Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Four years ago

Rain poured down like the Niagara waterfall, seemingly with no end. Alec didn’t even feel his clothes getting soaked as he rushed down the sidewalk, anxiously looking behind him every second. He shouldn’t have been worried, he’d planned this meticulously. Not a single hole in this plan; it had to work. If it didn’t, Alec didn’t know what he was going to do.

He glanced down at the fire message he’d gotten earlier that night, now damp from the rain. His contact got back to him after two weeks of radio silence. Alec had been doubting that he would even hear anything and had worried that he would have to go through what his parents had in store for him. He shivered at the memory of that ‘meeting’ his parents made him join.

Marriage.

At twenty-two years old even Alec knew that Shadowhunters weren’t that behind on the times. This was his parents' way of gaining more favor with the Clave. Plain and simple. The Branwells were a respectable family, one with more power within the Clave than the Lightwood name. The Lightwoods were once a prominent name, then Robert and Maryse had joined the Circle and ruined any favorable reputation they had. Now Alec was paying the consequences of their own actions.

Lydia was a smart woman, but it was clear she was not happy with the situation. Upon further talk with her, Alec found out that she’d actually had a boyfriend for two years. Not only that, but he had proposed to her already. Her parents knew this and still wanted her to go through with this farce of a marriage. It made Alec pissed off not only for himself but for his supposed bride whose heart already belonged to someone else.

Neither of them deserved this pain.

It wasn’t like the marriage would be anything other than binding. Alec had no romantic feelings for her. He had no feelings toward any woman in the Institute.

No one knew he was gay and he planned on keeping it that way. Isabelle had started giving him looks recently like she knew, but he made sure to never admit it to her and she never asked. Jace was as blind to his feelings through the bond as he was to everything that involved his parabatai. He loved his siblings and would do anything for them but it was clear they didn’t feel the same.

They would always tell him to relax and not let Mom and Dad get at him. They never truly saw how much he suffered at their hands. Days locked in his room that he couldn’t leave whenever something went wrong. Slaps on his wrists from his private tutors when his penmanship was just a smidge away from perfect.

Everything had to be perfect, perfect, perfect.

Alec felt like he hadn’t been a part of the family for a long time. All the responsibility that his parents shoved on his shoulders, not once asking Jace or Izzy to help. Letting them be able to grow up like other shadowhunter kids where he was stuck inside, training and learning. If his siblings got in trouble he was to blame, even when he wasn’t there. Maryse and Robert berated him for not having a tighter leash on his siblings.

Lost in his thoughts he missed the person walking in front of him. He shoulder-checked the man and went knocking to the ground, the stranger's umbrella scattering away. Panicked, he got up fast and repeatedly apologized to the person, helping them off the ground.

“Well that’s one way to ruin a good pair of pants,” the man sighed.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Alec apologized.

“It’s alright, these pants are outdated anyways,” the stranger laughed and then under his breath, “by at least forty years.”

Alec nodded, not understanding the man’s point. He kept his head to the ground, not looking at the man’s face. If people saw through his glamor, they’d try to drag him back to the Institute. He didn’t know if this person was a part of the shadow world or not, but better safe than sorry.

“What’s your name?” The stranger asked.

Alec’s eyes widened in panic at the question and with more speed than a normal human should have had, he rushed to grab the stranger’s umbrella, handed it back to him, and ran away with another whisper of an apology.

He ignored the man’s calls behind him and continued on. He’d wasted too much time and he didn’t know if this person would go back on their deal if he was late. He slipped his stele out from his pocket and ran it over his speed rune, just in case that stranger tried to tail him.

He made it to the warlock’s place in the nick of time. He did not waste a second rushing up the stairs to knock on the door, more frantic than planned. He shook off what water he could from his hair now that he was under the roof of the porch.

The door opened to reveal a man dressed like the eighteen hundreds. His skin was a light green, hair white as a ghost, and horns protruding from his head.

“I see you got my message,” Ragnor greeted.

“I did,” Alec panted. “Please tell me the spell works.”

“Well first off, I’m not going to have you soak up my floors.”

With a snap of Ragnor’s fingers, Alec’s clothes were as dry as they had been when he’d left the Institute. He let out a sigh of relief as the clothes seemed to emanate a slight warmth like they were just pulled from the dryer. Ragnor opened the door the rest of the way and beckoned him in.

“The potion works perfectly,” Ragnor said. “My friend and I worked on it tirelessly the past two weeks since you were in such a rush to get it done. You’re lucky you paid handsomely upfront for the spell or I would have made you wait behind all the other clients I had before you.”

“Thank you again,” Alec said. “I know you are a busy man, but I appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Yes, well any person who’s trying to escape a marriage by faking their death is always a matter that’s way more interesting than a sob story about a person who wants to get revenge on their ex.”

“So you got it to work?” Alec asked timidly.

“Of course I did,” Ragnor sighed. “Did you not just hear how I spent two weeks working on it? What? Did you think I sent you over here just to tell you I had nothing?”

Alec didn’t hear the condescending questions; he’d stopped listening after he heard the spell worked. He didn’t know when his knees gave out, but when he came to, he was crying on the floor of Ragnor’s house and the man was worryingly hovering over him.

“I’m free,” Alec laughed hysterically.

This was more than just about the marriage. This was about him being free from the shackles of his parents’ iron rule and finally getting to be himself.

“I have a sense that this is more than about a silly arranged marriage,” Ragnor guessed, hands hovering over, Alec unsure how to help. Alec must have looked like a fool on the ground, tears falling from his face.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, swiping his sleeve under his nose. He quietly grabbed his stele and removed the glamor. He heard Ragnor shuffle backwards and the distinct smell of a forest after it rains was the reason he knew the warlock had summoned his magic.

Alec stayed on the ground; he didn’t want to give the man reason to attack him without a chance to explain.

“I asked for this because the marriage would have made me a mindless drone for the Clave to use, manipulate, and abuse any way they could. I’m the scapegoat for my parent’s actions during the Uprising. They wanted me to marry a woman who was already in love with another and set to be married with for me, a nobody,” he explained, his head tilted to the floor. His nails scratched at the carpet beneath his hands as he tried to reign in his fear.

“If I had gone through with the wedding it would have absolved my parents of their horrendous crimes against the downworld and made me the punching bag for their crimes.”

He remembered the way his parents had looked at him without a single flicker of love in their eyes. Only seeing him as a pawn to gain their status back in Nephilim society. It wasn’t like Alec had spent years of his childhood helping in any way he could even when he was clearly too young to handle the pressure they put upon him. But he did it with gritted teeth in hopes that eventually, they would back off.

What a false sense of hope that was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a shadowhunter,” he apologized. “I knew that if I came to you begging for help you would refuse me.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, glancing at the sight rune on the back of his hand. “All the others did, saying I got what was coming for me. But I didn’t do anything, I was just a child-”

His voice broke and he watched his tears stain the carpet. He hadn’t meant to bear his entire heart out to this stranger, but if at least one person was going to listen to him, he’d let it be the person who was about to kill him.

Either way, he’d escape the hell of the life he was living.

“I was two years old when the Uprising ended. I was a child whose parents, rather than accepting their wrongdoings, would push it all onto their first born who didn’t understand why he was being treated badly. I just want to know what it feels like to inhale a fresh breath of air without suffocating from the toxins I grew up around. I just want to be fully myself without having to hide.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for Ragnor to kill him. It was so silent in the house that the only sound he could hear was the rain and thunder outside, seeming to hit harder than before he got here. He awaited whatever Ragnor wished to do to him. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be turned into a frog and live out the rest of his life in a nearby pond.

Instead, there was a sudden presence wrapping around him.

“What-,” is all Alec could get out before he was pulled into a hug. His breath escaped him as Ragnor seemed to want to squeeze the life out of him. Not how he’d thought his life would end, but he'd take it. Better than being sent to Edom or trapped in the Seelie forest forever.

“You know, I have a friend who also has a shit parent,” Ragnor started. “I remember meeting him right after he escaped a hell hole. The fool was an absolute mess, didn’t trust anyone. It took a solid year before he could even be comfortable in a room alone with me. He fought hard against his parent’s teachings, wanting to be happy and experience the world through the eyes of a free man. He got that chance because he was hard-headed. A trait he still, unfortunately, has to this day,” Ragnor grumbled, getting a wet laugh out of Alec.

Sounded like this person and Alec would get along swimmingly if given the chance to meet.

“What I am trying to say is that this is not an easy path to take.” Ragnor pulled out of the embrace but kept his hands on Alec’s shoulders. “You’re going to have to unlearn a lot of the teachings you grew up with to survive out here in the real world.” Ragnor gave him a once over and grimaced. “And probably a lesson in how the mundane world works. I know how you Nephilim like to ignore the rest of the world you live in.”

“I- I don’t understand,” Alec said.

“If you think that you are going to be able to survive out there on your own, you’re wrong,” Ragnor stated. “The world is a cruel place for a Shadowhunter who’s escaping. Not every Downworlder is going to be as kind as I am.”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything more than create the spell,” Alec reminded the man. “I can’t ask you to be connected any more than that. If by some chance it gets out that I faked my death with the assistance of a downworlder it could mean the end of a lot of good people. I can’t ask you to do that. I’d rather just find my way alone.”

“And end up dead within a week? Absolutely not. I have a farm in Ireland I won a few years ago that could use a person who will actually care for it,” Ragnor suggested. He let go of Alec’s shoulders to tap a finger to his chin. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I have visited it at all in the past fifty years which means it will need a thorough cleaning. I hope you are up to the task.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Alec meekly stated.

“You didn’t ask, I am giving. Now,” Ragnor stood up and walked over to his potion table, grabbing a piece of paper, “this is the spell. Even a shadowhunter like yourself can cast it as it requires only a magical object for it to work.”

Ragnor handed him both the paper and a bracelet. Alec read over the spell and it seemed easy enough to cast. Now all he had to do was create a situation where he could fake his death. He remembered hearing some shadowhunters talking about a demon nest that needed taking care of earlier that day. If he didn’t schedule anyone to take on the nest in the upcoming days, he could make this work.

He felt his emotions start to get the best of him again. He’d kept them in for so long that it was hard to reign them back in. All those times when he couldn’t express anything or let anyone know how he truly felt.

It was a relief.

“Thank you for this,” he croaked out. “For all of this. I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing more than meeting me in Central Park after you go through with the spell. I will portal you to Ireland where we will immediately hide any trace of you so no one can track you there.”

“I already have a deruning device so they can’t track me,” Alec explained. At Ragnor’s look of confusion, he explained more. “You don’t need a Silent Brother to remove runes. It’s only used against shadowhunters who have broken the law. It’s the most painful way to get it removed, but I can’t risk the Brothers bringing word back to my family.”

Ragnor looked at him in horror. “So you’re just basically going to torture yourself to get the runes removed?”

“Pretty much?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I already assumed I would go catatonic for about three days once I removed my parabatai rune.”

“You’re parabatai-” Ragnor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are worse than my friend when it comes to enduring pain, and I thought that was impossible.”

“Well I didn't have a support system when I was planning this out so it was either suffering through the pain of getting my runes removed or just dying,” Alec admitted. “And I didn’t want to take the easy way out.”

Ragnor mumbled something under his breath before speaking louder. ”Fine. Fine! I will reschedule my busy life to take care of your idiotic self for those three days.”

“You don’t-”

“If you finish that sentence I am turning you into a horse,” Ragnor threatened. “Okay, I need to cancel dinner plans but I will be there when you decide to do this. Now get going.” He started to push Alec towards the front door. “Here’s my number, I expect you to tell me everything about when you plan to do this, or I will hunt you down myself.”

“O- okay.” Was all Alec could get out before the door closed behind him. He heard muffled grumbling as he was left alone on the front porch of the townhouse.

He looked down at the items in his hands and couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. He made his way down the stairs. The rain had stopped and all that was left was the same smell of Ragnor’s magic. Alec took a deep breath and started to feel new and fresh in a way he had never felt before.

Chapter Text

Present Day

Asher wipes the sweat off his forehead as the humid air drowns him. He thought as the years went by he would get used to the humidity of Ireland, but he still hates it. He finishes tying up the sack and tosses it on the back of the cart. Sophie and Christopher give a whine as the cart jostles from the weight.

“Sorry guys,” Asher apologizes. He walks to the front and gives them both a pat on the face. The horses lean into his touch and he can’t help but smile. “We got one more row of potatoes to get through then we’re done for the day.”

This year’s harvest was probably his best one yet. It had been a rough few years, trying to get the farm going. He had no idea what he was doing when he first moved to the farm. Ragnor did his best to help but it was obvious the man also had no idea what to do. One would think, being a centuries old warlock, that simple agriculture knowledge would be normal.

It did make for a very entertaining time watching the man who uses magic for everything trying to figure out how to attach a tiller to Sophie.

Thankfully his neighbor down the way had come over after watching them struggle for two days straight. Darrah was the best thing to happen to him. The man had taught him everything he needed to know about farming and where to get the tools he needed. Turns out that the tools that Ragnor had left to rust over the years were not the proper farming equipment.

Sophie lets out a snort at his words and shakes her head. She always had little patience when it came to harvest time. She’d prefer to roam out the rest of her life in the fields and not work. It’s not like Asher makes her life miserable all the time; he only time he uses her is when harvest ends and begins. Then she is free to roam and do whatever she pleases, but that doesn’t matter to her. The minute she gets attached to the wagon, she puts up a fuss.

Christopher on the other hand is always willing to help out even when it's not needed. Anytime Asher is around the farm tending to the other animals, Christopher is there, leaning over his shoulder or trying to grab at the pail and throw it around. The number of times that Asher has been hit by the pail should have given him permanent brain damage by now.

He’s glad that the names he picked were the right choice. When he saw the two at a sale all those years ago, he knew that he had to have them. Ragnor was kind enough to pay the expenses as he didn’t have a penny to his name.

Now for three years in a row, his little farm has generated enough money for him to live comfortably with his own wages. He knows that Ragnor has magicked the soil to make the harvests more bountiful but he underestimated how poorly Asher was going to do the first couple of years.

It was… rough, to put it mildly.

There were moments when he was ready to burn his entire crop to start over again. Darrah was thankfully patient with him and taught him. Brought him over to his farm and taught Asher all the ins and outs of farming. So he may not have had crops of his own the first year on the farm, but he learned a lot from Darrah’s.

“Being cruel to the horses again, I see,” a voice chimes in behind him.

Asher can’t help the smile on his face as he tosses another sack of potatoes on the cart. He turns around and sees Ragnor, clothes cleaner than they should be walking out in this field. The man looks disgusted to be out here, but Asher knows better. Ragnor may have complained the few times Asher asked him to help, but he secretly knows he enjoys a task that requires physical labor every now and then.

“I am not,” Asher defends. “You know that Sophie is always dramatic when it comes to doing anything that’s not frolicking around the backfield. You want to take her spot?”

“Absolutely not,” Ragnor huffs, walking over to him. Asher gladly receives the tight hug. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” Asher agrees. He pulls out of the hug and goes back to work. “I’m sad that you missed the last two months.”

“Yes well unfortunately those fools at the Spiral Labyrinth can’t do any enchantment work without me there,” Ragnor complains. “Apparently, Tessa told those fools that I was the best of the best and dragged me there for too long. I’m glad to be out of that little hell space.”

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad,” Asher says. “From what you told me, you said that your friend lets you use his room for any work you have to do.”

“Which is a secret,” Ragnor hisses.

Asher looks around the open field, looking for anyone who could potentially be listening in on their conversation. The only living beings, supernatural or not, within range are the horses. He looks back at Ragnor and in the driest voice he can muster says, “Apologies, I’ll make sure to ask Sophie and Christopher to keep their lips sealed.”

“Oh shut up.” A potato gets thrown at his head as Ash lets out a cackle.

The two of them have a small conversation about what the other has been up to the past two months. He’s not going to let on how much he’s missed the man’s presence even if he only visits once a month, maybe twice. He may not have his angelic abilities anymore, but he can thankfully still send fire messages the old fashioned way.

