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Chapter Text

Alec breathed in the scent of New York City, his gaze flitting from the blue sky up above to the dingy alley below him.

It had been months since he’d been on patrol alone, more than that since he’d taken any of his subordinates along with him. He could never forget how right it felt to wander the streets, jumping from shadow to shadow, but he did sometimes fail to remember just how necessary this part of the work was to him.

His phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. It was the third call he’d received in the past ten minutes.

His fingers tightened around the incriminating object as he took it out of his jacket and pressed it to his ear with a sigh.

“Alexander Lightwood speaking,” he said, his voice professional but still slightly warm – just the way Isabelle had taught him.

“Mister Lightwood!” A panicked, squeaky voice came from the other side of the line. Alec winced. “I’m so sorry to bother you, I know you have lots to do today and I really wouldn’t be calling if I thought there was anything else we could do, but…”

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose, raising his head to the sky and asking the angels for the patience he so sorely lacked when it came to the shadowhunters of the New York Institute. He reminded himself that it wasn’t Julian’s fault that he was uniquely irritating in all the ways that grated on Alec’s nerves.

“Cut to the chase, Blackthorn,” he said, forcing his tone to stay even.

“Miss Chen is here,” Julian blurted out quickly. “She says she can only discuss her issue with the Head of the Institute, and that happens to be… you. Which you knew, of course. I’m sorry, Alec.”

The genuine apology was the only thing that prevented Alec from taking his phone and tossing it as far as he could manage. Julian Blackthorn was annoying and foolish and immature and sometimes too busy mooning over his girlfriend to focus on his job, but he was still the best assistant Alec had had in a long time. At the end of the day, the kid cared about the Shadowworld and, despite Alec’s initial hesitation about taking on an Angeleno, he seemed to care about New York, too.

“Is Carstairs with you?” He asked, already standing up from his crouch and planning the best route back to the Institute.

“Yeah, she’s just training right now,” Julian answered. “Do you want me to get her?”

“I want the two of you out on patrol within the next ten minutes,” Alec corrected. “Five, if possible. You can pick up where I left off in Pelham Bay.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, and Alec held back another sigh.

“That’ll be in South Bronx,” he elucidated. “Let Carstairs take the lead on the mission; she’s got a better grasp of the neighborhoods around here.”

“Right, I’m sor–”

“I don’t need you to apologise; I need you to grab your gear, double-check that you and Carstairs have your runes activated, and get the hell out there. The werewolves hate it when we don’t stick to our schedule.”

He hung up before Julian could say anything else, knowing the youth would be eager to prove himself to Alec by rambling about the things he was good at and reminding Alec that he was slowly learning New York City’s geography. Alec didn’t need to hear any of it right then. He had a vampire to appease and a friend to chide for bothering him on one of his rare excursions out in the wild.

It was just Lily’s luck that she happened to be both of those things.

Four hours later, he was still filling out paperwork to account for Lily’s surprise visit and the impromptu patrol he had sent Julian and Emma out on. The latter was mostly a formality, a way of keeping the Blackthorns updated on their wards’ progress at the Institute. The former was the real headache. Lily had come to the Institute requesting Alec in his official capacity as the Head, which already meant filling out two documents to justify her presence in the building, the nature of her request, and the people present for their meeting.

That the meeting had concerned the newly clanless vampires that Lily wished to integrate with her crew only complicated things. As a shadowhunter, Alec didn’t technically have any say over the comings and goings of the various vampires of New York City. But, as one of the founders of the Shadowworld Alliance, he did indeed owe it to his favourite vampire to ensure the orphaned fledglings weren’t left to their own devices.

As he signed yet another document and placed it in his pile of paperwork that needed to be duplicated, sent off to Idris, and reviewed by the higher-ups in Alicante, he rubbed at his forehead.

He breathed in deeply. Recalled all the reasons he loved being the Head of the Institute. Reminded himself that the Alliance had done wonders for New York. Pictured what his beautiful city would become if he let his parents take charge once more.

Then he signed off on another trainee request and picked up his phone to summon Jace to his office.

His parabatai knocked at his door less than three minutes later and Alec found himself relaxing at the familiar sight of Jace, golden hair rumpled from training and a satisfied smile on his face.

“You needed me?” Jace asked as he draped himself over the guest chair across from Alec. “Trouble with the young ones again?”

“Surprisingly not,” Alec snorted. “Blackthorn and Carstairs have been behaving, and you know the others usually follow their lead. How’s Carstairs been handling her training sessions?”

“She’s doing good,” Jace hummed. “I saw she and Julian replaced you during your solo patrol earlier. I’m sorry it got cut short.”

“Life as the Head of the Institute,” Alec shrugged nonchalantly, knowing his brother would have felt his frustration already and not feeling a need to rehash his earlier feelings. “Lily needed an audience, which is why you’re here now. I would have called you in for the meeting but I didn’t want to interrupt the session. I know you’re close to making a breakthrough with Larkspear.”

“Breakthrough’s a strong word for it, but sure,” Jace chuckled. “Vampires calling for our help? Does it have anything to do with the Belcourt Affair?”

“Sure does,” Alec shook his head exasperatedly. 

Camille Belcourt had been a thorn in their sides for years and, even now that they’d gotten rid of her, she managed to sow havoc in her absence.

“Couple of newly-turned vampires are roaming the streets. Lily wants our help getting them to the Hotel and managing their transition into the Shadowworld. Apparently Belcourt didn’t bother giving all of them a rundown about their new condition,” Alec sighed. “Lily wants them to realise there’s more to our world than their blood-sucking brethren. I want you to take Carstairs and Larkspear with you. If Carstairs protests, tell her Blackthorn is going with Raj so the two of them can actually focus on this diplomatic mission.”

“Alec Lightwood, breaking young teenage hearts,” Jace said dramatically. “How will the lovebirds cope without each other for a couple of hours?”

“They’ll manage,” Alec rolled his eyes. “Don’t let the girls take the lead on any of the interactions. They’re coming along to observe and learn from your experience as a Downworld Diplomat, not to mess with the fledglings’ first introductions to our world.”

“No promises, but I’ll do what I can,” Jace saluted him. “Anything else, my dearest brother, or will that be all for now?”

Alec smiled fondly at his antics.

“Train with me later? One last time before ” He asked.

Jace’s entire face lit up. Alec already knew the time wasted in the training room would be well worth it. He didn’t have nearly enough time for his siblings these days and, as important as his job as the Head of the Institute was, Izzy was constantly calling him to remind him that he wouldn’t get anything done if he worked himself into the ground.

Sparring with Jace would make up for the patrol he’d had to cut short and give him some well-deserved time away from the paperwork piling up on his desk.

“11 on the dot?” Jace suggested, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It should give me enough time to find the fledglings, go to the hotel, and get back here to do a debrief with Carstairs and Larkspear.”

Alec nodded and waved him out of his office, determined to get through most of his responsibilities before he abandoned his station for the night.

He woke up the next morning feeling sore, his back still hurting from the move Jace had pulled on him that had landed him hard on the ground. A smile tugged at his lips; even if he hadn’t gotten to dispatch a single demon, he’d still managed to do something with his damned evening.

Besides, it was bound to be a good day; Izzy was scheduled to return from Alicante later in the morning, Lily had messaged him the night before to let him know they had managed to find rooms for all her new vampires, and Carstairs had apparently comported herself admirably while she’d been out with Jace.

He hurried through his routine, making himself presentable as quickly as possible before starting his rounds of the Institute.

He woke the trainees up first, pounding on their doors and grinning internally when he heard panicked shuffling in the rooms beyond. He checked in with his night crew after that, chatting with Andrew and promising to reward him for his efforts with fresh pastries as soon as he could free himself from the shackles of his office. Jace and Raj joined them soon after, both ready to receive their instructions for the day.

