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Alec was lounging on the couch in Magnus’s living room while the Warlock bustled about the chamber. He had finally remembered to check his mail, and it seemed that nearly three hundred pieces had come for him in the year since he last opened his mailbox. He was content just to watch, especially since Magnus had opted to skip a shirt while they lounged around his loft today.
“Huh, a letter from Amara Galley. Haven’t spoken to her in five years,” Magnus commented to himself.
“Why’d you stop talking?”
“We dated briefly; she found me to be a bit too emotionally unavailable for her tastes.” Alec raised his head to look at Magnus, who just shrugged, “I got better.”
He went to open the letter when a cloud of white dust enveloped his face.
“Magnus!” Alec shouted shooting immediately to his feet, pull the seraph blade he kept under the couch and moving to protect him.
Magnus was still coughing when Alec appeared at his side. A thin sheet of white dust covered most of his face and hair- but, to Alec’s dismay, it quickly melted into his skin.
“Magnus,” Alec said holding by the shoulders to look into his eyes, “what is that stuff? Should I call Cat? Is it dangerous?”
Magnus waved a hand in front of his face, “it’s nothing. Just an old Warlock prank.”
But even has he said it, Alec watched in horror as burn scars began moving up Magnus’s arms. A slow, pure white scar appeared- trailing from his cheekbone to his jaw. More horrifying are stab wounds that start to take shape on his stomach and chest. Alec pushes his shoulder to turn him around, and his eyes widen even more, streaks of scars from what appeared to be a whip were burning into Magnus’s usually flawless, glowing skin.
“Warlock prank?” Alec asked alarmed, “you’re covered in scars. What the hell is this?”
Magnus sighed and conjured a mirror, tutting slightly as he traced the scar on his face. “Looks like I’m not going out tonight.”
“Magnus…”
“It’s a simple potion that, basically translated, forces someone to “wear their scars,” one of the more literal translations. One of the first spells a Warlock learns is how to heal old scars, so these just bring back old wound scars. Nothing dangerous, mostly it just appeals to my vanity.”
Alec’s eyes went involuntarily to his chest and arms, which were covered in dark marks and burns.
“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus said, “please get that look off your face. It doesn’t hurt, and the scars will fade in a few hours. It’s mostly meant to annoy.”
Alec didn't find anything particularly annoying about seeing his boyfriend look like he lost ten rounds with Jack the Ripper.
“It’s just… There are a lot of them.”
“I’ve been alive a long time.”
Alec’s fingers traced the long mark on his face. He noted how much older Magnus looked with it, how much more hardened and cynical.
“What is it? Do you not find me pretty anymore?” Magnus’s eyes were raised in a sarcastic arch, but Alec could see the real anger mixed with vulnerability in his eyes. He had patched Alec’s scars, and kissed the old ones without complaint- Alec wonders if this is how Magnus feels when he sees him.
“It’s not that; it’s just… You,” Alec sighed, cursing himself. “I… You’ll always be perfect to me.”
Magnus’s face went a bit surprised and then soft, “Thank you. Now, do you want to order some dinner?”
Magnus walked away, and Alec’s eyes strayed helplessly to the lash marks on his back. Some were sharper, a brighter white on his skin, others more faded and lay beneath them.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Magnus said eventually, Alec hadn’t even noticed he was still staring even though Magnus had stopped moving. “Just ask if you’re going to be like this all night.”
Alec turned away, flustered. He didn’t mean to be so obvious, “how did you get these scars?”
“Which ones?”
“The ones on your back.”
Magnus turned his head over his neck to try and see what Alec was looking at, “ah. Let me tell you, darling, say what you will about modern punishments but at least they aren’t public whippings. I was a bit mouthy with some Dutch colonial leaders when I was young, they were… Less than impressed.”
Alec ran his hand along the scars, pressing soft kisses on them. Magnus sighed and arched- Alec smiled in spite of himself. Magnus always had a surprisingly sensitive back.
Alec grabbed Magnus by the hand and gently lead him into the bedroom, pushing him down to straddle his hips.
Magnus looked up, delighted, “I knew it! You’re like scars, don’t you? Probably appeals to the hardened soldier in you.”
Alec rolled his eyes and shook his head. That couldn’t be further from the truth; he loved Magnus’s skin- bright and unmarked as if to remind Alec that the entire world isn’t made for violence and suffering. Of course, he is still beautiful now- a piece of art with sharply defined muscles and deeply ridged cuts. His cheekbones and impossible jawline looked like they were carved out of glass even more than usual.