However, a flaming paper doesn’t hold a candle to Ragnor actually being here.

The final row of potatoes goes by in a flash and the two make their way back to the farmhouse. The local market won’t start for another two days so he parks the cart inside the barn away from the sun and releases Sophie and Christopher into their field. Sophie lets out a happy whiney and books it the second she is free. Christopher looks back at him, waiting for his nod, and follows suit. Asher shakes his head at how the two are so alike to Izzy and Jace, though he tries not to think about it too much.

It’s been four years, he can’t be thinking about the past anymore. He made his choice. He did what he had to do to live.

He jumps at the sudden hand on his arm. Ragnor is looking at him with concern. He realizes he was still looking at the spot where Christopher was before leaving to join Sophie. He also notices that he’s rubbing the spot where his sight rune used to rest on his hand. A habit he picked up after his de-runement that Ragnor tries to get him to stop

He must have been doing it for a bit if Ragnor is giving him that look.

“Everything good?” Ragnor gently asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, probably a bit too fast. “Just was uh, lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

“More like reliving a memory,” Ragnor corrects. The hand on Asher’s arm gives a squeeze. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Asher admits. “Just thinking about past things.”

“I see,” Ragnor hums. “Well then how about we head inside, you can take a shower and get all that grime off yourself and I will start making dinner.”

“I smell bad?” Asher teases, getting an eye roll from the man.

“Like a drowned rat during a tsunami,” Ragnor jokes back.

Asher locks up the barn behind them and they make their way to the house. Ragnor heads to the kitchen while Asher goes upstairs to shower. He rips off the sweat-drenched clothes and grimaces at how the clothing was stuck to his back. He tosses them into the hamper and hops in the shower, letting the cool water rinse today’s work off his body.

He thinks about how many potatoes he’s going to sell and what he’ll donate to the local charities in the area. He has no use for the potatoes he grows save for two dozen he’ll keep for himself. He thinks about how he still has to return the soil for the next plotting. Thankfully the other half of the acre is not due for another three months and he doesn’t have to worry about it. He lets out a sigh and turns off the water. Drying himself off he starts to smell something amazing emanating from the kitchen.

He wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way across the hall to his room. He gets dressed and heads downstairs where Ragnor has started making his favorite dish. He halts at the sight of it all.

“What’s wrong?” Asher asks.

“Nothing is wrong,” Ragnor replies, but he doesn’t turn around to face him. “I am making us dinner with the food I got from my stop in London.”

“You’re making Sunday Roast,” Asher points out. “You only make that when you have to tell me bad news.”

“That is not true,” the man defends. “I also make it when there is good news.”

“So is it good news?”

The silence he receives is the only answer he needs. He stands next to Ragnor as the man laser focuses on the carrots he’s stirring. He bumps his shoulder into the warlock’s to get the man to look at him. He tries not to panic when he sees guilt in the eyes that finally reach his own.

“We should probably sit down,” Ragnor suddenly says. He snaps his fingers and puts a halt to the food cooking. He makes his way over to the island and sits down leaving a worried Asher to follow behind.

Asher feels his leg start to shake as he waits for whatever bad news Ragnor has to tell him. Did something happen at the Spiral Labyrinth? Is he in trouble again? His mind races at the possibilities.

“I have to go back to New York,” Ragnor confesses. That gets Asher to freeze all movements.

Ragnor hasn’t been back to New York since he left four years ago. After the first year on this farm and the chaos that ensued after his “death”, Ragnor decided it was for the best that he does not return to the city in case something did go wrong. If the New York Institute found out that Ragnor helped him fake his death, it could lead to serious consequences for both of them. He would never forgive himself if Ragnor was arrested and killed for helping him.

“Why?” He’s barely able to choke out the word. “Did- did something happen? Did they reach out to you?”

“No, no,” Ragnor says. “My friend who lives there asked me for a favor with a spell he did a few years ago and I’m the only one who understands the fool’s work.”

That eases some of his worry but not the biggest one. “Will you have to interact with any of them?”

“My friend has assured me that I would only have to deal with him and the spell. Apparently, he put a memory spell on a girl whose mother I helped out many years ago and needs me to assist in reversing it,” he explains. Ragnor turns in his seat to face him. “I promise you, Asher, the second I feel that I am not safe, I will portal out.”

Asher nods and looks down at the table. His mind races with everything that could go wrong if something were to happen in New York. If his family found out he was still alive…

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Asher asks. He tries to hide the small tremble in his hands by clasping them together. “I remember you saying that the Lightwoods knew who you were. Would that put you at risk?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ragnor answers truthfully. “My leaving New York wouldn’t have pinged their radars as they only like to deal with the High Warlock for any magic-related business. We other warlocks didn’t matter in their eyes. Besides, many warlocks left New York after finding out the Lightwoods were put in charge. Just because the Clave looked the other way at some of their people’s crimes during the Uprising, doesn’t mean the rest of us did.”

It’s clear that Ragnor had an escape planned out for a while. Asher knows he wouldn’t put himself at risk for any silly reason. He’s just as much a hermit as Asher is. He feels like that is partially his fault, but Ragnor has assured him that he had been planning on selling his New York home for many years now.

“Okay,” he says.

Ragnor’s shoulders drop at the word. Asher didn’t realize how much the man would care about his answer. They had only been friends for four years, maybe even less than that. It took the warlock a few months of being around him to realize that Asher wasn’t tricking him into letting his guard down.

“Thank you,” Ragnor says, reaching out and patting his hand on the back of Asher’s. “Now then, let's eat-”

Before the two even have a chance to move, the front door bursts open.

Chapter Text

“Honestly, Ragnor, you couldn’t have messaged me to meet you at your London flat?” Magnus grumbles as he tracks his nice shoes through the mud. “You had to choose the farm that you haven’t touched in almost a hundred years?”

His foot slips on a particularly muddy patch on the ground but he thankfully saves his clothes from being destroyed. It doesn’t matter that he has magic at the ready to clean himself up, it’s that he shouldn’t have to do it in the first place. If he does fall he’s sending Ragnor his dry cleaners’ bill just to spite him.

It’s what he deserves for sending him a fire message to come to this awful place. All he did was ask for assistance with a memory spell, and now he’s walking through the farmlands of Ireland.

“I swear if this is some elaborate prank to get me back for something I probably don’t even remember, I am going to steal all his Monet paintings.”

As he approaches the farm he notices that there are crops in the fields as well as a few horses and other animals scattered around. Did his dear Cabbage give up on life and become a recluse farmer? It would make the most sense. It’s not like the man was willing to go to downworld hotspots even when he had his place in New York City. His friend preferred a quiet cafe where he could read a book in peace.

The last time he had been here was when Ragnor won the farm off a vampire in a card game. The place had clearly been run down and in shambles, since the vampire had no use for it, but now it seems to be thriving and full of life. Magnus’ eyes wander over the crops and spot the familiar tops of potato plants being grown, only a half acre. Seems the rest has already been pulled. There’s no way that Ragnor did this on his own.

He approaches the front door and sees it’s busted in. He immediately summons his magic as he creeps through the entryway. The house is an absolute mess. Turned-over furniture, broken lamps, and shattered dishes are strewn across the floor. There’s no sound save for the creaky floor with each step he takes. Dread fills his stomach with each room he clears, his friend nowhere in sight.

Magnus doesn’t dare make noise or call out for Ragnor. He doesn’t want to give whoever raided the home a reason to know he’s here so he can get the drop on them. When he reaches the kitchen he notices the pots on the stove are in stasis but the fire is still running. He reaches over and turns them off; the last thing he needs is a fire starting. Whatever happened here is still recent. Leave it to Ragnor to downplay an emergency when he’s in danger.

He also notes that the two chairs at the table are pushed back. Ragnor had a guest here and didn’t expect more company. If someone he trusted betrayed him, Magnus would send them to Edom, no questions asked.

As he rounds the kitchen to the back room, a loud thump echoes above him and he rushes to the stairs. He skips steps as he makes his way to the noise, ready to defend his friend, only to find a dead shadowhunter at the top of the stairs with an arrow in his chest. It makes him pause before another thump happens from the room at the end of the hall. He makes his way to the doorway, ducking back out into the hallway when a shadowhunter gets flung through the door, this time an arrow right between the eyes.

Magnus grimaces at the corpse before peeking his head in the doorway only to duck out of the way again as another arrow sings past him, embedding in the opposite wall. His heart beats out of his chest at how close that was to hitting him. Whoever is wielding that bow knows how to use it.

“Asher, wait,” Ragnor coughs. “I think that’s my friend.”

“Are you sure?” A man’s voice speaks up. “How do we know that it's not just a glamor?”

“Trust me when I say that shadowhunters would never be able to recreate the over-extravagance of my friend.”

“Excuse you, I am a delight,” Magnus huffs from cover.

“You can lower the bow, it’s okay-” Ragnor’s words get cut off with a groan.

Magnus looks into the room again and sees Ragnor on the floor, holding his hands to his side from a wound that does not look pleasant. His eyes track to the stranger standing protectively in front of Ragnor, the arrow still knocked back and aimed at Magnus. He holds his hands up and lets a bit of magic spark out of his hands to show that he’s not a glamored shadowhunter. That seems to do the trick and Asher lowers the bow.

With his life not at risk anymore he rushes to Ragnor’s side.

“My dear Cabbage, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” Magnus asks as he gently removes his friend’s hands from the wound. He rolls up the shirt to see what is clearly a gnarly stab wound and immediately starts to pour magic into the wound.

“Me?” Ragnor coughs. “I have done nothing of the sort. I don’t know how those bastards found us. It’s not like I flaunt that I own a farm in Ireland.”

“Speaking of us.” Magnus glances back at Asher.

He’s kneeled down checking the pulse of the shadowhunter who he shot through the head. He doubts that the woman is getting up anytime soon, but he understands wanting reassurance. Magnus notices the injuries the man also carries and makes a note to ask him if he needs treatment after healing Ragnor.

Even with his back to Magnus, he can see the tension that is still coiled tightly in Asher’s shoulders. There’s a slight tremble to his frame that makes Magnus wonder how terrified Asher truly is. He hides it well behind the stoic face as he stands up to face them. There’s something about that face that’s so familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it.

“I’m going to check for others,” Asher announces.

That gets Ragnor to try to sit up. “Absolutely not.”

“Ragnor, sit still,” Magnus chastises, though he doubts his friend heard him and readjusts his magic.

“Ragnor,” Asher sighs.

“Don’t Ragnor me,” Ragnor scolds. “Just wait a moment and we can check together.”

“Yeah, tell that to the hole in your side,” Asher snorts. “Even with warlock magic, that injury is going to take at least a few days to heal before you can move normally again. In case you forgot, you were stabbed with an adamas weapon by an angelic warrior. They make sure those weapons hurt anything with demon blood in their veins.”

“I should have never taught you the basics of warlock magic and anatomy,” Ragnor sighs.

“It’s a good thing you did because Magnus wouldn’t have come here in time and you would have-” Asher looks away from the two of them and Magnus watches the man clench his jaw.

“I’m fine, Asher,” Ragnor reassures.

“But you almost weren’t,” Asher insists.

“And thanks to you protecting me, I get to hear Magnus fuss over me for the next twenty-four hours,” Ragnor notes.

“I do not fuss,” Magnus defends. “I simply scold you until you get it through your thick skull that you are an idiot.”

“See: fuss.” Ragnor gestures to him, wincing. “Lilith, adamas weapons hurt. Who let Nephilim have access to this horrible metal? It should be outlawed.”

That gets a small smile from Asher and some tension from his shoulders disappears. It seems that was what he needed to see to know Ragnor would be just fine.

“Be happy it was in the abdomen,” Asher notes, pointing to the closing wound. “Anywhere else would take longer to heal and knowing you, you’d hate to be stuck on this farm any longer than necessary.”

“That is not true, I enjoy visiting you,” Ranger insists.

“Once a month,” Alec reminds him. He steps over to Magnus and Ragnor and kneels on the opposite side of Magnus. “Maybe you should go into hiding again.”

“And leave you here defenseless? Not a chance,” Ragnor proclaims.

“Last I checked they were here for you, not me.”

That sets off a little siren in Magnus’ head. Why would Asher be worried about the shadowhunters coming after him? From all that Magnus can see of the man, he’s as mundane as it gets. With him this close, Magnus notices scarring on the side of his neck and on his arms. The man’s hands are calloused but that can be brushed off as him running this farm. Yet, there is something about the man that Magnus can’t shake.

“Why were they here in the first place?” Magnus asks. “How in the hell did they find your farm?”

When those hazel eyes meet him for the first time, Magnus feels like he’s gazing into the man’s soul. He sees the anger and fear flashing in them, but he also sees something else that he isn’t able to read before Asher breaks contact.

“That would be my fault,” Ragnor says. “It seems that Valentine still has a few followers out there trying to get rid of downworlders that were there at the Accords all those years ago.”

“Are you saying those were Circle members?” Magnus glances back at the dead woman in the doorway trying to see if she bears the mark.

“Unfortunately so. It seems that when I went to London to pick up the food for tonight’s meals, they spotted me. Buggers must have taken something of mine to trace me back here.” Ragnor lets out a smile and pats his hand against Asher’s shoulder. “Thankfully they didn’t know about my protective farmer that lives here.”

Asher rolls his eyes at the words, but raises a hand to the one on his shoulder and squeezes. It feels so incredibly intimate — especially coming from his friend who is not all a fan of physical touch — that Magnus wonders if Asher is a secret boyfriend. The man is not the type that Magnus has known his friend to date in the past so maybe he’s just looking into it too much.

“Alright, that’s as much as I can heal right now,” Magnus announces, removing his hands from the wound. “It’s barely a scab, but it will reopen if you move too much.”

“Thank you, old friend. Help me up, Asher.”

Asher doesn’t even complain as he helps Ragnor to his feet, arm carefully around Ragnor’s waist. Magnus raises an eyebrow at his friend who only scoffs and shakes his head.

“Come, we should clean up the place. I can’t stand a messy home,” Ragnor huffs.

“You are going to sit down and recover while I clean up,” Asher tells him. “You can barely stand on your own and I doubt using magic right now is a good idea seeing as how you almost fainted sending that fire message.”

“Again, I regret everything I have taught you,” Ragnor grumbles as he’s led downstairs to the kitchen. Asher picks up one of the knocked-over chairs and helps Ragnor down. As much as the old fool likes to say he’s fine, Magnus catches the sigh that he lets out now that he’s not putting weight on his side.

“I can help clean up,” Magnus offers.”I’m not too drained from helping this buffoon.”

Asher looks at him suspiciously, eyeing him for any sort of lie. Magnus feels his skin heat up as Asher’s eyes scan him thoroughly for any sign of magic fatigue. Ragnor is not kidding when he says that Asher knows the signs.

“Okay,” Asher agrees, satisfied that Magnus doesn’t look close to passing out. “If you want to start in the kitchen. I’m going to clear out the upstairs and take care of the bodies. I’m sure Kevin and Diana wouldn’t mind the extra meal.”

Before Asher can even leave the room, Magnus snaps his fingers and waves a hand, cleaning up everything in the house. Asher turns to glare at him, but he’s gone up against Valentine, he doesn’t fear a simple farmer. Asher just grumbles and mentions checking the parameters of the house and is out the door before Ragnor can protest.

“So, who are Kevin and Diana?” Magnus asks, sitting next to Ragnor at the table. “I hope your friend here isn’t Hannibal Lector.”

“They’re his pigs, you loon,” Ragnor answers.

Magnus gags at the thought of feeding people to pigs. Those poor animals don’t deserve the gross meat of Circle members. They didn’t do anything wrong.

“Are you going to tell me who that is?” Magnus asks, trying to keep his concern out of his voice.

