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The armour feels heavy on his shoulders, heavier than it does in the middle of a battle, when his arms ache with the strength needed to wield his sword, when his blood or that of his enemies blurs his vision, when the sun weighs down on him and becomes a burden to every man standing on the battlefield.
Alec is not on the battlefield though, not now, and neither does he stand under the warm sun, feeling its heated caress upon his skin. He is deep in the heart of a bloody winter, one that remains unyieldingly cold, even when the men gather around a burning fire and give their hands for the warmth of the golden flames to lick.
Tonight, any page or squire looking for Sir Lightwood would find him in one of the many rooms in Lord Bane's castle, attending a war council that made his brows furrow and his hand spasm upon the pommel of his sword, waiting for battle in the leather scabbard hanging from his hips.
No battle for his sword tonight though, for the war of hearts is not to be won with weapons. Neither are politics nor games of alliances, which is exactly what this council is about and is also the reason for the tension in the line of Alec's shoulders, for the sweat trickling down his brow and wetting his cheek before he wipes it carelessly with his free hand, the other still griping his sword. Conveniently, this council is also the reason for the turmoil in Alec's heart as he watches his Lord listen and speak to the dignitaries who have come to seek trade pacts and offer their best asset in exchange.
The asset is a seventeen-year-old girl with bright red hair, whom her father is offering to Lord Bane in order to ensure perennial trade in his ward in the East. She is far too young to marry, Alec thinks, and yet she's nearly too old to be given to a man only now. Many noblemen have come to Lord Bane before to show him their daughters; the youngest could not be more than twelve. Life goes fast in this part of the world and Clarissa Morgenstern, had she been married earlier, could already be a widow.
So far, Lord Bane has refused to marry for the sake of another powerful man, has refused to make a child miserable by being taken away from her mother to go live with a man she doesn't know, doesn't love. Girls are expected to learn though... Learn what makes their husband relax after a hard day of battles or ruling, learn how to please him, learn to be a mother and a lady worth of her noble husband.
Tonight though, Lord Bane looks pensive and Alec can feel in his bones, in his heart, that this proposition might end up in an actual deal instead of failing, like they all have before. The pommel of his sword leaves a deep indent in his palm.
The current situation isn't ideal, he knows that, and he is also aware that Lord Bane cannot avoid marriage forever. Sir Lightwood knows and understands that fact but Alec and his heart can't. Still, Lord Garroway occupies the North and neither his allegiances nor his loyalty are perfectly clear, while the Queen is gathering an army in the East for a purpose that, although unofficial as of now, doesn't leave much to the imagination. Lord Santiago is their only Southern ally but they can't really count on him, should the need for men arise: the young lord is too busy trying to uphold his sovereignty, after the Duchess Belcourt's attempted coup, to afford to send even a little part of his army to the West.
Without his aid, if either Lord Garroway or the Queen moves against them... Lord Bane cannot hold back an assault on two different fronts, while a deal with Lord Morgenstern and his ten thousands men would put one more rampart between Lord Bane's lands and the Queen's troops. Alec knows that this marriage proposal is not to be cast away lightly. Yet, he doesn't like the idea and he can tell, from the twin expressions of distrust and discontentment on Ragnor Fell's and Catarina Loss' faces, that the closest advisors of Lord Bane don't quite approve of the possibility either. Lord Bane himself remains silent though: he is not agreeing right away but the fact that he doesn't immediately disagree either means that he is considering it, weighing the consequences of such a deal before he accepts it.
Eventually, Lord Bane rises from his seat, splendid in his thick coat of silver fur that looks as smooth as water; his rings and the necklaces that adorn his chest catch on the light from the fire, gleaming golden in the half-darkness of the room. He looks like a king, Alec thinks, more regal than the Queen who schemes in the East, a king that he would gladly follow into the gaping mouths of hellhounds if he only gave the order.
