Chapter Text
No birthday had ever felt so hollow.
After the portal had spit him out right into the courtyard of the castle, where people had already gathered to search for him, Magnus had been enveloped in countless conversations. First about where he had been and how he survived (all of which required a few charming lies and smiles), then wishing him a wonderful day with pitying eyes. His father had scolded him for being so careless, then laid a hand on the soaked material of his shoulder and told him that twenty-five would be his best year yet. He had wiped his hand not-so-discreetly when he had turned to go back to his books and papers. His mother, frantic with worry, had grasped his face between her hands and urged him to be more careful, then kissed his brow. He did not have the heart to ask either of them what for.
Ever since he had discovered the intention of the curse placed upon him, birthdays had been nothing but a reminder of his days slowly passing by until the inevitable end. And now, with the memories of Alexander still fresh on his mind, coming back to a castle buzzing with preparations for a feast in his honor only made the prince want to turn around and run. Back to that little island or someplace else simply to stare out at the waves and hum the tune that had been on his mind ever since he had woken up.
His bones ached and his head throbbed even as a healer looked him over and poured soothing blue magic into his body. Where usually he would enjoy the calm it brought him, the way it would clear his thoughts and whisk away all worries, he now dismissed the servant with a forced smile and more irritated than he had been upon his arrival.
Which was the mood his friends found him in when they cornered him in his rooms. By then Magnus had washed the sea salt of his skin, changed into fresh clothes, newly made ones his mother had commissioned only for this occasion and had put on the expected crown, breathtaking in its glory. It felt like a dead weight.
His friends burst through the door without knocking, ignoring the protests of the servants stationed outside when Catarina sent them a dry look and told them to bring wine and sugared grapes and plums. She had a way of stating things with such authority, they immediately bowed and obeyed without another word.
“So, you are alive,” Ragnor said with arms crossed and his grey eyes full of worried anger.
Magnus ignored him, waved his concerns away and would have told them there had been no cause for fear yet before he could open his mouth Dot had crossed the room and thrown her arms around him.
“We were so worried when you did not come through after us.” She squeezed him tightly, warm and familiar and he had no choice but to let himself sink into her embrace and hug her back. Soon Catarina and Maia and Simon joined in and Raphael laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Meliorn and Clary sat down on the divan to fill the glasses with the ordered wine, one of which Ragnor took immediately and drowned with quick gulps.
“You could have at least sent a fire message,” he said once they had all detangled themselves and moved over to the table for drinks and snacks.
Magnus rolled his eyes. “Maybe I would have if I had the chance. I came back as soon as I could.” It was, after all, not too far from the truth.
“Ragnor just means that he was worried. We all were,” Meliorn tried to explain. They shrugged, unbothered by the icy look Ragnor threw their way and picked at the grapes laid out in front of them.
“I was not!”
“Oh, you were,” Dot giggled from her place in Catarina’s lap. “You should have seen him pacing. He was ready to run right back through the portal to get you if it had not disappeared so suddenly.”
“We all were,” Maia corrected, more serious than the rest of them, then nudged Magnus with her elbow. “Glad to have you back, Your Highness.”
Magnus felt the tension in his shoulders bleed away for the first time since he had stepped back into the castle. The room smelled of the warmly scented candles someone had lit all around and the sourness of the red wine in their cups. But beyond that, it was the familiarity of it all, the bickering and joking and the hand Ragnor placed on his neck when he passed, in silent understanding. Like this, as so often, it was easy to forget there was a sword dangling over Magnus’s head and it would only take a few more years before it made its deadly strike.
“So, what happened?” Raphael asked as he sat down on the armrest next to Meliorn, his arm brushing their shoulder in a not-quite accidental manner. “After you saved us so heroically and then disappeared?”
Nothing, was poised on Magnus’s tongue, ready to spill out and tell another lie. But as he looked at the faces around him, all varying degrees of curious and worried still, he could not bear to lie to them too. These were the people he trusted most, some of whom had known him for years. It was the only secret he had ever kept from them, and then it had been a child’s memory of a magical night. Now, inexplicably, it was something more.
So he told them, quietly and sipping on wine, of how Alexander had saved his mother many years ago and then him just last night. How he had made sure he was alright and stayed with him until he had woken up. How he still wore the ring Magnus had given him when they were children. He did not, however, say how pretty the merman had looked in the morning light.
Silence followed his story as his friends looked at him, then at each other, some with knowing smiles half-hidden behind their cups, some with eyes even more worried now.
“You must swear this will not leave this room,” Magnus said, looking at each of them imploringly. “If word got out about the lake’s power…”
Catarina nodded. “It would cause everyone who knows even a bit of magic to seek out the spell and have their truest wish granted. That may lead to more bad than good.”
“I could use that one,” Simon pouted, then raised his hands when all eyes turned on him. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“And the storm last night?” Meliorn asked. “I have never seen that type of magic before, not even in the time I spent at the nymphs’ Summer Court.”
“Alexander said it was the Sea Queen’s doing.” Magnus scoffed. “Apparently, she does not like her people interacting with us.”
“Who would have thought,” Raphael grumbled.
Clary leaned forward in her seat. “You must mean quite a lot to him if he risked her wrath to help you. Not once but twice.”
Suddenly the room felt too hot and the expectant faces of his friends too much that even the wine could not chase away Magnus’ reluctance to agree. He could see most of them tried to hide their curiosity, knowing him too well and how these things meant something different to him than to anyone else, how scared he was to hope. But Clary, new to their group and not fully aware of how his curse – and his heart – worked quite yet, seemed unable to conceal her excitement as she reached for his hand.