“His name is Asher and he’s my caretaker for this farm,” Ragnor explains, almost too perfectly. Like he’s rehearsed this answer before. “Met him four years ago while checking up on the place. He was looking for a job and I was sick of having to magically clean the place.”

“You just stole a mundane off the streets?” Magnus asks. While it is not the first time that Ragnor has made friends with mundanes, this is the first time he’s kept up the friendship.

“Of course not,” Rangor scoffs. His friend doesn’t look at him, continuing to stare forward towards the kitchen where the food is still kept in stasis. “We first met at the farmer’s market and chatted for a bit when I mentioned the farm. He made a snide comment about its state and I just told him if he cared so much he could take care of it. And the rest is history, he moved into the place and now cares for it twenty-four, seven.”

Magnus doesn’t believe a single word out of his mouth.

“Right, and you just are really close friends without ever mentioning him to me, or Cat, or Raphael,” Magnus notes. “Or any of your close friends. He clearly knows about magic, the Circle, and everything about the downworld and yet he’s just some mundane.”

“Yes,” Ragnor snaps. The chair scraps against the floor, startling Magnus as Ragnor gets up. Magnus rolls his eyes at the hiss of pain that Ragnor lets out at the sudden movement. Instead of sitting back down, the warlock walks over to the stoves. He turns the burners back on and gets back to cooking the food. “I couldn’t hide that side of me for this long and accidentally used magic in his presence. As for not telling you about him, that was at his request. He asked not to know more than necessary when it came to our world.”

“But you told him about the Circle?” He thinks back to when Asher made a comment about who those shadowhunters were after and it not being him.

“How could I not? What happened was still recent and the Clave never confirmed that they took care of the problem,” Ragnor explains. “If something happened to Asher because I didn’t prepare him for everything that might happen by being friends with me, I would never be able to forgive myself. That boy has been through so much already, I wasn’t about to make his life worse.”

Magnus feels a little guilty now for prodding too much. It’s clear there is more to Asher than meets the eye. Those scars on the man’s body tell a story that he wants to know, but he’s not going to pressure them to tell him. It’s clear that there’s something more going on in their relationship and Magnus wants to know.

“Looks like those two were the only ones,” Asher announces as he comes back into the house. Magnus gives Ragnor a look that they are not done with their conversation before focusing his attention on Asher. “The animals are fine, though the horses were a little spooked. I just gave them extra food as an apology.”

“I”m sure Sophie was ecstatic about that,” Ragnor jokes.

“Do all of your animals have human names?” Magnus asks as Asher starts to pull out an extra plate for him.

Asher shrugs at the question. “It’s easier than coming up with random names and it’s not like I’ll be submitting them to be racehorses, so I didn’t have to get fancy with it.”

“Fair enough,” Magnus replies before holding out a hand. “I’m Magnus Bane, by the way, from what I understand this old fool never spoke about me and honestly, I’m hurt.”

Ragnor lets out a long sigh as Asher ducks his head and lets out a small laugh. He takes Magnus’ hand and shakes it.

“Asher Walsh,” he introduces back. Asher’s hand feels rough, yet his handshake is gentle as a warm hug.

“Ragnor tells me that he hired you to take care of his farm. How is it working for a man like that?” He jabs a finger in his friend’s direction who flips him off in return.

“It’s good,” Asher admits. “He helped me in the beginning, getting this farm where it needed to go. Though Darrah down the road was more helpful seeing as it was obvious that Ragnor had never farmed in his life.”

“Some of us don’t like getting down and dirty in actual dirt,” Ragnor defends.

“That would mean you get down and dirty in the first place.”

“Oh, I can vouch for him on that one,” Magnus pipes up. “This man right here was a riot in the nineteen hundreds.”

“Is that so?” Asher perks up at his words. He sits down next to Magnus, clearly wanting to know more. Magnus is more than happy to tell the tales of their past since Ragnor has apparently taken Asher’s not wanting to know about the downworld as also not wanting to know about his past.

Ragnor places the plates of food down with a grumble and sits on the other side of Asher. The next hour or so is filled with Magnus bickering with Ragnor over what really happened and who was right. Asher just laughs with every story and argument the two get into. It’s nice, different from all the drama currently happening in New York City.

Speaking of the Big Apple, Magnus looks at his watch and curses. He told Jace and Clary he would be back before it got too late and it was already eleven at night here.

“As much as I have enjoyed your fine company, I do have to get back to New York,” Magnus announces, only to jump in surprise when Asher starts choking on his drink. Magnus doesn’t know what to do other than pat the man’s back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Asher coughs out. “I just remembered that I need to close up the stables.”

Without further explanation, Asher high-tails it out of the house again. Ragnor calls after him but the man doesn’t stop. He watches his friend curse under his breath as the front door slams shut. Magnus stares at the door and back at the spot where Asher was mere seconds ago.

Why would the mention of New York elicit such a response from the man? Ragnor said they met here in Ireland and the man doesn’t look to be the type to take a trip to the city.

“Well that was interesting,” Magnus says.

“Magnus don’t,” Rangor pleads. “I know how you are and I’m telling you right now to leave Asher alone.”

“Ragnor, there is clearly something you are not telling me and honestly, I am offended that you don’t trust me enough,” Magnus pouts.

“Well when Asher trusts you, I’ll tell you!” Ragnor barks. “Just because you are curious doesn’t mean you deserve to know, you bollock.”

Magnus holds his hands up. “Okay, clearly I touched a nerve.”

“More like several,” Ragnor grumbles under his breath. His friend waves his hand and puts away all the food and dishes. Magnus takes a step towards Ragnor when the man leans against the table after using his magic, but the man waves him off.

“Asher has obviously been through a lot judging by the scars on his body,” Magnus notes. “I’m not about to corner the man and ask him to tell me all his secrets. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I do,” Ragnor sighs. “Unfortunately I do.”

“You, on the other hand, are fair game to interrogate since you’ve been keeping your boyfriend a secret from me.”

“Boyfriend?!”

Magnus is pleased to see his green friend’s face turn tomato red at the comment. It’s clear that his friend is protective of Asher in the way that he is with Magnus. Whether that’s romantic or not, Magnus wants to get down to it. He tries not to be hurt by the idea that Ragnor has had a secret boyfriend this whole time and didn’t tell him.

The man is gorgeous. Definitely a tall glass of water that Magnus would drink without question. At first, Magnus thought Asher was some trained assassin with how intense his stare was with that bow in his hands, but the second he checked up on Ragnor, it was like he changed into another person.

Gone was the stoic look and replaced with concern and fear that looked strange on a man of that stature. And when he smiled for the first time? Magnus had to stop himself from making a lewd comment and focus on healing his friend. There was so much about Asher that Magnus wanted to get to know better.

“Please, Magnus get your eyes checked,” Ragnor stutters.

“My eyes are perfectly fine,” Magnus states.

“I should have fire messaged Catarina,” Ragnor groans. “At least she would heal me and be gone without all these comments.”

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” Magnus laughs as he makes his way outside.

“Sometimes I wonder how we became friends,” Ragnor sighs as he follows Magnus.

The smell of farmland attacks his nose as Magnus steps outside and he grimaces at the smell. Mangus doesn’t blame Ragnor for also not coming here all that often. How Asher is able to stand the smell of animal excrement is beyond him. He’s only been here for a few hours and already misses the city.

Magnus is about to make a comment but looks over to where Asher is tending to his horses. The man looks like he’s stopping himself from falling into a panic attack. Ragnor gives him a half-hearted goodbye before slowly walking over to check up on the poor man. Magnus watches as his oldest friend reaches out gently and starts to run a hand up and down Asher’s back.

He opens a portal back to New York City and steps inside. There are more important things to do than pry.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to stay here,” Asher comments. He leans against the counter as Ragnor starts breakfast for the two of them. It’s been two days since the attack and Ragnor is taking his time to go to New York. He claims that he wants to be sure that he’s at one hundred percent before leaving. “I know you’re worried about the Circle coming back but I can handle them on my own.”

“I am well aware of that, Asher. Now how do you want your eggs?” Ragnor completely avoids what Asher is asking him.

Asher rolls his eyes and grabs the spatula out of Ragnor’s hand. The warlock lets out a noise as Asher takes over his own food so he can’t use it as an excuse to not talk. “You know as well as I do that your friend would not have reached out to you if it wasn’t important.”

“Magnus should have no problem getting others who still live there to aid him,” Ragnor huffs.

“But clearly he wants you,” Asher points out. “From what you’ve told me, he is your closest friend. He probably doesn’t trust anyone else with this.”

“But it has to deal with the New York Institute,” Ragnor continues to argue. “If it were just some random downworlder thing, I’d have no problem, but this involves shadowhunters. Or have you already forgotten the time that I had to calm you down from a panic attack when we passed a shadowhunter in downtown Sligo the first time I was able to convince you to leave the farm?”

“That doesn’t count,” Asher dismisses, avoiding Ragnor’s look. “If this has to do with why the Circle came after you, then I can put my feelings aside for a moment.”

Asher finishes cooking their food and brings it to the table. He sits down and begins eating while Ragnor paces around the kitchen. It warms his heart that Ragnor is conflicted about going to New York because of him. They’ve come a long way from Asher not fully trusting Ragnor wasn’t going to kill him when they first portaled here all those years ago.

“But what if it's more than that?” Ragnor vaguely says. “I didn’t just leave New York because of you, I left it for other reasons as well. There’s too much risk going to that city now.”

“And there will be more risk if you don’t help Magnus out right?” Asher reasons. Ragnor looks away at that, knowing Asher is right. “I’m sure Magnus knows your reasons for not going back and yet he still asked you for help. That seems like a pretty big deal to me.”

Ragnor halts his pacing at those words. He looks at Asher like he’s grown a second head before letting out a long sigh and finally sitting down.

“Sometimes I forget that you were meant to be head of an Institute,” Ragnor says, starting to pick at his food. Asher feels a small wave of relief through his body. When Ragnor gets stressed about stuff he tends to forget to eat.

“I am trying to forget,” Asher jokes before frowning. “Yesterday brought back some unsavory memories.”

“If you keep saying things like that I will take back my decision,” Ragnor threatens but there’s no heat to his words. Alec sends him a smile that doesn’t feel all there.

He knows he made the right choice in convincing Ragnor to go to New York, but he’s also not prepared for the anxiety he will feel while the man is gone. Sure, they normally go a whole month before seeing each other, but this time it’s different. Before, Asher didn’t really know what Ragnor got up to when he was away until he came back to the farm to complain about the other warlocks he met around the world. Now he knows where he’s going and it makes him scared that he might not come back.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Asher says. "I've dealt with those memories before and I can deal with them now. You helped a lot in that regard."

Ragnor continues to eye him for any sign of him lying, but seems to accept what he sees. Alec lets out the smallest of sighs, knowing he pulled that off without Ragnor catching him. Asher focuses on his meal while Ragnor continues to complain about having to go to New York and how his house is probably crawling with rodents and covered in dust. Asher kindly points out to him that he has magic that can take care of all of it in an instant, but the man still wants to complain.

As they finish their meal, a fire message soars through the farm house. Poor Riven, who had been resting on the back of the couch in the living room lets out a howl as the flamed paper flies past her. Asher will make it up to her later tonight by letting her sleep in the bed with him. Ragnor easily catches it and begins to read as Asher begins to put the dishes in the sink.

"This is more work than I thought," Ragnor bemoans. "Apparently my past is back to haunt me."

"What do you mean?"

"About eighteen years ago, I was reached out to by a woman I’d rather not have the pleasure of knowing." Ragnor waves the piece of paper in the air. "It seems that she's the reason I have to go back."

"What does that have to do with the Circle?" Asher asks. Though he's already put the pieces together, he wants to see if Ragnor will admit it.

He watches as the man tries to figure out how to word it without freaking him out and gives up. Ragnor gives him an apologetic look before speaking.

"She was a former Circle member who wanted to disappear when she found out she was pregnant with her second child," Ragnor explains. "She lost her first child to the man she married and didn't want the same fate to happen to their second. I helped in ensuring they escaped."

"But the Uprising was decades ago, why does she matter now?"

Asher doesn't remember any of his lessons about the Circle mentioning a woman who was pregnant with a child who escaped the circle. His parents made sure to go over all the members extensively to make sure to not interact or make them look like fools should they encounter them at Clave functions. It still boggles his mind that former Circle members were allowed to hold their positions within the Clave, his parents included.

“That I don’t know. Magnus seemed to either have left out that detail or the woman is once again keeping her full knowledge to herself,” Ragnor grumbles. “Something she was known to do in her younger years.”

Asher lets out a snort at the jab. Clearly this woman is a headache and a half to deal with.

“Well if that’s the case then Magnus definitely needs your help.” Ragnor tilts his head in question as Asher holds back a laugh. “I mean if all warlocks are as short tempered as you, then you need the other to calm each other down.”

It was worth dodging the magic that gets thrown his way. Ragnor marches up the stairs grumbling about dumb Shadowhunters and how he should turn them into toads. Asher lets out a quiet laugh and follows.

Fear again starts to settle in his stomach at the thought of Ragnor being in familiar territory of his past. If what Ragnor has been saying is true, his heart goes out to the woman’s child. He can understand wanting to escape this life, but to not tell your child about it or the fact that you used to be a part of a group that wanted to commit mass genocide is what makes them different.

The child doesn’t deserve to be thrown into this world at their age. They must be twenty at this point? Asher can’t imagine living life as a mundane and then suddenly finding out there’s been a whole underground world out there that her mother kept from them. If the New York Institute is aware of the child, he can only imagine the chaos they’re having.

The Clave might treat them the same way he was treated. As a scapegoat for their parents’ faults when they weren’t even born when their crimes were committed.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” Ashser says, leaning against the doorframe. “If anything starts to feel wrong, promise me you’ll leave.”

“I can promise I will be safe, but I can’t promise I will leave if Magnus is in danger,” Ragnor says. “If my fool of a friend has put himself in harm's way, I will not abandon him.”

“I wouldn't ask you to do that,” he says. “Seeing as how our first meeting almost landed with him getting an arrow to the face, I’m sure he needs all the protection he can get.”

“Ha! That’s not even the worst situation he’s gotten into,” Ragnor states as he closes up his duffle bag. “When I get back, remind me to tell you the story of how he was banned from a whole country in South America.”

“I’ll keep you to that.”

“As you should. Now, don’t let anyone in that’s not me or Magnus.” Ragnor snaps his fingers and Asher feels a wave of magic flow through him and the house. The doorframe practically vibrates where he’s leaning against it. “I’ve put up the double layer wards so that I get notified if anyone comes through that’s not you or people we already know.”

With another wave of his hand a portal comes to life bringing chaos to the small room. Books’ pages flap at the wind and research papers once neatly stacked flutter to the floor. Asher lets out an annoyed sigh knowing he’s going to have to clean that up.

“I’ll message you when I am not swept up in the mess that is New York City,” Ragnor promises before adding on. “Which means never, but I promise to try.”

The warlock gives Asher a hug before stepping into the portal. Asher watches as the last chance to go with Ragnor closes.

He stays there, leaning against the doorframe, staring where the portal once stood, questioning himself if he should have gone with. A memory flashes across his mind of his father standing over his cowering form and decides that it’s not worth the trauma.

He gets to cleaning the room.

Chapter Text

“What have I told you about portaling into my apothecary!” Magnus scolds as Ragnor enters his loft.

All of his research for the day is now scattered across the floor. His bookmarked pages are lost as the markers fall out of their spot. The flame blows out from the potion he was brewing. He quickly places a stasis spell on the cauldron to stop it from being ruined. Poor Chairman hissed and ran for the living room at the sudden arrival of his friend.

“That I am always welcome to,” Ragnor says.

“Right,” Magnus deadpans.

His shoulders drop when he realizes tall, dark, and handsome is not accompanying his dear friend. He tries not to let the disappointment bother him. For Lilith’s sake, he saw how Asher reacted to him even saying the words ‘New York City’. He doesn’t know why he expected the farmer to come along for this drama.