"Thank you," Lord Bane says with a slight bow of his head, "Lord Morgenstern. I take good note of your proposal; I will come back to you on this matter in a few days. In the meantime, please enjoy your stay in our lands. You have travelled a long way from the East."
"Thank you, my Lord," Morgenstern whispers, bending his head with so much respect that it looks almost forced, before he retreats with his men and walks out of the room.
He is not fast enough to hide his victorious smile from Alec, whose stomach clenches all of a sudden. That smug face shows that Morgenstern, like the knight, like the advisors, sensed Lord Bane's hesitation regarding the decision he has to make - difficult one, for a man who always declined every offer but feels, now, the knot of war and blood tighten around his throat: if Lord Bane doesn't get more soldiers, his lands and his men, both peasants and nobles, will not see the next winter.
"Magnus," Ragnor Fell breathes out, finally giving voice to his concern, while Catarina Loss looks furious, by his side, "You can't seriously be considering..."
"I do not wish to discuss the matter tonight," Lord Bane says, stiff and final. "You are all dismissed."
The advisors grumble as they obey, clearly unhappy in front of the sacrifice their Lord is thinking of agreeing to, and Alec follows them out of the room with a heart as heavy as his armour on his back. He doesn't know if his still beating heart is shattering inside his chest because of pain or anger.
All the grace that usually characterises him and has gained him the epithet of Shadowhunter seems to leave his body as he stumbles out of the room and goes back to his chambers, a narrow room with a window that faces the rising sun in the morning and doesn't get much warmth from the sun at its peak. A fire is burning in the hearth though, spreading its glow toward the bed, and Alec stops in front of it, allowing the heat to caress his body as he gets rid of his armour with the help of a young page, that he dismisses as soon as the boy is done.
Down to his breeches, thin shirt and jerkin, Alec briefly entertains the thought of asking a servant to bring him a plate of cheese, nuts and grapes, a light supper to eat in the solitude of his bedroom, not caring about joining the men tonight. They would sing merry songs around a fire outside, leaving footprints in the melting snow as they jigged, catching kitchen wenches around their waists to push them into the dance, burring dirty words that would make Alec blush to the very roots of his hair.
Before he has the time to open his door and ask the first boy he sees though, the page from earlier comes back, not even knocking on the oaken door before he allows himself inside; Alec would coldly point it out, if not for the boy's wide eyes.
"S... Sir," he stammers, "L... Lord Bane h... has requested your presence in his q... quarters."
The young knight is out in the blink of an eye, striding down the hallways and secrets staircases that he could travel with his eyelids shut, used to these paths and the circumspection with which he has to walk them - the page can't follow his strides and the guards at the door of Lord Bane's chambers barely blink when he walks out of the shadows. They, too, are used to it. They, too, know how to be discreet.
"Sir Lightwood," one of the sentinels greets him, bowing with the deference Alec's higher rank commands before he opens the door without more formalities. "He is waiting for you."
Alec doesn't ask for an explanation but silently nods, knowing that everything he needs to know will be explained to him in due time, by Lord Bane himself nonetheless. As always, he has to stop and glance around the room he steps in, always blinded by its simple beauty that finds its only match in the gorgeousness of the host himself. He treads lightly upon the thick rugs that protect the room from the cold, heading for the master of the place who has swapped his coat of fur for a carmine jerkin.
He is leaning against the embrasure of the window, looking into the night outside and down to the men feasting around the fire; he has his back turned on Alec and yet, it is clear that Lord Bane is indeed waiting for him, as the guard said, and the knight can imagine the smile on his Lord's lips as he comes closer.
"What did you think of Morgenstern's offer?" Lord Bane asks without preamble, and Alec understands then that his liege didn't miss his annoyance and anger during the council.
"It sounds very wise," Alec immediately answers, although his heart screams at him not to say that - but it is the truth.
"I am not a wise man," the other chuckles lightly.
