Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The Church will be your sanctuary.” Madzie’s mother used to say. “The Church will be your sanctuary.” Madzie hadn’t understood what she meant at first – what church? There are so many of them. And what’s a sanctuary? “It is a place where you will be safe,” her mother explained once, “A place of quietude and contemplation; where people will help you, and protect you, and treat you kindly.” Madzie still isn’t really sure what ‘quietude and contemplation’ means, but she thinks ‘safe’ and ‘help’ and ‘protect’ are the important words right now.

Madzie doesn’t know where the strange people came from, or why they came. They looked scary, like the people in uniforms that mother calls ‘officer’ in that flat voice she uses sometimes when she talks to other grown-ups. Sometimes in the store or at the churches, and almost always with the ‘officers’, but never with Madzie or the other kids, at least not that Madzie has heard.

These people look like the officers, but they have swords and weird straps everywhere, and there are strange marks on their skin. Not like the ones on Madzie’s neck that mother covers with scarfs when they leave the house. More like the ones one of the people behind the till in the store has, but hers don’t shimmer like these. The marks are pretty, Madzie thinks – at least the black ones, the red one looks like it hurt – but the people are scary. Madzie doesn’t like them.

Mother didn’t like them either. She told Madzie and the other children to wait in the living room, to be quiet and stay away from the doors and windows. To hide, and not come out until mother said it was okay. Mother was scared too, Madzie thinks. But she went to talk to the scary strangers anyway.

Madzie couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but the strangers sounded angry. Mother did too; she wouldn’t let them in, not even when they said something about it being ‘for everybody’s safety’. Mother likes when things are safe. She must not have thought these people were telling the truth. Then there were loud noises from the hallway, and the angry voices came closer. Then mother yelled, “Madzie, run!” so Madzie ran.

Out through the garden door, across the backyard, through the little hole in the hedge into the neighbor’s garden, and into the next, and the next, until she reached the road. Mother doesn’t want the children to cross the road on their own, or even be near it – “It’s not safe,” she says – but there are roads all around and mother told Madzie to run, so Madzie ran. She ran, and she ran, and ran again; she wanted to find the park with all the bushes and the little secret pond – she could hide there, because she’s tired and she can still hear the scary strangers – but she must have gone the wrong way, because she didn’t find it, but she can’t stop to look or ask directions, so she just keeps running.

“The Church will be your sanctuary,” mother said. Safe, and help, and protect.

Madzie has seen a lot of churches, ones they’ve visited and ones in pictures. Some of them are different but a lot of them look the same, so even though she’s never been to this one before, she knows the big building in the little park is a church.

“Sanctuary!” she yells, because the scary strangers are close now, and they’re throwing things after her – sharp things, didn’t their mothers tell them not to run with sharp things? – and she can’t keep running like this, she’s so tired, and they’re so close now, “Sanctruy!”

The heavy doors open, and there are more strange people with swords and shimmery marks inside, and Madzie thinks maybe she’s made a mistake, but mother says you shouldn’t judge people by how they look, so Madzie yells again, “Sanctrary!” as she runs up the steps in front of the doors.

“Fool!” Someone behind her yells, “This place won’t give sanctuary to the likes of you!”

“Sanctry!” Madzie pleads again, and a tall man with a black mark like a Z on his neck and a bow in his hand steps out of the doors.

“Sanctuary granted.” The man says, and Madzie nearly trips over the last step. The man catches her; kneels down and brings her close to him with one arm, the bow gone but an arrow still in his other hand.

Two people step forward from behind the man, a girl with a Z like him and a blonde guy who sneers something like “Circle members aren’t welcome here.” Whatever that means.

“Leave.” The man who’s holding Madzie safe says. He’s using that same flat voice mother has for the officers and the scary people with the strange marks. The one that says she will have her way. “Leave, or face the Gard. You decide.” More people are gathering behind him now.

“She’s a monster!” one of the people who were chasing Madzie says. “She doesn’t deserve your sanctuary.”

“Bring her inside,” the girl with the Z says. “We’ll handle this.”

“C’mon,” the man says quietly, not at all like how he talked to the others. “Let’s get you inside. You’re safe now. We’ll protect you, and help you find your people.”

