#malecfanfic

| Rated M | WIP: 9/20 Chapters | Malec

🔗LINK

SHOUT OUT FOR @katychan666 Because she’s amazing and if you have read herself then you know how amazing she is!

So this is a dark!Malec fic! It’s amazing click the link to find out more

Because you can never have enough Drunk!Alec fics. You’re welcome. 

Word count: 1,497 

Description: Clary, Jace, Izzy and Magnus manage to drag Alec away from the institute for a night out in Toronto. (disclaimer-I have no idea what Toronto is like I just had to pick a random city) 

Entirely fluff, Christmas/mistletoe themes and Alec drunkenly trying to propose to Magnus 

Read on A03- http://archiveofourown.org/works/11662800

Magnus wandered around the small hut that his family lived in, barefoot feet hitting the dirt floor, causing small clouds of dust to appear. His amber cat eyes were searching for his mother. He wanted to ask her why she was always so sad now. Why she and Papa wouldn’t give him hugs, or say that they loved him anymore. He thought for a second. He realized the better question to ask was why they didn’t love him anymore. He wanted to ask what’d he’d done wrong, and how to fix it. As he walked into the bedroom, he saw his mama sleeping on the bed. He approached the bed and he could tell something was wrong. Magnus’ mother was always full of life, of passion and wonder. She could hardly ever sit still for more than a second. Even when she was mad at him, or sad, she was always pacing about, waving her arms, but now? Now, she was still, and pale. Scarily so. Magnus would never forget the next thing he saw. Even after 400 years the memory of his once lively, beautiful mother, pale, unmoving, and cold, so, so cold, with blood all around her a deep scarlet, the iron scent of blood filling what felt like, a kerias sticking out of her chest would stay with him. And even little, scared Magnus, knew that this would be something he’d never, never forget. And he’d never forget what happened next.

His father had walked into the bedroom, and immediately saw what happened. An evil monster had killed his wife. The monster that Magus had become, he was a monster. So, he grabbed the boy's small body and ran to the river, hate seeping out of every pore. He shoved Magnus into the water, holding him under, letting the cold and dark consume him. Magnus couldn’t breathe, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to, because he knew his mama was gone forever, and he knew he absolutely caused it. He wanted to die. His magic, the monster inside of him, though? It wanted to live, it had the urge to go on, to see more, do more. A wave of fire, raged through his body and he cast it into his father's white shirt, observing silently as the flames consumed him. As the orange flames danced around his body, a horrific ballet, to the music of the agonized screams of the man he called his father. Magnus felt empty.

Some time later Magnus stumbled as fast as he could into the nearby woods, hair wet and getting in his eyes, clothing drenched, still struggling to breathe, hearing angry, dangerous voices close behind him. Oh god. The events of the night hit him like a ton of bricks slamming into his chest. What had he done? He didn’t mean to kill his stepfather but he was so, so scared and he couldn’t breathe and he freaked out. The voices grew closer and Magnus’ instincts kicked out and another wave of magic rolled from his body. If Magus had stopped to look, he would have seen the villagers were caught in a harmless freezing charm, which wore off after 30 minutes or so. However, Magnus just assumed he’d killed them all and kept running and running. The wind cut into him like millions of daggers, his shining feline golden eyes simply couldn’t stop his pain and hurt from falling from his eyes. The young warlock kept rethinking the day. What had he done wrong? Why did his Mama stab herself? He didn’t mean to! He didn't want her too! As the horrific events replayed again and again in his mind, it was all his fault, all his fault. But the magic inside him decided it wanted to survive, and he was his magic, and he was stubborn. So he ran. And kept running until he could breathe without pain again.