"And yet," Alec shots back with the same amusement, "You have led your men into countless victories, my Lord, always displaying wise and prudent tactics, you..."
Lord Bane suddenly scoffs and turns around with furrowed brows, interrupting his knight's praise as he locks eyes with him.
"We are alone," he says softly, "So if you call me my Lord once more, Alexander, I swear to the Gods..."
This time, Alec is the one to cut short the other man's protests: laughing, he steps forward until he is able to wrap him into his embrace, dragging him away from the window to kiss him, lips crashing together with a drawn-out moan that neither of them can repress, having waited far too long for their reunion.
"Magnus..." Alec gives in, breathing against the other man's mouth, unable to step back. "I apologise. I didn't know whether you needed your knight or your lover tonight."
"You know I will always need you as my Alexander before Sir Lightwood," Magnus answers, softly stroking his lover's cheeks with adoring fingers.
Alec hesitates.
"Even before your wife?" he whispers, eyes sad.
In spite of the softness of his voice, his words cut through the room like thunder and Magnus lets go of his face, glancing at him before he averts his gaze. He stays quiet for a little while and finally sighs, turning away.
"I don't like it any more than you do," he tells the tense silence of the room, not daring to look at his lover - for fear of losing his resolution or fear of breaking his own heart, neither Alec nor Magnus are sure. "But you said it yourself: it is a wise decision."
"And you are not a wise man," Alec answers in a breath, echoing his lover's previous words.
He earns a weak chuckle for his trouble and his heart gives a painful twinge. He can already feel the distance between them, as surely as if Magnus was already married. His lover faces him again and his beautiful eyes are blurred by a veil of deep sorrow that Alec doesn't know how to lift. He's scared it won't ever disappear, now.
"I have to do it," Magnus murmurs, resting their foreheads together, gripping Alec's neck with a desperate hand. "Even though I don't want to marry..."
"At least you like women as well," the knight says in the same quiet voice. "I couldn't do it."
For a second, Alec feels old insecurities come back at full force and hit his already wounded heart as he reminds himself that Magnus doesn't discriminate between people, loves women as well as men. He isn't scared of his lover falling for someone else though, no: he trusts him. But if anything, Alec is afraid of himself, afraid that he might not be enough for Magnus. He can't be his official partner, doomed to stolen embraces in the shelter of the Lord's chambers, and he can't give him an heir, not even a bastard child. Magnus needs a wife and a son to secure his status and that of his lands, a role that Alec cannot play.
"Alexander..." Magnus protests as he tangles his fingers into his lover's messy hair, "I think you misunderstand. I don't want to marry a woman. I don't want to marry anyone who isn't you."
These words shouldn't send Alec's heart in a frenzy, they should not make him hope. He knows what Magnus means, when he says that he doesn't want to get married. He wishes he could avoid a wedding but he knows that it is inevitable, in the end. He needs Morgenstern's army.
And Alec is aware of what it probably means for them: from risky and kept secret, their embraces will become forbidden. Magnus is a man of honour, Alec knows it and he loves him for that, even when it means that his lover will certainly remain loyal and faithful to his spouse. Maybe though, once they have a son, maybe they will not share the same bed anymore, maybe Magnus' wife will find someone to love on her side and Magnus will come back to him... He could perhaps manage to introduce his brother to Clarissa Morgenstern. The Captain of the Guard has always liked redheads.
However, Alec doesn't want to think about any of it now. If he is living his last days as Magnus' lover, he wants to enjoy them to the fullest. Pretend they had a chance once.
"Promise me," he whispers, trailing his hand up Magnus' chest and leaving it there to rest above his heart, "Promise me that this will still belong to me."
"It is yours," his lover answers, voice rough with emotion as he covers Alec's hand with his own. "Now and forever."
