Chapter Text
"Come on, Maggie. You'll die anyways, what harm is trying something new gonna do?"
The professional at goading me on to do things that no sane person would ever do was none other than Alex Fierro. You know the one, green hair, dark skin, faint freckles dotted over her nose, and heterochromatic eyes - which might've been the only hetero thing about her - that were staring into mine with the sort of mischievous twinkle that I, shocker, had trouble saying no to.
At least this was among one of the more tame things my hallmates had convinced me to do, I thought to myself, looking at the bow and the quiver full of arrows Alex was holding out to me.
The rest of our particular hall on Floor 19 were standing around me in one of Valhalla's weapon rooms. We were surrounded by battle axes, shields, spears, all sorts of weapons, including the light swords that tended to be my go-to. Today, however, seeing as I had a totally unfamiliar form of weapon being shoved in my face, it seemed we were going to shake things up. I wondered briefly if the talks at school about "peer pressure" ever covered the dead in Valhalla kind. Mallory had her arms crossed and was looking at me with the usual amount of disappointment, Halfborn looked like he was a glance away from going off on another tangent about how I oughta be more manly, TJ just looked mildly amused, but Alex was the one who had the idea and was actively enforcing it. Because, to my disdain, everyone, including her, knew I couldn't say no when she smiled at me.
"Fuck it," I sighed, taking the bow from her and tossing the quiver over my shoulder awkwardly. to which she snickered.
I gave her the most ferocious glare I could muster, which, when it came to Alex, probably wasn't much.
"You got something to say?" I said.
"Let's place a bet," Alex responded, her eyes still glimmering. I narrowed mine. "If you manage to hit one person, just one, I'm taking you out for falafel. If not, then..."
"I'll do pottery to the death with you," I suggested.
"Really? Finally!" she said, looking... much more excited than I expected. Though that excitement was probably because she'd now almost certainly get to see me fail at her favorite thing and tease me forever about it.
"Yeah, whatever." I murmured, looking away.
Going out to the battlefield never stopped being an unusual experience. It was odd that Valhalla managed to pack in a field so massive, that changed every day, no less, despite the fact that on the outside, it looked like nothing but a department store. Not to mention the fact that I knew I would die. Despite doing so every single day, and being relatively desensitized, the experience was still alien to me. It felt more like watching a clone of myself die from its own eyes, and then a new one was made. I sometimes wondered if my body was even mine anymore.
Before I could get any more philosophical, everyone started fighting. Seeing as how I was now armed with a bow and arrow, rather than my usual sword, I immediately ran for cover in the form of the tallest tree I could see, dodging spears and swords flying through the air as I did so.
"Magnus! What are you doing?" Mallory called over, the rest of my hall fighting people off as they followed TJ to the hill he had claimed.
"Trying to get my falafel!" I called over, sparing her a glance over my shoulder and trying not to snicker at the blatant bewilderment on her face.
I quickly scaled the branches, artfully finding grips and footholds and the most stable branches to hold me as I climbed all the way up to the top, where nobody on the ground could reach or see me. All I had to worry about now was the other people in the trees. And also trying to figure out how to nock, let alone aim and shoot with a bow and arrow, seeing as I had never done that before.
I vaguely remembered watching Robin Hood with my mother in our old apartment once, when I was maybe 9 or 10, and Brave at some point as well. Though those were just movies, they were the closest to watching someone do archery that I'd ever gotten, and copying a 3d animated character with a striking similarity to Mallory Keen was, sadly, my best bet.
I clipped the nock onto the bowstring and tried to stop the arrow from gliding around. This was a lot harder than TV made it look. Oh well, who cared about technique. One shot and Alex would buy me falafel. She never mentioned how many failed attempts had to come before that.
Pulling back until my hand touched the side of my jaw, I adjusted my aim until the tip of the arrow was trained right on some random guy's head. I pulled back a little more, let go, and...
Completely missed.
One part of my little plan that I hadn't quite thought of was the fact that people would notice random arrows whizzing by from above them. Meaning that the guy I shot at looked up, saw me, and instantly started climbing.
I jumped from branch to branch, not even slipping once. One thing I was good at, in the sea of everything opposite? Climbing trees. I did it often as a kid. Eventually I came to a branch that hid me amidst a cluster of leaves as the man stopped, looking around with dark, bloodthirsty eyes. If I ever had a chance, this was it. I nocked my arrow, pulled back until my hand touched the same spot on my jaw, and took a risk.