In fact, he kept running for years. Never staying in one place longer than a lonely and terrified  night, avoiding eye contact, keeping his face hidden in shadows, just on the infinitesimal chance that someone from the village was still looking for him. Magnus was 12, or at least he thought he was, it was hard to keep track of time, the first time he met another warlock. Sadly, the kind warlocks name had been lost to memory, but Magnus could still picture her striking green skin, how kind she was, how she helped him discover the monster inside of him was not a monster, but in fact a great part of him that he could use to save the world. He remembered how she died, in a fight against shadowhunters who wanted their warlock marks as trophies. He remembered when he saw the blade go through her chest and remembered the fact that he hadn’t killed the evil shadowhunters, only knocked them out, because she always said “Killing is the only thing you will ever regret.” He remembered the light fading from her kind, but pained ivy colored eyes. He remembered her last words telling him to “Stay alive, so you can see the day that we are free” but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name. He couldn’t really recall what his father and mother looked like, and when he got a fleeting image, he knew it was corrupted by memory. He knew that his memory was very unreliable. He knew he was forgetting so many important things. So many important people.

And he feared the same thing would happen to Alexander.

The memory of Alec would never vanish, no, the love he would always remember.

But there was so much about his love that he he wouldn't.

As much as he could write, record, capture, nothing was invincible.

He could cast spells, and invest in everything-proof safes, but it is always going to be possible for something, someone that could break the spells, make the safe disappear, make the memory vanish.

There was nothing to do but hope that in thousands of years, he would still remember this amazing shadowhunter, that he wouldn’t forget the sound of his laugh, like a bell ringing for the whole world to hear, his beautiful smile filling the room like the light from the sun. He hoped to remember the way his brown eyes lit up with whatever he was feeling, good, or bad, how he could let down his glamor around him and Alec would still act like Magnus was perfect, how he hugged Magnus like he was the most amazing thing in the world, how the small, loving touches that graced his skin would feel so perfect and extraordinary and he would smile and feel as if a supernova of love had just exploded inside his heart. He wanted to remember the soft, loving, doting kisses and he wanted to remember the passionate, steamy kisses, filled with force and want and love. He wanted to remember the feeling of their bodies colliding. He wanted to remember every perfect detail of Alec’s face. He hoped that he would remember the look on Alec’s face the first time he picked up Max, like it was the moment his whole life had led up to, and he wanted to remember that he was so happy and terrified at the same time when he realized that Max was his son. He wanted to remember how the second he saw Rafael, he shared a look with Alec and they knew the scared little boy was part of their family. He wanted to remember every second of Alec, the love, the fights, the heartbreak, the healing, the jokes, the dancing, the looks, everything.

He wanted to remember. But he might not.

And that terrified Magnus Bane.

However, the warlock simply slipped in between the soft golden sheets on his bed, kissed Alec on the head, and fell asleep.

Happy Malec Week! This will be my only contribution because I’m really busy so I hope you like this! Didn’t have time to finish the whole thing, but enjoy this snippet and let me know what you thought :)

Read below or tap this Ao3 link here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10842636

The dimly lit tavern is barren and quiet in the early morning. Crowds of tables and chairs fill the small space with only a few souls in sight, none of them pure. The perfect location for what the three companions sitting at a table in the far corner are planning to discuss. If one of them were to stop talking of irrelevancies first.

“It is said,” the Englishman’s hushed voice fills the quiet room. It is laced with the wonder and excitement of a tale hardly spoken but widely known. “that 20 years ago in this very kingdom, Queen Maryse Lightwood was pregnant with her first child.”

The two others sitting at the table look at each other with doubt, but allow him to continue, fearful for their lives if they were to interrupt.

“Her and King Robert were overjoyed with the news and hoped for a boy that could one day rule the kingdom. But the joy was short-lived, for the Queen grew very ill before the baby was born, and the doctors that saw her were certain neither she nor the baby would make it. It would take a miracle, they said.” He pauses, grinning at the look of intrigue on his companion’s faces. He allows the tavern’s silence to envelope them for a moment before continuing on.