Quickly, Magnus shook his head, shutting off anything else she may have wanted to add that would only cause his mind to get lost in this morning’s memory of the sunlight glinting on the water and Alexander’s smile, gentle and so very endearing.
“I doubt he would risk it a third time.” He shrugged, avoided their eyes and reached for the flagon of wine.
“Magnus-,” Maia tried but he rose before she could continue, his cup filled anew and suddenly restless, eager to get out of the room and breathe some fresh air. No one said anything to him when he opened the doors to the balcony and stepped outside. Still, he could hear muffled murmurs even through the curtains obscuring him from view.
The sun had begun to set on the horizon, the different shades of red and gold glinting off the sea that lay calm and smooth as a mirror. The Sea Queen’s fury had only lasted so long but still, Magnus wished there was a way to tell if Alexander was alright, if he had not been punished for going against his sovereign’s orders. He had offered an invitation to visit but the truth, he realized leaning against the balcony’s balustrade, was that it had taken them nearly fourteen years to meet again. With his luck and the way fate seemed to steer him, they would never see each other again.
The thought hurt more than he wanted to admit – even to himself out in the quiet of the balcony without another soul around to witness it. It should have been enough to see Alexander again, to spend an hour in his presence and confirm he had never been just a dream but a living, breathing being. Instead, Magnus longed for a little more time, another hour perhaps or two just to ask all the questions he still had, to listen, to make the merman laugh again or share a comfortable silence on a beach; watch the waves crash or the sun set and be free of all other worries. It was a foolish dream, one he should have abandoned years ago. He had buried it instead, beneath duties and worries that were more important to a prince than a childhood fantasy. Now everything else faded into the background.
Somewhere birds were chirping their evening song; inside his chambers his friends had started to discuss something new, judging by the volume of their voices and laughter. Within the castle’s ballroom, servants were surely making last adjustments for tonight’s grand celebration in his honor. None of it seemed to matter, suddenly.
The sound of shuffling, curtains drawn back and soft steps, shook Magnus out of his thoughts. When he turned, he found Catarina hovering in the door to the balcony, backlit by the warm lights of the room, wine glass in hand.
“May I?” she asked with a tentative smile but stepped closer before Magnus could refuse her. Not that he wanted to. If someone would be able to take his mind off things, it would be her.
“Clary and Maia decided to go for an evening stroll on the beach. The rest of them went to get ready, so it is just the two of us now.”
There was a warm familiarity in the way Catarina leaned onto the railing next to him, their shoulders brushing in silent support. He knew there was something she wanted to say and with time, she most likely would. They had a tendency to voice the things the other did not want but often needed to hear regardless. Just as he had finally shaken some sense into her a few years ago about how in love she was with Dot and to take that chance. It had paid off at the end when their year-long courtship had ended in a beautiful wedding ceremony on the edge of the forest surrounding the Loss’ estate.
He did not think he was ready for a conversation drifting into similar territory now, simply based on a few minutes his friends had witnessed.
“How are you?” he asked before she could decide to say whatever it was she wanted to. “I am sorry I did not ask before. That whole ordeal last night must have been terrifying for you as well.”
“Well, what is a party without a bit of adventure.” She winked at him and clinked their glasses together. They both took a sip, watching the sunset in silence for another few moments before Catarina spoke up again: “But I was worried about you. I am worried now.”
“There is nothing to worry about.”
“Is there not always?” she asked, one brow raised.
“If you mean my impending death-”
“Look, Magnus, I know you do not want to hear it but I am your best friend, so I am allowed to speak truths you would rather like to avoid.”
“Cat-,” he tried but she did not let him get a word in.
“Could it not be that maybe your Alexander is the one to break the curse after all?”
“He is not my Alexander,” he insisted and gulped down the rest of his wine as if it could wash away her words too.
“Still… I have never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him last night.” Her voice was gentle now, gentle as the touch of her hand on his wrist. Magnus did not dare to face her, afraid the warm honesty in her dark eyes would compel truths from him he was not ready to confront quite yet.
“He is a child’s dream, someone I will always be grateful to,” he admitted quietly, then cleared his throat. “Who lives under the sea, may I remind you.”
“Do the tales not say that true love always finds a way, no matter what?”
He squinted at her out of the corner of his eyes to catch her acting overly nonchalant. “Now you are just being ridiculous on purpose.”
Catarina shrugged but her grin betrayed her regardless. “Maybe. But I did mean it. You must have a bit of faith.”
“That is something I always seem to be low on.” He looked into his cup, eager to change the subject. “That and wine.”
It had the desired effect and Catarina broke the solemn mood with her familiar melodic laughter.
“Come on then, let us present the prince to his yearning kingdom.”
Magnus nudged her with his elbow. “I curse the day your mother sent you to court to study beside me.”
Still, they both giggled as they made their way back inside, arms linked.
“Mh, no you do not.”
“No, I could never.”
The floor of the great hall had been polished to perfection, reflecting the warm light of a thousand floating candles. A dozen musicians played songs for dancing, though far more formal ones than Magnus would have liked. The graceful sway of couples drifting over the floor was pretty to look at but held little of a true celebration. From his place upon the dais, seated next to his parents at a table overflowing with food, it looked more like a dream; like a fantasy that could not possibly be real with all its shine and shimmer and bright smiles.
