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Sitting with poise, his right leg crossed over the left, one hand on his thigh and the fingertips of his other tracing small circles over the arm of his seat, Magnus did not look like he was paying attention to what Morgenstern was saying. This didn’t keep the angry council member from spewing his venom though, and while the king did not react, his eyes cast down as if he did not dare stare at Morgenstern while he was speaking, voice steadily rising and bordering on disrespectful, he could feel himself shake with rage.
He refrained the urge to lash out. Instead, he listened to every thinly-veiled insult, engraved in his mind every single hint of accusation regarding the situation at the border with Idris, and imagined a thousand ways to painfully shut Morgenstern up. Those ranged from hanging, tongue-ripping, strangling, disembowelling and drowning to a few less traditional means that involved a nail and a hammer. All of them ended in Valentine Morgenstern’s inability to ever speak again.
If the man, a friend of his father’s, had not already owned a seat at the council when Magnus inherited the throne, he would never even have set foot inside the castle, that much was certain. He deemed himself lucky though, that reasonable enough people such as Catarina, Ragnor, Raphael and Isabelle were also sitting around the table. There was another one, too. One who was far less reasonable than the other council members, but also much more devoted to the king, which evened it out, in his opinion.
Magnus looked at his fingers and the invisible circles he was drawing on the ebony seat, wondering how long it would take for the wood to be marked with the signs of his boredom. For he was not keeping his gaze down out of chastisement or fear – but he had learned that ignoring Morgenstern usually angered him and Magnus enjoyed nothing more than getting on the man’s nerves as often as humanly possible. While he could have endured this a while longer, he could feel that the general of his armies, sitting on his right at the table, was rapidly losing patience and he knew from experience that this never made for a pretty sight.
Morgenstern did not seem to notice, and Magnus almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The effects of Alexander’s anger could be devastating and while Morgenstern would have deserved every sort of dismembering the general was thinking about in this instant, now was not the time to indulge Alec’s violent fantasies.
“Are you done?” the king soon interrupted the council member.
His voice was strong and loud, although he did not raise his tone, but every ounce of his commanding aura slipped into the words and Morgenstern looked so surprised that he actually stopped talking for a few seconds. Next to him, Alec’s clenched fist slowly released the bunched-up fabric of his pants, some of the tension in his body ebbing out ever so slightly.
Morgenstern, however, was nothing if not persistent. Magnus had to give him that, at least.
“Not quite,” he spat. “We need to close the border. We can’t allow more of Idris’ peasants to cross into Alicante and invade our la…”
“Invade?” Isabelle seethed, interrupting Morgenstern, while Raphael’s thick eyebrows rose. “They are fighting a war against Lilith’s forces, who are burning farms and farmers alike as they pillage the countryside! Their citizens are seeking refuge in Alicante, and you would have us close the border with Idris?”
“Strong decisions need to be made,” Morgenstern shot back, “and we can’t stay idle while these peasants eat our food and pile up in our cities! Insecurity will only grow!”
“I agree,” Magnus said, shocking everyone around the table for a second or two, Morgenstern included. “I, too, believe that strong decisions must be made. The border cities cannot house and feed all the refugees crossing into Alicante – which is why we will send a convoy of carts with food and supplies to help our people get the refugees from Idris settled as comfortably as possible.”
Morgenstern’s mouth dropped open.
“Our crops were abundant last year,” Ragnor pitched in with a slow nod of his head. “Giving away a small part of them will not endanger our stocks for the winter.”
“And it is the right thing to do,” Catarina added.
“This is utter madness!” Morgenstern shouted, rising from his seat as he pointed his finger at Magnus and then, slammed his open palm on the table. “What will happen when these foreigners settle down in our land and steal our peoples’ jobs? When our people can’t feed themselves anymore? You will risk them, you will risk Alicante, just so you can help outsiders? Your father would never have agreed to this! If you were even half the king he w…”
“Enough!”
A battle-axe followed the word and smashed into the oaken table, splintering the wood and sending shards flying around. The blade had landed millimetres away from Morgenstern’s forefinger and the man gasped, before he hastily removed his hand and cradled it against his chest as if it had actually been cut off. He tried to glare at Alexander but the slight trembling of his fingers diminished the effect of his dark eyes – not that Alec would have ever been one to cower under Morgenstern’s gaze, and especially not now.