“So a miracle is what the entire kingdom of Idris prayed for to their sacred angels above, a blessing to save their dear Queen and the child. It is said that the angels heard the pleas and that a single one came down from the heavens above one fateful night, and visited the royal family. It fed the dying mother it’s holy blood, instantly curing her and saving the child. Everyone was soon to hear the news of the aiding angel, and most were overjoyed, but you must be careful when spreading this kind of information.”

Though it's probably no more than a story, there's a certain intensity surrounding the three at the table, pressing the need for an ending, happy or not, impossibly closer.

“It's said the she-demon that took the boy had fangs. At least, that's how King Robert described her. He only caught a glimpse of her sucking the blood from his child before she stole away into the night with his heir and son, Alexander Lightwood. No one knows where she took him, but some say that the vampire uses his blessed blood to walk in the daylight, even today, twenty years later.”

As the eloquent Ragnor Fell finishes with his tale, the finality of his tone easing the tension, he raises his cup of ale to his two companions, seemingly pleased with his fine storytelling. Magnus, however, isn't amused. They're wasting time with morbid fairy tales when they should be planning. He raises an eyebrow at his friend. “I am not concerned with what happened to the boy, just how much the crown that's simply laying around the castle is worth.”

“You don't really believe that Ragnor, do you?” Catarina, their other partner in crime and brains behind their operations, asks in amusement. “Vampires and angels and all that?”

Ragnor shrugs. “I've both heard and seen crazier.”

Catarina and Magnus roll their eyes, used to their friend’s far-out ideas. They are in Idris for a job, however, and it would suit them all to focus, for the plan would be carried out tonight.

Magnus lets out a bored sigh. “Anyhow, it hardly matters twenty years later. What do they expect? For him to one day walk through the doors? I doubt he's still alive, if this woman is the monster you say she is. We may as well make use of his crown.” Ragnor shrugs in response, a small smile quirking at the edge of his lips.

“I suppose, it’s just quite the interesting story.”

“Yes, well, you can obsess about its background after we manage to steal it.”

“You mean if we manage to steal it,” Ragnor grunts. He enjoys being indulged with things he enjoys and Magnus’ flippant remarks always make him grumpy.

“You dare doubt my plan?” Catarina questions with a raised brow.

“Of course not, I just think we have to go over it a few more times. There are still some gaps and what ifs.”

“I don't know,” Magnus grins. “I liked my idea.”

Cat crosses her arms, an unamused glare settled deeply on her face. “To wing it?”

“I have no doubt you could sneak in and out, my friend, it would just be terribly inconvenient if you got caught and hanged while we sat pretty in this tavern,” Ragnor sighs.

Magnus leans back in his chair, bringing his cup of ale to his lips with a sly smirk. “Come on. Have a little faith.”

The ticking has become less of an issue for Alec.

Sure, sometimes, as he reads one of his few books for the fiftieth time over or has to focus on practising his indoor archery or does any other number of things in his tower, the incessant tick-tick-ticking makes his skin crawl. But only until he distracts himself with something else.

That's why, as he notices the ticking during his designated reading time, the distraction that comes is welcome. That distraction being his best friend (and basically sister) Camille. She is gone most days, leaving Alec alone in their safe forest tower to find food and other things for Alec to survive on, so he longs for days she arrives home. And he has something on his mind he has been thinking about for all of the days she has been gone and wishes to ask her, so a burst of excitement erupts in him when he hears her familiar voice.

“Alec! I'm home!” Her voice sounds from down below. Alec grins, running to the window with the long rope in hand. He ties it up to the pulley system, lowering it down to where Camille stands with the makeshift basket she has hidden down there.

As he pulls her up, he goes over what he wants to say in his head, excitement bubbling through him so much that he says a few of his lines out loud. Camille looks surprised to see his smiling face, a small frown on her lips when she steps through the window.

“Happy to see me?” she inquires.