Magnus wished he could step down and sit at the same table as his friends, who were laughing and drinking and seemed to be almost the only people not trying to impress the royal family by feigning good manners. Instead, he had to remain next to his parents, smiling politely at offered well-wishes and gifts presented to him by people he hardly recognized – most of which, he knew, were only trying to buy his family’s favor with gilded armor or rare gemstones or the occasional glorified portrait of the crown prince. Still, he smiled politely at everyone, thanked them and promised to not forget their generosity.
He could feel the worried gaze of his mother on him. Although she did not say a word, he knew she could read him like an open book and clearly sensed his reluctance at all the pomp and festivities or tracked the way his eyes would stray to the entrance of the hall as if by some twist of fate a man with hazel eyes and dark brown hair would walk in.
And maybe, fate did owe a favor to the prince that night.
Instead of the grand doors, an entrance to the side opened and when Magnus turned to look he saw Clary and Maia sneaking in, arms linked and giddy smiles on their faces. The feast had started over an hour ago, but bored as he was, he could hardly fault them for preferring some alone time to sitting at a table with nothing to do. Quickly he cast a glance around and to his parents to see if anyone else had noticed but everyone seemed to be occupied with eating, drinking or dancing, and idle small talk.
“Your Highness,” a gentle voice he immediately recognized as Maia’s piped up from behind him then. “I think there is someone here to congratulate you.”
The prince turned with an exasperated but fond smile, expecting her and Clary to shower him with hugs and more sweet words although they had already done so earlier. Then the grin froze on his features and his mouth formed a silent oh when he saw that the two women were not alone.
Next to them stood a young man, his cheeks slightly pink under the golden candlelight and pale skin. He wore a loose long-sleeved shirt, not quite this year’s fashion, of midnight blue silk and silver thread, tugged into darker pants that hugged his legs. That was the part which made Magnus gape even more, not the familiar mop of dark hair or the bright hazel eyes. His gaze stayed far longer on the long limbs, ending in a pair of shiny black boots, than he intended or was proper.
Only the softly uttered “Your Highness,” completed with a deep, elegant bow shook him out of his reverie.
A few people had already started to look over at the stranger but when Magnus rose, his chair scraping against the floor, even more of them turned to track his movements with curious eyes. He almost stumbled when he stepped down from the dais, his legs seemingly not able to carry him fast enough for the few steps it took to cross over to where Alexander stood, on land, right before him.
“How-,” he started when he stopped just in front of him but unable to finish his sentence. His mind was spinning, his heart tumbling, unable to grasp this reality and distantly wondering if maybe the wine had been spiked with something much stronger, playing tricks on his brain.
Alexander, dream or not, shrugged one shoulder, but the pleased curl of his smile gave away his excitement. “When there is a will, there is always a way.”
The simplicity of it tore a disbelieving laugh from Magnus’s throat.
“I did not realize there was a way or will at all.”
“Of course there was.” Alexander’s smile faltered slightly and cautiously he reached for the prince’s hand, raising it to sweep the softest flutter of a kiss across the back of it. Magnus’ heart lurched within his chest, unaware of the whispers drifting through the hall as more and more people observed the exchange. This, most definitely, was not a fantasy his mind could conjure up on its own; the brush of lips against his skin felt too real to be a dream.
“Congratulations, Your Highness,” Alexander added, the pink of his cheeks deepening as if he had not quite realized what he had done just then.
“I do not think that was entirely appropriate for the occasion,” Magnus said, breathless, but closed both his hands around Alexander’s before he could withdraw. He looked almost a bit disappointed, maybe at his lack of understanding of human customs or maybe this was a common greeting under the sea. So quickly, before any more doubts could take root, scared of chasing Alexander away, Magnus added: “Come then, let me introduce you to my parents.”
It was as much a way to steer their conversations into different territory as it was a maneuver to clear his own head, still not quite convinced he was not dreaming all of this. Alexander’s hand was warm, his grip strong and sure and the spark in his eyes – if possible – even brighter than this morning. It was almost too much to believe.
Clearing his throat, Magnus turned, ignoring the way a good portion of the guests had stopped whatever they were doing to follow their conversation as best as they could. His parents stared at him in a mixture of shock and barely hidden curiosity. He sent them a self-assured smile to conceal the way his own world was spinning, unable to put the pieces together.
“Mother, Father, I would like to introduce you to Alexander…,” he drifted off, suddenly realizing he did not know his last name or if merpeople even had such a thing.
“Alec Lightwood,” Alexander chimed in helpfully and again, bowed gracefully. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Highnesses.”
The king’s brows creased, surely trying to remember if or where he had heard Lightwood before. It was no name Magnus was familiar with, so either Alexander had made it up with good luck or it truly was his full name. The easy smile he wore, just the right side of reverent, spoke for the latter.
“Have we met before?” the queen asked gently as if she already knew the answer. Her gaze stayed on Alexander’s features, almost like she was trying to decode when or where they knew each other from.
Alec startled at the question, then shook his head quickly. “I am afraid not, Your Highness.”
“And how do you know our son so… intimately?” The king took a sip from his wine as if this was a normal conversation, unaware or unbothered maybe by the onlookers and listeners.
Alexander’s blush rushed back into his cheeks at the clear suggestion in the king’s voice and Magnus balled his free hand into a fist to tramp down on the impulse to shoot back a dry remark of his own. With so many people watching, any misstep of his would surely be spread around as more rumors and gossip by morning. It was enough that his father had decided on embarrassment rather than simple curiosity.
“It is a long story,” he said instead, smiling politely. “One I would not want to bore either of you with. But Alexander and I are old friends and I did not expect to see him here tonight. So, with your permission,” though he did not really care if his father granted it. “He will be my Guest of Honor tonight.”