It was a smooth morning, all things considered. By the time Alec returned to his office, Jace had wrangled his trainees into order and the day crew had been sent out for their non-demon related missions. 

Still, exhaustion tugged at his body, the paperwork on his desk staring back at him as though daring him to ignore it for a few moments longer.

He sighed as he sat down, picked up his pen, and ignored the voice inside his head that told him he would be more useful out on the streets. He liked this job. He liked the Institute and the responsibilities that came with it. He loved the Alliance and the friendships he had built up over the years.

Paperwork wouldn’t be the end of him.

Even when his hand cramped, even when his head started pounding, he kept going, signing off on patrol forms, drafting letters to other members of the Shadowworld Alliance, making sure everything that needed to be sent off to Alicante was in perfect order.

Just like that, it was late morning and there was a soft knock at his office door – one of the trainees letting him know that it was time to meet with the group from Alicante.

The thought of finally seeing Izzy again spurred him out of his seat and towards the portal that linked the Institute to the Shadowhunter capital. Larkspear, the unlucky trainee who had been tasked with fetching him, had to lengthen her strides in order to keep up with him. On any other day, Alec would have slowed down for her, perhaps even asked her questions about her progress, but he had a little sister to see and a convoy of stuffy Shadowhunters to appease.

“Pick up the pace, Larkspear!” Jace called out as Alec and his shadow entered the room. “You’re meant to be ahead of the Head, not behind him!”

Jace winked at Alec while Larkspear stumbled in her hurry to join her peers.

The eight trainees stood in a neat line, their training uniforms pristine and their forms sharper than Alec had ever seen them.

Jace must have instilled the fear of God himself in them.

“Good showing everyone,” he praised, just as much for the sake of the trainees as for the rest of his team, whom he knew were nervous about who Alicante might send to check in on their development as an ‘Innovative Institute’. “We all know we run a tight ship here. Nothing to worry about.”

There really wasn’t.

Alicante could be mad about Alec’s lack of a partner and his queerness if they wanted to be, but there was nothing they could say about the way he ran his Institute. His relations with the Downworld were outstanding and demon presence was at an all-time low. His teams ran like clockwork, his trainees were highly successful, and the members of his leadership team had proven they were both capable and trustworthy.

No, Alec wasn’t worried at all.

Which was why when the portal started to open in front of him, all he could do was bite back a smile and try to tamp down the excitement he felt at the sight of a long, dark brown ponytail, a whip curled around a tan wrist, and a dress far shorter than was strictly appropriate.

The officials behind Izzy were meaningless, because his little sister was finally back with them, her smile just as wicked as it had been when he had last seen her.

“Alec,” she grinned. “Jace. Missed me, hermanos?”

Jace launched himself at her, swinging her around in his arms. Izzy laughed delightedly and Alec let the smile break through his impassive mask. When Jace gently placed their sister back down, he walked over and wrapped her in a tight hug, tucking his chin against the top of her head.

“Missed you, Iz,” he said softly. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come back.”

“Ay, Jace! You could at least grant me three minutes of your time before starting to look for your girl,” Izzy smacked Jace on the back of the head as he moved towards the rest of the gathered group. “Clary isn’t here. Her mother wanted her to stay in Alicante for a while longer, deal with some inane political shenanigans.”

“Splitting parabatai should be a crime,” Jace pouted.

“Oh, I’m managing just fine,” Izzy said, batting her eyelashes. “Unlike someone else here, apparently. If you’re so eager to see her, go to Alicante yourself, you fool.”

Alec left them behind to bicker. The argument was an old, familiar one that usually washed over Alec. Clary’s mother was the Inquisitor over in Idris, which meant Clary had spent most of her life locked away in the capital. Jace, being the grandson of the previous Inquisitor, had a difficult relationship with his girlfriend’s mother, and generally avoided Alicante altogether. How the two of them had ever managed to maintain a relationship, Alec didn’t know. He was just glad his sister and his parabatai had both found someone to love in Clary Fairchild.

“Lightwood,” a voice pulled him out of his musings, drawing his attention back to the group of shadowhunters he had been slowly approaching. He recognised Mark Blackthorn’s smiling face instantly, his shoulders relaxing.

“Fancy seeing you here, Blackthorn,” Alec grinned, shaking his friend’s hand. “Checking that I haven’t killed your little brother yet?”

“Checking that he hasn’t killed anyone,” Mark chuckled. “Honestly though, I’m here on Isabelle’s authority. The two of us have been working closely together on matters in Alicante and in Faerie, so she invited me along. Saved her from having to choose another stuffy official to drag here.”

He tilted his head towards the drabber faces in their entourage as he spoke. Alec recognised a few of the people present, mostly colleagues of his parents’ and shadowhunters who had expressed concerns about Alec’s ascension to Head of Institute.

A couple of paces to their left, however, was a solitary figure.

“Who’s that?” He asked Mark.

Mark’s eyes flicked towards the blonde woman briefly before returning to Alec.

“Lydia Branwell,” Mark answered. The name was familiar to Alec, though he was certain he had never met her before. “She had been poised to take over an Institute in Europe with her partner, but he died before they could make things official. She’s been back in Alicante for a little over a year and hasn’t requested anything until this particular mission. She insisted on coming with us.”

“Because of Izzy?” Alec’s brows furrowed. His sister hadn’t mentioned Branwell once in all of their calls.

“I don’t think they’d even met before today,” Mark shook his head.

Alec hummed curiously. Branwell held herself stiffly, her back straight and her face pulled into an uncomfortable grimace. Her eyes couldn’t seem to stay fixed on a single individual for longer than a few seconds. They fluttered from Izzy and Jace, to the officials next to her, over to Mark and Alec, and then immediately away to the assembled shadowhunters of the New York Institute.

“Interesting,” he finally said. “Well, I’d better go over to our lovely guests and give them a tour of the place before they start assuming I’m hiding a demon in the basement. You should go see Blackth– Julian and his girlfriend. They’ll never forgive me if I don’t let the three of you have time together.”

“Much appreciated, my dear friend,” Mark winked. “I’ll see you later?”

“Absolutely,” Alec agreed.

Just as soon as he’d dismissed his pesky visitors and figured out what on earth Lydia Branwell was doing in the New York Institute.

When he turned to look at her again, she was staring straight at him. Her previous discomfort was nowhere to be seen, her eyes instead alight with something like hope.

Interesting, indeed.

She was waiting for him when he reentered his office that evening, long after the sun had set and he had sent his night crew on their missions.

He’d sent tea for her, hoping to find her more at ease than she had seemed that morning, but she appeared just as rigid as she had when he had first seen her. Even her outfit was stern, a black jacket that covered her collar and tight trousers that were bound to be suffocating. The cup of tea sat in front of her, mostly untouched.

Alec sighed and mentally prepared himself for another long conversation.

He had spent all afternoon fielding questions from the Council’s higher-ups, telling them all about his Shadowworld Alliance, the contracts he had been working on with various factions of downworlders, and the missions he had been launching to increase peace in New York City. He had brought up statistics, shown them the methods he found most effective with his various allies, and had batted away questions about his personal life.

It had been exhausting and, deep down, he had been hoping this discussion with Branwell would be more laid-back. They were, after all, the same age. She had none of the seniority that the other shadowhunters boasted and none of the authority that she had once worked so hard for.

For a moment, Alec considered sending her away. He would offer her a room for the night but politely ask her to head back to Alicante in the morning.

But then she turned around to look at him and some of the ice in her thawed.

“Head Lightwood,” she greeted him respectfully.

“You can call me Alec,” he said. “Thank you for waiting for me. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you; one of our younger trainees is going out on their first partner mission this evening and I wanted to make sure they were ready.”

“No need to apologise,” Branwell said, seeming sincere enough. “Leading an Institute takes time.”