It makes him smile, his relief as strong as his tenderness for this man whom he was never supposed to fall in love with in the first place. He was meant to be Lord Bane's knight, not his lover, and yet... Every second spent in each other's company had been torture, the both of them aware of their attraction for the other but unable to act on it, afraid of rejection, too blinded by their fear to see the longing in the other's eyes. Until Alec snapped, after an attempted murder on Magnus: the blood of the traitor was not yet cold on the ground next to them that Alec was already kissing his Lord, his fear of losing him overpowering his fear of rejection.
"I love you," he says then, a whisper that Magnus' lips swallow in a deep kiss.
Alec had never been kissed before that night that changed both their lives and somehow, after seven years, his breath is still taken away, inevitably, when his mouth experiences the caresses of Magnus'. His hands clench on his Lord's jerkin and he pushes at his chest until Magnus takes a step back, then two and three, never breaking their kiss, and then they collapse on the bed, indecency of silky sheets and pillows of soft feathers, with thick blankets to keep Lord Bane protected from the cold.
Alec quickly feels overwhelmed as he stares at his lover, lying underneath his body with an expression of languid lust, waiting for his knight's directions. It nearly feels like too much already, the trust, obvious in Magnus' golden eyes, making Alec shake to his core. Eyelids fluttering close, he bends his head to drop another kiss to the smiling lips, then his mouth travels down to Magnus' throat.
He doesn't miss the sharp intake of breath as he nips at the sensitive skin, lazy and unhurried, and Magnus' hands jerking to his hips with bruising strength tell him all he needs to know: he won't tolerate the slow teasing for long. Magnus is all passion and sensuality where Alec is reassurance and unconscious eroticism, merging together in explosive pleasure.
The comforting, familiar weight of Magnus' hands makes the knight shiver when they slip under his jerkin and stroke the taut skin of his abdomen, and Alec decides to undress his lover while he still can, while his mind has not yet fallen into a haze of pleasure. He watches Magnus' face and the thousands of emotions fleeting across his features as he helps him out of his clothes, and he has to stop, to breathe, when his eyes finally take in the lord's strong body, and then... He touches.
Magnus' bronze skin is burning under his fingertips and his muscles clench when Alec trails his mouth down his chest, lips closing and sucking around a peaking nipple, daring mouth going downward and tongue darting to taste Magnus. The hands that were roaming all over his back suddenly tangle in his hair as Magnus moans, voicing his pleasure as well as his frustration when Alec abandons his target to kiss the inside of Magnus' thighs.
"Alexander..." he groans, pleading.
It makes Alec's body thrum with pleasure, knowing that he is the only man to ever make Magnus Bane beg. He relents then, slipping one of his hands between Magnus' thighs to wrap around his cock. He's hard and hot in his palm and when Alec's lips stretch around him, he can already taste salt on the tip of his tongue.
His own cock feels trapped in his garments and his hips move of their own volition, seeking friction wherever they can, until Alec unconsciously starts humping Magnus' leg and draws his lover's attention to his own need and want.
"You're... You're overdressed for t... this," Magnus manages to pant, tugging none-too-delicately on Alec's dark locks, "Come here..."
In the blink of an eye, Magnus rolls over and straddles Alec's body, twisting in a suggestive manner until he stills, comfortably sitting on his lover's crotch. Alec sits up to take off his jerkin by himself and he mewls when Magnus rolls his hips, rubs their cocks together through the fabric of his pants, and it feels so good and yet not enough, he wants more, so much more...
"I need you," he says, voice hoarse. "Please, Magnus..."
His lover nods, fumbles with one hand at the laces of his breeches that are probably stained with a wet spot already. He sighs in relief when the tight fabric around his cock is removed, then in pleasure when Magnus mouths at the base and pumps the shaft with his fingers, stroking Alec to full hardness before long.
There is a fire running through the knight's veins, desire and pleasure strong and heady, and he grabs Magnus' wrist to stop his movements just in time, gasping as he tries to control his trembling body.
"N... Not yet," he breathes out, "Not without you."