As he looked back at the other man, it had the desired effect: Alexander’s mouth hung open in silent surprise, clearly understanding the meaning of it. Behind him, the crowd that had heard Magnus’ words whispered furiously, pointing and gesturing to each other.
“Mag-… Your Highness, I could-”
“Stop with this Your Highness,” Magnus interrupted, turning his back to his parents and steering Alexander down the table, conjuring up another seat and set of plates with an elegant swirl of his hand. “You know my name. I believe there is no need for formalities between us after everything.”
It was not wrong but as he said it the prince realized how it must have sounded to the people around them, unaware of their history and bond. Paired with the way Magnus had reacted upon seeing him, the way their fingers were still intertwined as they sat down – it was clear to see the easy conclusion people drew. But if they wanted to believe Magnus had taken a new lover and make up some heroic, romantic stories in their minds, then the prince would let them for now. None of them could even begin to guess the truth.
Once they were seated, so close together they could talk without prying ears, Magnus ran his thumb over the knuckles of Alexander’s hand he was still holding. Only then did he let go to gesture servants over to fill the plates and cups in front of them with any food one could ever desire. His guest seemed to have little interest in this display of luxury, his eyes fixed on Magnus as if he too could not quite believe he was sitting here.
“How long can you stay,” Magnus whispered because it seemed to be the easiest and hardest question all at once.
Alexander opened his mouth as if to speak but all that came out was a harsh, dry cough, rattling his whole torso. It took three or four tries and a glass of clear, cold water before he found his voice again, his eyes red with unshed tears and his mouth now set in a stern line.
“I am not quite sure,” he said eventually.
How, Magnus wanted to ask, and why but was that not a pointless thing to discuss now? He had hoped to see Alexander again, to have another hour or two where they could talk; where he could tug at that string around his heart and see what answer he would receive. Was there any use wasting precious time in asking what spell it had taken for Alec to grow legs?
“Well then,” he said instead and let the warmth in his heart warm his smile too. “We better make the most of it.”
He gestured toward the food, avoiding the eyes of his friends at the other table, who by now were surely interrogating Clary and Maia for any details.
Alexander smiled again and that seemed far more important right now. Magnus smiled back and ignored how Alec bypassed all dishes with fish in them.
By the time desserts had been served – warm cake that exploded in sweet bursts of citrus on the tongue, flowers made of ice that melted in a wave of lilies and roses – the two of them had emptied one flagon of wine that painted their lips red and flushed their cheeks. Magnus had recounted the best birthday memories he had and Alexander had laughed delightedly at all of them. In return, he offered stories of his siblings’ antics – the sister Magnus had met and two other brothers – and how it was often him who had gotten them out of trouble. It was clear though, in the fond smile and glint in his eyes, that he loved them so very much.
Talking to Alexander came easily, just as it had this morning. Yet now their conversation revolved around their lives, not about first meetings or a queen’s wrath or the ring, still sitting on Alec’s finger and glinting beneath the candlelight.
Magnus found whatever spell had him so fascinated with the other man for all these years did not wear off the more they talked but instead only seemed to grow stronger. His sour mood was long forgotten, erased by Alexander’s smile, the gentle tilt of his head when asking a question and the unwavering focus he gave Magnus, the reality of their fingers brushing every once in a while in warm comfort.
“I must admit,” Magnus confessed. “I am surprised to see you again so soon. I did not know you could… turn into a human?” It was more a question for he was not quite sure if this was truly what had happened.
Alexander shrugged and took another sip of the sweet red wine that had, as the evening went on, made him more and more loose-lipped. He coughed, choking on the drink and Magnus had to gently pat him on the back before he could talk again.
“Well, neither did I.” He sighed. “I wish I could tell you.”
“It is quite alright. You keep your secrets. I would not want you to anger your queen more than you already have.”
“She may not know that I am here.”
“Oh, so you are a rebel after all,” Magnus teased, nudging their elbows together.
“Not usually, not without a cause,” Alexander admitted with a smirk but the warmth in his eyes spoke of a deeper meaning to his words.
“I am glad you consider my birthday a worthy cause then.”
Alexander shook his head on a chuckle. “Well, you would have to thank your friends for that. I did not realize what day it was nor would I have found my way inside the castle without their help.”
Magnus finally dared a look at their table then and found six pairs of eyes staring back at them, though they all quickly pretended to be occupied with something else. Only Raphael and Meliorn seemed to be more interested in talking to each other, head’s close and bodies turned toward one another. Meanwhile, Simon made an excited gesture for the prince to come over.
With an eye roll that was more fond than annoyed, Magnus tapped one finger on the back of Alexander’s hand, nodding towards the table close by where his friends sat. “I think there are some people who are rather curious about you.”
Alexander’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline when he caught sight of the overly innocent expressions on everyone’s faces, except for Clary, who waved at him with a bright smile.
“Well, I guess that is only polite since I almost got them all drowned last night.” It was clear from his expression that he was not quite so excited about meeting so many people at once but he simply stood from his chair, straightened his shirt and then followed Magnus down to the table with surer steps than should have been possible for a person new to having legs.
“So he does remember we exist,” Raphael drawled immediately when they were in hearing distance. Meliorn barely hid their chuckle and elbowed him in the ribs.
“I am sure the two of them had a lot to talk about,” Dorothea said with a twinkle in her eyes that made it seem as if she knew something no one else did. Most likely something her wife had shared with her.