Alec hummed, settling into his chair and pouring himself a cup of now-lukewarm tea to soothe his throat. Branwell didn’t seem to mind him taking his time; she clearly wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the capital.

“Mark Blackthorn tells me you weren’t here for Izzy,” he finally said. “And as far as I could tell, you were hardly here to inspect my Institute the same way all of the other Idris officials were. And then you request a private meeting. What’s the game here, Miss Branwell?”

“Lydia,” she corrected. Alec tilted his head in acknowledgement. “And I’m not playing any games. Are you aware of– my situation?”

Alec nodded. He didn’t offer his condolences or his pity; he didn’t know Branwell and had certainly never met her former fiancé. He doubted his sympathy would offer her much comfort.

“Brussels was my dream,” she continued when he stayed silent. “It was going to be me and John for the rest of our lives, leading the city into an era of peace similar to what you’ve achieved here in New York.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That you lost your dream, I mean.”

“Yes, well, the city was never the same once he was gone,” Branwell smiled sadly. “I thought returning to Alicante would be the right choice. I could be out of his shadow and find my place in the upper echelons of our world’s inner circle. It would have never been Brussels, but I was hopeful that it would be something.”

Except it clearly hadn’t been.

It was written all over Branwell’s – Lydia’s – face. Her features were drawn and tired, her eyes lacking the light that Alec saw in his own gaze when he looked in the mirror. It was a look Alec was familiar with; he’d seen it in Jace when his parabatai had tried to move to Alicante to make Clary happy. He’d seen it in Izzy, too, when she’d sworn to be the Institute’s Head Trainer.

It had been easy enough for the two of them to switch places. He couldn’t imagine the same was true for Lydia.

Therefore, her next request hardly came as a surprise.

“I would like to transfer here,” she blurted out. “I know it isn’t protocol and I’m aware the officials would rather I confer with them before approaching any Heads of Institute, but I need to get out of there. Quickly. And I can’t do that if I’m in a backlog of paperwork longer than the Great Wall.”

“And you think I can help?” Alec raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

“I’ve heard you’re more flexible than other leaders,” Lydia said, her tone challenging. “And I hear you have a way with the Consul and the Inquisitor. If anyone can make the transition fast and seamless, it would be you.”

Alec hummed.

She wasn’t wrong, of course. Alec had worked hard to build a strong reputation in New York but, over in Alicante, most of his sway was a result of his incredible relationships with both his aunt Jia and Clary’s mother Jocelyn. The others could disapprove of his appointment as much as they wanted to, but there was little they could do so long as Alec stayed in Jia and Jocelyn’s good graces and didn’t do anything outrageous to his Institute. 

If he asked to have Lydia transfer, he was almost certain the request would be approved within the month, if not the week.

But the question remained:

“Why here?” He asked. “Why now?”

“Because I loved Brussels, and this is as close to it as I’ve been able to find in the States,” Lydia answered. “Because I don’t want to go back to living in an Institute that runs on power trips and poor decisions. And because– Well, honestly, I’ve heard the rumours about you. People don’t think you’re suited to the position because you’re gay and single.”

“Which has an impact on you because…?”

“Because I’m also queer and single, and I very much want to lead an Institute someday. And I know leading this one must be harder than the one I was in charge of, and I can’t imagine you’re managing particularly well alone.”

Alec bristled, instantly straightening in his chair and pinning Lydia down with a glare.

“Not logistically,” she added in a hurry. “Your Institute is magnificent, your crew clearly adores you, and I’ve seen from reports that your relationship with the Downworld is outstanding. That’s without even mentioning the decrease in demon activity since you’ve taken over. But Alec, it’s draining. I know it is.”

“So you want to take over?” He pushed. It wasn’t quite what it sounded like, but his hackles were raised and he didn’t know Lydia at all; for all he knew, she was yet another shadowhunter trying to make a grab for power, pretty speeches be damned.

“No,” she shook her head. “More than anything, I just want to live here. But, if it were ever to become a possibility on your end, I would love to lead with you.”

Alec blinked at her.

Then he laughed, a true chuckle that burst out of his lips unwittingly.

“I’m not joking,” Lydia frowned, and Alec forced his laughter to subside. “If you want to get married for love, I’ll understand and happily stay on as a senior member of the team until another Institute opens up, but I’m letting you know the option is there. I’ve had my one true love and it didn’t work out. At this point, a marriage of convenience is probably my best shot at a real partnership anyway.”

This time, he couldn’t quite laugh.

Because as insane as she sounded and as crazy as she was to bring this up to him during their first meeting, he couldn’t help but admire her honesty.

Truthfully, he was drained. He was lonely. He was sick of having to skip out on the parts of his job that he loved because he was too busy filling a job that had always been meant for two shadowhunters.

And even though he’d never had the true love she spoke of, it wasn’t the first time the words marriage of convenience had crossed his mind. It wasn’t as though the Shadowworld was crawling with other queer, single men who were looking to join the New York Institute.

It wasn’t as though he could do this alone forever.

“Well, thank you for letting me know,” he said once it was clear Lydia was growing uncomfortable with his silence. “I will send the paperwork for your transfer by the end of the day, and hopefully we will have an answer in just a few weeks’ time. You will have the usual disciplinary period, of course, but my Institute requires another two months of probation in order to see if you fit with our team and our community.”

“Right,” Lydia nodded. “My colleagues in Alicante mentioned something along those lines.”

“I will also endeavour to get to know you and your leadership skills better while you are here,” Alec continued. “At the end of the four months, we can rediscuss your offer. I do apologise for my initial reaction and want you to know I will seriously consider your proposal.”

“Truly?” Lydia gaped at him.

“Did you come in here already certain I would refuse?”

“I… Yes, actually,” Lydia admitted.

“You said it yourself,” Alec shrugged. “It’s draining work. I would be a fool to turn down your suggestion without even considering it.”

He pictured it now: patrol nights going uninterrupted, proper time to train and go out on missions with Jace, the ability to oversee his trainees without having to delegate their supervision to his subordinates. Less paperwork.

“Four months,” he reascertained. “Does that sound like a deal?”

“It sounds perfect,” Lydia beamed.

Her entire demeanour changed when she properly smiled and, as her face brightened, Alec realised that marrying her wouldn’t just be an opportunity to make his life easier.

It would mean having Lydia as a partner for the rest of his life.

And when she looked like that, delighted and eager and already chatting about what she most loved in New York, he had to admit it wasn’t an entirely terrible thought.

Chapter Text

Lydia waved at Alec as he left the Institute’s atrium, bow and quiver slung across his back. He nodded at her before disappearing, Jace just a few steps behind him.

She breathed in deeply before turning around to face the rest of the night crew, those who had to stay behind to monitor demon activity and field calls from their downworlder allies. Larkspear was the only trainee present and Lydia made a note to keep a close eye on her; she was bound to be annoyed about her lack of mission.

“Andrew, you’re in charge of surveilling the teams,” she spoke clearly as she gave out her orders. “Raj, Institute patrol duty. Evie, I need you checking the demonic activity in Staten Island in case there’s another surge. Torrey, Jordan, stand-by. Larkspear, you can deal with any incoming calls from the Alliance. You know the drill; take the call and redirect to me as soon as you have a name and reason for calling.”

Predictably, Larkspear frowned. In her defence, however, she didn’t snap at Lydia the same way she had when she’d first been left in charge of the crew. Her displeasure was clear as day on her face, but she begrudgingly walked over to her station, shooting Torrey and Jordan glares as she passed them.

“I’m sorry trainee, would you rather be on stand-by?” Lydia asked sharply, her voice carrying across the room. Larkspear froze on the spot, her eyes going wide.

For a trainee, being on stand-by meant losing out on precious hours in the field – whether that be as part of the patrol team or here in the Institute. Larkspear was already falling behind Carstairs and Blackthorn in other aspects of their training, and Lydia knew she couldn’t afford to cut back her hours.