“Of course!” He watches as she nods slowly, confused, and steps over to the small kitchen. She places her picnic basket on the counter and unpacks her many sealed drinking containers from the basket. She always brings them on her day trips and Alec has asked her about what is in them once before, but all he was graced with was a scornful look and a hissed “none of you business”. He was having one of his lightheaded spells that day so he stopped.

When she finishes unpacking, she turns to him and extends her hands out, a book in each. Alec grins widely when he sees them.

Normally, he has to beg her to get him something like this. She mostly brings back healthy food or medicine she says he needs, so this is a pleasant surprise.

“Thank you!” he says, reaching out to bring her into a hug. He feels one of her hands reach up behind him to gently stroke the side of his neck. He can't fight back an uneasy shiver, but tells himself he's being ridiculous. She's showing him friendly affection, and he should be thankful for a ray of light in a dark world.

“You're welcome, darling. It is your birthday soon, after all.” She draws back and takes a seat on a nearby chair. Alec watches her closely and begins to fidget a little where he still stands, a small smile playing on his lips. She raises an eyebrow his way.

“What do you want now?”

Alec shuffles some more, always hesitant to ask for anything. But he really wants this, more than he's ever wanted anything. He takes a deep breath, and tells himself it's worth it.

“Okay, so, I was wondering if maybe I-uh could uh…” he trails off. Her look of natural distaste and indifference isn't really helping, but he reminds himself this is important. “You know how it's my birthday soon?”

She heaves a bored sigh, “Yes, Alec.”

“Well, I know you've told me the outside world is a bad place and all, but-”

“Wait,” Camille interrupts, immediately sitting up straight in her chair, a look of rage flashing in her eyes. “Are you suggesting you leave this tower? Leave me?” There's a hint of desperation there as well, blinding Alec to the rage and making him feel instantly terrible. He mistakes her fear with care for him and withdraws.

“W-what? No,” he stutters out. Because how could he want to leave? After all she has done for him to protect him? “I-uh, just wanted you to get me a new quiver. Maybe leather-skinned? My old one is a little worn out.”

She sighs, almost in relief, and sinks back into her chair but nods. “Yes. Fine. Whatever. I'll leave tomorrow once I top up on some…” she pauses. “sleep.”

He sees nothing in her little slip-up and so turns to go back to his room so he can, once again, satisfy himself with the thought of a beautiful outside world with beautiful ideas and beautiful people. Camille’s voice stops him before he gets too far, though.

“Alec,” she calls out, causing him to turn. The moment he locks eyes with her, something about them draws him in, makes him desperate to hear whatever she has to say. “You know why you can't go outside, right?” she continues.

Alec nods, but it feels involuntary. All he is aware of is her eyes as he feels himself speak. “People are naturally bad. They won't accept me for who I am and it's safer up here with you.” It's like he's listening to someone else repeat something they have been told to memorise. It's a little disorientating but he feels himself unwillingly believing the words, despite his best efforts to believe in more out there.

Camille nods, looking satisfied with herself. “You're lucky I'm the one who found you abandoned out in the woods all those years ago, Alec, and not one of those many bad people.”

Alec nods again, and then Camille blinks and he feels like he has snapped out of something. She gestures away from herself with a hand. “You can go now.”

So he does. He goes upstairs to his room and daydreams, as he looks out his window and into the dark night, stroking his pet cat Church, of all the ways the outside world could be beautiful.

He sits and thinks and, finally, comes to the conclusion that he just might be able to leave and come back all in the time it will take for Camille to get his present from the main city and travel back.

Because going outside once couldn't do him much harm.

Just this once.

“I told you there were too many holes in your bloody plan!” Ragnor shouts over to Magnus and Catarina as they run through the dark woods, a fleet of royal guards not too far behind.

“What plan?” Cat bellows out.

Magnus laughs crazily, gesturing wildly to his the bag he carries. “We got the crown didn't we?”