"How do you want me?" Magnus asks in a heartbeat, coming back up to stare at his lover's eyes and pepper his face and jaw with kisses.
"In me," Alec whispers and feels like he is going to die of desire if Magnus doesn't start touching him again soon, because he craves him, craves the familiar and intimate slide of Magnus' body inside his own, craves the consummating bliss and plenitude that come with it.
Alec earns one last kiss before his lover props himself up on one hand and grabs the vial of perfumed oil beside the bed, that he oft uses to massage his sore muscles after battle. Magnus then nudges Alec's slender but strong thighs apart to settle between them and the knight holds his breath, waiting and then relishing the gentle pressure as his lord and lover curls a finger inside him.
"Alright?" Magnus asks in a whisper, his concerned expression turning to awe as he sees the pleasured contentment on Alec's face.
"Yes," the young man promises, "Keep going."
Alec loops his arms around Magnus' neck when he adds another finger and his nails dig into the tan skin when eventually, finally, their bodies become one. The moan he lets out is loud but he can't help himself, not when the slight burn and the thought of being one with Magnus that send tiny shocks of pleasure throughout his body feel so good.
"Move," he begs, unashamed, locking eyes with his lover's, "Please, please, Magnus, I..."
His prayer ends in another long moan, breaking halfway as he gasps and surges up to kiss the other man, back arching and allowing Magnus deeper inside him. He won't last long, he knows as much, for he was close already even before Magnus took him, but he can tell, based on his lover's ragged breathing and quickening hips, that he isn't far from completion himself. As if sensing his thoughts though, Magnus smiles at him and slows down, his cock nearly slipping out of his lover before thrusting in again, at so slow a pace that it nearly drives Alec mad with pleasure. He is so close... Magnus only has to touch him, brush a finger against him, and he is going to come undone.
Magnus does. It takes Alec by surprise, the way his lover flashes him a smug smile before he drags his fingertips down his chest and pinches his nipple, leaving him panting and vulnerable to the way he wraps his hand around his cock and tugs just so and...
Alec muffles his low, rough moan against Magnus' lips when a flash of white slashes his vision and makes his toes curl on themselves, body tensing and eyes closing without his notice, beyond all control. Magnus makes the wonderful sensation last even longer as he picks up his pace, about to join his lover in ecstasy, and Alec weakly pushes down to meet his powerful hips.
"A... Alexander..." Magnus whispers and repeats it, like a prayer, and he laces his fingers through Alec's and covers his body with his own, pining Alec's hands to the mattress, above his head. "Alexander..."
He comes then, spilling inside Alec with a small sob of his name, and he looks even more gorgeous than usual as he does, eyes shining, glowing in the darkness, like those of a cat, and he suddenly collapses on top of Alec, who wraps his arms around the shaky silhouette of his lover.
Alec smiles softly, to himself, to Magnus, skin tingling in the aftermath of pleasure. Magnus feels warm inside him and burning hot when he shifts in his embrace so that he can snuggle up to Alec, his back against his chest and his head cushioned by the knight's shoulder.
"I love you," Magnus says after a while of satisfied silence.
Their merry bubble of intimacy bursts at that, for the words sound... hesitant. As if Magnus was trying to reassure Alec, almost as if he wanted to remind him of that fact, for fear that his lover might forget or doubt his affection once they have to part ways... Which he doesn't mean as in part ways for the day to meet again at night. No, what he is thinking about is different and makes Alec's heart break all over again as he tries to imagine Magnus and him sharing looks of longing in a war council, unable to do anything about those, even at night, for Magnus would have to spend it with his wife. And no matter how hard Alec tries to ignore the cruel truth, he has to face it: this is going to happen and it is going to happen soon.
He doesn't want to accept it, agree to lose Magnus without a fight, and yet he sees the wisdom in a deal with Morgenstern. He can't ask his lover to refuse it... Because sooner or later, it would result in the Queen invading their lands and then, Alec would lose Magnus anyway.