“No, Head Branwell,” Larkspear said quickly.

Lydia almost rolled her eyes at the blatant attempt to avoid reprimand. The trainees knew – just like the rest of their colleagues did – that Lydia was eager for her partnership with Alec to be made official. They’d taken to using the honorific preemptively in order to get out of punishments and earn her good graces.

Whenever she pointed it out, Alec would only laugh and tell her they wouldn’t still be manipulating her if she didn’t let them.

As it was, Lydia was soothed by the use of the title, which meant Larkspear would keep using it and reaping the benefits.

“No whining, Larkspear,” she sighed. “If several calls come at once, prioritise the–”

“Vampires, yes, I know,” the girl muttered. “I’ve done this before.”

Lydia tilted her head in acknowledgement and left Larkspear to her post. Truthfully, as much as the girl complained about being put on desk duty, she was better at it than any of the other trainees and Lydia wished to cultivate that particular skill in her.

If she could get over her abrasiveness and her tendency to accidentally insult people, Larkspear would make a brilliant diplomat.

“Andrew, call me if something goes wrong,” Lydia said as she headed back towards her office. “And don’t wait like you did last time.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Andrew called out with a smile and a salute.

Lydia snorted at his antics but knew he would keep to his promise. Andrew was a fast learner, and she knew he didn’t care to repeat the mistakes he’d made the last time Lydia had let him have seniority in the atrium.

She rolled her shoulders as she turned into a familiar corridor, the tension in her shoulders loosening at the sight of her office door, her name engraved on a golden plate that Alec had gifted her the day she had finished her probation.

She pressed her fingers lightly to the plaque before she entered, the Lightwood signet ring on her finger clinking against the metal. The plaque might have seemed silly to anyone else, but the words Head Lydia Branwell meant the world to her, and she would spend the rest of her life doing everything she could to be worthy of the title.

She pushed the door open and shut it soundlessly behind her, sighing a little at the familiar sight of a dark-haired woman sprawled across the armchair she had bought in the hopes of prioritising her reading. 

Instead, the armchair had instantly become Isabelle’s favourite lounging spot. Lydia couldn’t go a day without finding Alec’s sister in her office, lazily flicking through her books and overall ignoring the orders given to her by her superiors.

“Isabelle,” she said, exhaustion seeping through her tone.

The night shift was her time to relax. While Alec led the Institute throughout the day, Lydia sorted through all kinds of paperwork and diplomatic issues in need of solving. And when her partner left for patrol duties in the evening, she was left with nothing to do but be available in case of an urgent call.

Except, it seemed, her duties also involved entertaining Alec’s little sister.

“I’ve had a long day,” she added when Isabelle made no move to leave the room or vacate the armchair that Lydia had been looking forward to sinking into. “Did something happen with the trainees?”

“What? No, I put all the little ones to bed long ago,” Isabelle said, waving Lydia’s concerns away. “I’m all free for the night, thankfully. As long as Fran doesn’t have a nightmare, of course.”

“Fran’s been doing just fine these past two weeks,” Lydia frowned. “I thought the night terrors had stopped?”

“They’ve been struggling during our physical sessions,” Isabelle answered. “Showing up tired, not displaying their usual speed and accuracy… I’m not saying the nightmares are back, but it’s certainly a possibility.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure Alec’s aware of the development,” Lydia nodded. “Thanks for letting us know.”

“Eh, Alec probably already knows,” Isabelle shrugged. “He had a talk with her at lunch. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he comes back from patrol and the two of you have your weird little date.”

Lydia flushed a little, even as she refused to let herself feel embarrassed about one of her favourite times of the day.

“Again, you know that he’s–”

“I know your brother’s gay, Isabelle,” Lydia snapped a little, any hint of embarrassment fading as frustration took over. “We’ve only had this conversation… fifty times since I got here?”

“And we’ll keep having it as long as you’re wearing our ring on your finger,” Isabelle smirked.

Except it wasn’t ‘their’ ring anymore. When Alec had given it to her, on the same day that he had added the plaque to her office door, he had smiled at her and promised her that no matter what happened in the future, that ring would always be hers. And when Isabelle had first asked him why he would ever give something so precious to someone he didn’t even love, he’d snapped at his sister and told her that he did love Lydia, that she was a fool if she thought there was nothing between them.

It was the only time Lydia had ever seen Alec chide Isabelle, but she knew there’d been plenty more difficult conversations happening behind closed doors at the time of their engagement.

After all, Isabelle had never been quiet about her disapproval. And Alec, for all that he was usually stoic and unbothered, was always vehement in his defence of Lydia.

“Was there a reason for your visit tonight?” She asked, refusing to rise to Isabelle’s bait. “I’m waiting on a call from Lily and was hoping to get through a few chapters in the meantime.”

“Surely your future sister-in-law matters more than a silly little book,” Isabelle pouted.

Lydia gritted her teeth in frustration.

She’d liked Isabelle when she’d first met her. The woman was a hard-worker, a good trainer to the younger shadowhunters, and obviously devoted to both her family and her parabatai, whom she took care to visit as often as possible.

However, two months after Alec had arranged her transfer to the New York Institute, he had started letting Lydia take over some of his responsibilities. And that, apparently, had been unforgivable to Isabelle. Or maybe it was just their engagement that horrified her, no matter that they’d both made it clear it was a matter of mutual friendship and respect. Whatever it was, Isabelle’s behaviour had grown hostile enough that just seeing her around the Institute raised Lydia’s hackles.

She was a patient woman, but she wasn’t infallible.

“Isabelle,” she said shortly. “Do you need something?”

“My schedule for next week,” Isabelle finally answered. “It’s wrong.”

She waved her phone in Lydia’s face as she spoke, the schedule displayed on her screen. Lydia sighed and took the device from her hands, scanning the timetable for any mistakes on her and Alec’s parts.

“This looks fine to me,” she eventually said, her brows drawn together. “Did we forget about a prior commitment of yours? I thought your visit with Clary wasn’t scheduled until Saturday.”

No matter how prickly their relationship had become, Lydia had always made sure she stayed fair towards Isabelle. Her schedule was catered to her preferences, her appointments in Alicante, and her various weekly trips to the Downworld. Alec had even wondered if the two of them were being too easy on his sister.

“You have me on patrol with Blackthorn on Wednesday night,” Isabelle said, tapping her screen with her nail. “I told Alec I didn’t want to be on patrol with the trainees.”

Lydia clenched her jaw even tighter. She’d chip a tooth if she didn’t relax soon. Truthfully, Isabelle had told Alec that she didn’t want to be on patrol with anyone except Clary, which was a logistical impossibility since her parabatai still lived in Alicante. Lydia and Alec had given her a period of grace, understanding that she needed to acclimatise to life in New York again, but they’d warned Isabelle she would have to get back out on the field sooner or later.

Later had come, and Lydia knew Alec had given his sister a head’s up weeks ago.

“Not a mistake, Isabelle,” Lydia sighed. “You can’t be a shadowhunter in this Institute if you don’t go on patrols.”

“Oh, the way you go on patrols?”

“I’m the Head of this Institute, Isabelle. My schedule is none of your concern,” Lydia grit out.

“Just think it’s a bit hypocritical, you know? I’ve lived in this Institute for a lot longer than you have, and it feels a tad unfair that you can waltz in here and ignore your duties while I’m forced to go out in the field with someone as unpredictable as Julian Blackthorn,” Isabelle said, a smirk playing on her face as she spoke.

Lydia breathed in deeply. Isabelle was trying to pick a fight, she knew that. She understood the woman well enough by now. She knew she couldn’t win this argument, knew there was nothing she could do to satisfy her, and yet…

“Alec’s in charge of patrol schedules,” she said with a sweet smile. Isabelle’s smirk wavered as anger flashed in her gaze. “If you have an issue with your patrol partner or your responsibilities as a senior member of this Institute, feel free to bring it up with him.”