"Hey, hotshot," I called over, my aim adjusted slightly so the arrow was pointing right between his eyes.
He roared and jumped right at me, so I quickly pulled back and released, jumping onto another branch so his dead body wouldn't tackle me to the ground.
In shock, I looked down. The arrow was sticking out of his right eye, pinning his one eyelid half-shut in a mess of gore, and it seemed to have gone pretty far in there.
Standing above his body was a figure in green corduroys and a fluffy pink sweater, both of which were splattered with blood. She was looking down at the body, before turning her gaze up to the tree and meeting my eyes, giving me a look that was very, very, very rare from Alex Fierro.
Pride.
Suddenly, I had the motivation to go and shoot a hundred more guys, if only it would earn that look from her again.
But I didn't get the chance.
A sharp pain erupted at the nape of my neck, spreading down my spine and through my head, the point of something pressing the back of my throat, and I fell forward. Gladly, I had blacked out before I fully fell out of the tree and my face hit the ground, but the embarrassment stuck nonetheless.
"Nasty fall you had out there,"
I know, I know, it's stupid, but I have to admit - the only bright side of dying in Valhalla is the fact that, 9 times out of 10, Alex's voice will be the first one I hear when I wake up. As usual, it took me a few moments to stop blankly staring at her gain the ability to move, then talk, then actually comprehend what she was saying.
"Don't- don't remind me. I almost did something well," I said miserably.
"Neck broke and everything," she said calmly, and I winced. "But you were probably already dead by that point,"
Alex moved from her spot leaning against the doorframe to sit the foot of my bed, leaning over and putting a plastic container on my lap, the bottom of which was warm and beaded with drops of condensation. Instantly, every negative feeling I had evaporated, and I grinned ear-to-ear.
"Thanks," I said, opening it and taking one of the falafel balls with my fork, taking a bite. After chewing and swallowing, I looked over at her. She was watching me with a slight smile, but she quickly wiped it off her face once I caught her looking. She'd been doing that often lately.
"Is it good?" She asked, sniffling and wrinkling her nose a little. It was a small habit she had, and I'd never stop finding it endearing.
"Yeah, it is,"
She averted her gaze, looking out the window. Today, it seemed the view Hotel Valhalla had decided to show me were empty, rolling green hills and a bright summer sun, despite it being Fall in Boston. I remembered briefly how excited she looked at the prospect of getting me to finally do Pottery: To The Death with her, despite my lingering fear of being thrown into a kiln, or having wet clay shoved into my throat, or... well, other ways that pottery could ever end up being "to the death."
Still. Every day that went by, I slowly came to terms with the fact that there wasn't anything I wouldn't do for her. Am I ashamed of that? Not in the slightest.
"I'll still do pottery with you, if you want," I murmured reluctantly, taking another bite of falafel.
Her instant smile was all that was needed for my reluctance to vanish immediately.
"How come you're so eager all of a sudden, Mags? Usually when I ask you, you look like you'd rather chew a brick,"
"After enough nagging, a guy learns to give in," I teased, leaning over to poke her shoulder. "I'm kidding. In the wise words of... some mean, bitter person, I forget the name, you'll die anyways. What harm is trying something new gonna do?"
She laughed, the sound sending a little shiver down my lower back. She leaned over and poked me in retaliation. Her eyes drifted from mine to the container of falafel on my lap, and she leaned in slightly.
"Can I have one?" she asked.
I sighed heavily, adding a little dramatic groan in there for good measure.
"Fine," I said. "You're lucky I love you, it takes a lot to get me to share falafel."
It took me a moment of looking at her wide eyes and overall thunderstruck expression to realize what my stupid mouth had just accidentally blurted.
"Wait, I didn't -" I was about to say I didn't mean it, but I couldn't seem to get the words out of my mouth, cause I knew more than anything how big of a lie it was.
Yet it had been three months since she kissed me in my dorm, a little less since she held my hand on the Fourth of July at the Chase Space, and ever since then, it was like nothing ever happened. As if she liked me for a week or two and then forgot she'd felt anything at all, if she even did in the first place. And, because I'm Magnus and I somehow manage to embarrass myself no matter how, when, where or why, I went out and accidentally told her I loved her. Idiot.
Without even taking the falafel, she stood up abruptly, and let out a nervous laugh.
"I just remembered Sam asked- Hear- uh, Blitz, yeah, uh Blitz, he had a... fashion emergency." She said quickly, picking at her lips and speeding away.
Oh, I've really fucked up now.