Maybe because Magnus himself is a petty bitch and loves to cause drama. He doesn’t even know why Asher enchants him so much. He was only around the man for a few hours and he almost killed Magnus. Lilith, does he have a danger kink?

“So what’s the full story?” Ragnor asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Where do I even start, my dear Cabbage?” Magnus sighs, snapping a drink into both of their hands. He leads them to the living room and all but flops on the couch. This is going to be a headache and he doesn’t want to be standing for it.

“I’m sure you remember dear old Jocelyn. Well, it turns out that her lovely ex-husband is alive and has kidnapped her.” Ragnor chokes on his drink and Magnus winces. Maybe he should have waited until he told the man everything before handing him a drink.

“And that’s not all,” Magnus continues, giving Ragnor time to recover. “Her daughter Clary has somehow been found by the New York Institute and discovered that I was the one who took her memories as a child.”

“You did what?” Magnus winces at the snap in Ragnor’s voice.

“You’ve met Jocelyn!” He defends. “That woman doesn’t take no for an answer. It’s probably the reason why she got so high in the ranks of the Circle.” He pauses, looking around his home. Trinkets and collections that belong to friends that are no longer here thanks to them. “And also that she was bumping uglies with Valentine.”

“As prude as always Magnus.” Ragnor sets his glass on the table to rub at his temples. Magnus only feels slightly bad for dragging him into this but he’s also partially responsible for the chaos. He knows about the potion Ragnor gave the woman so he has no ground to stand on when it comes to scolding Magnus.

“And yet you’re still my friend. Anyway, after we retrieved her memories from the demon I gave them to— a long story I don’t want to get into,” he says, seeing how Ragnor looks at him. “She found out that her mother was the one who stole the Mortal Cup, but she doesn’t know where it is.”

He lets his friend process that information because he doubts Ragnor knew that part when he helped her. He probably just helped the woman to get her out of his sight after everything that went down. Magnus knows Ragnor had to have at least one good bottle of wine before he could fully process that information. The ex-wife of the man who tried to murder them all still has the one essential item he would need to finish the job.

Valentine clearly found out that she was the one who had it or else he wouldn’t have kidnapped her and threatened her death if the cup and his daughter were not returned to him. Returned. Like Clary was part of his possessions and not a human being in her own right.

As much as he would love nothing more than to turn the other way, Clary is not her parents nor does she have the same ideals as them. Their stubbornness? Sure. That was a trait definitely passed down from her mother.

“So what do you need me here for? So far it seems like this is all out of our hands, Magnus.”

“So great of you to ask that. I need to know where you put the Book of the White after you made that potion for Jocelyn.” He lets his words really sink into his friend. Waiting for that look he knows oh so well— there it is.

Magnus watches with barely contained delight as Ragnor realizes that Magnus knows what he did. He immediately breaks eye contact with Magnus and does that little quirk that Magnus loves to point out and that Ragnor refuses to admit he does. He glamors his horns. Magnus doesn’t understand the reasoning behind it, but it was always a clear indicator that the man was embarrassed at being caught.

“Ah yes,” Ragnor slowly gets out. “That potion.”

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Magnus teases, earning a glare. “I traced the bookmark to your magical aura when looking for the Book of White.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know it was her until I actually got a good look at her,” Ragnor defends. “She came to me wearing a glamor, a good one at that. Took me until I finished the potion to see who it was. By the time I saw through her glamor, she had me by the neck with a seraph blade.”

Ragnor’s face turns to one of relief. Clearly, the man had been keeping this information to himself for too long. Magnus feels anger begin to course through his body. He knew Jocelyn was stubborn in her ways, but if he had known that she’d threatened one of his closest friends he never would have accepted.

“Wasn’t much I could do at that point,” Ragnor admits. “It was either trying to stop her or just letting her go. Honestly, I didn’t see the point in attempting to get the potion back. The woman she pretended to be sounded genuinely scared of her ex-husband so I was happy to help her.”

“Well, that explains a lot.” Magnus slumps into the couch more, empty glass falling out of his hand but disappearing before it shatters on the ground.

He rubs at his temples trying to come up with a plan for this mess they found themselves in. He’s got a comatose woman at the Institute and the entirety of the Clave breathing down his neck to reverse the potion.

He’s so tempted to summon another drink, but he wants to be sober for whatever they decide and drunk Magnus is no help.

“If it's any consolation, I haven’t told anyone that it was you who made the potion,” Magnus says. Relief finds itself in the drop of Ragnor’s shoulders. The last thing he would want to do is have the Clave hunting after his friends, again. “All I said was I needed to consult some warlock friends to assist in reversing the potion.”

“Thank Lilith because if the Clave came knocking on my door, I would not have been kind and probably found myself at the Gard’s steps,” Ragnor jests.

“And I would have broken you out.”

“That woman can’t seem to stay out of our lives for good,” Ragnor bemoans, losing his posture and slouching into the couch. “First she wants me to make her an emergency-only potion, then she gets you to erase memories of the downworld from her daughter and now her genocidal ex is still alive? I should have stayed away and not told you or Catarina where I was except for postcards.”

“And leave me alone to deal with this?” Magnus gasps.

“You seem to have been doing fine without me here,” Ragnor notes.

While he wants to agree, it has been lonely in New York without his friend. He barely stops by anymore since he moved back to London. It threw him for a loop when he up and left four years ago. Magnus really thought the man had found peace in the Big Apple after the Uprising.

Seems that Jocelyn made it her life’s mission to make them both miserable.

“Is she the reason you left New York?” Magnus asks.

“Not entirely, but she was a main factor,” Ragnor explains, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares at the remaining liquid. “Sometimes you make sacrifices for the lives of others. Something I know you are very keen to do.”

“For the last time, Camille and I broke up over fifty years ago!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” Ragnor smugly says.

Magnus lets out a huff, summons another glass of wine, and downs it in one go. Perks of being alive for so long, alcoholic tolerance is in the heavens. While he pouts, he ponders about Ragnor’s response.

Asher again comes to the front of his mind— not that the man ever left. With how he reacted, Magnus bets that Asher is not from Ireland. However, he could have guessed that from the lack of an accent from the man.

“Is Asher from New York?”

“Magnus,” Ragnor warns.

“I know, I know,” Magnus sighs. “I’m not going to pry, but it is pretty obvious with how he reacted to us talking about this city.”

His friend doesn’t respond, but his face says it all. Sadness crawls across Ragnor’s face as he probably thinks about Asher. Magnus hopes it's not also with worry about leaving Asher so soon after the attack on their home. He knows the farmer can clearly take care of himself, but that doesn’t make it less terrifying.

“Alright, enough lollygagging, we have a Circle member to break out of a coma,” Magnus announces, rising from the couch. Snapping his fingers, a portal opens in his living room. Once again, Chairman flees for safety. Magnus sets a mental note to shower his furry feline with apology kisses and treats when he has time.

Ragnor stands up with a sigh. “You know she is going to hate seeing both of us.”

Magnus hums in excitement. “And what pleasure I will take in that moment.”

The duo steps into the portal and lands on the sidewalk just outside Ragnor’s place. Magnus grimaces at the state of the townhouse— overgrown grass in the small patch out front. The bushes stand taller than the first-floor windows and the trees canopy the roof.

“You couldn’t even pay someone to come treat the poor place while you were gone for four years?” Magnus scoffs, making his way up the steps.

“I didn’t really plan on coming back here so I was just going to let it be. Besides, there’s a glamor on the place so it looks fine to mundanes. Never once got fined by the city,” Ragnor boasts, trailing behind. “It’s not hurting anyone.”

“Tell that to the spiders,” Magnus mutters under his breath as he waves a hand at the building. Blue magic encases the home, ridding it of all its overgrowth. He peers around the porch to make sure that all the cobwebs are gone. Last thing he needs is to look like he’s going to a Halloween party.

“Ah, just as I left it,” Ragnor sighs as he enters the home.

Books and random papers are scattered all over the floor. Pages are bent in multiple directions and some are torn in half. The book lover in Magnus cries at the disaster that lies before him. Where Magnus is organized chaos, Ragnor never cared about presentation and is the devil incarnate when it comes to work. He shivers as he remembers that time years ago when the man had asked him to help out with a spell.

Apparently, some poor soul was trying to escape an arranged marriage and wanted to fake his death. Magnus loved the flair of dramatics this person had for getting out of the marriage. If he hadn’t gotten a message from Catarina about a warlock child he would have stayed to meet the man and get all the tea.

It took forever for him and Ragnor to come up with an object that would work with the spell. His hand subconsciously goes to his wrist. He still misses that bracelet. It was the only item they could get the spell to work with since it had magical properties attached to it. Magnus never took it off for roughly eighty years at one point. Then it went out of style and it stayed in his jewelry closet until that day. Wearing it for so long allowed for his magic to get absorbed into the metal.

He wonders how that man is doing now. Magnus hopes that he’s living his best life away from the shackles of his family. From what Ragnor told him, the man was on his knees begging his friend to make the spell. Then Magnus heard the amount the man paid for the spell and couldn’t imagine the man doing poorly afterward. He clearly had the money to spare.

“Are you going to keep staring into space or can we get on?”

He hadn’t realized he stopped right in the foyer. His green friend gives him a strange look as he passes him to the living room. Magnus holds back for a moment to collect himself before following.

“I knew that she would need a potent potion that would not only stop Valentine from being able to get to her but also prevent him from hurting her,” Ragnor explains as he enters his library. The place is even more of a mess than the entryway. He should kidnap his green friend and force him to clean his old home. “The Book of White has a lovely spell in it that puts the person who drinks it into a stasis-like state while protecting them from harm.”

“So you turned her into Walt Disney,” he jokes, earning a sign from Ragnor.

“If that’s how you want to word it then yes. It was the only way I knew how to protect her on such short notice.” Ragnor swipes his hand in the air and the bookcase in front of them clicks. A crest of a knight holding a harp burns into the air gaining an eyebrow raise from Magnus.

Seems that his wonderful Cabbage was smart and hid his more powerful books behind the strongest ward a warlock can have. It’s not often a warlock will use them as it’s really only used on the most important magical items. Most warlocks use their crest on their rooms at the Spiral Labyrinth.

The bookcase pushes out with a puff of dust and Magnus feels himself choking on the particles. He tries to wave away the cloud only for it to gather around his face more. That forced cleaning is starting to become more and more plausible.

“Do pull yourself together, Magnus.” If Magnus wasn’t fighting for air, he’d hex his friend for the comment. He opts to glare at the man only to see that Ragnor is fighting back his own urge to cough. Magnus rolls his eyes and summons a small gust of wind to clear the air. Ragnor lets out a small cough behind his hand.

The room is in pristine condition when they enter. At least his dear Cabbage was smart enough to have an air pressure spell on this room so that the artifacts don’t decay and wear over time. It’s only been four years since Ragnor left New York but magical items are unpredictable.

Magnus lets out a low whistle at the collection. It definitely showcases who is the older living warlock of the two of them. Magnus will forever be jealous that his friend was alive during the end of the 6th century.

“To be honest I forgot I had the book in my possession,” Ragnor admits as he searches the lone bookcase in the room. “I’m surprised Tessa didn’t hunt me down to get it back.”

“Well then it’s a good thing you hid it well from theft,” Magnus snarks.

“Please Magnus, I may have not kept the rest of the house in mint condition but I do know how to keep magical items hidden from others.” Ragnor lets out a small noise of triumph as he pulls the Book of White off the shelf. “After all, I did help you create your crest.”

“Yes yes, how could I forget? It’s not like you remind me every second I’m around you.”

Magnus comes to stand over Ragnor’s shoulder as he looks through the book. He spots some spells and makes a mental note to try and snag the book before Ragnor returns it to the Spiral Labyrinth.

As his friend turns the page, a shiver goes up Magnus’ spine.

Something isn’t right.

He looks at the entryway to the room. For a split second he thinks he sees a shadow move and the glint of something metallic. He feels magic spark at his fingertips.

“Ragnor,” Magnus whispers, but doesn’t take his eyes off the door.

“Ah ha!” Ragnor exclaims behind him. “Found the spell, simple enough to reverse; all you need to do is-”

“Ragnor shut up!” Magnus pleadingly whispers as he watches another shadow pass just outside the door.

“I can’t hear what you say when your back is turned to-”

His friend doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Magnus pushes him back with magic just as a demon flies into the room. Magnus takes a claw to the shoulder before he can burn the creature. More of the tiny creatures start to crawl into the room. Magnus finally gets a good look at them and realizes they’re Shax demons.

Dread fills his stomach as the cut on his arm starts to sting and his vision gets blurry. Another demon leaps at him and he barely kills it before it goes for his jugular.

“Ragnor, we have to leave,” he slurs, stumbling towards his friend who is fending off more demons than him. The Shax must know they hit him and are just waiting for him to fall before finishing him off.

“Lilith, Magnus,” Ragor curses, as he fires off spell after spell. “Someone must have followed us here.”

“And right you would be,” a deep voice says.

Magnus can’t see who it is through his blurred vision, but he assumes it’s someone bad and fires off a spell at the figure. The blob easily deflects the magic with what Magnus assumes is an adamas blade.

“You,” Ragnor growls.

Suddenly there is a heavy object placed in Magnus’ hands and weights on his shoulders. It takes a lot for him not to fall.

“Get these to the Institute,” Ragnor tells him, squeezing Magnus’ shoulders. “Do not let Valentine get his hands on this book.”

“What do you mean?” Magnus barely has time to finish as a portal comes to life behind him and he gets shoved through, landing on some musty rug. He tries to get up to stop Ragnor from doing this foolish move but the venom is coursing through his body at a faster rate.

“Ragnor!” He shouts as the portal closes on his best friend. There’s a commotion behind him but he pays it no mind, attempting to open another portal back to Ragnor. His body gives out on him and he collapses. There are hands on his body, words being shouted at him but he can’t focus. Only repeating Ragnor’s name over and over again.

The last thing he registers is a mop of black hair hovering over him and a set of panicked hazel eyes.

Chapter Text

Magnus’ head is pounding. He lets out a groan as he makes a mental check of his body. He lets out a sigh of relief as he can wiggle all his fingers and toes. His left arm is more sore than the rest. That Shax demon really did a number on him with such a minor scratch. At least it wasn’t Ragnor who got bit.

Ragnor!

Magnus' eyes shoot open as he flings himself upright only to let out a hiss and collapse back onto the bed.

“Try not to move too much,” a voice says next to him. Magnus turns his head to see Asher sitting in what looks like the most uncomfortable chair. “It’s only been about 5 hours since you crashed into my living room.”

As Magnus’ eyes begin to focus, he notices that Asher has his bow and quiver next to the chair. The man’s shoulders are so tense that it looks painful. What’s worse is that the man isn’t even looking at Magnus. He’s staring at the door looking ready to attack if anyone was to open it. In his hands is one of Ragnor’s ascots. Immense guilt washes over Magnus as he realizes that Asher must have heard him shouting his friend’s name.

“I’m so sorry, Asher,” Magnus whispers, closing his eyes. He can’t bear to stare at the man knowing that the only person he’s learned to care for has been kidnapped by Valentine.

“I set the wards to high alert,” Asher says. “No one can get in and no one can get out unless I change it.”

Some tension leaves his shoulders at those words. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, starting to plan his rescue of Ragnor. It would clearly have to start with waking Jocelyn up from the spell and getting info from her about where they may have taken Ragnor.

If Ragnor is still alive.

He shakes that negative thought from his head. It would make no sense for Valentine to kill Ragnor at this point. His dear Cabbage is the only way for Valentine to get his ex-wife and child back. The insane man must have had someone keep an eye on Ragnor’s house in case the man ever returned. Which makes him shudder at the thought that the man has been keeping track of Magnus as well. He’ll have to up the wards at his home and Pandemonium.

“Magnus,” Asher whispers, snapping the warlock out of his thoughts. “Is Ragnor… Is he-”

Dread sweeps under Magnus’ skin. He sits up in bed with wild eyes filled with remorse. Along with shouting his friend’s name in fear when he was shoved through the portal, his apology made it sound like the man was dead.