Isabelle stayed quiet, silently seething.

Lydia’s smile sharpened.

“Unless, of course, you’ve already brought it up to him and have already been rebuffed?”

She was only halfway through her question when Isabelle stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving Lydia’s words hanging in the air.

As the door slammed behind Isabelle, Lydia rubbed a hand over her face and slumped down in the seat that Isabelle had been keeping warm.

By the time the phone rang with a call from Lily, she hadn’t so much as opened her book.

“Lyds!”

Alec’s voice carried through the door between their offices moments before he pulled it open, covered in demon ichor and smiling brightly.

“Angel be damned, Alec, did you even think about taking a shower before coming in here?” Lydia scrunched her nose up at the smell.

“Never mind that,” Alec said dismissively. He dragged her desk chair over until it was mere inches away from her armchair. “Jace and I found the root of the demon surge in Staten Island. And yes, I know that wasn’t our patrol area for the night, but Manhattan was quiet enough and we’d only dispatched two minor demons after two hours of patrol, so I thought we’d check out the Island.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Lydia snorted. “You’re the Head of the Institute, Alec, you’re allowed to do what you damn well please.”

Alec nodded a little, as though he’d momentarily forgotten that he held that much power. It always happened when he came back from a patrol with Jace; the two of them got so carried away in their demon hunting that they forgot they were full-fledged shadowhunters in charge of an Institute.

“Well?” She asked when it was clear he wouldn’t say anything more until she pried. “What was the root?”

“An old building that used to be a magical lab for a pair of warlocks,” he replied. “They must have left behind traces of demonic energy that the demons used to open a portal last month. We called Evie to narrow down the most likely area of origin and she pinpointed it within minutes. She’s improving every day.”

“She is,” Lydia agreed. “So, busy night?”

“The best kind of busy,” Alec answered, his usually calm demeanour coming back to the surface as the adrenaline of the hunt faded. “How did things go over here? Did Lily get back to you?”

“She did,” Lydia nodded. “Interesting news, actually. Do you remember the fledgling she was worried about?”

“Simon Lewis? The one who keeps wandering off?”

“The one and only,” Lydia confirmed. “Turns out he isn’t quite ‘wandering’. Lily managed to tail him last night and found him at the Hunter’s Moon, having a drink with none other than your dearest brother.”

Alec blinked at her. She bit back a smile.

“Jace?” He asked.

“Unless your little brother has turned blond and travelled all the way from Alicante to have an underage drink with Lewis, then yeah, I’m talking about Jace,” Lydia deadpanned. “Lily doesn’t seem to think there’s any hostility between them; if anything, she sounded relieved that Lewis had made a friend, even if that friend happens to be a shadowhunter.”

“Well,” Alec said, his brows twitching as though he wasn’t sure whether to be upset or not. “I suppose there’s no harm in that. At least it wasn’t anything tragic. I was worried Lewis had gotten into some shady business with another clan.”

“Thank the Angel for small mercies,” Lydia said, shuddering at the thought of having to deal with an inter-clan conflict. “Oh, by the way, I had a conversation with your sister earlier. Has something been going on with Fran Goldcross lately?”

“Ah, I knew I was supposed to talk to you about something,” Alec snapped his fingers, though he hesitated before speaking again. “I told her to speak to Izzy, you know, but she’s still a bit intimidated by her.”

“By Isabelle?” Lydia raised her eyebrows. “If anything, I thought I was the one the trainees were terrified of.”

“Maybe when it comes to the older trainees,” Alec shrugged. “Carstairs and Blackthorn and Larkspear feel like they have a certain degree of kinship with Izzy because they also understand her desire to get out of a local Institute in order to see the rest of the world. But Fran’s a New York kid. She was here a few years ago when Izzy went through the worst phase of her life. Fran was only ten or eleven back then, and I don’t think she was ever able to trust Izzy again.”

“Did she hurt the kids?”

“No,” Alec said immediately. “No, she would never. She just made some questionable decisions that ended up impacting the Institute. She’ll tell you someday, if she’s ever ready to open up to you.”

“Doubtful,” Lydia sighed. “Anyway, what does this have to do with Fran?”

“What I wouldn’t give for her mom to come back from her mission right about now,” Alec groaned. “Fran got her first period last week. She’s been a bit of a wreck, apparently.”

“Oh,” Lydia said, relief flooding her. “Okay. I can deal with that.”

Emotional conversations weren’t her forte, but she’d been in Fran’s place once upon a time. Her mom had been around, though Lydia wasn’t sure if the discussion had been better off for it. Sometimes, she found herself wishing she’d had a stranger to guide her through the strange process of ‘becoming a woman’.

“Her mother won’t be back any time soon?”

Lydia had yet to meet Fran’s parents; her father had moved to the Seattle Institute with his second family when Fran had just been a baby, and her mother was constantly sent on diplomatic missions to various werewolf packs because of her experience with them.

“She could be, but I’d rather not leave Fran waiting,” Alec sighed. “I know it’s not the kind of responsibility you signed up for, but–”

“Fran’s a shadowhunter in our Institute,” Lydia scoffed. “Anything to do with her is my responsibility, especially when her mother is away. Not as though I’m going to let you talk her through her first period. Poor girl.”

“Thank the Angel,” Alec said, his shoulders relaxing ever-so-slightly.

It warmed Lydia’s heart to know that, if push had come to shove, Alec absolutely would have gone to find Fran and explain her bodily changes to her. For all that he was reserved and sometimes cold, she’d grown to understand that Alec was a deeply caring man who wished the best for everyone he knew.

“So,” he added a few minutes later when Lydia had just been debating whether or not to pick her book back up. “You talked to Izzy?”

“She showed up here, made some allusions to Fran’s issues, and complained about her schedule,” Lydia said flippantly. She didn’t mention the ever-present sniping about their relationship. Alec was well aware that his sister didn’t approve of their engagement.

“Pretty much what I got from her when I saw her earlier, then,” Alec rolled his eyes. “You can kick her out, you know?”

“I can’t,” Lydia huffed. “She’s your sister and my future sister-in-law. Even if she hates me and can’t stand the sight of us together, we’re going to have to get used to being in each other’s lives. I just hope that someday she’ll realise we were doing what was best for us all along.”

“She’s coming around to it,” Alec said, smiling weakly. “She brought the wedding up the other day and didn’t seem entirely disgusted at the thought of attending. I know it’s not the approval you’re hoping for, but she’s… she’s trying.”

“I know,” Lydia murmured. “Though honestly, it’s not her opinion of me I’m most worried about.”

Alec closed his eyes, a pained look crossing his features.

“She’s not settling back into her routine here,” he whispered. Lydia hummed in agreement. “The schedule isn’t the problem; the problem is that she loved being with Clary in Alicante, and now she’s here alone.”

“I contacted Clary a few days ago,” Lydia said carefully. Alec’s eyes snapped open, but he didn’t seem annoyed that she’d gone behind his back to speak to a girl he clearly cared about. “She asked about you, actually, but you were out on patrol and she had to get back to her duties at home. I was– I wanted to convince her to move her, even temporarily.”

“We’ve all given it a go,” Alec sighed. “Thank you for trying.”

“Don’t even mention it,” she waved his words away.

“No, seriously,” he repeated, leaning closer to her, his hands resting on the arm of her seat. “You didn’t have to talk to Clary, not after the way Izzy’s been treating you. So I appreciate that you did it anyway.”

“I only did it because of you,” Lydia said, her lips twitching up. “Isabelle’s been a brat to me, sure, but you love her and want her to stay here so… A compromise must be reached.”

“It’s not a matter of compromise,” Alec shook his head. “There’s no middle ground here; either we’re married or we’re not, and you already have my ring on your finger. Either Izzy’s here or she isn’t, and she… She never really returned to begin with.”