“Not for long!” A voice from behind them shouts. Magnus quickly looks back to see a furious-looking blond guy - the standard Lightwood insignia on his uniform golden, signifying that he is probably the captain of this squadron - gaining on them.

He laughs again. “Sorry, dears, but this crown is ours now!” He looks over at his companions quickly, catching the uneasiness of their expressions easily. “Lets split up. They'll get confused in these dark woods. We meet back at the tavern, okay?”

Catarina breaths out a confirmation, ready to split on Magnus’ signal. Ragnor looks even more uneasy.

“Why do we always listen to you?”

Magnus grins before hissing “Now!”

He turns right and branches off from the group, running like a mad man through branches and leaves and over tree roots that threaten to make his job a lot harder, especially in the darkness barely illuminated by the moon and stars above. He grins when he hears the frustrated yells of the castle guards far behind him, even allows himself to run a little slower.

It isn't long before he hears nothing to disturb the natural quiet peace of the surrounding woods but the crunching of his rapid footsteps. He pauses with a satisfied grin, finding a rock to sit on while he catches his breath.

He looks around in appreciation, silently thanking the woods for hiding him well, before he looks down to the satchel hanging around his side.

Full of pride, he takes his latest treasure out of the bag and stares down at it with excitement. This will do him, Ragnor, and Cat for years if they sold it to the right buyers. The thing looks expensive, an intricate pattern of golden flames and branches circling the white pearls and blue gems dotted around it. The thought of it's worth and what it means for the trio makes Magnus’ heart race and lips tug into a smile.

Until he hears steps quickly approaching.

He looks around desperately for somewhere to hide both him and the crown and spots a small cave off to the side of him, the entrance mostly covered by hanging vines. Perfect.

Once he gets inside, he sighs in relief and backs up against the cave wall, listening intently. He begins to hear faint voices.

“Jace, we'll find them and the crown. We can't be too far behind,” a woman’s voice says reassuringly.

“It's not like you to be optimistic, Lydia,” the man, Jace, says with a hint of annoyance. Magnus identifies him as the captain that told him he wouldn't get away and grins.

“I know it's your brothers crown," the woman, Lydia responds. "and I know you won't give up until you find it. Not so much optimism as fact-stating,” she sighs.

“Yeah, well, I don't know what the use is. It's been twenty years. It's not like he's going to pop up one day, slip the crown on, and become my brother.”

Magnus remembers the story and a twinge of guilt pulls at his heart before he wills it away. There isn't room for guilt in his job description. Besides, he needs this.

“Yeah, well, it's unlikely, but it's possible,” Lydia says. They're closer to Magnus now, just outside of the cave, and slowly passing. “And I know you believe it could happen just as much as your parents.”

Jace huffs, allowing a silence to fall before he clears his throat and Magnus hears the kick of a heel against a horse. “We need to keep looking.”

Magnus hears the steps fade away and relaxes from his tense position against the cave wall. He starts sliding down, a sudden exhaustion overtaking him, but; just as he's about to sit down, he notices a set of footprints in the dirt trailing out from further inside the cave. They don't look too old and, what can Magnus say? He's a curious guy. He follows them.

It's a bit of a long walk through piercing darkness, but he continues with determination, never one to turn back in uncertain situations (which may or may not have put him in more than a few sticky situations in the past). Once his eyes finally pick up on that subtle change of pure darkness to the natural midnight of outside, he picks up the pace until he comes up to another layer of hanging vines lazily blocking the way.

As soon as he steps through, he instantly lets out a relieved sigh at the sight before him. A lone, large tower stands a bit away, no light coming from it, but there’s barely a doubt in Magnus’ tired mind as he takes the steps closer to it. It looks a little creepy, so lifeless and still by itself, and there is an eerie quietness about it that sets it apart from the forest nearby, but Magnus continues forward.