“Ragnor is still alive!” Magnus rushes out, holding out his arms in a placating manner. He lets out a hiss as his arm aches at the sudden movement. “Last I saw he was alive. Ragnor was the one who used a spell that Valentine needs undoing. He wouldn’t kill him until he was no longer needed.”

Asher lets out a deep breath and leans back in the chair. Relief visibly sweeps through the farmer’s body at the news. Asher raises an arm and lays it over his eyes, the ascot no longer tightly clenched in his hands. If Magnus hears a hitch in Asher’s breathing, he doesn’t mention it to the man.

Asher’s voice is raspy when he speaks again. “That’s- that’s good to hear. When I heard you shout his name, I thought- I thought the worst.”

“And I am sure that the last five hours did not help those thoughts. I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Asher quickly states, inally removing the arm from his face and looking at Magnus. There’s a sharpness to his eyes that he’s only got a glimpse of when he first met the man. “You were recovering from almost dying.”

Magnus makes a face at the mention of dying. “Speaking of recovering, what did you do? My arm is almost healed with only a bit of aching coming from the injury.”

Asher lets out a small laugh. “Ragnor was afraid of me even getting a paper cut so he has a small apothecary here full of every healing potion you can think of. He restocked it anytime he visited which is to say it rarely needed to be. I don’t know what went on in his head when he was away.”

“That sounds like the old fool,” Magnus snorts. “Even when we first met he was hovering over me like a mother hen.”

“He loves to say he doesn’t care when he really does,” Asher chuckles in agreement. “He was so worried about me when he gave me this farm. Which was hilarious because the man knew nothing about agriculture.”

Magnus lets out a laugh at that imagery.

“Well, now I have to hear all the stories of Ragnor trying to help.”

“Maybe later,” Asher says. “I need you to rest up before we leave.”

“Leave?” Magnus asks.

“To New York City,” Asher states. The farmer gets up and begins to pace. “Ragnor is there, trapped by a man who would kill someone without hesitation and the only way to save him is to undo whatever mess he got himself into.”

Magnus removes the covers from his body and scoots to the edge of the bed.

“Asher, you can’t,” Magnus says. At the glare, the man gives him he elaborates “I saw how you reacted when I mentioned that city the last time I was here. I know that Ragnor wasn’t telling the truth about how he met you. I don’t know what it is and I am not going to pry, but I can’t in good conscience let you come with and have you be a risk.”

“I can take care of myself,” Asher argues.

“I don’t doubt that you can.” Magnus gets up and stands in front of the man. “I saw how accurate you are with that bow, but that doesn’t mean that you can handle stepping into that city.”

“So what you’re saying is I’m dead weight,” Asher says. “Because last I checked, I can handle myself just fine against Circle members.”

Asher doesn’t listen to his next retort as he grabs his bow and quiver and leaves the room. If Magnus didn’t know any better he would think he was speaking to a shadowhunter given how stubborn Asher is. Magnus follows Asher down to the living room.

His eyes widen as he takes in all the medical materials scattered around the floor. Asher sets his weapon against the couch and starts to clean up the mess.

“Let me help,” Magnus says, already beginning to summon his magic only to stop when Asher glares at him from the floor. “What?”

“You just recovered from a Shax attack; warlocks shouldn’t use their magic for at least eight hours after being healed. It’s only been five,” Asher states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Magnus stares at the farmer, gobsmacked at his knowledge. There’s no way he would learn that from Ragnor. That kind of knowledge is not something you learn about the shadow world in less than four years. He knows Ragnor, he would only give this man the basic knowledge to make sure that Asher was aware and safe.

The man before him just got more interesting.

“Who are you?”

Asher looks at him with a slight coy smile on his face. “I’m just a farmer.”

Magnus rolls his eyes at those words. “And I am just a man with good fashion taste.”

Asher lets out a snort and finishes cleaning up the living room. Magnus leans against the wall and watches Asher clean up the mess caused by his sudden arrival. Another pang of guilt tugs at his heart for being so useless, not only with cleaning up but for letting Ragnor push him through the portal.

“He saved me,” Magnus whispers. Asher stops picking up the first aid kit and listens to him talk. “That stubborn horned fool shoved me through the portal without even thinking of going through it himself. And now he’s in the hands of the worst man to ever exist for downworlders and I’m-”

He presses himself hard against the wall, letting the solid surface ground him. “I’m useless.”

“You’re not useless, Magnus,” Asher argues. “You’re only useless for another three hours.”

Magnus glares at the farmer as the man smirks at him and puts away the kit in the kitchen. Asher comes back to the living room and sits down on the couch. He gestures for Magnus to join him, patting the seat next to him. He hesitates for a moment before taking the offer and plopping down on the couch.

“Ragnor did what he always does, looking out for family,” Asher states like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “While I am also angry at him for the same reasons you are, emotions cloud judgment, but that doesn’t mean that they’re bad. It’s something I’ve learned over the years working on this farm. He took care of me when I was at my lowest and saved me from myself. I will never be able to repay him for that.”

The way Asher talks about Ragnor reminds him of himself in his younger days. A warlock fresh out of Edom and free of the control of a controlling father. Left alone in this realm with no one to guide him or save him from himself. Those first few years back in this realm were lonely until Ragnor came across him in London one fateful day.

“Sounds like you two have a good relationship,” Magnus says.

“The best.”

The smile that adorns Asher’s face is not like the one before. Gone is the stubborn coyness, replaced with tenderness. It’s clear to Magnus that Asher loves Ragnor.

“Now since you can’t use magic for another,” Asher squints at the cuckoo clock on the wall, “two and a half hours. Why don’t we come up with a game plan to get our friend back?”

Any agreement Magnus was about to make gets drowned out by the grumble of his stomach. He can feel his face starting to heat up as Asher lets out a laugh. Magnus’ arms slowly cross his chest and he wills his body to shut up and not embarrass him more.

“Or we can talk plans over dinner,” Asher pats Magnus’ thigh as he gets up and heads to the kitchen.

“Dinner sounds good,” Magnus says. He’s trying not to think of the lingering pressure the man left on his leg. Just from that one touch, he can tell the man is strong and it does nothing to help his ever-present thoughts.

Now is not the time for that though.

“Maybe I can tell you some stories about Ragnor helping me on the farm.” The word helping was said alongside air quotes and Magnus couldn't help but smile then.

“Say less!” He bounces up from the couch and follows the man. He takes a seat at the kitchen island and watches Asher start a meal for two.

Asher tells stories of how he came across Ragnor at a farmers market after the man looked confused and irritated just being there. He cackles as the man recalls in detail how Ragnor freaked out when he accidentally stepped in manure, not realizing what it was, and stormed off to the house to burn his shoes.

The whole conversation feels different than the ones he’s had before. Asher took the seat next to him once the food was ready and never stopped talking about his tales of Ragnor and this farm. Magnus barely spoke, letting Asher lead the conversation. Occasionally he would ask a question or laugh at the stupidity of his friend.

It felt comforting.

Maybe it was the way that Asher’s eye lit up with every memory he recalled. Maybe it was the way that as time went on they had moved closer to each other, thighs just faintly touching under the countertop. Maybe it was the way that tension released itself from Asher’s shoulders as he focused on his stories and not on his friend being in danger.

As much as they would love nothing more than to rush in guns blazing, they have to be careful about the situation. Valentine is a master manipulator. He knows how to get into his prey's head and make them second-guess themselves. He saw it clearly in how Jace struggled with thinking the man was his father. Magnus quickly nipped that in the butt so that both Clary and Jace could focus on the tasks at hand and not look sadly at each other every five minutes.

If they were to go in with Magnus’ magic being at fifty percent they would get destroyed. Not to mention that Asher is just a mundane who only has the sight and is good with a bow. He knows Asher can handle his own against measly Circle members, having seen it firsthand. He worries that the man isn’t going to listen and decide to brute force his way to Ragnor.

Lilith, give them strength.

Asher begins to clean up but Magnus refuses to let the man do everything and offers to help. The man looks like he’s about to refuse until Magnus says he’ll help with drying the dishes. Asher gives him a nod of approval and goes about his business. It all feels so mundane and simple. In another life, where he wasn't the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he would have enjoyed living a life like this.

“Well done,” Asher compliments.

“More like medium rare,” Magnus jokes in reference to their dinner.

“Thank you for helping with the dishes,” Asher says, ignoring his amazing pun. He gestures to the living room and the two make their way back to the couch.

“Now, let’s talk about how we’re going to rescue our friend.”

Chapter Text

A portal swirls to life inside a familiar Brooklyn loft. Magnus takes a deep breath as he and Asher come through. The putrid smell of farm and manure is gone, though some still clings to his clothes. He giddily snaps his fingers and a wave of magic covers his body, replacing the clothes he was wearing before with freshly dry-cleaned ones.

“There’s no place like home,” Magnus hums.

“Was all that flair necessary?” Asher teases. The man isn’t even looking at him as he glances around Magnus’ home, taking in everything around him.

Magnus lets his pride show as it’s clear the man has never seen anything like this before. His lifestyle is what some people would call extravagant. He keeps relics of his past on display as a reminder of the life he’s had and what he’s been through in his five hundred years of life.

Asher pauses at his bookshelf with curiosity while Magnus goes about getting ready to have to deal with the Shadowhunters who are no doubt blowing up his cell phone waiting for any news. He’s surprised he didn’t get a fire message while he was in Ireland.

He places the Book of the White on his apothecary’s table and turns to the page containing the spell to free Jocelyn. Seems that even in his haste to get Magnus out of there, Ragnor bookmarked the page he needed. He skims through the nonsense and gets to the counterspell he needs. Thankfully it's simple enough and only requires a few more magical items to work.

He snaps his fingers and summons the items to the table. He gets to work on the spell and lets his magic do the rest. It should be completed within 30 minutes.

Now is the perfect time to check his phone. Turns out, there’s no cell service in Ireland farmland so he hasn’t gotten any messages for the past eight hours. He can only imagine what is waiting for him.

Sure enough, his assumptions are never wrong, the Institute has blown up his phone, demanding his presence. Either he missed something big or they are just typical stubborn shadowhunters. He lets out a sigh and dials Blondie’s number. It barely rings before Jace answers.

“Where the hell are you?” Jace demands.

“Hi Chase, I am well! How are you?” Magnus deadpans, rolling his eyes.

He can’t stand Shadowhunter’s fragile egos in not being the center of attention. Why couldn’t he have just sent another High Warlock to deal with this mess?

Because no one else has the patience to deal with Lightwoods.

“This is serious Magnus!” The shadowhunter growls into the phone. “Valentine is about to have his hands on the mortal cup and you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing!”

“I am well aware of the stakes at hand, Jace. Especially since my friend was just kidnapped by the psychopath in an attempt to aid you stubborn people!”

The line goes quiet for a moment before Magnus catches a faint conversation being held that ends with a yelp of pain from Jace.

“Magnus? This is Izzy. Sorry about my brother,” his favorite shadowhunter says. “He’s just wanting to prove himself again to Clary. Don’t take it personally.”

“Isabelle, my dear. Always good to hear from you,” Magnus says. “I found the book needed to break Jocelyn out of her stasis, the spell is in the works as we speak. I will make my way over to the Institute when it’s done.”

“That’s good to hear.” Her relief can be felt through the phone. That poor girl has taken on too much responsibility at that Institute since her brother died. He became acquainted with her after she showed up at Pandemonium looking to get plastered and instead poured her guts out to Magnus about everything that was happening at the New York Institute.

He kept a good relationship with her after that. Making sure that she was able to actually grieve the loss of her brother and find a safe space to come to when the responsibilities became too much. Magnus already knows that she is on the path to being an amazing Head of the Institute.

Her brother Jace on the other hand went the destructive route. Magnus doesn’t know what it’s like having a parabatai. He can’t imagine his soul being connected to anyone in that way. From what Isabelle explained, when a person with a parabatai dies, the one still remaining pretty much loses a part of their soul and it can never be replaced.

Alec’s death took a major toll on Jace. One that Magnus can’t even fathom. It’s clear to anyone who gets a look at the Golden Boy that he is not the same. He tries to play it off like he’s gotten better, but the few times that they were in the same room, Magnus caught him with a hand over where his parabatai rune used to lay.

Magnus saw the faded rune once when he had to find Jace in the training room. It had streaks of silver in it that made it stand out from the stark blackness of the rest of his runes. Apparently, he is going to live with it forever like that as no treatments or Silent Brothers are able to remove it.

All the texts Magnus gets from Izzy are mainly concerned about Jace and his destructiveness. The amount of times they go on patrol and he comes back with more injuries than necessary. Magnus thinks he is taking hits to hide the pain in his heart. He has tried to talk to Jace about it but the man clearly never wants to talk about it and threatens anyone who even says Alec’s name. Magnus got a nice adamas blade to the throat before Izzy shoved her brother off him.

These Lightwood siblings need a break more than anyone he knows.

“Who did Valentine take?” Izzy asks, concern lacing her voice.

“My friend Ragnor,” Magnus admits. “I don’t know how he knew where we would be, but he showed up at Ragnor’s house here in New York and took him. He saved my life and risked his instead.”

“Oh Magnus, I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do to help please let me know. I know my parents are hounding me right now about the mortal cup but taking Valentine down is also important.”

“Let’s focus on one thing at a time. Besides, Ragnor had a secret friend this whole time who is here to help me,” Magnus whispers, peeking over to the living room to see if Asher heard him.

The man is completely engrossed in whatever book he plucked from the bookcase. Eyes glued to the pages as he consumes its words. Magnus will have to ask what has him hooked after he hangs up.

“Well, now that’s a story I definitely need to hear,” Izzy laughs.

“For another time,” Magnus agrees. “For now, I just need another twenty minutes and I will be over to free Jocelyn of her stasis so we can interrogate her on what she heard while captive with her ex.”

“Sounds like a plan. I will try to stop Clary and Jace from being impatient, but Angel knows there’s only so much I can do about those two,” Izzy sighs. Magnus faintly hears Jace’s cry of protest in the background.

“See you soon,” Magnus says and hangs up the phone.

He checks the spell one more time to make sure it hasn’t gone wrong and makes his way back to the living room. A smile graces his face as he watches Asher put away the book he was reading before and pulls out another. He finally sees that Asher had grabbed the book about the history of warlocks. The other book is one about greater demons, an interesting choice.

Magnus doesn’t say anything and leans against the door frame just watching Asher skim through the book. The man is in his own world forgetting about the whole plan they made. He’s sure the man will have a million questions.

“Enjoying the book?” Magnus muses.

All Magnus gets in response is a hum from Asher. Magnus doesn’t even know if the man is reading the book with how fast he’s flipping through the pages.

“You know, normally you have to read what’s on the pages to gain the knowledge it holds,” he jokes.

“I’m looking for something,” Asher finally says.

Another alarm bell rings in Magnus’ head. First his knowledge of warlocks and now he knows about greater demons. Just how much did Ragnor actually tell this man? Ragnor said Asher wanted no part in this world and yet at every turn, it seems that Asher knows more than he lets on.

“And what exactly is that?” Curiosity is getting the best of him.

Asher hasn’t given him a reason to not trust him but that doesn’t mean he fully trusts him like Ragnor does. The faint scar on his neck that Magnus sees from time to time is screaming at him from his memories but he can’t place where.

“A demon,” Asher states.

“Well, I could have guessed that from the title of the book,” Magnus snarks. “I want to know what demon you are looking for.”

“Azazel,” Asher sighs, clearly getting annoyed. He looks up at Magnus for the first time since they got here. “You said you were attacked by Shax demons that seemed to be controlled by Valentine. To do that he would have had to make a deal with a greater demon.”

Asher looks back down at the book, looking for the page, completely ignoring Magnus’ wide eyes.