Chapter Text

Madzie isn’t sure what the guy meant by ‘find your people’, because she doesn’t think she can go home. The scary strangers found here there once, so they’ll come back for her, probably. And even if those people don’t… it might be better if Madzie isn’t there. Better for her mother and the other children. Safer.

See, Madzie knows why those people came for her, why they call her a monster. She doesn’t know who they are, or where they came from, or how they found her, but she knows why mother only told her to run.

It’s because of her own marks – gills, one of the other kids had said, gills like a fish – and because things do as Madzie wants them to. Sometimes, anyway.

She knows other people don’t have gills. She knows other people can’t make ice cream thaw just by wanting it to, or make dolls topple down from a high shelf without touching the doll or even the shelf.

She doesn’t know what to do now. She can’t go home, and she doesn’t know anywhere else. Usually, when they leave the house to go anywhere other than the store or the closest church, mother gives them all a little wristband with mother’s phone number on so they can ask a grown-up to call her if they get separated and lost, but Madzie doesn’t have one now, and she doesn’t remember the number, so she can’t even call mother to ask what she should do. Madzie’s not even sure she could find her way back if she tried – she was running so fast, and so many of the houses look the same, but nothing she can see through this window looks familiar at all. Just a graveyard and trees and then buildings she hasn’t seen before.

The tall man with the Z on his neck carried Madzie inside the church, which looks nothing like a church at all – at least not all the… stuff. There are no rows of benches, no altar that she can see. Instead, there’s a lot of see-through screen-things, and weapons, and lots of people with the strange shimmery black marks and more weapons. There’s still the big colorful picture-windows – stained glass, mother called it, even though they don’t look dirty – and fancy stone-swirls, but Madzie isn’t sure if that’s enough for it to count as a church. But the man carried her inside, and sat her down by the window, and asked her to stay put while he looked at something on the screen and asked someone to get her some band-aids and stuff to clean all the little scrapes she has. From running through the hedges, she thinks. There’s twigs and leaves in her hair still. And her dress is torn a little. Mother won’t like that, but she will—would sow it together with little thread-flowers. Maybe someone here can do that too, or Madzie can try herself – she’s watched mother do it a lot. Maybe she can ask the Z-guy when he comes back.

There are a lot of people in the maybe-church, and all of them keep looking at Madzie between whatever they’re doing at their glass-screens. Madzie doesn’t like it. She moves closer to the window, tries hide a little behind the curtains. If she looks out the window instead of at the other people, maybe she can ignore the stares.

“Cool gills,” a voice says behind her, and Madzie nearly bonks her head on the window in surprise. She’d gotten distracted watching a bird fly to and from the building and hadn’t seen the man approach. Or realized that her gills were visible from where she’d been craning her neck to try to spot the bird’s nest. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. What were you looking at?”

It’s the same man as before, the one with the weird Z-mark on his neck. The bird flies away again, and Madzie points to it.

“The bird? Yeah, there’s a bunch of nests up on the roof. Maybe I can take you up there later to see them?”

Madzie nods; she’d like that. She’s only seen a bird’s nest up close once before, when a storm had blown one down from one of the trees back home. She thinks they’re cool.

“Yeah?” the man smiles at her. He looks kind, Madzie thinks. “I’ll see what I can do. First though, let’s get you patched up, yeah?” He holds up a bag that looks like the one mother has for when people fall out of trees, except this one is black instead of red.

Alec doesn’t move until the little Warlock girl nods again. “Thanks,” he says, then sits down on the floor, puts the first-aid kit on the windowsill next to her, and pulls out the antiseptic wipes first. “I’m Alec.”

“Madzie,” the girl whispers.

“Hi Madzie. It’s nice to meet you.” If this had been Max, or a younger Izzy, or any of the other little kids Alec has met before (which isn’t many, but some) he’d have tried to get them to talk, to take their mind off of what has just happened and the sting of Alec cleaning their cuts. But he gets the impression Madzie doesn’t talk much. That’s alright, Alec can talk instead, and maybe ask some yes-or-no questions, so she can just nod or shake her head, to make sure she’s paying attention to him and not the hurts. He talks about the birds a little, as he cleans her cuts and removes leaves and small twigs from her hair and dress. There’s a neat little pile on the windowsill when he’s done.

