side of the street. He always waited there, ever since the first time he’d come pick Alec up from the synagogue. Alec crossed the street.
He was a lucky man. There was no doubt in his mind, and he thanked G-d every day for the beauty that was Magnus Bane. Before Magnus, Alec had never imagined he would ever date a gentile. Too many things that didn’t fit, too many things to explain. But Magnus had been surprisingly knowledgeable already, and ready to learn.
Now, it had been three wonderful years, and Magnus had started to talk about conversion. Conversion and marriage, since they were already engaged. It made Alec the happiest man on Earth, even if he hadn’t wanted to pressure Magnus into converting. It had to be his own decision.
“Shalom, Magnus,” Alec said softly, leaning close to him to press a kiss to his lips. He felt Magnus smile in the kiss.
“Hey, love,” the man replied, and took Alec’s hands. “How was it?” He asked.
“Wonderful, as always.”
Magnus grinned at him, and Alec kissed him again immediately. He couldn’t help himself. When he finally managed to stop kissing him for a second, they started making their way back to the subway station, and back to their apartment.
They sat next to each other on the train, Alec’s head falling a little on Magnus’ shoulder. He was tired. Long day, and a good time spent in prayer. Tomorrow was his day off, and he was very very thankful for that too.
Warning: this was written as a catharsis of the Pittsburgh shootings. This deals about antisemitism, and mentions the Holocaust.
Maia finds Simon, after she learns about the Pittsburgh Shootings.
Read on AO3 - Link to Donate to the Synagogue & the charity they are supporting that the shooter blamed.
If you’re thinking about donating, it’s customary in Judaism to make donations in multiples of 18 as to bless the recipient(s) with good health and long life (the numerical value of the Hebrew word “chai” which means “life”), but by all means, just give what you can. Thank you.
Maia found him on their favorite town-watching spot, on the roof of their apartments’ building. It was where they were planning on building the sukkah next year, now that they had realized how easy it was to access it.
She knew what had happened. It was all over the news now. In the mouth of many people, but also too few. She knew that Simon was probably having a hard time. He took those events to heart, like many in the Jewish community. Like herself. Probably even more.
She walked up to him and settled by his side, but didn’t touch him yet. She knew touching needed to be initiated by him. She knew how it felt to be overwhelmed by feelings, to be in complete distress, and sometimes touch didn’t help.
He was looking away, seemingly trying to grasp the horizon, behind the taller buildings around them, despite the distance and the obstacles. They were sitting on the edge of the building too, in a position that was a bit too dangerous for Maia’s taste.
“How are you?” She asked softly.
Simon took a moment to reply. He didn’t really know how he was, really. He didn’t know how to explain it. And explain the fear, and the part of his brain - old, nervous, used to these situations in a way that he couldn’t really explain or understand himself - that was yelling at him to run. Get out before he couldn’t.
There was a truth about being Jewish. Thousands of years of trauma shaped their DNAs, shaped their minds to bring out this… knowledge of survival. Instincts that few other communities had. Every Jewish fiber in Simon’s being was screaming at him that things were getting worse, and that he needed to pack his bags, and leave for somewhere where he would be safe - for now.
How long until he would have to go again? Maybe a century, maybe less.
“I’m… managing.” That half-truth tasted like chalk in Simon’s dry mouth.
“I’m there. You can talk about it.”
How many Jewish Downworlders were there in Poland, in Germany, France, everywhere where the nazis had been? How many saved by warlocks? How many people could have died more? How many of the Downworlders had believed and followed nazis as well? How many could turn against Simon and his people, and his family, Maia and Rebecca and his mom, and Bubbe Helen.
Shit. Bubbe Helen.
Simon turned to look at Maia, and try to reach for his phone. Maia took his hand gently. “I had Rebecca on the phone. Your grandma is alright. Shaken, they all are, but alright.” She promised.
Simon nodded and went back to watching the buildings for a moment. It was a bit cold, end of October air wrapping around them as it slithered in between the buildings. Maia squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.
“I’m afraid.” He whispered.
“You’re safe.” Maia replied.
He shook his head. “I know I am. I’m a vampire. I’m a Daylighter. I could… run away in a heart beat, I could survive being shot, I could… I could survive almost everything. But this… i’m not afraid about myself.” He licked his lips. Everything felt dry and cold and icy. “I’m afraid… for my family. And for you. And for… everyone. For my people. Things… things are bad.”
Maia elected to let him talk about everything.