He thanks his many various skills when he sees that the building has no ground-level front door, just a window, meters up. How curious, he thinks as he finds a handhold and drags himself up, climbing up and up until he reaches the top.

His usual gracefulness lacks by the time he gets there, and so he ends up throwing himself inside and knocking a few things over. He hopes no one is home and, when he stands, calls out just in case.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings, but once they do he finds himself raising an intrigued eyebrow. For all its intense appearance, the inside looks homey and lived in, shelves with books and knick-knacks lining almost every wall. There’s a small kitchen with a little table and two chairs, and an open living space taking up the rest of the room. What really catches Magnus’ attention, though, is how weirdly clean it is. Whoever lives here must have quite a bit of time on their hands.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, because the last thing he sees as he turns around is a scared, pale face and a fist swinging towards his face. Then darkness takes him.

Alec continues staring at the man sitting before him uneasily. The sun is rising and he still hasn’t awoken, which Alec doesn’t know whether to feel good about or not. Is it good that he knocked someone into unconsciousness? He can’t deny he feels a little proud at proving he can handle himself.

He just doesn’t know why he tied him up. He didn’t know what to do with the lifeless form lying on the ground and the first thing he saw was the rope for letting Camille in through the window, so his mind went there. But if this man was as dangerous as every other person out there, like Camille has told him for years, then he had to be careful.

But Camille isn’t here now. She left on her journey to get Alec his gift and won’t be back for days. Perhaps this story is Alec’s chance at convincing her of his abilities.

He looks at the man again. He doesn’t look...bad. Alec actually finds a certain intrigue in studying the features of him, finds comfort in the way his face looks soft and kind when unconscious, his closed eyes sprinkled with dark makeup, like the stuff Camille wears. The morning light coming in through the window hits him and the small amount of glitter in the stranger’s styled hair catches both the sun and Alec’s attention. How could something bad look so...nice?

Suddenly, the man stirs and Alec snaps to attention, hands going straight to his bow and quiver, hands shaking a little. He watches as the man looks down at himself, dazed. “Rope,” he groans. “Kinky.”

Alec raises an eyebrow and steps forward into the light, arrow at the ready, catching the man’s attention instantly. He looks startled for a shred of a second, then his eyes turn calculating, looking Alec up and down lazily, almost like he isn’t in a near-death situation, or has been too many times for this to be significant.

As those eyes scan him, Alec can’t help but revel in the way they shimmer golden at him, as if they have the power to deem anything in this world worthy of attention. Again he feels like all that Camille has told him about the people outside is being challenged simply from the look of this man. He still feels wary, heart hammering in his chest, and his aim doesn’t waiver, but there's always that shred of doubt.

“Who are you? And why did you come here?” he asks, voice low and steady.

The man’s eyes snap up to Alec and his lips quirk into a teasing smile, eyebrows raised almost innocently as he gazes straight into the archer’s eyes. “If I had known a beautiful deity lived here I would have come sooner.”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes is distracting, but Alec frowns in response, stepping closer.

“My name is Alec, and I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m the one with the weapon here. Now, who are you?”

“Aw, you’re no fun. When I awoke all tied up I was expecting a pleasant surprise. Emphasis on the pleasure.” The glittery man’s smirk grows when Alec’s cool composure cracks to show a hint of confusion. What kind of captive enjoys being tied up? The man shakes his head with a grin, and Alec worries he missed the punchline some sort of joke. The man then looks like he is about to raise his hands up in surrender before he realises he’s a little tied down at the moment and sighs. “Tough crowd. But fine, if I tell you, will you untie me?”

Alec thinks for a moment then takes a step back, lowering his bow a little. “Perhaps.”

The man lets out a short laugh. A pleasant sound, Alec thinks, compared to Camille’s usual taunting laughs. He raises a flirtatious eyebrow and smirks. Or, more accurately, smoulders.

“Well, perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m Magnus Bane.”