She’s not hurt as badly as he’d first thought, or maybe her magic is already healing her. Her hands and one of her knees seem to be worst off, likely from tripping at some point. When Alec has cleaned her hands, he draws the Cold rune on the icepack, wraps it in a cloth, and gives it for her to hold, while he moves on to take care of her knee. He roots through the kit again and is surprised to find decorated band-aids. The Institute keeps extensive Mundane first-aid kits, just in case, but Alec hadn’t expected to find three sets of band-aids: One plain, one with little stylistic fish, and one with… kittens and puppies, Alec thinks.

Alec holds all three versions up for Madzie to pick from. She chooses the ones with the fish.

“Alright,” Alec says as he smooths down a small band-aid with little colorful fishes on Madzie’s arm. It matches the one on her knee. “All done. You doing okay?”

Madzie nods.

“Okay, good. So, I have a few questions. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I’m just trying to get a better picture of what happened, okay?”

Madzie hesitates, but nods again. Mother taught her not to talk to strangers unless they’re cashiers or librarians, but Madzie thinks this is a special case. And she’s not sure Alec counts as a stranger anymore.

“Do you know why those people were after you?” Alec asks her.

Madzie looks away from him then. She knows, sort of. It’s because of her gills, and her maybe-magic. She just doesn’t understand why. Mother said some people just don’t like what they don’t understand; that’s why Madzie needs to cover her gills when she’s outside, to avoid the bad attention. But the gills haven’t done anything to hurt anyone. They’re just… there. And she hasn’t ever used her powers to hurt anyone, at least not that she knows of. She can’t even always get it to work, and sometimes it does work, but not how she wanted it to, and mother told her not to use it where others can see it, so she’s tried not to, but sometimes things happen anyway, even when she’s not trying, so she doesn’t understand why people want to—whatever those people wanted with her.

“Okay,” Alec says. “That’s okay. I think I know, anyway, I just wanted to hear if you maybe knew something else. Do you know who they were?”

Madzie shakes her head. That one’s easy; she doesn’t know. She’d never seen them before today.

“Mh. You saw those red marks on their necks? They were members of the Circle: A group of people who think all Downworlders are evil.”

“What’s a Downworlder?” Madzie asks. Alec sounds like maybe she’s supposed to know, but she doesn’t, and she doesn’t think Alec will be angry with her for not knowing, so she asks.

“Ah, right. Downworlders—hm. I might not be the right person to explain this to you, but… You know, your gills? I might be wrong, but I think they’re what we call a Warlock Mark. An animal feature that all Warlocks have. Not all gills, but some kind of characteristic from an animal – like, different eyes, or horns, or something. Warlock is one of the main four races that make up what we call the Downworld – the others are Vampires, Werewolves, and Seelies.”

“What’s a Warlock?” Madzie asks, “And a Seelie?” She’s heard about Vampires and Werewolves before, in stories. Mother says all stories are real in some way, but Madzie didn’t know they were real-real.

“Uhm. Seelies are actually a lot of different races or species that share some characteristics and common ancestors, I guess sort of like different races of dogs? But please don’t tell anyone I compared Seelies to dogs; it’s kind of rude. They’re things like fairies and pixies and so on. There’s also a group called Unseelie, but I’m not actually sure what the difference is. I’ve read a lot of different theories. Warlocks are—Warlocks are people with magic – like, wizards? But they don’t usually need a wand to cast spells. But they do make potions. Maybe in a cauldron, maybe not. I guess that depends on the person.”

Madzie nods. She didn’t know she was a Warlock, but she figures it makes sense, with her gills and the weird things she can sometimes make happen. Does that mean there are other people like her, who can make weird things happen?

“Okay, so. Next question. Do you have anywhere to go? Someone we can call?” His voice is kind, but Madzie still has to look away again. She can’t go home. She can’t even call home, because she doesn’t remember the number, or the address. “Okay.” Alec says again, even softer. “I have another idea for what we can do then, okay?”

Madzie looks up at him again. He’s still on the floor, while she’s still on the low windowsill, so she doesn’t actually have to look up-up at him, which is nice of him.

“I’m gonna message the local High Warlock. He can help you find a new home and teach you how to use your magic. Is that okay?”