“I’m afraid of the world’s reaction, of the world’s lack of reaction to what’s happening to us. I’m afraid of the way people see us as oppressors. I’m afraid of the way no one really cares about us, not when there isn’t an agenda behind the sentiment.” He whispered. “I’m afraid that… they could do worse next time.”
“With luck, there won’t be a next time.”
“Im yirtze hashem.” Simon muttered, looking at her this time. “I… I don’t believe that luck will help right now. I know there will be something else. Worse or not.” He whispered. “It’s like no one really wants to stop. What did we ever do to them? We’re just existing. Living, in peace, living happily amongst them.”
“Those things rarely have an explanation. People… need to stop being this ignorant and hateful.”
“How do we stop them? How to help them if all we get is death in return?” Simon replied, shaking his head. “Will it only stop when we are all dead, where there will be none of us to push them to kill us?” he asked.
He knew that… they would not stop fighting. He knew that himself wouldn’t stop being proudly Jewish, ostentatiously Jewish. Especially because he could not die, he had a duty to stay outwardly Jewish.
“I don’t feel shame for it,” he started again. “I’m not ashamed of being Jewish. I’m not afraid of being Jewish, of course not. I’m afraid for my family, for how those who wish to kill us could harm them. But I know…. I’m never going to stop being proud of who I am, of my faith. I’m never going to stop being Jewish and loving every single second of it.”
Maia smiled softly, leaning against him and squeezing his hand. “I know.”
Sleeping under a sukkah in the middle of September was stupid, and yet, that was where Maia and Simon found themselves that year. It was on the balcony of their apartment, and it was tiny and stupidly small, and not even really made according to the right rules.
The balcony was too small for the right dimension, and the top of the sukkah wasn’t in direct contact to the sky, there was the balcony of the apartment on top of theirs obstructing the view.
They’d made it with branches stolen from Prospect Park and fake plants bought in some tacky decoration store somewhere. They’d somehow managed to build it and make it stand somewhat right, and it had been the kind of happy moment you get after assembling tricky Ikea furnitures.
So they were lying there, in the middle of the night. It wasn’t really the middle, it was just nighttime, but it had started to feel like one endless night where all the times kinda melted together.
Maia snuggled closer to Simon. He wasn’t giving out much warmth, vampire biology and all, but it was still comfortable. Because he was her boyfriend, and he was there. He was steady, he was caring, and he held her when she felt like the world wasn’t worth it.
She felt lucky, often. So lucky that the world, or G-d, had decided to have Simon drop in her life like that. A bit more than two years ago. She hummed softly.
“I understand the sukkah.” She said softly.
Simon shifted, probably raising an eyebrow. It was true that phrasing it like that didn’t make much sense. She was tired.
“What do you mean?” he asked. His voice was soft. Maia wanted to curl up in it, and sleep forever.
“We can’t depend on outer walls.” She whispered. “We can’t depend on everything we have around us, because some day, they might all be taken away. We must remember that in the end, all we have is a sukkah, and everything else is just added bonus, that we should cherish. But still realize how ephemeral it all is, you know?” Maia sucked in a breath. She understood that more than anyone.
Simon nodded. “All we have is our faith, in the end. And our will. Not just faith in G-d. Faith in humans, faith in each other, faith in ourselves. Because one day, it might all crumble down, and we’ll need the strength from the inside.”
Maia snuggled a little closer. “This… learning these things with you. It makes me fall in love with who you are a little more every time.” She whispered. “It makes me realize how… close to your faith… to our faith, I always was.” She added. “When I was turned, i lost my entire world. When I left home, I lost my entire world. Every time, it was a hard beginning, but a beginning nonetheless.”
Simon hummed. They could kinda see the stars. Or maybe it was the reflection of the lights of the city, on the clouds. In New York, it was more likely to be the latter. He’d never really done Sukkot in the countryside. Maybe next year they could do that. Make it a small holiday. Escape the city, and build a sukkah in a place where they could see the stars through the roof of it.
“You know… the whole getting out of Egypt story, for Pessah right?” Simon muttered, and he felt Maia’s nod against his chest. He licked his lips and continued. “There’s this verse that says “In every generation one must look upon himself as if he personally had gone out of Egypt.” And… it has a double meaning, you know? Because yes, if G-d hadn’t taken us out of Egypt, we would be slaves now, and that’s something we have to remember. That… we are lucky. That our freedom is a gift that we shouldn’t forget, or turn into a weapon of pain.” He explained. “But… it’s also about obstacles. The Hebrew word for Egypt - Mitzrahim - also means “limitation”. It’s… it means that we are… fighting our own oppressors every day. May it be ourselves. Or those who want to hurt us.”