He had stood at some point of the councillor’s speech, probably when he’d mentioned Magnus’ father, whom Alexander had never quite liked – a euphemism, truly. He still didn’t, years after the death of the man… And even less so when he was used to make the current king suffer from the comparison. Alexander’s right hand was empty since he’d smashed his axe into the council table, but Magnus noted that his left hand was wrapped around the hilt of the small dagger that was always slipped in his belt. For emergencies, he always said.
And Alexander knew everything about emergencies.
“I did not miss,” Alec growled at Morgenstern, a frightening rumble that came up from the depths of his throat, “So consider yourself warned. One more word, and I might either take one finger or your whole hand, depending on my mood.”
Morgenstern looked furious at the threat. He took a sharp breath in, prepared to snap at Alexander and make the situation worse for himself, but a smooth and drawling voice rose before he could speak.
“I would choose to swallow my pride and keep my hand, if I were you,” Raphael advised him, his lips flattened in a straight and serious line, although Magnus could tell that the spark in his eyes was one of delighted entertainment.
“Councillor Morgenstern has better things to do with his time than indulge in silly fights, does he not?” Magnus wondered aloud, smiling a bright, toothy grin at the man as he stood from his seat. “I believe, since the fate of the border cities concerns you so badly, that you should be the one to represent the royal power when the carts of supplies arrive. I can only imagine the kind of gratitude the people of Idris, as well as our own citizens, will feel toward you upon your arrival. You can take up to fifteen men to escort you, see to this with Jace Herondale, who shall lead the guards to protect you. That is, if General Lightwood agrees?”
Magnus accepted Alec’s grunt as the approval that it was. While he knew that Alexander would not be happy about sending his friend and lieutenant away, he also knew that the general could tell this was a means to ensure Morgenstern’s good behaviour: Jace would not let the councillor get away with any untoward gesture against the refugees at the border.
“That is settled, then,” the king said. “You should leave as soon as possible. The people will definitely welcome you as a hero.”
Ragnor coughed to cover Catarina’s snort of laughter, and Morgenstern glared at them.
“Very well,” he agreed stiffly, aware that he had no other choice, not when his king was seemingly offering him an opportunity to receive the consideration of Alicante’s people, even though it was mostly a way to keep him out of the council for the next few weeks. “I shall go.”
He headed for the door, hesitated only slightly when he had to step close to Alexander to reach the exit of the room, and Magnus waited until he was almost on the threshold to call for his attention.
“Councillor Morgenstern!”
He tried to hide his smile when the man halted and turned his head over his shoulder, clearly exasperated as he waited for the king’s orders – something that he deeply hated, for he deemed himself above everyone else, Magnus included. Thus, it was one of the king’s small guilty pleasures to remind him of who held the reins of the realm, exactly.
“Don’t be mistaken,” Magnus spoke calmly. “Lieutenant Herondale commands your escort but this is your mission, no one else’s. Therefore, you alone shall be responsible and held accountable for every life on the border while you are there. Every. Life. Whether that is a life from Alicante or Idris. Are we clear?”
“Very, Sire.”
Morgenstern stormed out of the council chamber without any other word, and the tension in the room decreased perceptibly.
“This council is dismissed,” Magnus announced. “Thank you for your work today – General Lightwood? A word, if you please.”
Alec nodded and stayed put while the other council members left the room, chairs scrapping the floor and footsteps receding. Izzy went out last, patting her brother’s shoulder in what looked to be an approving gesture, no doubt regarding his muscly threatening of Morgenstern. The Lightwood siblings were a menace. Isabelle closed the door behind herself and the silence came back in the room, bathing the two remaining men in quietness.
Magnus walked to the table and reached for the battle-axe that was still sticking up from the oaken surface. He grabbed its haft, tried to loosen the head from the wood, pulled and pulled some more, straining his biceps, until the axe unexpectedly released its steely bite on the oak and Magnus staggered backwards.
Alexander didn’t make a move to help him, even though his eyes never left the king’s body, attuned to his every movement, his every step. If Magnus had been at actual risk of falling down, Alec would have been at his side in a heartbeat.