“Which I’m pretty sure would have been Azazel- ah ha!” Asher points to a section in the book before turning it around to show Magnus. He gives Magnus a triumphant grin. “Right here is our answer.”

Magnus reads the section and sure enough, Azazel can give people the power to control a small group of demons for the right price. Magnus shivers at the thought that Valentine is so desperate to win that he’s made a deal with Azazel of all the greater demons.

Magnus had his fair share of being around that man when he was with his father. He knows that it takes a lot for him to agree to a deal.

“Well shit,” Magnus says. “The last thing I want to deal with is him.”

“Maybe Valentine was smart and didn’t allow him to roam?” He doesn’t know what look he has on his face but it makes Asher change his tune. “You’re right, he definitely let that man roam this realm for the deal.”

“Great so on top of my closest friend being kidnapped and a man the shadow world thought was dead for the past twenty years, I have to deal with a greater demon I have a past with.” Magnus throws his hands in the air with a huff.

“Do I want to know?” Asher asks, though there is mirth to his words.

“No, you don’t,” Magnus sighs. “It’s a part of my past that I don’t go sharing around campfires much like how you avoid any talk about your life before you took over the farm.”

Asher gives a small nod of agreement. Can’t argue with that.

“Look, let's try and focus on one thing and not get sidetracked. I have to go to the Institute and break Jocelyn from this stasis spell. I will learn what she knows about Valentine and his hideout. Then we can go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Asher agrees. “I guess I’ll just stay here?”

Asher looks around the loft like a lost puppy that just found the juiciest bone. Clearly the man wants to snoop around his collections and Magnus could really care less at this time. It’s not like there’s anything that the man can get into that would kill, maim, or paralyze him.

“That would be preferable. Unless you want to subject yourself to the all-mighty presence that is Jace Lightwood.”

Asher freezes at the mention of that name. Magnus doesn’t know how many alarm bells he can ignore at this point.

“Okay, before we go any further, I need to know how much you really know about the shadow world because as far as I can tell, you’ve been acquainted with this world for longer than just four years.”

“Why does it matter what I know?” Asher asks, though he does look ashamed.

“Because it would make this whole thing a bit easier and with the way you reacted to Jace’s name, it’s clear you have a past!” Magnus shouts, red magic sparking at his fingertips. “Are you a disgraced Circle member? Is that why Ragnor never talked about you? Is that what the scar on your neck is?”

Maybe he should have come at this with a calmer manner but his friend’s lives are at stake. Asher’s eyes widened with each rapid-fire question he threw at the man. The panicked shaking of his head and the hand moving to cover the left side of his neck.

“No,” Asher stammers. “I’m- I’m not a Circle member. I would never be one.”

“Then what is it?” Magnus demands. “What makes you so afraid of Jace Lightwood?”

Asher flinches at the name and Magnus forces his magic to cool off. He knows Ragnor told him to let it go and it’s clear the man has trauma with this city and its Institute.

“I-,” Asher starts but hesitates. He looks at Magnus pleading with his eyes to not make him do this.

Magnus continues to stand opposite to the man, not saying a word. Asher seems to get the message loud and clear. They’re not going anywhere until he explains.

The man lets out a shaky sigh and sits down on the couch. Asher suddenly looks a million times older than he does.

“Jace Lightwood is- was my parabatai,” Asher finally lets out.

Magnus doesn’t know what he was expecting but it wasn’t that.

“But– what– Jace Lightwood’s parabatai was Alec Lightwood,” Magnus states. “He died in a demon attack four years ago.”

“Yes,” Asher says. “Alec Lightwood did die that night, but the body was never found. The den was so dense and overrun with demons that the New York Institute had to hire a warlock just to purge the whole space without ever recovering his body.”

“I remember that night,” Magnus says. “It was the only thing anyone would talk about. The mighty Alec Lightwood died at the hands of demons. There were rumors that his parents set him up for failure by making him go alone.”

Asher snorts at his words. “I bet my parents would have done that if they weren’t so adamant on making me their scapegoat for all their crimes as former Circle members.”

It doesn’t take much to put two and two together. Even when Asher said that Jace was his parabatai, he was connecting the dots. He knew the man looked familiar. His features are similar to Isabelle’s and he definitely has his father’s face. The bow and quiver should have tipped him off. Jace would always look at the same weapons hanging in the ops center for all to see. Blondie practically dared anyone to remove them after he put them up himself.

“My parents were awful to me,” Asher admits. “I felt more like a slave than their own son. The way they forced me to do things I never wanted to do. Blaming me for mistakes I had no part in and forcing me to marry a woman who was already betrothed to someone else.”

Asher is not looking at him anymore. He’s hunched over and staring at the floor, pinching at his hands. Recounting memories of a life he no longer lives.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore,” he croaks. “Everything was overwhelming and no one was there to help me. Not even my parabatai who would rather bask in the praise of our parents than realize his brother was taking the brunt of his punishments.”

Magnus can’t stay still anymore and walks over to Asher, kneeling down in front of the man. He tilts his head to try and get the man to look at him. He places his hand over Asher’s to stop the man pinching his skin. As expected, the hands twitch under his touch and Asher’s eyes flick to his.

“You’re the person Ragnor and I made that spell for,” Magnus whispers.

“Yeah, Ragnor said that he had a friend help him with it but never said who. He said the fewer people knew who made the spell, the better,” Asher explains, but a tiniest of a smile appears. “Should have known he would have gotten the great Magnus Bane to help with such a task.”

Magnus feels his face heat up at the compliment. “Well, obviously that man needed a better insight into crafting such a spell.”

The pieces all start to fall into place in Magnus’ head. Ragnor leaving New York four years ago and the sudden news of New York’s finest shadowhunter dying. He wants to be angry on Isabelle and Jace’s behalf because of what he witnessed of the aftermath of Asher faking his death, but seeing the broken man in front of him makes him understand why Asher did what he did.

“So Ragnor took me to Ireland to take over his farmhouse,” Asher continues. “From there I used this de-runing device that’s mainly for condemned shadowhunters or shadowhunters who activated too many runes.”

Magnus closes his eyes. That kind of pain, he can’t even imagine. Runes are already etched into Nephilims’s skin permanently that can be used again, but to reverse that effect… Magnus shivers at the thought.

“I was in a coma for almost a week,” Asher confesses. “I knew that surgically removing my runes would put me in the most excruciating pain I had ever been in. It was even worse than that time I was bit by a kappa and almost lost my arm.”

Magnus doesn’t know how Shadowhunters do it. Sure, there is animosity between their races, but knowing and seeing firsthand what Shadowhunters have to face every waking day does not make Magnus envy them. He can’t imagine was de-runing is like. Taking away the very thing that makes you who you are, Magnus couldn’t live without his magic. He would never be desperate enough.

“So that’s it,” Asher finishes. “Now you know the truth about me.”

“Asher, I- If I had known-”

“You wouldn’t have demanded I tell you my whole life story?” Asher muses. There’s a wet tinge to the humor in his voice.

Guilt washes over Magnus. Ragnor told Magnus not to pry and this is what he gets. A scared, broken man who just wanted to be free from the shackles of his parents' tyranny. He has half a mind to hex Robert and Maryse for how they treated Asher. The man was only twenty years old when he drastically changed his life. Magnus’ heart hurts for that man who was so desperate to leave his life he’d rather accept death as a friend.

“I get it,” Asher says, clearly seeing Magnus’ thoughts as if they were written in the air. “I was just some random farmer that your friend never told you about that knew about the shadow world. I’d be suspicious too.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus apologizes. “I didn’t mean for you to pour out your life story to me.”

Asher snorts and gives him a teasing glare. Okay, so maybe he did. He just didn’t expect it to be so heavy.

“Well there’s nowhere left to go but forward,” Magnus says. “This will probably make things more difficult since I’m sure you don’t want to be around the Institute at all.”

“Absolutely not,” Asher agrees. He stands up from the couch, offering a hand to Magnus who is still kneeling on the floor.

“I was going to go to Ragnor’s house while you took care of Jocelyn to see if I could pick up any evidence of their whereabouts.” Asher grabs his bow and quiver and tosses them over his shoulder. “Knowing Ragnor he probably left something we could use.”

“I’m not letting you go back to that house alone. Valentine could still have his goons watching it for any sign of me, and you’ll be defenseless against them.”

Asher stares at Magnus like he’s grown a second head. The man says nothing as he points to his weapon with a smirk on his face. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Alexa-” His phone starts ringing in his pocket. “Hello? Yes, Chase, I am aware of the time. The spell just got done,” he lies. “I get that you are trying to get into this girl’s pants but that doesn’t mean you have to drag me into it as well!”

He hangs up the phone in a huff. He looks over at Asher to see the man trying to hide a laugh behind his hand.

“I see why you wanted out.”

Chapter Text

Undoing the spell on Jocelyn was anticlimactic but romantic. Luke caught Jocelyn so that she wouldn’t fall to the floor. Magnus would have caught her…. Maybe.

She’s exhausted but being in a stasis spell will do that to a person. It’s not a sleep spell after all. Magnus sits at her bedside checking her over with his magic just to make sure there’s nothing lingering.

“Magnus,” Jocelyn huffs. “I am fine.”

“And I am a circus clown,” Magnus jokes.

“Luke is just paranoid, there’s no need for all of this,” she insists. Luke makes a protest noise from the other side of the bed.

“Mom, just let Magnus check you over. It’s not like it’s going to kill you,” Clary says. She and Jace are at the end of the bed. Clary didn’t want to let her mom out of her sight now that she was awake and Jace is her lap dog. However, the man does seem to be here for the same reason Magnus is.

To find answers.

“No promises,” Magnus mutters under his breath before finishing his magical inspection. “Looks like I’m amazing again. There is no magical residual left from the spell.”

“Thank the Angel,” Luke sighs.

“I go by Magnus.” He winks over at Luke and the werewolf rolls his eyes. “And not that I don’t love being part of this awkward family reunion, I do have a friend to rescue. Jocelyn, would you mind telling the class everything you learned while under the spell and in your evil ex’s hands?”

“Magnus, she just woke up,” Clary defends, just as hot-headed as her mother. And equally short-sighted.

Magnus ignores her and waits for Jocelyn to answer him. If it were any other person, Magnus might have sympathy for them. But time is of the essence, and any information they can get gives them an edge over Valentine.

“It’s all a bit fuzzy,” she starts. “I remember him coming to our house and looking for the mortal cup. I don’t know how he found out I was the one who had it. Luke and I were careful to make sure no one saw us take the cup, but he always had people in places you’d least expect. However, if there was one thing my ex-husband was good at, it was never knowing when to shut up.”

The grin that forms on her face could rival that of Magnus’ father. It’s the kind of grin that says ‘I know everything about you and will use it against you any chance I get.’ Magnus is happy he’ll never have to deal with her after this whole fiasco is over. Isabelle already has the Gard on the way to arrest her for her crimes during the Uprising.

Another reason Isabelle is his favorite Shadowhunter. Quick and firm in her decision making, she does not believe in dilly-dallying.

“He’s planning on raiding the City of Bones to get the Soul Sword soon. I would guess within the next week. As for the cup, he needed me but when I took that potion, he hunted down the warlock instead, which happened to be a mutual friend of ours.”

“I dare you to say that to Ragnor’s face after you put a blade to his throat demanding that he make the potion for you,” Magnus says. Clary gasps at his words, but he’s not going to allow her to think her mother is innocent in all of this.

“I had no choice, Magnus,” she defends. “You don’t know what Valentine is capable of.”

“Joce,” Luke gently warns. Thank Lilith that he’s here because he knows exactly who Magnus is.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do.” Magnus flashes his cat eyes at her and basks in the reaction he elicits. The way she grimaces and cannot hide the look of disgust on her face. Once a Nephilim, always a Nephilim, Magnus thinks. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

“In case you forgot, I lost many friends in the Uprising thanks to the actions of Valentine and you. Don’t think you are innocent because you got away.”

“I was just trying to protect my child,” she defends, doubling down.

“Well, congratulations!” Magnus mocks. “You got your perfect slice of life while the rest of us had to deal with the consequences of your actions.”

A knock on the door interrupts their heated argument— one that Magnus was clearly winning.

Isabelle comes through the door with a frown on her face. Magnus straightens in his seat as Maryse Lightwood strolls in behind her. He thought the Lightwood parents were in Idris for the foreseeable future.

Was there an ex-Circle member convention in town?

“High Warlock Bane, your presence is no longer required here. Leave,” Maryse demands.

“No can do, Maryse. Jocelyn has valuable information about the missing downworlders and last time I checked that doesn’t fall under the Clave's authority,” Magnus bites back. “Unless you want me to bring in the Inquisitor about you breaking the Accords.”

“Guys please,” Clary begs, trying to be the middleman.

Poor girl is only a few weeks into this world and is about to get the rudest wake-up of how this world really works. If only she had come to Magnus first and not fallen for Blondie’s grandeur of what it’s like to be a Shadowhunter.

“Mr. Bane, I understand clearly what’s at stake here.” Magnus must be dreaming because he swore he just saw a look of apology on her face before she schools it. “The Clave has requested that Jocelyn be arrested immediately and be brought back to Idris for her crimes and the whereabouts of the Mortal Cup.”

“What? Mom, we only just got her awake and Valentine is hiding somewhere in this city,” Jace says. He looks to Izzy who only shrugs and looks down. Clearly, she tried to reason with Maryse and it didn’t work out.

“And the Clave will handle it from here,” Maryse explains.

“No,” Magnus states.

“No?” Maryse repeats, looking at him like he has two heads.

“We have an opportunity to end this right here without the Clave's interference.” Magnus stands up and puts himself in front of Maryse. Izzy and Jace are shaking their heads behind their mother, trying to stop him. “You and I both know that the Clave will try to hide everything and let Valentine get away with whatever he is trying to do-”

“My hands are tied Magnus,” Maryse grinds out. “The Gard is already on their way to arrest her.” She gives a sympathetic look to Luke. “You should leave as well. They do not know about you being here and I doubt you would get the same treatment as a Shadowhunter.”

Luke looks broken at the news, but Maryse is right. If they found out that Luke Graymark was alive as well and a werewolf, it could mean death for him. Everything Magnus knows about the Gard makes a chill go up his spine.

He knows of many Downworlders who were arrested and came back not the same. Whatever is done there is inhumane even if the Clave denies the allegations. With no way of going to the Gard as a Downworlder, the Clave can get away with anything. Though Magnus hopes his relationship with the Lightwood children will slowly pave the way for an investigation to start.

“Luke will have to worry about nothing because I am here as an advocate for him,” Magnus defends. “Please Maryse, you and I both know that this is the only opportunity to stop something horrible from happening.”

Maryse looks hesitant. After what Asher told him, he sees now why he never felt loved by his parents. Watching Maryse struggle with going against the Clave after all these years sparks anger inside of him. Even losing a son to her own selfish ways, she still falters.

“Do it for Alec,” Jace says suddenly, turning all heads towards him. “You owe it to him to do the right thing.”

“Jace,” Maryse says. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“It has everything to do with him!” Jace shouts. “He would still be here if you allowed him to be the leader he was meant to be! Izzy shouldn’t have been given this Institute at eighteen years old, it should have been him. But you pushed him to his breaking point.” He shoves his own mother backward. Maryse stumbles into the bedpost with wild eyes. “If it weren’t for you and Dad he wouldn’t have thought he had to go into that den alone to prove himself and he wouldn’t have DIED!”

“Jace, enough!” Izzy pleads. She grabs her brother’s arm, holding him back. She has tears running down her face from the mere mention of Alec. “This is not the time.”

“I think it’s the perfect time,” Jace declares. “You always said that if there was any way you could take back all that you did, you would. And if there is a way for you to change, this is it.” He spreads his arms to everyone in the room.

“Alec wanted nothing more than to connect the Nephilim to the Downworld more than just official meetings. He wanted to work alongside them to repair the damages the Clave refused to even acknowledge. Let Magnus help stop this.”