Madzie hesitates. She thinks she can trust Alec, but she doesn’t know this other person, and she doesn’t want to just agree to go with someone she hasn’t even met. And she likes Alec.

“I can ask him to come here to start with, so you can meet him, and then you can decide?” Alec offers. Madzie wonders if he also has magical powers and can read minds. She nods, though. It sounds like a good idea; at least she’d like to meet someone else who’s like her.

Chapter Text

Magnus doesn’t quite know what to make of the fire message he received from ‘A. Lightwood’ today. It’s not the first this particular Lightwood has sent him, but it is the first that has required this kind of reaction from him. Usually, the messages from A. Lightwood have been perfunctory statements such as: “Major demon nest in this and this place, warn your people. We’ll deal with it and let you know when the area is secure.”, or the rare request for assistance in closing a rift or wiping some unfortunate Mundane’s memory. Nothing Magnus himself has needed to act on, beyond passing on the information, or sending someone to assist.

This, though. This requires Magnus’ own presence at the New York Institute, the sooner the better, as much as Magnus would prefer not to step foot in that place ever again. Especially not on the orders of a Lightwood.

Ah, but that’s perhaps not quite fair. The message wasn’t actually an order, and while this mysterious ‘A.’ is likely Maryse and Robert’s child, they can’t be held responsible for their parents’ actions before and during the Uprising. Or after. And there’s a marked difference between the fire messages Magnus has received from Robert, and the ones signed by the child. Maryse never writes to him at all, thank the stars, and Robert only rarely. When he does, it is invariably to demand Magnus’ services in one way or another. “The wards need repairing”, “clean-up is required in this place”, things like that. The younger Lightwood at least knows how to ask nicely.

It's not the lack of rude demands that has Magnus walking through the heavy front doors of the New York Institute today, however. Rather, it’s the statement that a young Warlock was chased by Circle members and somehow found their way to the Institute, where they apparently happened to run into the one Shadowhunter with both the power and the will to help them. Help the Warlock, not the Circle members.

Magnus is… intrigued. Curious, even.

Inside the Institute, he’s met with wary glances, but no Seraph blades to his throat, so that’s… something. A blond boy and a dark-haired girl, both of whom looking like they’re not yet out of their teens, come to greet him.

“Welcome,” the girl says, “Magnus Bane? I’m Isabelle.” She reaches out a hand, and Magnus takes it, because he’s polite like that. And a little bit just for the novelty of it. He’s not sure when a Shadowhunter last deigned to shake hands with him without even hesitating or wearing gloves or something. It’s been a while since he’s let himself get involved in Shadowhunter business, beyond the odd favor for Jocelyn. Perhaps he should start paying a little more attention to the New York Institute. “Alec took the girl to see the pigeons while they waited; Jace will show you the way.”

Magnus gets the impression that this young Isabelle actually means the part about showing him the way; it’s not just a cover to have someone escort him, at least not entirely.

“And can I just say?” Isabelle tacks on, “I love that jacket.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says. He’s dressed to impress, of course, as always. More specifically, he’d chosen something spikey and regal for this little trip; something that would remind the Shadowhunters of the kind of power he holds, both politically and magically. He hadn’t exactly expected compliments, least of all genuine ones. It’s a nice change of pace. “I see Shadowhunters have developed a sense of fashion since I was last here; your dress is gorgeous,” Magnus returns, because it is, and because he can’t resist just a tiny jab.

“Some of us have, anyway,” Isabelle says with the glint of something unspoken in her eyes, “thank you.”

“Stop flirting with him, Iz,” the blond says. “We’ve got work to do.” He seems a little too self-important for Magnus’ tastes.

“Ugh, I swear,” Isabelle rolls her eyes, “ever since you guys became Parabatai, you even sound like Alec. And besides, I wasn’t flirting, I was just being nice. Not that you would know the difference.”

Alec, again. Could that be the mysterious A. Lightwood? No matter, he’ll find out eventually. For now, there are more important matters at hand. “Not to interrupt this lovely banter, but the warlock child…”

“She’s upstairs; I’ll show you,” the blond says. He must be Jacob, then. Or was it John?