The name rolls off his tongue like a purr, and he tilts his chin up with pride, like he’s the most desired man across the land. Alec almost lets himself scoff in amusement, but he also feels like that could be true. He wouldn't exactly know, and the man does look rather...no, Alec.

“I can’t say I have,” he answers instead, in response getting a short huff of contempt from the other man. “Is...that your actual name? ‘Magnus Bane’?”

‘Magnus Bane’ looks up at him, a grin growing on his face as he tilts his head. “Don’t you trust me?”

Alec rolls his eyes - the gesture far too casual and familiar for a guy he just met and tied up in his own home - and raises his bow and arrow again. “Does it look like I trust you?” All he gets is a shrug and smirk from Magnus, so he continues. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Ah, yes, well, I was running from the castle guards because-” he pauses. Alec watches his eyes widen slowly before he looks around himself in a blind hurry, desperation evident with every short shift of his upper body. “My satchel,” he finally murmurs out. “Where’s my satchel?!” he says, this time louder.

There’s something new in his eyes now, something that wasn’t there before. Alec notices it as the look Camille gets whenever he brings up the outside world or leaving the tower. Fear. Hers is just more well disguised than Magnus’ at the moment.

Alec starts a slow walk around his captive, eyes trained warily on him the whole time as he makes his way to the kitchen where he left the small bag. “Why? What's in it?”

“Something you don't need to concern yourself with, darling.” This time there's a hint of annoyance. “Now let me go and give it back.”

“Your persuasion skills work magic,” Alec deadpans from behind him. He reaches a hand inside the satchel and touches something metallic and pointed. When he draws his hand back out, he's holding a round, golden, bejewelled piece of what has to be some sort of jewellery. He stares at its ornate beauty in amazement.

Magnus grits his teeth in annoyance and speaks, snapping Alec’s attention back to him. “It's called natural charm.” He probably looks as fed up as he sounds, like he just wants to get out of here along with whatever Alec is holding. But now Alec is curious.

He steps back around to where Magnus can see him, the object now in his hands. “What's so special about this? What is it?”

Magnus gives him a curious look, annoyance still evident. “It's a crown. And it's special because it belonged to a prince.”

“So it's not yours?” Alec’s fingers fiddle with the jewels and trace the intricate patterns. “I take what you do isn't very honest.”

“Let's just say I need it more than they do.”

Alec nods, looking down at the crown with a pause. Something about it seems...familiar, even though he doesn't really know what it is. Then, an idea pops into his head and he looks up at his hostage.

“I'm going to offer you a deal, ‘Magnus Bane’,” he says. Magnus gives him a sceptical look, playful demeanour vanishing to reveal a desperate man.

“What?”

“I am going to hide this crown in this tower very well. I am going to put it somewhere you will never find it, or at least, not without my help. If you want it back, you have to take me outside to the nearest kingdom. Once you have safely brought me there and back, I will give it to you and you can do whatever you want with it.”

Magnus blinks, silently assessing his situation. Alec hopes against hope that he appeared more sure of himself than he feels. He waits until Magnus speaks, slowly. “That's what you want? Can't you do that on your own? Why do you need me?”

Alec shifts his eyes away from him and frowns. “I've never been outside of this tower.” Magnus eyebrows hike up in surprise and Alec, feeling defensive, raises his bow.

“Will you take me?” he booms.

Magnus assesses him sceptically, eyes ending up focused on the weapon in his hands. “I don't think you know how to use that thing,” he says. Alec raises an eyebrow, and then his bow, and he draws an arrow. In one quick movement, he shoots it into a nearby wall with deadly precision, eyes on Magnus the whole time.

The man at first looks surprised, then like he's about to laugh in sheer frustration, his head tilted back, but an irritated groan comes out instead. A sound that makes Alec proud. He just broke a man’s resolve for the first time.

CHAPTER 2 is live!

Patience is not a virtue @katychan666 or I have. So we bring you chapter 2