He pressed his face down to kiss the scar on his face, “what about this one?”
Magnus chuckled, “when I began trying to start my practice as a Warlock for hire, I was cutting into local market share. Obviously. So, the locals decided to let me know how unhappy they were. I got this from a different set five months later,” Magnus said pointing to the burn marks on his left arm. They seemed to creep down from his shoulder and stop just before his hands, “it was a warning. The one I never forgot. A few inches lower and my magic would have been crippled forever.”
Alec raised Magnus’s hand to his lips, gently kissing each finger and relishing in the familiar spark of magic he feels in them. Magnus watches him, eyes soft and tender as he tracks the movement not saying anything.
“What lesson?” Alec asked eventually after the sweet silence.
“Hm?” Magnus asked, running his hands up and down Alec’s back. “Oh, don’t get cocky. And especially early on, I learned that a bit of strategy and cunning is more useful than brute force. A lesson you might want to take into consideration,” he finished with a smarmy look on his face.
Alec rolled his eyes and leaned down again to bite his neck- stopping when he notices a thin, straight scar on his neck from a knife. Alec kissed it but raised his eyes to Magnus in question.
“My step-father took me to the river at knife-point,” Magnus said, still rubbing his hands up and down Alec’s flank. “Pressed a little too hard with the knife, he was pretty intoxicated, so I’m not sure he noticed.”
Alec shuddered, taking in the stab wound just to the right of his heart, the laceration that spanned from his clavicle to the bottom of his rib cage, the small circular burns on his stomach. He felt his stomach roil; he had nearly lost this man so many times before they even met.
Alec says nothing, just presses soft kisses to all of them. Sometimes pausing to ask where he got it, the answers were usually pretty similar. Someone trying to kill him because they were jealous, or scared, or-equally often- he had gotten too involved in trying to protect someone, and it had hurt him in the end. Occasionally, they were from people who hated him for being a Warlock. The seraph blade scars were sharper than the others; they looked the most recent. Alec spent extra time pressing tender kisses to them.
“This one?” Alec asked, pointing to the small splotch just under his elbow.
Magnus chuckled, “I got drunk and tripped.”
Alec looked at him surprised.
“Not all my scars are tragedies, Alec. Sometimes, they’re just from living. I have a few on my knees from when I learned to ride a bike.”
Alec laughed, “I guess I should have considered that. It’s just everything about you can seem so larger than life sometimes.”
“I thought you liked the parts of me that are larger,” Magnus said with a teasing laugh while simultaneously bucking his hips up. Alec, who was unprepared, was thrust up and was forced to catch himself with one hand on the headboard.
“You’re impossible,” Alec replied, leaning down to kiss him. “But, I love you. So what does that say about me?”
“Well,” Magnus replied in pseudo-contemplation, “I’ve often felt the lack of mental health resources the Clave provides to be a weakness. Serves them right that their bright Archer got seduced by a degenerate.”
Alec shook his head before he flipped them. Magnus was now hovering over Alec with a soft smile on his face. To his surprise, Magnus plopped down suddenly, his face buried in Alec’s chest hair. Alec wrapped his arms around him on instinct, pressing them even closer.
“I don’t mind the scars, Magnus,” Alec began. It was easier to talk to him like this when he didn’t have to look at his big, soft eyes, “It’s just. I know it doesn’t make sense, not seeing any scars on your body makes me feel safer somehow. Like, nothing has ever hurt you before, so, nothing can hurt you now.”
He feels Magnus open his mouth to comment, so Alec continues with a shrug, slightly jostling Magnus on his chest, “I know it’s not true. I just, I wish I could have protected you from getting hurt in the first place. Even though I know, I wasn’t born, and that you can more than take care of yourself. And, more than likely, if someone can hurt you, then they’d straight up kill me.” He feels Magnus laugh against his chest. “I understand it’s stupid.”
Magnus lifted his head up, so he was resting his sharp chin on Alec’s chest, his eyes were glowing in the dimly lit room. “No, Alexander. Not stupid at all.”
Magnus raised his left hand to stroke Alec’s face when he noticed the scars receding. The scar on his face was shrinking back as well, before it faded from existence, “huh. I guess the potency of this potion wore off because of how old it is. No more scars for me.”
Alec nodded very seriously, “yeah. No more scars for you.”