“Jordan was my Egypt.” Maia whispered. “My parents, and Jordan.” She paused for a moment. “Yours was… turning into a vampire. And losing your family.”
Simon nodded. “We both… turning into who we are today… Vampire and werewolf, was our obstacle. And… now we are… you’re the Alpha. And I’m a Daylighter. And we’re together, and we’re happy. And our house doesn’t have walls, because we have each other, and… we have our home right there.”
Maia looked up at him, shifting to rest on her arm and prop herself up. She looked at Simon, softly. This man, this nerdy, gentle, kind man who’d been through so much. This man, this nerdy, soft and strong man, that now was hers. “You’re my home, Simon.” She whispered, and leaned in to kiss him tenderly. To kiss him, and rest her forehead against his.
Three glasses were sitting on the coffee table. Two filled with blood, and one filled with red wine. They could almost be confused for the same liquid. Soft jazz was playing in the background, providing a background to their conversation.
The blue velvet of his favorite armchair was soft under Magnus Bane’s fingertips. He was alone still, a light heating charm keeping the blood in the glasses from drying out.
Magnus and Raphael had always had regular meetings like these. They were comfortable, between found father and son, between friends too. They met at Magnus’ apartment, had a drink, and talked about life and spirituality.
It was not always perfectly civil. Things could get heated between two people of different faiths, of different lifestyles and origins. Raphael was a Catholic, he followed his faith’s rules carefully, he was younger, the root of his faith based much closer to him. It hadn’t been that long since the day he’d learned how to believe.
Magnus was Muslim. He was an old, tired Muslim, who believed and respected few actual rules of his religion. He was a man who’d lived too long and seen too many things to believe some of the teachings of his faith.
Recently, another person had started being part of their little reunions. Simon was Jewish, providing another perspective on faith that neither Magnus nor Raphael could provide.
So to the initial twin glasses, Magnus had added a third, filled with blood as well. The sun was setting, slowly, and he could see the last rays play in the soft veil-like curtains of his windows. They would be here soon after it set completely.
Simon had taken up a more important position in the clan, acting as Raphael’s second-in-command most of the time. He spent quite the amount of time at the Dumort these days. Between his relationship with Maia that was blossoming a little more every day, and those new responsibilities, Simon’s life was growing better and busier by the minute.
Raphael had come back to New York after a couple months and resumed his position at the Dumort. He was dealing with the mourning of his sister better these days. Magnus knew the heaviness in his protégé’s shoulders was still there, but it got better every day.
Magnus was... happy too. He was doing good. He had Alec by his side. He had his magic and his immortality, and he had his title of High Warlock of Brooklyn. He had a wonderful niece, and a gorgeous boyfriend. A good life.
He was about to take a sip of the glass to “make Simon and Raphael come faster”, when there was a knock on the door. He stood up and walked to open.
Raphael and Simon were standing there. Raphael was wearing one of his usual suits, and Magnus couldn’t help but thank Allah that Raphael had taken after him in terms of style. Simon, next to him, wasn’t bad. He’d gotten progressively more and more fashionable. Either it was the proximity to Raphael, his friendship with Isabelle, or Magnus himself, his relationship with Maia, or a general “Downworlder effect”. They still had some work to do on him.
“Welcome to my humble home, gentlemen.” Magnus chuckled and let them in. Raphael rolled his eyes and gave him a light, one-armed hug.
“We both know there is nothing humble about this, you old dragon.”
Simon greeted him as well and they got settled into the living room. Alec was at the Institute, like he always was on those meeting nights. He understood how Magnus liked his spiritual discussions. Alec wasn’t religious. He believed in the angels, because he had tangible proof of their existence. It wasn’t faith, it was fact, and it was much more comfortable to him.
They started drinking their drinks and chatting slightly, enjoying the music. Magnus moved his head slightly at the notes of the music that gently played in the background. It was nice and comfortable.
Simon and Raphael started a conversation about some of the affairs of the DuMort, and Magnus listened distractedly for a moment. He was proud of them, of course. They were children of his, in a way.
“So, Simon, you were telling us last time that you’d started practicing again?” Magnus eventually interjected.
Simon nodded. Jewish faith allowed for a lack of belief. It didn’t, however, allow for such an abandonment of practices. It had been a strange, dark couple of months.
