EngPort Week Day 4 - Brothers in Arms @engportevents
It hit Arthur, then, as he stood across Gabriel within their own circles of heavenly fire, that they were both orphans now.
Gabriel still looked tense and too pale, with dark shadows under his eyes from the many sleepless nights filled with nightmares. Arthur should know. Since the incident, he found every reason to stay close to his best friend for both their comfort. The Madrid Affair, that was what they were calling that incident now. It seemed such a trite name for something that had claimed the lives of more than half the shadowhunters in that institute, including Gabriel and Antonio’s parents.
Antonio was also there now, chosen by Gabriel as his witness to their bonding. The younger boy stood at Gabriel’s side of the room just as Francis stood at Arthur’s side. Alasdair had been his first choice as witness, but with his brother injured from that same incident and his other brothers busy with their duties, Francis had to step up. He was family too anyway, even if only by marriage.
As they stepped into the center circle, the flames licking at their feet, Arthur’s gaze was drawn to Gabriel’s hand. He held his stele in a white-knuckled grip, and Arthur could not help but remember how he had to pry a bloodied seraph blade from a similar tight hold when the two brothers had first arrived through the portal from Madrid.
Arthur raised his gaze, meeting Gabriel’s eyes. There was a plea in those eyes, some unspoken thing, and a stubborn set to his jaw, a peek of his teeth as he bit on his lip. Arthur did not falter, staying resolute and firm. Both his brother and Francis have already tried to dissuade him from this course, but the only one that mattered was there in front of him.
He did not want either Gabriel or Antonio to be sent away to another institute, one far away from anyone they know. Francis had said that they could find another way, but that was not certain. The very issue that his brother and Francis had raised is the entire reason this must be done.
No one in the Clave would dare to tear a parabatai pair asunder.
They would swear this oath, and Arthur would proudly wear the mark that Gabriel would give him for the rest of their lives. They raised their arms and held it against each other. The words from the oath pass through their lips easily, well practiced long before this ceremony, starting from when the idea, mad as it was, first came to Arthur.
“...If aught but death part thee and me,” they finished, and finally, a small smile graced Gabriel’s lips.
Gabriel tugged the hem of his shirt up and turned, allowing Arthur to mark him on his back, the parabatai rune right over where his heart would be. When he was done, Arthur did the same, exposing his side where he wished for the mark to be, the black rune stark upon his pale skin. After he was done, Gabriel trailed his fingers over the mark with a solemn expression, something like disbelief and awe passing briefly over his fine features.
And just like that, it was done. They were fifteen, orphans both, and they were bound together forever.
“That’s it, Arthur,” Gabriel said as the flames died down, a wry smile on his lips. “You can’t return me now.”
Arthur laughed, startled by his words. “You git,” he said, elbowing Gabriel’s side. “I wouldn’t want to anyway.”
Arthur cursed as his arrow missed the thrashing demon. He was already notching his next arrow and running to a better position on the catwalk, his steps echoing in the empty space of the old theater. Through his bond with Gabriel, he could feel the other’s grim determination just as there was a burst of light on the ruined stage below.
Arthur paused, his arrow trained on the scene, but the demon’s shadowy form was difficult to pin down, especially now that Gabriel wove around. His parabatai held a sword in one hand and his seraph blade in another.
Arthur’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in his chest as he watched the fight below in worry. Gabriel fought with the same deadly grace as the angel he was named after, every step and every strike like the steps of a dance.
By the angel, he was beautiful.
“Now, Arthur!” Gabriel shouted as he pinned the demon to the ruined wood of the stage with his sword and jumped away. Arthur released the arrow, smiling as it hit true, the screech of the dying demon ringing in his ears. He blew out the breath he was holding as he stood. Gabriel approached the stage to retrieve his sword, and as he watched, Arthur noticed a flicker of movement as he did so.
“Wait!” Arthur shouted too late. The demon’s corpse had not yet vanished as it should have. It was not yet dead, and it struck Gabriel, tossing him to a nearby pillar.
“Gabriel!” Arthur called out, both to his parabatai and to awaken his seraph blade with the same name. He dropped his bow onto the catwalk as he jumped down, his blade slamming onto the remains of the demons below. This time, he watched as it disappeared back to whatever hell it came from.
Gabriel groaned and stood up. “That was stupid of me,” he said with a grimace as he approached Arthur. He never quite reached him before falling back, and Arthur rushed to catch him. Gabriel was breathing heavily, one hand pressed to his side, and Arthur thought that he could almost feel his pain like an echo.