“But she’s your sister.”

“And you’re my fiancée,” Alec shrugged. “I want you here. I want her to be happy. Those things aren’t incompatible, they just require a little bit of change.”

“What kind of change?”

And because Alec was like her, the other half to her whole, he already had a plan.

They got married two months later.

Lydia wore a beautiful golden gown that she had picked with Jace and Evie. Alec wore a white suit embroidered with gold patterns, a gift from his parents. The front row of the chapel was occupied by their mothers and fathers, Alec’s little brother, and the Consul herself. Jace stood behind Alec as his witness, and Clary had made the trip to New York to volunteer as Lydia’s.

Their extended families, colleagues and allies from the Downworld crowded the rest of the room, all eager to see the official joining of Alexander Lightwood and Lydia Branwell. The back rows were full to the brim with shadowhunters from Alicante, some of whom Lydia recognised but most of whom were complete strangers to her.

Isabelle sat in the very last row, next to a man Alec later told Lydia was a distant cousin of theirs. She didn’t offer Alec congratulations, and she disappeared before their reception began.

The next day, Lydia was officially sworn in as co-head of the New York Institute. They celebrated at the Hotel Dumort with Lily as their party planner.

A week later, Alec met with the Consul in his office and came out with an agreement to name Isabelle an official diplomat of Faerie. She would leave for Alicante the next day and would only have to return to New York City if her duties forced her hand.

Lydia didn’t talk to her before she left. She was told Isabelle had been outraged to be kicked out of the Institute by her brother and hadn’t spoken to anyone after being given her assignment.

Alec was the one who told her his sister had finally left their home. That night, for the first time – but definitely not the last – he fell asleep in her bed, tears running down his face.

And so, their life together started.

Chapter Text

“How many this time?”

Alec spoke clearly as he entered the hotel, his shoulders tense and his chin lifted high. Fledgling vampires parted in front of him and older members of the clan tilted their heads in acknowledgment of his rank as he stalked towards Lily.

His dearest friend looked weary, her pale skin almost gray even though Alec knew she fed regularly. Her dark eyes were as sad as they had been for the past six months, brimming with hopelessness that Alec was trying so hard to fight back against. She held herself tightly, not letting an ounce of her weakness show on the outside, but Alec knew her well.

“Three,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “One of mine, one of Ty’s, and the last one from Staten Island. Not sure who was in charge of her. I brought her here when I found her, but Ty already brought his back to the Lodge.”

Alec nodded. Lily led him to the basement, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Simon and Rose followed after them, their features as serious as their leader’s.

“None of them are fledglings,” Rose spoke as they walked. “Even the one we can’t identify has clearly been a vampire for at least a year. They should never have gotten sick.”

Lily let out a quiet scoff.

Alec felt for her. Vampires shouldn’t have been falling ill, and yet they had been. It had never mattered to Lily that the first round of sickness had only affected fledglings; she had still found it to be unacceptable. That the newest vampires affected by the disease were older meant nothing, if only because they all meant everything to her.

He stayed respectfully quiet as they advanced towards the crypt. Lily had renovated the space two years earlier in the hopes of turning it into a peaceful space for her vampires to rest in when they didn’t wish to be confined to a room.

Instead, the hotel’s basement was overrun by single beds, each of them holding an unmoving, unconscious vampire.

Simon and Rose stayed by the door, giving Lily and Alec privacy to go through their usual motions.

“You didn’t have to come,” Lily murmured as Alec looked at the first vampire – the one from Dumort, whom Alec had certainly met at least twice. “You can’t keep taking time out of your busy schedule to observe the same damn thing. I know the werewolves need you.”

They did, of course. They needed him to look at their newly-infected pack members, to attend funerals for those who succumbed because they didn’t have the vampires’ immortality, and to connect them with mundane doctors who might be able to help their diseased at least for a little while.

But Lily needed him too.

“Every case is worth looking into,” he said firmly. “Lydia visited the pack in Bronx Park this morning. The werewolves won’t be offended that I’m taking this investigation seriously, I promise you.”

“She’s working again?” Lily frowned. “Already?”

“She doesn’t see the point in sitting around doing nothing,” Alec whispered. “Evie won’t get better no matter how much time we spend with her in the infirmary. And Lydia can’t… We can’t stand to–”

Lily placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“Fran will get better,” she told him.

He nodded, his throat tight.

He looked down at the vampire again, because it was easier to see the disease in other communities than it was to observe it in his own. Besides, the vampires had been affected for six months, the werewolves for almost eight. The shadowhunters’ two months of suffering were nothing in comparison.

He still had to work.

“He’s in the early stages,” Alec observed, pressing his hands to the vampire’s skin and narrowing his eyes at the familiar symptoms. “Warm skin, stiff fingers, perhaps some light blood withdrawal?”

“He’d been missing for a day or so when we found him,” Lily confirmed. “He wouldn’t have fed after leaving the hotel.”

“I left more blood in the hall,” Alec said. “Jace’s, for everyone here.”

Lily smiled at him, the motion small but grateful.

“Why don’t you take Si back to the Institute with you?” She suggested, her eyes flicking towards the vampire in question, who perked up a little at the mention of his name. “As a thank you.”

“Not necessary, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Alec said, stepping away from the first vampire and taking a deep breath before moving onto the next one. “You do as much for us as we do for you. That’s what the alliance is for.”

“We hardly do enough,” Lily breathed out. “You and Lydia… This city would have already fallen apart without you. Everything we do pales in comparison. So take Lewis. Take him every day, if that’s what he wants. Not like there’s much for him to do here.”

She swept her gaze across the room as she spoke, and Alec nodded silently.

The disease had seemed innocuous at first.

A werewolf had fallen into a deep sleep but had stayed mostly healthy, their vitals steady and their body seemingly unperturbed except for the coma that had overtaken it. Their alpha hadn’t even contacted anyone in the Alliance; it had been such an inconsequential thing, an illness that had shaken them all because of their love for the individual but that hadn’t alarmed them as a community.

Then three more werewolves had fallen asleep in the span of four days, one of them while with their partner. The partner said it had been like a switch was flipped. One second they’d been awake and aware, the next they’d been on the floor, their brows furrowed ever-so-slightly in an unnatural sleep.

That was when Alec, Lydia, and the rest of the Alliance had been made aware of the situation.

Every werewolf pack in New York City was told about this mysterious illness and its asymptomatic nature. Leaders gathered at night to discuss next steps and to compare notes on the wolves who had already fallen ill.

By the time a month had passed, over thirty werewolves had lost consciousness.

In the second month, some of the initial wolves started to deteriorate. They were being fed and hydrated by their packs, but their bodies appeared to be struggling in their sleep, their faces contorted in pain and their bodies wracked by shivers at night. 

The shadowhunters had gotten involved then, bringing in whatever resources they could from the Institute to evaluate the situation and try to come up with a solution. It would be another four months before Alec’s medical specialist, Harrow, would find an elixir that would slow the deterioration.

In the meantime, vampires had started to fall ill as well, though it appeared doses of Jace’s blood was enough to stave off any further effects.

Less than a week after Harrow developed their elixir, they succumbed to the illness as well. Fran had been the second to collapse, and it had nearly broken Lydia, who had cared for the girl for as long as she’d been at the Institute.

But she hadn’t let herself become listless. She’d stood by Alec as the two of them had organised meeting after meeting with the Downworld Alliance. For six months now, they had been communicating daily with leaders all across the city, trying to find a pattern to the illness or determine its origin.

Their only gripe was that the illness wasn’t contagious. It made no sense. The illness ravaged their communities at random, sometimes claiming several individuals in one day and sometimes leaving them waiting for over a week.

Their only saving grace was that the illness wasn’t contagious. It meant Alec could visit individuals affected by the disease without worrying about contracting it himself. He could fall ill at any time, after all, regardless of the time he spent in the company of sleeping werewolves and vampires.