The general didn’t even blink when Magnus came closer, closer than expected, until the general could feel the warmth of the other man settle along his front as the king fiddled with the weapon and Alec’s belt, so he could eventually slip the axe back into its sheath, next to the general’s sword. Hands lingering in spite of himself on Alec’s waist, Magnus eventually took a step back and looked up, finding the general’s eyes already on him. Of course.
“Do not do this again,” Magnus said sternly. “I quite liked this table – and I would appreciate that Morgenstern keeps his ten fingers.”
“He probably doesn’t need them all,” Alec immediately shot back.
Magnus scoffed.
“But I need Morgenstern’s influence over the noble houses of Alicante to keep them loyal to the throne and to do this, we cannot give the man any reason to show the Circle that he has been unfairly treated,” he told the general, before his voice took a stronger edge. “So, do not do it again.”
“As long as he doesn’t insult you again,” Alec argued. “I can’t stand the disrespect.”
“But you will,” Magnus stressed, “I command you to, Alexander.”
A murderous glint appeared in Alec’s eyes at the words and he strode into Magnus’ space, forcing him to take a step back, then another one, until the king was trapped against the wall and the general had a hand at his jaw, cupping half of his face with his long fingers. Perhaps someone else would have been scared, but not Magnus, not of Alexander. Never.
He’d known the Lightwoods siblings since they were kids, along with their adopted brother, Jace. He’d grown up with Alec by his side and he knew, by now, how the general who had once been an angry teenager operated and how he’d turned his anger into a vicious need to protect his king and friend against every threat, whether inside or outside the castle fortifications.
Alexander glanced at his mouth, a quick flicker of his eyes down and up again, and Magnus thought for a second, hoped for two, that Alec was going to kiss him. He did not, but the dark and crazed look in his eyes showed that he would have liked to.
“One word,” the general whispered very slowly between their lips instead. “One word from you and Valentine Morgenstern will be but a memory.”
“That is unnecessary,” Magnus told his general, the cursed half of his own soul, the one who would stop at nothing to protect him – and the king, selfishly, relished that knowledge, the assurance that whatever happened to him, he would never have to face it alone.
“You built this fucking country, Magnus,” Alexander growled in his face, as if the king had been the one to disrespect himself. “Asmodeus had it in chaos and left you a ruin, but you gave its dignity and power back to Alicante and the people. You shouldn’t let Morgenstern drag his feet all over your accomplishments.”
“We both know that you built me,” the King said softly, covering Alec’s hand and pushing it down so those fingers could wrap around his throat, “and that I would be nothing without you.”
For a moment, Alexander’s eyes grew wide with distress as he felt the scar under his fingertips, white with age but still burning with the memories of the day he almost lost Magnus. He remembered the way his king, only a prince at the time, had struggled to breathe around the blood gurgling in his throat and the fear in his eyes as he thought that he would die at the hands of the man who should have loved him more than anyone… but had only ever made him experience disdain and abuse.
Magnus’ own memories were far different, though. He only remembered the relief when Alexander had gathered him in his arms and told him that it was over, that no one would ever hurt him again – his hands were sticky and red with the freshly-shed blood of Asmodeus, and Magnus had believed him. He remembered thinking that everything would be alright, so long as Alexander did not let go.
And he had not.
Magnus moved away from Alexander’s lax grip on his throat and missed his touch as soon as it left his skin. Repressing a shiver of want that he knew he could not allow himself to feel, he took on the role of king again, the command clear in his voice when he spoke next.
“There shall be no Morgenstern murdering today,” he said, “and not ever, unless I change my mind. In which case, you shall be the first to know.”
“I sure hope so,” Alexander muttered, one hand going to the sword at his belt in an automatism born of practice, and he turned around to leave, knowing when he was dismissed without Magnus ever having to say as much. “The day you need me, I’ll be there.”
“I know,” the king told him, and his tone softened. “I know that you will always be there for me.”
Not unlike Morgenstern a few minutes before, Alexander stopped. He had not yet reached the door, having faltered in his steps as soon as he’d heard the king’s voice, always ready to receive orders and serve. When he looked back at Magnus, there was only devotion and raw love in his eyes.
“If it meant that you were safe, I would do anything for you,” the general murmured, a promise that echoed against the stone walls of the room, “One day, I will set the world on fire for you, and I will let it all burn. As long as you are safe, the rest doesn’t matter to me.”
Alexander left the room, and Magnus smiled.