“Let me see,” Arthur said. When he pulled Gabriel’s hand away from his side, his fingers came away covered in red blood and black ichor. Arthur pulled Gabriel’s shirt up, his blood running cold at the sight of the deep gash on his stomach.
“Arthur,” Gabriel whispered, his face pale.
Arthur reached for his stele, his hand surprisingly steady as he drew one iratze after another on Gabriel’s skin. It should work. It must work. With the black ichor already seeping into Gabriel’s wound, Arthur wasn’t certain if the Silent Brothers could get to their institute quickly enough. With each iratze that vanished into Gabriel’s skin, Arthur grew more and more frustrated, putting more and more power into each one, drawing into their bond.
The bond between parabatais was supposed to make the marks they give each other stronger, didn't they? Let this work, he prayed fervently with each failed rune. Gabriel was…he wasn’t certain what he felt for Gabriel these days, something unspoken, something terrible and forbidden, but he cannot lose him. Not like this. Not out of some stupid mistake.
“Arthur,” Gabriel repeated, and he reached out to grip Arthur’s wrist, stopping him from drawing another rune. There was an unspoken plea in his eyes, that terrible thing between them. “Arthur, stop. You cannot do anything.”
“To hell with that!” Arthur snarled. “You can’t just give up.”
“I’m not,” Gabriel said. “We need to go back to the Institute.”
“Well, I–” Arthur stopped and stared at his parabatai’s stomach. His stomach swooped as he watched the skin slowly knit itself back together. It was unmistakable. It was, should be, impossible, no matter Arthur’s determination.
Gabriel had noticed as well, and he dropped his hold on Arthur’s wrist. Arthur watched him swallow once, twice, with several emotions flitting over his face. Gabriel’s hand shook as he touched the wound, now barely more than a scratch. “We cannot speak of this, Arthur.”
Arthur felt a flash of anger, and he gave him a mirthless laugh. “Just like our mission in Lisbon, yeah?”
Gabriel looked at him in irritation. “You know what this means,” he said. “You know why we can't.”
“This is bloody stupid!” Arthur threw his hands up and stood. “Why can’t you just–”
“You were the one who asked me to be your parabatai,” Gabriel pointed out through gritted teeth as he stood as well, still shaky, pulling down his shirt over the once fatal wound.
Arthur recoiled from the tone of accusation and scowled, pulling at his hair in frustration as he looked away from the other man. Ten years ago, when he had asked Gabriel to be his parabatai, he had thought that there was no way he would regret it. There was no one else he wanted to spend his entire life fighting with. Gabriel was his best friend from the moment they first met at the academy in Idris. There was no one else he would trust to be his parabatai.
How was he to know that he would commit the grave sin of falling in love with him? How was Arthur to know back then that Gabriel would feel the same way?
He could not blame Gabriel though, even though they would have no problem had Arthur’s unspoken, terrible love had been unrequited. In the end, his parabatai was right. Francis had been right when he’d warned him. This had been Arthur’s idea, and now, he was paying the price for the arrogance of thinking that he knew what he wanted at fifteen.
“We cannot deny this forever, Gabe,” Arthur whispered, the anger leaving him, his shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes and thought of that last mission in Lisbon, of the kiss that they shared, that moment when Arthur realized he was not alone in his sin. “Not if it has gone this far already.”
“It might pass,” Gabriel replied, and Arthur didn’t think he believed his own words. “People fall out of love all the time. We just have to bide our time until then. Otherwise, we—”
The law is hard, but it is the law. That was the tenet that the Clave lived by. Arthur has abided by that Law his entire life and knew just how hard it could be when it finally came down upon you. Gabriel was fooling himself if he thought they could just buy themselves time.
But Gabriel would also not leave with him, would not choose him, no matter the entreaties Arthur has made. Arthur wanted to rage, to shake him until Gabriel saw sense. Arthur wanted to kiss him, something they did not dare do again since that first and last time in Lisbon. He wanted to take Gabriel’s face between his hands, to run his fingers over every curve and scar, over the dark runes that marked them both, especially the one that bound them forever as parabatais.
Arthur wanted everything from him, and he could tell through their bond, no matter how much Gabriel wanted to deny it, that he felt the same way.
Arthur hoped to reassure him by telling him that he was right, that it would pass and that they would be alright, that they could return to how it had all been before Lisbon. But the lie stuck like ash in his mouth, and there was only silence as he returned his stele to its place in his vambrace.
“You should clean up, the ichor especially” he told Gabriel, who watched him warily. There was a part of Arthur that did want to go back to how things were between them, to the days where he could comfortably have his parabatai with him without all the added tension. “We don’t want anyone in the institute to be suspicious. I’ll go fetch my bow from upstairs.”