Well, color Magnus impressed with the blonde Shadowhunter. Standing up to Maryse Lightwood, of all people. And advocating so strongly for his brother. It almost makes up for when the man threatened him. Righteous anger directed at the right person looks good on him.

Maryse looks to be on the verge of tears at her son’s yelling.

Magnus can only imagine what she must be feeling. If Jace’s words are true and she wants to be better, this would be the best starting point. He wonders if he should tell Asher everything that takes place today. That even in death, his influence stays strong in his siblings.

“The wish!” Jocelyn shouts suddenly. She sits up in bed with wild eyes as Luke supports her back. “He is going to make the wish to Raziel if he gets his hands on the Soul Sword and Mortal Cup.”

She’s starting to sweat and pant from her quick movements and looks seconds away from passing out again. “You need to get people to the City of Bones to protect the sword and hide the cup. He can’t get a hold of it.”

Isabelle doesn’t waste a second, pulling out her phone and going into a quieter section of the room to call whoever it is to get a team over to the City of Bones. Magnus hopes that Brother Zachariah is safe and that Valentine hasn’t made his move yet.

“What is the wish?” Magnus asks.

“When Raziel created the Nephilim, he allowed them the ability to summon him through the mortal instruments, the cup, the sword, and the mirror,” Luke explains, becoming more worried the longer Jocelyn doesn’t lay back down. “If all items were put together, the summoner could ask Raziel one wish that he would grant.”

“Valentine always spoke about it,” Maryse adds while wiping away tears. She looks at the other two former Circle members. “He said it was the way to truly rid the world of all demon-blooded creatures.”

“When you say all demon-blooded, you mean even downworlders,” Izzy corrects, coming back from her call. She doesn’t seem concerned so Magnus assumes that all is well. There’s probably an army of Shadowhunters on their way to protect the sword. “You were going to allow mass genocide.”

“We didn’t know at the time,” Luke confesses. “All we wanted was to increase the number of Shadowhunters to fight off demons and live among mundanes. We were a dying race at the time. More were dying to demons every day than were being born.”

“Then Valentine’s father was killed by werewolves,” Jocelyn admits. “That’s when he started to change his ideals. No longer was it about helping the Nephilim survive. It turned into the destruction of all Downworlders. Those who worshiped the ground he stood on remained, believing in his insane ideologies.”

“The others didn’t believe in his rhetoric anymore and left. The rest, well the rest still believed this was his grief talking and he would change back,” Maryse sighs. “Then the Uprising happened and destroyed any idea we had about helping the Nephilim. Robert and I did everything we could to protect ourselves.”

Izzy lets out a snort. “So that made you beg forgiveness from the Clave and all you got was a slap on the wrist and an Institute to run while Downworlders were murdered thanks to the man you all decided to follow.”

“This makes a lot more sense as to why the Circle went so long unchecked by the Clave,” Magnus utters.

It’s taking a lot not to throw them in a swampy pond. Maryse and Jocelyn the most as Luke has more than proven himself and changed over the last twenty years. He remembers when the news spread that Robert and Maryse were taking over the New York Institute after The Uprising. The Downworld had been indignant. Where was the justice in letting former Circle Members run the Institute?

The whispers of catching them off guard and attacking them if they ever left the Institute were rampant for quite a bit. Magnus put a stop to all of that after it escalated to kidnapping their four-year-old son as revenge. He agreed that they did deserve to pay for their crimes but Alec- Asher, had nothing to do with it and probably didn’t even know. Magnus, of all people, knew that children shouldn’t be made to pay for the crimes of their parents.

Now that Magnus thinks of it, he doesn’t think they ever did leave the Institute. Maybe that was part of their punishment, the same as Hodge but not as strict. Or they knew they would be attacked the second they left the safety of their walls.

Magnus got a lot of flack for tending to the wards in the years after, but he had no choice. It was an agreement with the previous heads who were in charge. Magnus wasn’t about to stop and he certainly wasn’t going to miss out on taking money from the Clave. He did raise his prices through the roof because he knew the Clave wouldn’t say no. If he couldn’t get basic respect out of them, he was going to make sure he at least bled them dry. Spite is therapeutic, after all.

He has lowered them since Isabelle took over, only because she was nice to him. He sees hope in her, a sentiment he hasn’t associated with the Nephilim in quite some time.

“So not only did my father attempt to kill all Downworlders twenty years ago, he is still trying to this day,” Clary says. “And you all have done nothing to stop it.”

“We didn’t know he was still alive until now,” Jocelyn admits. “When he showed up to our house the day he took me was the first time I had seen him since I saw his dead body on the ground.”

“We all saw his body,” Maryse says. “We were all there the day the corpse was burned. For all we knew, he was dead.”

“And what about his followers?” Jace asks. “Clearly the more fanatic ones still remained out there and were able to help him fake his death while you all either ran away or turned yourselves in. You’re all cowards.”

This upcoming generation of Shadowhunters is going to be a force to reckon with if even the children of Circle members know right from wrong.

“Not that I don’t love a good Circle bashing session, we do have a maniac on the loose about to kill my people,” Magnus announces, looking back over at Jocelyn. “Do you have any clue where they could be?”

“Valentine never said anything about a location, but I do remember sounds.” Jocelyn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Everyone else in the room holds theirs as they wait for her answer.

“Birds.” She tilts her head as if she’s listening to them again. “Seagulls, I think. There was also a bell ringing and maybe water. It sounded like waves.”

“So he’s near moving water. It would explain why we were never able to properly track him.”

“But even if that were the case, he has to have a way to transport people.” Izzy pulls out her phone and types something in. “That werewolf we saved not too long ago, she said that she did things out of her control. That she felt like a puppet when she tried to attack us.”

“That would make sense,” Jace agrees. “When he cornered us, he went through a portal to escape, so he would have a warlock in his possession.”

“Would she remember the location?” Magnus asks.

“She barely remembered where they grabbed her from. It was like her memory was mostly wiped once Aunt Dot was able to make a cure,” Clary explains. Mangus raises an eyebrow at the mention of Dot. Now there’s a name he hasn’t heard in a while. Just how many warlocks did Jocelyn involve in her life?

“Okay so all we have to go on is the fact that he’s near water in a state that’s surrounded by water,” Magnus jokes.

“Bane,” Maryse sighs, earning a snort from Jace.

“We could just put a halt to all patrols and send shadowhunters along each coastline?” Isabelle suggests. “Demon activity has been on the low recently, we could afford to do it for a few days to find Valentine.”

“It’s not worth the risk,” Mayse says. “The Clave would never allow it.”

“Is now a bad time to mention that Valentine may have also struck a deal with a Greater Demon to control a small portion of Shax demons?” All heads turn to Magnus with panicked eyes. Maybe he should have kept that to himself, not make the shadowhunters and werewolf worry more than necessary.

“By the Angel, is there anything Valentine hasn’t done?” Jace asks.

All talk comes to a halt when Magnus’ phone starts to ring. Kiss From A Rose starts blaring and he rushes to answer it, not even looking at the caller ID.

“You’ve reached the High Warlock of Brooklyn,” Magnus cheerfully greets.

“Magnus,” a voice whispers through the phone.

“Asher?” Magnus says surprised. He looks at the others in the room and holds up a finger to silence their chatter. “Why are you whispering?”

“You were right about Ragnor’s house still being watched.” Magnus hears a faint shuffling on the other end of the phone.

Dread fills his stomach. “Are you okay? Did they take you?”

Those words get Izzy, Jace, and Clary to perk up while the parents look confused. He’s sure they want nothing more than to leave this room and do some actual work.

“No,” Asher huffs. “They didn’t even notice me.”

“So why are you whispering?” Magnus can already feel the answer in his mind. Small sparks of deep blue magic drip from his hand not holding the phone.

“Because I followed them back to their hideout. I know where Valentine is.”

The lamp in the corner of the room shatters into a million pieces.

Chapter Text

Magnus is going to kill him. If Asher thinks his first death was painful, he has another thing coming. The man was supposed to just go to Ragnor’s house and find any evidence as to where they might have taken Ragnor, not follow them back to their hideout.

Not that Magnus isn’t appreciative of his efforts. Jocelyn was of no help and Magnus was getting antsy in that tiny bedroom. He would have preferred at least getting a text of what the man was doing before he did it so that Asher wouldn’t be alone on a ship that is filled with a homicidal maniac, Circle members, and potentially brainwashed Downworlders.

After the phone call, Izzy, Jace, and Clary all but demanded that they come with, much to Maryse’s disapproval. She wanted to wait for the Gard, but Jace was able to convince her that time is of the essence and the longer they wait the more likely the chance that they lose Valentine. Though, with the Gard already on their way for Jocelyn, Mayrse would only be able to hold them off for a bit before they made their way to the ship.

Magnus quickly shot a text to Asher that his siblings were tagging along and he hoped the man got it. This is not the way to have a family reunion, especially when Asher wants nothing to do with his past life. He made that very clear when they spoke at the farmhouse. From Asher’s perspective, it makes sense, but after everything he’s witnessed, he knows that he’s wrong about his siblings. Izzy and Jace miss him so much that the pain is still here four years later.

Their love for him is so strong they’re willing to go against their parents to do what is right. Asher would be proud of them.

The shipyard is dead at this time of night. All the workers have gone home save for a few stragglers and security. None of them are any the wiser to the three Shadowhunters and warlock walking through the area.

“There’s the ship,” Jace says, pointing to a cargo ship at the far end of the dock.

Asher gave Magnus a few details to go off of when looking for the ship that he had relayed to the others. The ship definitely looks like it has seen better days. The bow looks like it's about to fall off and there’s a suspicious burnt hole on the side of the ship. Probably from a warlock trying to escape.

“The ship must have docked recently,” Isabelle says. “This area is a known patrol spot for Kappa demons and there is no way we would have missed that.”

“Maybe the hole in the ship forced them to return,” Clary suggests, also pointing out the damage. “It could be recent.”

“If it’s recent then I don’t doubt my dear Cabbage was the one to do it. He was never one to go quietly.”

He hopes that doesn’t mean that Ragnor is dead. Valentine is crazy enough to kill powerful assets if they make him angry enough. He tried to kill his own parabatai, for Lilith’s sake. It doesn’t get more narcissistic than that.

“Well then let’s get moving. Mom only gave us a few hours to stop Valentine and save the Downworlders before the Gard shows up. Everyone remember the plan?” Isabelle asks.

“Shadowhunters go after Valentine, Downworlder goes to save Downworlders,” Jace states in the most caveman-like way. “Though are you sure you want to go alone, Magnus?”

Magnus blinks twice at Jace. Not once in the few weeks they’ve worked together has he asked if Magnus needs help. It was either Jace doing whatever he wanted to do or Magnus telling him to back off or he’ll get hexed. Seems that Clary has been good to him, cracking that hardened shell around his heart since Alec died.

Speaking of Asher, Magnus hopes he’s safe. Magnus texted the man their plans so that he could avoid the awkward family reunion. Last thing he needs is for Jace and Isabelle to go off-script and potentially make this rescue mission a failure. It’s not Magnus’ place to do that anyway. Asher told him he didn’t want his family to know he was alive and he will respect that.

“Hide!” Jace whispers, pulling Magnus by the arm behind some crates.

Magnus makes a small magic window to show them two people who look like guards doing rounds around the dock in front of the ship. Easy enough to take out and not get noticed. There are more crates off to their right that they could use as a distraction.

He nudges Jace and gestures over to the spot. The Shadowhunter seems to pick up on what he’s not saying and nudges his sister. The two share a look before shuffling their way over.

“I wish I could do that,” Clary sighs. “They’re just so in sync with each other. One time they made me train in a warehouse with the rule to not speak and I failed seven times.”

“It’s okay, Biscuit. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually,” Magnus sympathizes. “You have to realize that Jace and Isabelle have been training since they were kids on how to be a proper Shadowhunter. You’ve had about what? A month?”

“I know but just the way they talk about their childhood. About Alec and how he always made sure they knew that failure was okay as long as you learned and improved from it.” Clary had a wistful look in her eyes. Magnus knows what it’s like being an only child and not growing up with siblings. He’s happy that no one else had to go through what he did, but there are moments when he wishes he had a brother or sister to be there with him.

“Do they talk about Alec a lot?” Magnus asks. He watches Jace boost Isabelle up to a higher ground leading to a catwalk.

“Jace won’t stop talking about him,” Clary chuckles. She straightens up and puts on a serious face. “Alec was the best archer of our time, no one could do what he did with a bow, not even our ancestors. If you want to be a good Shadowhunter, you have to be how Alec was. Did you know Alec was the person who designed our training? He has a book written about the proper ways to handle and take down violent criminals.”

She sounds so much like Blondie, that Magnus can practically hear Jace’s voice. With the few times he caught Jace talking about Alec, Clary is about as accurate as she can get.

“I wish I met him,” Clary says. “He sounds like he was a pretty great guy. I know Jace would do anything to go back and change how he treated Alec.”

Magnus looks over to Jace who is playing bait while Isabelle gets the drop on the men. Guess layers are just a Lightwood trait. He can see why Asher and Jace were parabatai even if Asher felt like he wasn’t appreciated in the relationship.

“I’m glad Jace is talking about him with you. He almost killed me when I asked.” He subconsciously rubs a hand against his throat. “Granted, I was asking about him only a year after the tragedy happened and the wound was clearly still fresh.”

Their small conversation was interrupted by the sound of a shout and two bodies falling to the ground. Magnus winces as he watches Isabelle and Jace drag the hopefully unconscious men to a dark corner of the dock. He doesn’t think they would kill them, but he also knows that the Lightwood siblings have had enough of Valentine and his men.

Clary and Magnus come out from hiding and meet the two at the walkway to the boat.

“Ready or not, here we go,” Magnus says.

Asher leans in the shadows, bow tight in his hand, as another Circle member walks by, not noticing him. He knows he’s been out of the game for years now, but it’s hilarious how even dangerous minions such as these haven’t noticed him. When Asher saw the men leave Ragnor’s house after their stakeout, he trailed behind. They finally realized that Magnus was not stupid enough to come back to the place where Magnus and Ragnor were attacked.

He sent a silent apology to Magnus after he told the man that he wasn’t going to get himself into danger because here he is. On a rusty ship, hiding from men who are more powerful than him. Then again, his parents were always hard on him about training. He made the most of it and practiced everything he could. Even sneaking through the Institute without the help of runes. Who knew that silly challenge would come in handy?

He slinks his way down the hallway. So far, no sign of the missing Downworlders or Ragnor. If he has to guess, they are probably in the hull away from easy exits. If Valentine didn’t want his prisoners to escape easily, he would surround them with walls of water. Make it harder to leave if a person tries to destroy the wall and water comes rushing in.

“How much longer are we going to be stuck in this decrepit ship?” A Circle member grumbles.

Asher darts behind some old hanging fishnet as two men walk by, engaged in conversation.

“Until Valentine gives us the green light to attack,” the other man answers.

“It’s been years, Emil,” he whines. “At this point I am going to get scurvy. Valentine has been biding his time on this for no reason. We could easily take over the New York Institute and the City of Bones in a matter of seconds.”

“Bite your tongue, Jeremy,” Emil warns. “If Valentine or his guards hear that kind of talk he’ll feed you to that vampire we have downstairs.”

Confirmation of the Downworlders’ whereabouts. Asher will have to start looking for a way down once these two pass.

“Come on Emil, we have that warlock now!” Jeremy exclaims. “We have everything we need to break those wards and take what we want. Valentine needs to get over his wife and just take what he rightfully deserves!”

Emil smacks Jeremy on the back of the head. “Silence! You may be a Circle member now but you are still naive to Valentine’s plan! It’s not about power but showing those dumb shadowhunters who the true leader of the Nephilim is. Valentine could easily take down the Institute. Hodge practically told Valentine that Isabelle Lightwood is an easy target. The woman doesn’t know how to run that place and with a blade to the throat she’s done for.”

The man lets out a sinister chuckle that turns Asher’s blood to ice.