Magnus cleared his throat and ignored their knowing smiles. “We are right here, you know.” He laid a comforting hand on the small of Alexander’s back, who stood there as if frozen, settled in parade rest. “But we can leave again if you-”
“Now, no need to be so drastic,” Catarina chided immediately, chin resting on one of her hands as she looked the man beside Magnus up and down. She rose and suddenly, as if they had planned it – which Magnus did not rule out completely – all of them had abandoned their seats and formed a half-circle around the prince and his guest. “Put your manners to good use and introduce us instead, properly this time if you please.”
Magnus rolled his eyes but complied, gesturing to the two women closest to them. “I believe you have already met these two but, for formalities sake: Maia Roberts, Knight of the Jade Moon. And Lady Clary...”
“Fray,” Clary chimed in, then added towards Alexander: “It is a complicated story.”
“Lady Clary Fray, Stabber of Men, Killer of Angels.”
Clary rolled her eyes but the rim of her wine glass could not hide her pleased smile. “Maia did help with the killing, though.”
The woman in question beamed, then snuck one arm around Clary to pull her a bit closer. “It was a mutual effort.”
Alexander raised a brow, his gaze flickering between the two of them and the way Maia’s arm rested around Clary’s waist. “Another complicated story, I assume?”
“One for another time,” Maia amended.
“Now, this old man right here is Lord Ragnor Fell.” Magnus made a lazy gesture in his direction and smiled through his friend’s glare.
“Sadly, I lack any poetic titles like our dear Clary.” Ragnor held out his hand which Alexander took and shook after a moment’s hesitation.
“These are Duchesses Catarina and Dorothea Loss-Rollins.” The prince gestured towards the couple and Cat handed Alexander a new glass of wine which he took with wide eyes and a half-smile.
One after the other, Magnus introduced the rest of the group. Raphael Santiago, Baron of Dumort, who offered a short nod. Meliorn, Knight of the Wander Woods, who, due to their connection to the nymphs, seemed particularly intrigued and Simon Lewis, who Magnus almost ignored because of how eager the musician was to meet the merman. He could see how overwhelmed Alexander was by all the attention and stares though he smiled politely at each and every one of them and returned their greetings.
“Everyone,” Magnus said, his hand still as a means of comfort on the small of Alexander’s back. “This is Alec Lightwood.”
“Wait,” Simon leaned in and dropped his voice into a suspicious whisper. “You have last names under the sea?”
Alexander blinked at him a couple of times as if he was not quite sure what to make of that statement, then turned towards Magnus with an arched brow.
The prince chuckled. “You must forgive us for not knowing much at all about your customs.”
Alexander nodded thoughtfully though he did not turn back towards Simon, his gaze instead fixed on Magnus with unwavering attention. “I suppose that is fair since all I know about humans are old tales and what is written in the Royal Library. And the few things you have shared with me.”
Something about that last part made Magnus want to hide his face as if it was not proper to talk to Alexander at all about his culture and traditions as if he had revealed too much about himself.
Next to them, a throat was cleared, then Dorothea’s suspiciously sweet voice piped up: “But I hope you do know how to dance.”
Magnus turned to catch her and Catarina smiling conspiringly and next to them Clary was poorly concealing a giggle behind a glove-clad hand.
“As his Guest of Honor, it is tradition to dance with the prince.”
It was, in fact, not a tradition at all but now that Dorothea had mentioned it, Alexander’s eyes widened before seeking Magnus again, who spluttered: “It is not really-”
“Oh, but of course it is! A long-standing, very important tradition,” Clary interrupted before the prince could find an excuse to get Alexander out of this situation. Bold words for someone who had only been living at court a few weeks. “And I believe a lot of people are already waiting to see.”
A lot of eyes were on their group indeed, but more out of curiosity for the mysterious stranger Magnus had invited to sit beside him than anticipating any sort of spectacle. Though surely no one present would complain about more fodder for their gossip-loving mouths.
With a nod and a deep breath, Alexander squared his shoulders, and in any other situation, Magnus may have laughed at the way it looked as if he was bracing for battle, then held out his hand towards Magnus. “Well then.”
Raphael snorted. “Oh, I can just feel the romance.” He yelped a little too loudly when Meliorn elbowed him in the ribs.
“Alexander, you really do not have to,” Magnus tried, ignoring his friend, but then Alec smiled and his heart did such a jump in his chest, he suddenly wondered how it would feel to put his arms around the other man and float along the dancefloor with him, for everyone to see.
“It is the least I can do.”
And then Magnus could not do much else but lead Alexander out onto the dancefloor between the already twirling pairs. Immediately they made room for their prince, some lost in the eyes of their partner but most of them gawking at them all too obviously.
“Magnus, everyone is staring,” Alexander whispered as Magnus arranged their arms, pushing between his shoulder blades to bring them closer together. Suddenly they were only a breath apart, their chests brushing with every inhale, Alexander’s right hand a warm, grounding presence in his left. When the prince looked up, he found again the sole focus of hazel eyes to be on him, an intensity that made him want to hide or bask in it – or both.
Magnus cleared his throat, tried to focus on anything else except their proximity and the way Alexander’s breath fanned against his cheek because of it, warm and made sweet by wine. The orchestra changed their song into a slow waltz, one beloved in all the kingdom and too romantic for such an occasion. He had a feeling his friends had something to do with this too although he did not dare check and lose sight of the man in his arms.
“Well, it is my birthday and I am dancing with a handsome stranger. We do make quite the pair,” he replied in a means to lighten the mood but his voice sounded more breathless than he intended and only seemed to add to the static energy between them.