He can't let it happen.
"Marry me," he whispers in the night.
He feels Magnus' surprise through their embrace, loosening his hold around his body to allow his lover to turn around and look at him. His eyes are wide.
"What did you say?" he asks, his voice sounding almost brittle.
"Marry me," Alec repeats on the same soft tone, running his hand through Magnus' hair, and then he adds, "Please."
"Alexander..." the lord answers with sadness, "You know I would say yes in a heartbeat, were it possible. But... The Gods won't allow it, neither will my people, and no priest will agree to..."
A gentle finger laid on his mouth interrupts him.
"We don't need a priest," Alec tells him firmly. "Nor the Gods. We don't need any of them to say the words and perform the ritual in the secrecy of this room. You only have to want it and I'm yours, forever. No matter what, no matter who comes to stand between us."
Alec sees, across Magnus' face, the exact moment when he makes his decision. Heart hammering, he waits for an answer and nearly starts to cry when Magnus gets out of the bed and walks away from him, until he realises where he is headed to. Naked, the young man approaches the dummy that wears his battle armour and unsheathes the dagger that has been slipped in the right boot. Alec's heart soars.
When he comes back to the bed, Magnus kneels on the mattress and Alec sits up, still feeling like crying but this time, for a whole other reason. He blinks, fast, and hopes that the tears won't come, not now, for he wants to revel in this moment. And then Magnus speaks, eyes set on Alec's face and never darting away as he pronounces the words that have sealed countless marriages before their own, but never that of two men.
"I, Magnus Bane," he starts softly, "vow to love you and only you from this day and to my last breath. Your happiness shall be my happiness, your grief shall be my grief, and your soul shall be my soul, now and forever."
Alec feels his throat dry up with emotion as he hears these words that he never thought he would get to hear, not from the love of his life. Eyes wet, he smiles and repeats Magnus' words in a breathless whisper.
"I, Alexander Lightwood, vow to love you and only you from this day and to my last breath. Your happiness shall be my happiness, your grief shall be my grief, and your soul shall be my soul, now and forever."
He watches as Magnus takes his dagger and nicks the skin of his thumb, drawing blood that he smears across Alec's lower lip; he hands the dagger over to his lover then, who does the same and drags his finger across Magnus' mouth to tint it red. Lips curling up in twin smiles, they hold each other's hands as they murmur at the same time:
"With this kiss, my soul and heart are yours."
When their bloody lips meet, they can barely kiss properly, giggling against each other's mouth as what they have just done sinks in, as they realise that they are married now, that no matter what comes in the future, near or far, they will have one another to rely on. Alec doesn't remember ever feeling this happy before, invincible, and he knows this night will remain engraved in his memory forever. Magnus' smile and red lips, the delight in his eyes and the renewed passion as they make love again, all of it, he will cherish forever. Nothing, no one, will ever take this memory from him.
Alec holds onto his memories. He closes his eyes, doesn't want to see the scene unfolding in front of him; instead, he remembers, behind the shelter of his eyelids, bronze skin and lazy kisses, vows pronounced in the dark, unabashed love and passion. He wonders if Magnus, just a few steps away from him, can feel his heart breaking a bit more with each second that goes by, feel each broken half of it shatter to a million pieces. Your grief shall be my grief.
Not Magnus, he has to remind himself. Lord Bane.
Lord Bane is so close and yet so far, more so than he has ever been before, and it's killing Alec that he can't just reach out, grab his wrist, kiss his hand and take him out of there, far away from this holy place. He keeps his eyes closed. He doesn't want to see Lord Bane's future wife and he wishes that he could cover his ears with his hands so that he doesn't have to listen when she says the same words that they have, a few weeks ago, in Lord Bane's chambers - but theirs were uttered out of genuine love... And he cannot do anything against what is happening now, no matter how forced.
Alec closes his heart.