The Alliance was stronger now than it had been before the illness had appeared. Werewolves, vampires and shadowhunters alike looked out for each other, fulfilling whatever responsibilities were most needed of them in order to keep the city’s Downworld from collapsing.

The half-faeries were equally helpful, though Alec knew they feared the day it would be their turn to lose someone to the illness. Still, they came to the werewolves with new remedies every week and even entered the Institute to see if there was anything they could do for the comatose shadowhunters. 

The disease was a blight on their city, but it had also taught them to care for each other better than ever before.

Except, of course, for the bane of their existences.

“Fucking warlocks and their fucking superiority complexes,” Lydia cursed loudly as she entered Alec’s office later that night. “More resources than all of us combined but can’t be assed to make an appearance because they refuse to associate with the ‘plague that infects us’.” 

She sneered as she repeated the last words, and Alec winced sympathetically. As the one who handled most of the diplomacy on behalf of the Institute, Lydia was the one who repeatedly reached out to the warlocks of New York City and found herself rebuked at every turn.

“I can’t stand them,” she spat out. “They were all too eager to be a part of our Alliance when you offered them protection from demons and safety from any parties who may wish to harm them, but where are they now?”

“They’re scared,” Alec said, knowing he sounded like a broken record.

“We’re all scared,” Lydia replied sharply. She said the same thing every time they talked about the warlocks. “High Warlock Rey still refuses to acknowledge that the disease isn’t contagious, High Warlock Creed tells me the illness is none of her concern so long as no warlocks are affected, and High Warlock Bane hasn’t even deigned to answer any of my calls.”

“Probably too busy wandering around South America while Catarina carries the weight of Brooklyn on her back,” Alec said snarkily.

Catarina Loss had been the only warlock to come to their aid when Lydia had first reached out to their faction in the hopes that they may have experienced something similar in the past. Unfortunately, Catarina was also severely limited in what she could give them because of her lack of status and her work in the mundane world.

“I just can’t…” Lydia trailed off, her anger fading as tears welled in her eyes. Alec could almost picture Fran reflected in her gaze. “I can’t believe how eager they are to ignore a problem that’ll find its way to them eventually. What will they do if the first of them to be claimed by the disease was the one with the answers we needed?”

“They’ll come crawling to us begging for help,” Alec shrugged. “We’re the ones who know how the illness works, after all.”

“And if it’s too late by then?”

“It won’t be,” Alec said firmly.

He’d seen Lydia’s strength and belief waver ever since Fran had fallen unconscious, but he refused to watch her fade away entirely. He couldn’t be the only one who believed they’d find a cure and bring New York City back to rights.

He couldn’t do this alone.

“Lydia, it won’t be,” he repeated, walking over to her until his hands were on her shoulders, her chin lifted so she could meet his gaze head-on. “You aren’t going to lose another Institute, I promise you. The half-faeries who can travel to Faerie will be back soon with answers and solutions. The warlocks will come to their senses. We’ll be alright.”

Lydia shook her head but didn’t protest any further, which Alec took as the small victory it was. She wiped her eyes dry and Alec thanked the Angel that he wouldn’t have to comfort her through another evening of endless tears.

He loved Lydia more than anyone – except perhaps his siblings – but holding her while she sobbed wore at his own resolve. He couldn’t stand to see her sad, didn’t know how to make things better, had no way to take away the pain that clawed at her heart whenever she thought about Fran and Evie and the other friends they’d lost to the illness, even if only temporarily.

“I’ll try the warlocks again tomorrow,” she said, a shaky smile tugging at her lips. “If they don’t respond, we’ll have to rely more heavily on the faeries, which means giving your sister and her parabatai a call. I know you won’t want to bring them here while the city is struggling, but we can’t hold down the fort alone forever.”

Alec sighed. He couldn’t deny Lydia’s request.

After the warlocks, the faeries were their best bet at finding a cure and cleansing their city of the sleeping disease. Lydia’s diplomatic efforts had gone a long way in ensuring the half-faeries of New York cooperated with them, but she lacked the experience that Izzy had gained after years travelling to Faerie, getting to know the people and politics of the complicated land.

“You might have to go there, you know?” He said, tired just thinking about the nightmare that was going back and forth between Faerie and New York. Lydia had only been there three times since they’d become co-heads, and she always returned dazed and in need of days to recover.

“I know,” Lydia replied. “But having Isabelle with me should make things easier. And you could use Clary here, both for her skills and her blood. Jace has been donating far too much to the local clans.”

“I’m not complaining about having Clary here,” Alec pointed out. “I’m mostly worried about what you and Izzy will do to each other once you’re alone in a foreign country. You don’t exactly have the best track record.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, though she was smart enough not to deny that she and Izzy had a rocky past. They’d gotten better after Izzy had relocated to Alicante on Alec’s orders, but their reunions were always fraught and full of snappy comments from both sides. He couldn’t imagine that a trip to Faerie would be the thing that finally convinced them to put their differences aside.

“It won’t be the same this time,” Lydia said firmly. “This is too important. I won’t let our disagreements get in the way of what matters most, you’ve got to know that. If Faerie is our best shot at getting Fran back, then I’ll get down on my knees and beg Isabelle to come along with me. Pride be damned.”

“Okay,” Alec nodded. “No need to get ahead of ourselves, though. We’ll contact the warlocks one more time, see what our half-faerie scouts have to say when they return, and then we’ll call Izzy and Clary here.”

“Alright,” Lydia replied. “Well, if I have to deal with those assholes again tomorrow, I’m gonna head to bed. You coming with?”

“I’ll be right there,” Alec said, squeezing her hand lightly when she placed it atop his. “I just need to finish a few bits of paperwork and talk to the junior members about their probations.”

Lydia hummed understandingly and squeezed his hand in return before leaving the room. Alec knew she wouldn’t be going to bed straight away; she’d stop by the infirmary, chat with the night crew about their responsibilities, go to see the trainees and junior shadowhunters to make sure they were settled in for the night, and then go to her bedroom to read for a little while before dozing off.

She hadn’t slept properly since the day Fran had been moved to the infirmary. 

Alec shook that thought away, not wanting to dwell on the 17-year-old girl brimming with potential currently stuck in her own mind with no way to wake up or get out.

He scrolled through the contacts on his phone and shot off a text to Jace to check that he was still alright with leading the night shift, then completed the paperwork for the newly-ill vampires before his meeting with his favourite junior shadowhunter.

The knock on the door was punctual and precise. The woman on the other side waited for Alec’s response before walking in, her posture perfect and her uniform spotless.

“Head Lightwood,” Thea Larkspear greeted him, nodding politely. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“We have a meeting scheduled, Thea,” Alec chuckled. “My paperwork’s done for the night, though, if that’s what you were actually asking. Nothing for you to finish, don’t worry.”

Thea’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Though she’d become incredibly disciplined in the past few years, surpassing all of her peers and becoming a force to be reckoned with, she still struggled with the idea of spending hours at a time bent over a desk. She completed her paperwork flawlessly, but Alec knew it weighed on her. So, although it was technically part of her training as a junior shadowhunter, Alec tried to make sure the paperwork was done on the nights that she was on Institute duty.

“Sit down,” he instructed her. She complied instantly, crossing her legs at the ankle and placing her hands on her lap.

She was the picture of the perfect shadowhunter. But Alec knew all it would take was a little bit of prodding to bring out the Thea Larkspear he’d grown so fond of in the past few years.

“This is your last probation period as a junior,” he said, glad that he had some good news to give out on such a miserable day. “I’m sure you’re aware that there’ll be plenty of options open to you after this, so I won’t bore you with the details. I trust that you’ve been thinking about what position and Institute you wish to apply for. What I want to discuss with you is the particularities of this period considering the nature of the issues currently plaguing New York City.”