Quickly he moved and immediately bumped their knees together. Alexander winced, then copied the move, only to, of course, step onto Magnus’ foot next. They both swore under their breath, then chuckled awkwardly.
“Forgive me, I am not quite used to these legs yet,” Alexander whispered, staring down at their feet with brows furrowed in concentration. “You have to teach me the proper steps.”
He tried again and got it right this time and then once more. And although they moved far less elegantly than the other couples, Magnus found he did not wish to be anywhere else, to hold anyone else in his arms and cursed his own traitorous heart for it.
“I will. If you stay, I will,” he whispered before he could stop his mouth from letting the words spill from his lips.
Alexander looked up then, their feet bumped together again but it got lost in the gentle, lovely curl of his smile. “I am not going anywhere.”
It sounded like a promise too large for the space between them, too meaningful for the time they had known each other. Still, Magnus let it wrap itself around him, as warm as Alexander’s embrace, and simply kept dancing.
Slowly they learned each other’s rhythm, the way their bodies moved and filled the spaces the other had left and even though every few steps they still caught each other’s feet, Magnus could hardly remember a moment he had ever been happier. He could feel the stares, the expectant gazes and curious glances of everyone in the room as if the whole world had stopped to observe but could not care less about what they saw or thought or read into all of it.
Somewhere in the background, the beautiful clear voice of the song’s lyrics started to drift across the hall, a poem in an old language most other nations had forgotten but not the people of Edom. Soon other singers joined, voices curling with love around the words and syllables and Magnus felt heat creep up his neck.
“What are they singing?” Alexander whispered but his gaze did not stray from the prince and if he noticed the stares of everyone else in the room he did not let it show. “It is not a language I know.”
Almost on instinct, Magnus’ fingers tightened around Alexander’s hand, feeling the rush of his pulse on his wrist and it gave him some comfort to know it was racing as much as his very own.
“An old classical poem.” He cleared his throat and avoided Alexander’s eyes to keep from blushing. “About two destined lovers.”
“Oh,” Alexander said, so low Magnus would not have caught it had they not been pressed so closely together. Then he chuckled as if Magnus had told some private joke, the sound vibrating in his throat and his breath ghosting over Magnus’ cheek. When the prince lifted his gaze again, Alexander’s eyes were alight with glinting humor.
“What?” he could not help but ask nor keep his mouth from curling into a smile of his own.
Alexander shook his head, then bit his lip to stifle more of his laughter. Their knees bumped again, their steps a little out of rhythm from lost concentration.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, still grinning.
“So you do not believe in destiny?” Magnus dared to ask, mostly to have something to say and focus on instead of the burning glances of everyone around them or the sung words echoing off the ballroom’s walls.
Again, Alexander shook his head but his laughter had faded to only a small, private smile. The tips of his fingers brushed against Magnus’ neck, so quickly and gently it may have been a hallucination.
“I did not,” Alexander admitted in a voice that was not hushed but felt too intimate despite their surroundings and the few hundred people present. “Until today.”
Magnus felt his eyes widen, unable to take them off the gentle look passing over Alexander’s face, the implication of his words hitting him like an arrow to the chest. He faltered for a moment in his steps, something that never happened, and it brought them both to a stop, standing in the middle of the dance floor and holding each other’s gaze.
“Today?” he asked finally with a certain type of hope rearing its head inside his heart, one he had not felt in years and tramped down as quickly as it came.
Alexander opened his mouth to answer but instead of words only a cough came out, dry and harsh like before and rattling his torso. It put a safer distance between them, their only points of contact now the elbow Magnus was holding in silent worry. Before the prince could move or act though it was over and as Alexander straightened, the light inside his eyes had dimmed too.
“Are you alright?” Magnus wanted to ask but before he could the song changed and someone tapped on his elbow.
Next to them stood the daughter of one of his father’s closest advisors, smiling excitedly as she asked for the next dance. Magnus cast a worried glance toward Alexander, one the girl noticed with a slight frown, but the other man smiled simply but tightly and let his fingers drift over Magnus’ one last time.
“I will go and talk to your friends, Your Highness. You should enjoy your birthday celebration with someone who does not step on your feet.” And then he blended into the crowd around them as if he was not a merman who had suddenly grown legs but a human used to court.
It was indeed a small reprieve from Alexander’s two left feet – although given how long he had had them it was unfair to fault him for them – even though Magnus found he could not enjoy dancing quite as much as he usually did. Still, he did not dare refuse as song after song someone approached him. This may have been an evening to celebrate him but a duty as the future king was still to keep his people happy, to not play favorites. One would have thought the high standing officials and generals would have understood by now that Magnus would never marry one of their children, that it would not matter either since he would be dead in five short years. Either they did not care and planned to use this to their advantage or they were foolish enough to believe the curse was but a legend.
Once or twice Magnus caught sight of Alexander, sitting with his friends and sharing a drink but each time their eyes met across the room as if he had been keeping track of the prince through all the swirling pairs on the dance floor. This suspicion was soon confirmed when, finally, as the song changed yet again, a familiar face stepped up to Magnus.
“Would Your Highness do me the honor of sharing this dance with me?” Catarina asked with a curtsy that was almost mockingly low.
Magnus grinned simply and swept her into his arms to the now much quicker sounds of the drums and fiddles.
“He was staring at you all night,” she said after barely a moment. Magnus did not have to ask to know who she was talking about.
“Oh?”