“I… Practicing as a vampire felt wrong, suddenly. After I… made my mother believe that I was dead, it was like there was no reason for me to keep going. Or so I thought.”
Raphael nodded. “When I turned, I felt like that too, somehow. That faith was something only mortals, only humans were allowed to have and practice. That now that I was a beast, praying was more of an insult to God, than it was a good thing. How could I still believe He would forgive me, when I was such a monster?”
“Raphael, dear you’re not a beast. Or a monster.” Magnus interjected.
Raphael and him shared a look. They’d been through this before. At the beginning, when Magnus had found him a broken shell of a man. Days and nights of gentleness and discussions, over and over until maybe Raphael had come to believe it.
“I know, Magnus,” the vampire replied.
Simon hummed. “The reason I was able to go back to practicing… is that I found this website. This website that said that… to every evil there is a good.” He explained. “For every evil vampire, there is a good one. Who am I to know which of the two I am? I don’t know enough to claim anything. But on the chance that I might be the good one… Then I am still in Israel.”
Magnus hummed. “If i’m not wrong, according to Jewish tradition, the bodies of the perfectly righteous do not decompose in the grave. Just like Moses’ would not.” He nodded. “That theory… is a good one.”
Magnus liked religion. He liked studying texts, and reading about it, meeting those who were members of a faith and talking with them. He liked to understand and learn. Next to the old leather bound Quran in his library, the one he got out every day, there were torah scrolls, and books of the Talmud, and one of the oldest Bibles. He had two Bibles actually, one made by monks, and one with Gutenberg's press. They were preserved by spells, making them impervious to any harm. He remembered the time one of his apartments had caught fire, and the Bible he had in it had been found unscathed. That Bible was now sitting somewhere in the Vatican, along with other holy relics.
Books, holy or not, were precious. He could spend hours in any book store. He could spend days, decades, in libraries, going through every book in search of more of the knowledge he loved so deeply. He wished often that the lies he told were true, and that he’d been alive while the Library of Alexandria was still open.
“I was raised with two very different approaches to magic, both cohabitating. There was the voice that said that magic and sorcery were evil, and that Islam condemned it. That… That execution without redemption was the only possible end for a person guilty of witchcraft.” He explained. “There was the everyday magic of the people around me though. Folk magic, spells and prayers to deities that were still worshipped despite the prevalence of Islam.”
Magnus took a sip of the wine. “My mother’s horror as she learned what I was, was for long associated with magic in my mind. And so was Asmodeus. How could… Allah see me as anything but one of those demonic and evil sorcerers?” he explained. “I committed such terrible acts under Asmodeus, that I didn’t quite believe that religion was ever going to be for me again.”
Simon hummed. “You still don’t believe in it, do you?”
Magnus had a small chuckle. “My relationship with Allah will never be what it once was. Not only because I do not feel worthy of it, but also because it is just not in my philosophy after all this time.”
“Remember what you said to me, my friend. That God is full of love. He doesn’t condemn anyone. No one is set for eternal damnation, even us, poor demonic souls.” Raphael pointed out, tone turning sarcastic on the last few words.
“You might spend a year or two in Gehinnom.” Simon chuckled. “But in the end, if Allah cannot see how good of a person you are, then maybe He should reconsider his standards.”
Magnus took another sip of wine. “Look at us. A Muslim warlock with a deep love for alcohol, and men. An asexual Catholic vampire. And a pansexual Jewish vampire. If we still believe in some sort of religion, it’s probably testimony of our God’ benevolence.”
“Belief… in any thing, is what keeps us going, may we be mundane, or Downworlder.” Simon hummed. “Our sense of identity kinda spans from our beliefs. May they be religious, or otherwise.”
Raphael nodded. “I second that idea. Belief in something greater than you is a relief in many cases, and a drive.”
Magnus sent the vampires a look. “Mashallah, aren’t you two wise?” He praised, smiling at them.
“Well, we are around one of the wisest men in the world, quite often.” Raphael teased and Magnus waved his hand around.
“You two will be the death of me one day. With your praises.” he chuckled, and snapped his fingers, filling up their glasses again. “Should we toast?”
Simon nodded. “To love, learning, and good conversation, l’chaim!”
Raphael raised his glass as well. “To love, learning and good conversation, salud!”
Magnus straightened up and followed them. “To love, learning, and good conversation, indeed, be ṣaḥtak.”