“Though I would mind a taste of that body before-”

Rage blinds him and the next thing he knows he’s standing over two bloody and bruised men. One with their throat slashed and the other with an arrow through the eye. Asher’s heart practically leaps out of his chest as he catches his breath. He looks at his hand and sees a seraph blade faintly glow in his grip. He drops the sword like it burned him. He hasn’t touched one in years and the hum is still there. The siren’s call of his angelic blood sings to him to return.

Asher has tried to shake off the feeling.

He hurries to hide the bodies in the musty fishnet. He curses himself for letting his emotion for his sister take over. He hopes that no one will notice the two men missing before Magnus and the others show up. Once the bodies are not visible from the path, he pulls out his phone to see if Magnus sent him an update. The screen of his phone glitches and shuts off. He lets out a sigh as he fails to turn the phone back on.

So much for that backup.

Asher continues his way through the ship and finds his first set of stairs down. The magic that surrounds the ship vibrates against his skin the lower he goes. Valentine must have a powerful ward locking the Downworlders in. It’s not like he has an Institute with an angelic core in his arsenal.

The lower levels are not as lit as above. Asher wishes he had brought a flashlight with him. A tiny part of his brain is saying he could use a witchlight off one of the bodies upstairs. He navigates his way through the narrow passages, every now and then bumping into the metal framework.

He pauses, tilting his head to get a better ear to the floor above. Shouts and feet stomp above him. He hopes that means that Magnus has arrived and not that they found those men's bodies. He makes haste to find the missing Downworlders.

The hairs on his arm start to rise as he gets to the last door he hasn’t checked. The light is dim but he makes out faint runes on the door, some he’s never seen. He wonders if Valentine was able to create new runes but upon closer inspection, he realizes that it's warlock runes. He doesn’t recognize the signature but it looks like it was forcefully drawn. Whatever Valentine is doing to these Downworlders, it is not of free will.

He tries to touch the door and an invisible shield sends him backward. His head slams against the metal floor and pain laces up his spine. He lies on the floor staring at the ceiling wondering where he went wrong in the last four years that he finds himself on a ship run by shadowhunters that were meant to be disbanded over twenty years ago.

He lets out a groan as he gets up from the floor. Okay, so the door is sealed with magic. Surely he can figure out a way around it. He is a shadowhunter in his prime years by Nephilim standards. He looks around the surrounding area to see if there is anything he can use.

He lets out a snort as he spots a harpoon leaning against the wall. He wonders if they actually did fish on this boat or if they stole the boat and never got rid of the junk lying around it. The device is old, rusting around the steel tip, but it will have to do.

The noise from above is getting louder which means his window to save his friend is getting smaller and smaller. He grips the harpoon in both hands and prepares to strike it at the runed door. If he can scratch just one sigil the whole spell will break. He hopes his back will survive another hit.

Just as he prepares to strike, feet shuffle behind him. With quick movements, he ducks and swipes a leg backward causing whoever it is to stumble. Asher doesn’t hesitate as he comes up and grabs the person’s arm and flings them over his shoulder. The man lets out a wheeze as air leaves his lungs and Asher looms over the man, knee to the neck.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain I would find that move incredibly attractive,” Magnus chokes below him.

“Magnus?” Asher squeaks out and immediately gets off the warlock. Guilt washes over him as he helps the man to sit up, his arm coming around Magnus’ back to support him while he gets air back into his lungs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No no, that’s on me. I shouldn’t have snuck up on a Shadowhunter.”

“Not a Shadowhunter.” The words fall from his mouth faster than his brain catches up. He had to say that a lot in the first months after he went to Ireland.

Ragnor would complain about having to do labor while Asher was fine to do it all himself. Ragnor would grumble that it's because of his Shadowhunter strength and Asher would have to constantly remind him that he wasn’t one anymore.

“Right, sorry,” Magnus says and Asher feels even more guilty for making Magnus feel he did something wrong. “So, something wrong with the door?”

“Yeah.” Asher stands up and pulls Magnus up with ease.

“Well, you may not be a Shadowhunter anymore but that angelic blood in you is still as strong as ever,” Magnus comments. “You lifted me like I was a bag of feathers.”

“I work on a farm, lifting heavy things comes with the territory,” Asher scoffs.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Magnus pats his shoulder and makes his way to the door.

Asher glares at the back of Magnus’ head as he heads over to look over the runes. He doesn’t let the jab dig at him too much as he watches Magnus destroy the sigil with ease. The metal door creaks and groans loudly as Magnus opens it.

Magnus looks back at Asher with a cheshire grin and gestures for him to enter. Asher mumbles a thanks as he passes the warlock.

“Are the others going after Valentine?” Asher asks.

“They should be. Blondie made quite the commotion when he was spotted on board. Hopefully, that means the men on this boat will be distracted for a while,” Magnus answers. He summons a small ball of light to illuminate the stairs in front of them.

“That’s good.”

“Indeed, now let us find our friend and the others.”

Asher doesn’t know why dread fills his stomach the lower they go. That humming from before is gone since Magnus removed the wards on the door. He takes his bow into his hand and the other rests above the quiver on his hip. He knows that these Downworlders are probably terrified and scared but that doesn’t mean they won’t see him as a threat.

He glances over at Magnus and sees the same feeling in the warlock’s eyes. There’s a faint shimmer of hope but, at the same time, Magnus is aware of what Valentine is capable of. Asher has the sudden urge to hold the man’s hand and reassure him that it will be okay. That he’ll help in any way that he can to save these Downworlders.

“Wait,” Magnus says, putting a hand on Asher’s chest. Asher ignores the way the hand roams for a fraction of a second.

Magnus pushes the orb of light forward and waves his hand. The ball grows in size and illuminates the room, and Asher feels sick.

There have to be about half a dozen cages in the room. The shadows from the cages highlight a person in each cage. They look sickly, black oozes dripping from their body like a bucket of tar was tossed over them. They have no reaction to the light; they just sit facing forward like awaiting a command.

“Dammit,” Magnus says, waving his hand to send a fire message to someone. “This is bad. Isabelle warned me that this might be the case.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Asher slowly approaches the cage of a Downworlder that looks to be a werewolf. Their eyes flash every so often and a deep low rumble resonates from their form. Asher waves a hand at the werewolf, but there’s no reaction.

“Some sort of twisted experiment that Valentine cooked up. He may hate us but he also finds us useful for things.” Magnus gets to unlocking the cages but not entering in case one decides to attack.

Asher leaves Magnus to that and checks on the other downworlders in the room. Each is the same until he gets to the last one.

“Ragnor,” Asher breathes out.

His friend is on the floor, looking to be passed out. Just outside his cage is a destroyed ceiling, probably the same damage he saw from outside. Asher can’t help but smile knowing that Ragnor fought to the very end of his capture. From this angle, he can’t see if Ragnor has the same ooze as the others.

He gets to work on the cage, breaking the lock with an arrow. It falls to the ground loudly and Asher winces. He looks around and no one seems to notice but Magnus, who only raises an eyebrow at him before getting back to work.

Asher flings open the door and rushes to his friend.

“Ragnor,” he says, kneeling next to him.

He rolls the man on his back and lets out a sigh of relief that he doesn’t seem to have been infected. The warlock’s chest rises and falls as he lies unconscious.

“Come on Ragnor, wake up.” Asher cradles the man’s face in his hands, gently moving his head in hopes of gently waking him up. Last thing he wants is to injure his back more by waking Ragnor up abruptly and being attacked by a man who is only defending himself from what he thinks is a threat.

The sound of a portal opening behind him has him turning. A woman dressed in hospital scrubs comes through. Seems that whatever was on the door also got rid of the wards on the ship.

“Take them to a safe house and start working on curing them,” Magnus tells the woman.

“What about Valentine?”

“The Shadowhunters will take care of him soon, but we need to get them out of here before the Gard finds them. Who knows what they’ll do if they find out about them.”

“Okay, help me get them through,” the woman says as she enters a cage to usher them out. Thankfully, it seems the Downworlders are okay with moving. That distant look in their eyes doesn’t go away as they go through the portal.

“Thank you, Cat,” Magnus says.

“Just come to me when you’re done here,” Cat says before looking over at Asher. Asher sits up straighter as she gives him a once over. “And tell me about him as well.”

“Cat!” Magnus chastizes, but can’t reply as the portal closes.

Asher doesn’t know what to make of that and puts his attention back on waking up Ragnor. But when he turns to look at his friend, his eyes are open. Asher lets out a relieved laugh.

“About time you woke up,” Asher jokes. He hears Magnus approaching the cage as he helps Ragnor up into a sitting position.

“Yes, it really is,” Ragnor says, his voice sounding different.

Before Asher can ask what he means by that. Magic finds its way around his neck. The smell of a damp forest fills his senses as Ragnor’s magic tries to kill him.

“Ragnor!” Magnus shouts but stops his approach as Asher gets slammed into the metal bars. His injured back cries out in pain as it makes contact with the hard wall.

“Do you think I'm a fool?” Ragnor growls. “First you take the form of Magnus and now you have one of your goons to look like Asher?”

“I-”

“Ragnor, you old fool, that is Asher!” Magnus explains, trying to approach, but he’s stopped when Ragnor seals the door shut. Asher hears Magnus curse, trying to open the door.

“Shut up!” Ragnor says. “Asher knows better than to come here, not when Valentine knows about him. Is this your plan? Pretend to be my friend to get me to believe they would be dumb enough to rescue me?”

“Yes,” Asher says. The fight to stay conscious is beginning to become a losing battle. “I am that stupid because I care about you.”

“Then tell me something only he would know,” Ragnor demands. “Something only he and I would know.”

Asher racks his brain trying to come up with something as he tries to stay awake. This is not the first time a warlock has tried to suffocate him but he has to remain calm, the more he struggles the tighter it will go. It’s hard to find purchase on vertical bars while your friend is trying to kill what he thinks is an imposter.

“Ragnor, please stop, you are going to kill him!” Magnus begs. Asher doesn’t think he’s ever seen Magnus look as scared as he does right now which means he probably isn’t looking good.

Then it hits him, the only thing that he and Ragnor would know about.

“You cheated at that card game,” Asher gasps. “You didn’t even want the farmhouse but you were annoyed that the vampire wouldn’t stop talking so you used magic to win.”

Immediately the magic around his neck disappears and he falls to the ground gasping for air. Ragnor catches him before his face gets acquainted with the metal floor again. Magnus rushes into the cage, magic at the ready, and begins to heal his neck which has already started to bruise.

“Bloody hell, I could have killed you!” Ragnor scolds, helping him sit up. “What the hell are you doing here!”

“Saving you!” Asher wheezes out. “You literally threw your best friend into my living room making me assume you were dead only to find out that you were kidnapped by a maniac. Of course, I was going to help!”

“Asher, stop talking,” Magnus scolds as he continues to heal his neck.

“Thought I taught you better than this,” Ragnor rants.

“Says the man who didn’t go through the portal with his friend and instead decided to get kidnapped,” Asher bites back.

“I had to make sure that Valentine didn’t get the Book of White,” Ragnor defends. “It was the only way to make sure it was safe.”

“Even I know that’s a weak excuse,” Magnus mumbles, looking at Asher with concern. The healing magic makes its way down Asher’s back. The ache from his mishap slowly ebbs away. He sends Magnus a silent thank you and Magnus smiles back.

“Magnus, do shut up,” Ragnor snarks. “Can you stand, Asher?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Could have done without you attacking me but can’t win them all.” The joke seems to fall flat as Ragnor looks seconds away from crying, something he rarely does. He lets the two warlocks pull him up, he stumbles for a moment before regaining his balance. He feels Ragnor snake an arm around his back and he gladly takes the support.

“Is everyone okay?” Asher asks Magnus as they make their way to the exit.

“My friend Cat is one of the best healing warlocks in the city, even the world if I had a say. An old acquaintance of mine made a cure so she and Cat are going to make sure everyone is no longer dripping in that nasty stuff, whatever it is.”

The way Magnus looks at the remaining gunk on the floor gets a small laugh out of him. Asher watches how Magnus’ face lights up at the response and flashes his smile. He feels his body flush at the sight of it again. If he thought he had it bad after Magnus crashed into his living room, he’s a goner now. Granted he’s been this way since he almost shot the man when he first came to the farmhouse.

He was terrified when Magnus passed out. So many thoughts had been racing in his head. The way Magnus had called out for Ragnor to the poison that he saw infecting Magnus’ body, it didn’t leave much time to process anything. He never told Magnus that he was in a delirious state as he was applying the cure to him. After carrying Magnus to the guest room and rushing to find the antidote in the medicine closet, he came back to an awakened Magnus whom he thought was somewhat okay— and then Magnus started talking.

The compliments that poured out of that man’s mouth were something Asher had never experienced before. He didn’t even realize hands could be attractive until Magnus wouldn’t stop talking about his hands. It’s really hard to dress a wound when the injured party keeps trying to take his hand to kiss it.

Asher had stared at his hands for a long time after Magnus finally fell asleep before thoughts of Ragnor took over. He then spent the last two hours before Magnus woke up spiraling into ‘what ifs’ to the point where he went to grab one of Ragnor’s ascots and tried to track him, desperate to try anything that would work. He ended up just fiddling with the cloth until Magnus almost launched himself out of the bed.

From then on, Asher looked at Magnus differently. Not that man seemed to notice even with Asher making them dinner and discussing their plan to return to New York. Besides, it’s too dangerous for them to even know each other. Not with Magnus’ relationship with his siblings, it would be a recipe for disaster.

“You would try to make light of a serious situation,” Ragnor grumbles.

“Can you blame me? You’re lucky I got here before they did anything to you,” Magnus teases. “It would have gotten all over your vintage clothes.”

“Do you see that burnt hole in the wall?” Ragnor says, pointing back at the cage he was in. “They tried to inject me with those gross chemicals and failed to realize I was no young warlock.”

“So you almost sank the ship?” Asher laughs, though it sounds more on the manic side. “You could have killed everyone!”

“I fixed it!” Ragnor exclaims. “Honestly, you two think I can’t handle myself? Surely you’ve seen-”

“Magnus!” An unfamiliar voice shouts from the top of the stairs. Asher freezes, as does she, when they make eye contact. Orange hair past her shoulders, twin blades in her hands. Her eyes widen at the sight of him as they flicker with recognition, but that’s not possible as he’s never met her before.

“By the Angel, you’re-.” She doesn’t finish her sentence as the smell of firewood consumes the air around him and blue magic strikes the young woman. She doesn’t have time to counter, the magic freezing her as she raises her arms to block the spell.

“Magnus! What did you do?” Ragnor asks.

“She knows who Alec is!” Magnus defends. A chill goes down Asher’s spine at that statement. “Jace hasn’t stopped talking to her about him and I am pretty sure he’s shown her pictures of you. So you two need to leave now!”

“Magnus, will she-” Asher shakily starts but his heart is beating out of his chest. He can’t take his eyes off of her.

That woman saw him, if she gets back to Jace she’s going to tell him that his dead parabatai is actually alive. He wouldn’t put it past Jace to start a manhunt around the globe to find him. He would do anything to get to Asher, even if it meant hurting those that Asher cared about.

A hand laces his and he looks over to see Magnus staring at him with worry.

“I’ll make sure that she thinks she saw something wrong, she doesn’t even know she’s frozen right now,” Magnus reassures, squeezing his hand. “You two should get out of here, I don’t doubt that Jace would be far behind if Clary went off on her own.”

“But what about-.”

“You heard the man, Asher.” Ragnor starts pulling him away, the arm around his waist is firm. “Let the High Warlock do what he does best: charming Shadowhunters.”

Asher can’t tell if that’s a dig at him or not. Judging by the smirk on his face, that’s exactly what he meant. A portal opens behind them and Ragnor ushers him through, but not before he turns around.

“Magnus!” The warlock turns at the call of his name. “Stop by the farm once you’re done with everything. I’d love to have you over for dinner.”