James leads Magnus back towards the front doors of the Institute but veers off to the side and into an elevator, where he presses the top button. It’s an interesting dichotomy, Magnus thinks, with the old building and the generally old-fashioned ways of the Nephilim, combined with all this very sleek and modern technology.

When the elevator stops, Jack leads him out and down a hallway to a set of stairs that takes them up even further, and then out onto what must be the roof of the Institute. Magnus isn’t sure he’s ever been here before, at least not since he first created the wards around the building. It’s a nice view, he’ll give them that.

“This one’s Ursula,” comes a voice from the other side of what seems to be a rotunda of pigeon nests. It’s a very nice voice. “She doesn’t really lay eggs anymore, or fly much. But she’s very gentle, and will probably let you pet her, if you’re careful.”

“She’s pretty,” a small voice answers.

Magnus is only vaguely aware that he’s moving closer, and that Jade has left, or perhaps melted into the shadows somewhere.

“She is,” that gorgeous voice comes again. “Do you want to hold her?”

Magnus doesn’t hear the answer, but when he walks around the rotunda, he sees a young girl gently holding a pigeon, and the most beautiful man he has ever seen grinning at her.

Magnus will definitely be visiting the Institute more often from now on.

The man – barely more than a boy himself, Magnus thinks – looks up at Magnus then, not quite startled. They hold eye contact for a moment, until the Shadowhunter shakes himself out of whatever trance had befallen them both.

“Hi!” the man says, voice almost breaking on that one syllable. “Magnus Bane? I’m Alec. Lightwood. I’m the one who messaged you?”

“Mhm,” Magnus hums. Perhaps he really will need to revise his view on Lightwoods. At least the younger ones. “Delighted to meet you. And who’s this?” The girl shies back when Magnus forces himself to turn his attention to her. Alec might be beautiful and sweet, but Magnus is here for a reason.

“This is the Warlock I told you about.” Alec tells him, “She had to leave her home, so I was hoping you could help her find a new one, and teach her to control her magic, and… I don’t know what else. Hey, it’s okay.” The last part is directed at the girl, who’s moved closer to Alec, almost hiding behind him now. Alec turns to her, and crouches down to her level. Magnus isn’t sure if his positioning is on purpose; on one hand, he’s putting himself between Magnus and the child, which does seem like something a warrior such as he would do. On the other hand, it puts his unguarded back mostly towards Magnus, which is decidedly not something a Shadowhunter would normally do on purpose. “Mr. Bane is a Warlock, like you.” Alec says, “And he knows a lot of other Warlocks. He can teach you all about what it means to be a Warlock and what you can do with your magic and everything. He won’t hurt you.”

The girl looks at Magnus for a moment, then leans in to whisper in Alec’s ear. Magnus feels a little like he’s intruding, but also like it would be wrong of him to leave to give them some space. He’s not close enough to hear what she says, but he can take a guess.

“No,” Alec answers her. He sounds genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I wish you could, but this isn’t really a place for a Warlock. And there are so many things I won’t be able to teach you, because I’m not a Warlock. You need to be among your own people.” The girl looks away, and Alec reaches out to squeeze her arm gently. “Hey, c’mon. I’m sure we can work out something with Mr. Bane so you can come visit sometimes. Both Ursula here and I would miss you too much, otherwise.”

The girl smiles at that, small and watery, but definitely there.

“Yeah? C’mon, let’s go say hi, okay?”

Alec doesn’t move until the girl nods, then he stands up; both of them turning to face Magnus again.

“Hi,” the girl says quietly, still shy.

“Hello, Sweet Pea,” Magnus greets. He crouches down to eye level, and flashes his eyes at her, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Magnus is looking at the young Warlock, but out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Alec practically beam at him, and oh, Magnus is fascinated. A young Shadowhunter, and a Lightwood at that, who seems to hold a great deal of influence at one of the biggest Institutes in the world, and who seems kind, is good with kids, and called on Magnus when presented with a recently homeless Warlock child, rather than send her to the Silent Brothers as would be customary. This could prove very interesting indeed.

Magnus will absolutely take the girl to visit sometimes, and it will even be for her sake. But also, a little for his own. Perhaps they can set up weekly playdates? To start with, Magnus should invite Alec out for drinks. To discuss the option for playdates, of course. Maybe even to thank him.