“Then when I asked, he blushed and told me human dancing is quite fascinating.” Her brows arched to tell him exactly what she thought of his choice of words and Magnus bit his lip to conceal his smile.
“That sounds plausible to me.”
“Maybe. But if so he was only truly fascinated by one particular human.”
They both chuckled at that, her over her observation and Magnus to hide the effect her words had on him.
“They say you were gifted a heart to see through all lies at birth,” Catarina said then, more serious now and her eyes filled with the same gentle warmth as earlier this evening when they had stood on the balcony.
“One of the better birthday gifts, I assure you.” It had aided him in many situations, personal and political alike though sometimes it was hard to differentiate between the call his heart made out of want and out of truth, especially when the two mixed together.
“Then use that, Magnus,” Catarina urged. “What do you see?”
Almost on instinct, his eyes drifted across the room and through the gaps of dancing pairs here and there he caught sight of his friends’ table, everyone seated around it and Alexander in their midst. His view was obscured by Meliorn leaning forward, clearly trying to engage him into a discussion. It made the prince chuckle for a moment but then they were swept along with the crowd and suddenly he had an all too clear view of Alexander and the way his eyes flickered across the dancefloor to find Magnus as if by some silent call.
It felt utterly strange and cliché, to hold each other’s gaze across a room filled with people, if only for a moment before they were out of view again.
Catarina eyed him with a knowing smile and Magnus simply knocked their elbows together, a movement that almost threw them off rhythm.
“See?”
He did not dare answer, afraid of what his heart may lay on his tongue in the presence of the person he trusted most. He could tell at least Alexander’s intentions were pure and hoped, maybe, they were ignited by the same deep-rooted connection he had felt ever since that first night fourteen years ago. But beyond that, he did not dare make any assumptions. For all he knew, Alexander could be gone, back to the Eternal Sea by morning and their distance too large to bridge.
Suddenly, again, it felt imperative to spend as much time with him as possible, to cherish the minutes they had and the way it filled his veins with a love for life.
“I think I have had enough of dancing for one evening,” Magnus said and again he ignored Catarina’s knowing smile.
Slowly they waded their way through the crowds of people, some stopping to congratulate him, offering drinks and talks of politics he had no patience for. He declined with as much politeness as he could, aided by Catarina making up excuses and tugging at his arm.
When they finally reached their table, Alexander’s absence was the first thing he noticed. Everyone else was seated with more food and wine, except for Clary and Maia who Magnus had seen on the dancefloor for a moment, laughing and spinning each other around gracefully.
Catarina dropped a kiss onto her wife’s head before taking the filled glass of red wine she offered and falling into the seat beside her. Simon and Meliorn were engaged in a discussion about some ancient instrument Magnus was sure he had never heard of before and did not care to learn. Next to them Ragnor and Raphael eyed him curiously.
Just as he opened his mouth to ask, his gaze already jumping all around the room, Raphael spoke up in his usual polite drawl, a fond sort of annoyance bleeding through: “The balcony.”
He waved a hand in the general direction of the door leading to the corridor that connected the ballroom to the private quarters of the castle, reserved for the royal family and their closest companions. A place Alexander should not be able to walk alone for all the guards placed there were strictly advised not to let any unfamiliar faces through.
“You left him alone?” Magnus gaped, already brushing out the wrinkles from his shirt and turning to leave.
“I told the guards he is free to be in that part of the castle. But why would I accompany him? He is a grown man and can look after himself,” Raphael replied with a shrug, then grinned when Meliorn intercepted with a hushed whisper of “A grown merman!”
On any other occasion the prince may have teased him for the fond look glazing over his eyes. As it was, his focus was more on finding Alexander than his friends’ frustratingly fulfilled love lives.
He could feel eyes following him as he left through the side door, particularly his father, trying to get his attention and surely wanting to scold him on how rude it was to leave his own celebration so early in the evening. Magnus simply hurried along, nodding at the guards opening the door for him and then down the corridor.
The closest balcony was just around a corner, one of the smaller, private ones from which one could look out over the gardens and then in the distance the black waters of the Eternal Sea. Illuminated by the lanterns lit around the small space and leaning with forearms braced on the railing, stood the tall, unmistakable figure of Alexander, staring out towards the waters. The lights caught on the silver thread in his clothes, and Magnus still wondered where one would find such fine silks beneath the sea or if the merman had stolen them from a sunken ship. The image of it made him chuckle, a sound that got Alexander’s attention as he turned around, slow and unhurried as if he had expected it to be Magnus who stood in the doorway.
For a moment, they simply looked upon one another, basking in the sudden quiet. In the distance, the sounds of music and dancing and laughter could still be heard but it felt like half a world away now.
“May I?” Magnus asked tentatively, then stepped closer when Alexander nodded eagerly.
“I had to get away for a bit,” he admitted once Magnus stood next to him, close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching.
“It must all be very overwhelming.”
“It is,” Alexander admitted with a grimace. “But truthfully I only wanted to get away before Clary could drag me off for another dance.”
The look on his face, a mask of comedic horror, and the mental image of an enthusiastic Clary encouraging Alec to practice his dancing despite the way her feet must hurt with it – something he was sad to not have seen himself – made Magnus laugh, too loudly for the quiet around them. Alexander did not seem to mind and after a moment, his lips spread into a grin of their own.
The night’s air was unusually warm around them for this time of year, smelling of sea salt and distantly, of the burned powder that had sparked the sky with lights earlier that evening. Now the moon was a dark round shape, red bleeding through at the edges, giving it all a mystical glow. Beneath it, the two souls on the balcony had drifted closer in their laughter until they were simply smiling at each other, their shoulders brushing in silent companionship.
