Part six of the BAMF Prince of Hell High Warlock series
Main Characters: Magnus Bane, Azazel
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Summary: “Easy,” Azazel said, his voice dripping with amusement. “I come in peace.” Azazel stared at Alec for a few moments, tilting his head curiously. “You know, he’s cute, for a Nephilim,” he said. “Not bad, Magnus.”
“You did this to me,” Valentine said, pressing his body close to the glass.
“A form of torture,” Azazel said as he folded his hands behind his back and took a step forward. “Not for you, for Valentine Morgenstern. He couldn't stand being in a warlock’s body, and for it he gave up the Mortal Cup.”
Alec stared between the two of them as his eyes began to burn. Valentine spoke again, “That was your plan?”
“Please.”
That word leaving Valentine’s lips was nothing short of extraordinary. He would not say it if he knew there was even a chance of his escape or survival. Alec tilted his head to the side for just a moment, savoring it. This man, this man who had caused his brother so much suffering, who had nearly killed the man he loved… it felt good to hear him beg for his life.
“Please, Alexander,” Valentine said and Alec curled his hand into a fist. “You have to believe me.”
Alec’s lip lifted into a snarl and he was about to speak when footsteps echoed through the room.
“Well,” Azazel said as he fixed his suit’s cufflink. “Isn’t this quaint?”
Alec was out of the cell and drawing his sword in seconds, but he wasn’t fast enough. A twitch of Azazel’s hand and he was frozen in place. Alec opened his mouth to call out for help.
Azazel pressed a finger to his curled lips. “Shh,” he whispered and Alec found he could not make a single sound.
“Don’t hurt him,” Valentine snapped. “Azazel, don’t you dare.”
“Easy,” Azazel said, his voice dripping with amusement. “I come in peace.” Azazel stared at Alec for a few moments, tilting his head curiously. “You know, he’s cute, for a Nephilim,” he said. “Not bad, Magnus.”
“You did this to me,” Valentine said, pressing his body close to the glass.
“A form of torture,” Azazel said as he folded his hands behind his back and took a step forward. “Not for you, for Valentine Morgenstern. He couldn't stand being in a warlock’s body, and for it he gave up the Mortal Cup.”
Alec stared between the two of them as his eyes began to burn. Valentine spoke again, “That was your plan?”
Azazel smiled. “Well, of course,” he said. “Oh honestly, nephew, you thought I would leave you in that body? It's ugly, even by Nephilim standards. You might be a silly little Warlock, but you're still family.”
“That is a stupid plan,” Valentine said.
“Stupider than trying to contain me? Especially without the right tools?” Azazel walked over to the cell door and stretched out a hand, his pale power beginning to swirl around it. “At least my plan worked.”
He tapped one finger to the door handle and the cell popped open. Valentine strolled out, leveling a dark glare at Azazel. Azazel smiled calmly down at him.
“Your body is waiting for you at your apartment,” he said. “I even gift wrapped it for you.”
Valentine closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t even want to think about what that means,” he said. He pointed elegantly at Alec. “We’re bringing him,” he said.
Azazel turned his back on both of them with a smirk. “But of course,” he said as a something resembling a portal appeared before him. “Make like a good puppet, Nephilim,” he called.
Alec had felt compulsion before. Created metaphorically, from the pressure heaped upon his shoulders by Shadowhunter society, by his family name, and by his family themselves. But this? The force that pushed at his back and got his legs moving, that dragged him closer and closer to Azazel with no resistance at all… it was no mere metaphor.
Valentine took a sharp breath and pressed his lips together. Anger danced in his eyes but he kept his silence. Azazel, on the other hand, did not bother to hide his smirk as he stepped through the portal.
Alec tumbled through a portal ride far rougher than he was used to. When it spat him out on the other side, his body ached to collapse, but Azazel’s strange power kept his knees locked and his body upright. Nausea swirled in his gut.
His eyes pricked with tears that could not spill as he looked around the room. Azazel glanced around the room with a smirk.
“Oh Valentine,” Azazel said lightly. With a flick of his finger, he pulled Magnus from behind the couch.
Magnus was on his side, curled in the fetal position. Chains bound his hands and legs together, and if Alec could, he would have screamed at the sight. Valentine’s face twisted in anger.
“Just change us back,” he spat through clenched teeth.
Azazel smiled smugly. “Oh, of course,” he said and reached out, his thumb brushing gently across Valentine’s face.
Valentine’s body crumpled to the ground and Azazel shot it a disdainful glance as he stepped over it. He bent over Magnus and pressed his hand firmly to Magnus’ cheek. Black marks spread over Magnus’ face like vines the color of the darkest night.
Magnus screamed and Alec fought with all he had against whatever power had ensnared him in Azazel’s will. Slowly, Magnus’ eyes slid shut and Alec felt pain as hot and harsh as heavenly fire burn through him.
Azazel straightened up and straightened his suit jacket. “You know,” he said. “There is something satisfying about seeing you like this.”
Red light exploded. Like fire, it burned away the chains wrapped around Magnus’ body, and he rose fluidly. He stepped closer to Azazel, his golden cat eyes harsh and cold. “Then you can imagine what it felt like for me,” he said lowly.
Azazel regarded him, and Alec felt something cold prickle up his spine when he realized there was some kind of fondness in his gaze. “Not this time, nephew,” he said.
“Let Alec go,” Magnus said. “Leave my home.”
Azazel splayed his hands. “As you wish,” he said and Alec felt the compulsion fade away. His knees hit the ground with a loud thud, and a sob burst from his throat. Still, he was unable to take his eyes away from Magnus and Alec saw his cold mask splinter.
If Azazel saw it too, he didn’t exploit it. “Do you want me to take Valentine Morgenstern with me?” he asked as he headed for the door. “I assure you, I’ll have fun disposing of him.”
“He’ll answer to the Downworld, not you,” Magnus said. Azazel nodded and reached for the door handle. “Azazel. Whatever your plans with the Mortal Cup are, I will stop you.”
Azazel’s smile was utterly genuine. “I look forward to you attempting just that,” he said, and then he was gone.
As soon as the door slammed closed behind him, the splinters in Magnus’ hard visage grew into gaping cracks and he hurried across his loft’s living room. Without even looking, he fired off an orange bolt of magic. It slammed into Valentine’s prone body and launched him into the next room over. By the time Magnus reached Alec’s side, there was nothing on his face but worry.
“Alexander,” he breathed, dropping to his knees by Alec’s side, his hands fluttering over Alec’s chest, back, and shoulders. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”
Alec… Alec didn’t know how to answer that, so he just reached up and caught one of Magnus’ hands. He squeezed, hard.
Magnus barely seemed to notice. He was talking, apologizing, and promising Alec an explanation, explanations, actually, and Alec did want those, yeah, but if there was one thing he did know, now, it was that, despite whatever he had just seen, he loved Magnus. So he said that.
Tension melted out of Magnus’ shoulders as his words stopped. He looked at Alec with his beautiful cat eyes, the same expression on his face as when Alec had first seen them.
Is it wrong of me to think that Azazel is Magnus's father? I'm just picking up these vibes from the two episodes he's in. Magnus's reaction to finding out that is the demon they're after. Him addressing Magnus when they summon him....I have nothing to go on but my gut feeling but here I am...