“Thank you,” Alexander said then. “For tonight. For letting me stay and showing me how humans celebrate.”
It was meant as another joke, judging from his easy tone but Magnus’ brows furrowed at the implication. As if there would ever be a situation where he would tell Alexander to leave.
“Of course, I did. If anything, I should be thanking you for coming. It was truly the best gift I received.”
Alexander averted his eyes with a small, bashful smile and the pink the alcohol had left on his cheeks deepened.
“Fine then, I believe you and I are past thanking each other. “
Magnus quirked his brow with a scoff. “Not for a long time, Alexander. You saved my mother’s life. And mine.” It felt almost a lifetime away now, that morning when they had not been a prince and a merman but just two souls talking, kindling a connection with tender care. Suddenly Magnus was all too aware of how little time they probably had left, how little time he had left as life was slipping through his fingers.
He let out a rough, unamused chuckle, the mood so suddenly dampened and turned dark. “Even though I am afraid it is a lost cause.”
“It is not. It could never be. Not to me.” Alexander’s head whipped around and his eyes burned with something like fury and determination, a fire in the dark night. Then, like an afterthought, he added: “Not to many people.”
Magnus shook his head, touched by his fierce belief and care but realized all the same that he must have misunderstood, unaware of the fate waiting for the prince.
“No, Alexander, what I mean is…,” his voice broke for a moment, dipping into a colder tone as always when speaking of an event he could not remember but had been told of too many times to count. “King Azazel cursed me when I was a child. It will only take a few more years until the spell is completed and I die.”
Alexander did not seem shocked by that revelation. He remained almost perfectly still, his eyes sure and fixed on the prince and Magnus was surprised to find the tale of his curse had reached as far as the Eternal Sea.
“But there is a way to break the curse, is there not?” Alexander asked after a moment but his tone implied he already knew about that too. Still, Magnus humored him.
“If we believe the word of an old cousin living by himself. No one can truly love me but one and only they can help me break my curse.”
"But Magnus, you are so very loved," Alexander breathed out, leaning closer to catch the prince’s gaze again.
Magnus smiled, gently but unable to convey the hope and happiness Alec wanted from him. "I know that. And I know how lucky I am to have them all. But it won't stop me from dying."
"Are you sure? Maybe Azazel did not—"
"The curse was very clear, Alec. Love of the truest heart. He did not mean family or friendship or the adoration of the people." For a time, Magnus had believed in that too, had hoped it would be enough to be beloved by so many that maybe the love of tales, the one to warm a bed in a cold night or sit beside him on his throne, would not be needed. It had been the foolish dreams of a child.
“I sought out the cousin who saved me once. Asked what it was my supposed true love had to do to break Azazel’s curse.”
He could still recall how he had burst through the door of the little cottage, panting and panicking, barely fourteen years old and shivering like a leaf.
Sit, the cousin had said and poured a bitter tea that painted his teeth copper. His bones had cracked when he lowered himself into an armchair made of moss. The air smelled of ocean salt and fish.
I do not have the time, Magnus had argued, clenching his fist because it was his life on the line, not that of the ancient, wrinkly man.
“A vow of everlasting love, sealed with true love’s kiss.” He scoffed now at the memory, shaking his head with it and his foolish, youthful belief he could somehow be saved. It had taken him years to understand it was a futile task, that most likely the old man’s spell had not been enough to alter a curse of such strength. He had lost hope along the way, in more things than just this but as the prince looked up, he realized he had been wrong about one thing at least. After all, it may have taken them years but he had met Alexander again and again.
Something fluttered in Magnus’s chest then, at the sight of the other man underneath the Darkmoon, alive and real and his body radiating a slow warmth against the chill of the night.
Perhaps, a voice inside him he had buried long ago stirred, awoken from its slumber but with panic, he fought it down again, squashed the beginnings of renewed hope he could not afford only to be disappointed once more. Princes could not run around, chasing fairytales and happy endings no matter how pretty they may be.
Next to him, Alexander stiffened, his hand hanging in the air as if he had wanted to reach out. It landed on the balcony’s railing instead, gripping it with so much force the skin over his knuckles turned even paler.
“Magnus… I am so sorry,” he said and, inexplicably, sounded almost guilty.
“Why? You were not the one to curse me,” Magnus soothed with a soft smile, by now used to any type of reaction at such a reveal. “And true love’s kiss… it is nothing but a legend.”
“All the legends are true,” Alexander replied at once, then smiled in the slow, gentle way he had all evening. “It is something my brother always says.”
His hand found Magnus’ on the railing, fingertips fluttering over his knuckles as if he was not quite sure of his touch just yet. His eyes though held none of that uncertainty, the hazel of them burning with something of a promise. “Please, do not give up hope just yet.”
It sounded like more than a worried friend, more than someone who had simply not yet accepted the fate Magnus had been dealt at birth. It sounded like a promise, like hope and again, the voice inside Magnus reached forward, trying to let him hear.
Maybe…
He could not live through this another time and pray that this time maybe, possibly, hopefully, he would not be disappointed. After all the scars his heart had already endured, he could not let his guard down with another person like that.
He turned his hand, letting Alexander’s fingers slip in the spaces between his own.
But you already have, the voice whispered before he could shake it off.
“Who am I to refuse such a request,” Magnus said easily with a sway of his shoulders and the light that it brought to Alexander’s eyes was more than worth his inner turmoil.