“Will it be different from what I’ve had to do so far?” Thea asked him, her brows furrowing slightly.

Alec had put her in charge of visiting the clans and packs most impacted by the illness during the day, making sure they had the resources they needed and taking note of any individuals who had gone missing. At night, she still patrolled the streets with the rest of the night shift – except on her Institute days – and dispatched demons with exceptional efficiency, but Lydia had turned her into a true diplomat.

“There’s a good chance that Head Branwell will have to leave the city in the upcoming weeks,” Alec replied. “This means the line of authority will move to make up for her absence and some posts will be left vacant. I want to make sure nothing slips through the cracks, so I’ll be giving you more diplomatic missions and tasks than usual. This may mean you will have to miss out on a few night patrols.”

“That’s… That’s okay,” Thea said, smiling softly. “Spending time with the Downworld communities in these times has been an incredible learning opportunity. Far greater than anything I could learn fighting demons, since they tend to be pretty predictable.”

“Indeed,” Alec laughed quietly. “You’ll still be working exclusively with the vampires and werewolves, but you may have to take the lead on some investigation trips to their locations to examine individuals and take note of their personal information. I will be taking you along with me in the next couple of days so you can get an idea of the procedure.”

“Okay,” Thea nodded, her gaze determined. “Will Head Branwell still be handling the other two factions from afar?”

“No,” Alec sighed. “She’ll handle our relationships with Faerie, as that is most likely where she’ll be heading, and I will deal with the warlocks. As good a diplomat as you may be, Thea, it would be a great offence to them if we let a junior member take charge of our dealings with them.”

“Right,” Thea said tightly. “Because they think they’re better than everyone else in this city.”

Alec didn’t correct her.

Though the Institute stayed neutral towards all factions, it was hard for the New York shadowhunters to stay unbiased when it came to the one group of downworlders who refused to view them as equals the same way the other groups did.

And while Alec understood that their disdain for the Institute was a result of hundreds of years of oppression and unequal treatment, he couldn’t stop his shadowhunters from forming their own opinions on the matter.

“All you need to know about the warlocks is that I have them handled,” Alec finally said. “Are you clear on your duties for this final period?”

“Yes, Head Lightwood,” Thea responded seriously. “I won’t let you down.”

“You never do,” Alec smiled. “Call Blackthorn in for me, alright?”

As she left, Alec took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for the next three meetings.

They wouldn’t all be so smooth.

By the time he joined Lydia in her bedroom later on, he didn’t doubt he’d be ready to rip his hair out, scream into his pillow, and fall into the deepest sleep he’d had in weeks.

Chapter Text

Lydia tapped her foot impatiently, checking her watch once more as she observed the portal in front of her.

She was of half a mind to burst into Alicante and drag Isabelle here, but she’d promised Alec she would be civil. Besides, she didn’t want to make a bad impression on Clary, whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

Still, it was fifteen minutes past their planned portal time, and she was growing antsy.

She had jobs to do, warlocks to contact futilely, trainees to put in their places, junior shadowhunters to supervise, an illness to cure. She didn’t have time to be waiting around for a woman who cared more about herself than the city she was born in. Especially since she already knew they would be wasting more time when Isabelle arrived.

Isabelle would purposefully aggravate Lydia, would ask her pointless questions, and then Lydia would have to be the bigger person and act like the Head of Institute she was.

It gave her a headache just thinking about it.

Which was when, of course, the portal activated.

Clary came out first, Isabelle close behind. A few junior shadowhunters from Idris trailed after them carrying their belongings. They were quick to drop them off and flee back into their capital city, most likely terrified of the illness they’d been told about by their mentors. No matter that it wasn’t contagious.

She wondered what the shadowhunters of Alicante would think if they knew they were behaving just like the warlocks of New York City. The more progressive ones would find it entertaining, but she could think of a few people whose feathers would be ruffled.

If only ruffling feathers cured diseases.

“Lydia,” Clary smiled sunnily at her, leaning in for a hug and squeezing Lydia tightly as she did so. When she pulled away, her worried eyes betrayed her otherwise joyful expression. “I’m sorry about the illness. You should have asked us to come earlier; you know we would have dropped all of our other missions for this.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this unless it felt necessary,” Lydia answered honestly. “And although I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances, I’m happy to see you here again. The Institute isn’t the same when the two of you are in Alicante.”

“It misses the best shadowhunters of our generation,” Clary giggled.

It was a joke, but it wasn’t far from the truth. It was well-known that Clary was the most incredible trainee to come out of the Academy in Alicante. The city was already better off with her in it. It was just an added bonus that she happened to be incredibly kind and pleasant as well as capable.

“I doubt having us here will make much of a difference this time,” Isabelle cut in. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her brows furrowed, her posture ramrod straight. “Clary’s right; you should have called us back here months ago.”

“And pull you away from your mission in Faerie?” Lydia challenged. “I know the Institute sent you over to handle the signing of a vital treaty regarding the portals around Idris. We’ve been managing fine.”

“Have you?” Isabelle drawled, and Lydia bristled.

“We have,” she snapped, then instantly regretted it when Clary’s shoulders drooped slightly. “Sorry. It’s been a stressful time, but we’ve been doing the best we can. I’m to walk you through the disease’s impact on the different communities before we meet with Alec and the rest of the team later.”

Most significantly, the ‘team’ included Jade, the half-faerie who had gone back to Faerie in order to gather information about any past illnesses that resembled the one they were dealing with here. Lydia and Alec had planned for Isabelle and her parabatai to get here today specifically because of Jade’s return from her homeland. And, in order to get the most out of their meeting with the half-faerie, Lydia needed Isabelle to be in good form.

Which meant no bickering.

“Still letting Alec do all the dirty work for you, then?” Isabelle asked. She raised an eyebrow at Lydia as though she’d been expecting something and was disappointed by what she’d been presented with.

“Still playing to our strengths, yes,” she answered bitingly.

A little bit of bickering, she thought, was acceptable.

She didn’t let Isabelle make another snide remark. As they walked towards her office and eventually settled on either side of her desk, she told both girls about the impact of the disease on the different communities in the Downworld. She noted the way Isabelle grew quiet and serious as soon as Lydia spoke of the tragedy that had befallen both vampires and werewolves for months now. She saw how Clary frowned at the mention of the warlocks’ inaction and how Isabelle filled with pride when Lydia praised the half-faeries for their help.

She didn’t pause in her explanations. She walked them through their protocol on finding new sleeping individuals and identifying them for their packs or clans. She told them about their increased patrol in areas that had been deemed more susceptible to the disease. She spoke, and spoke, and spoke, until–

“What about the shadowhunters?” Clary asked.

Lydia faltered.

For a moment, she thought of the girl sleeping in the infirmary, alone and unmoving and so unlike her usual self.

She shoved the image away.

“We haven’t been as affected by the disease,” she responded calmly. “It could be because of our numbers; since there are less of us, there’s also a smaller chance that we’ll fall.”

“But when one of you does fall, it’s a greater loss, statistically speaking,” Clary said softly. “I was sorry to hear about Evie. I know she’s a dear friend of yours, and she has always been wonderful to me when I’ve been here.”

She didn’t mention another name, and for that Lydia was grateful.

“The disease affects us the same way it does werewolves, though it seems the presence of angel blood in our veins is enough to stave off the initial wave of deterioration that the werewolves experience after a month and a half in their coma,” Lydia said, determined to keep her mind on the facts and not the people they had all lost. “We don’t know how much longer the individuals will remain unaffected but, if worst comes to worst, we’re hoping the elixir that was developed for the werewolves will also work on shadowhunters.”

“Okay,” Clary said, pursing her lips. “You’ll have to talk me through what’s been tried so far. I’m no scientist, but I have some contacts back in Alicante who’ll respond to me better than they would to the infamous co-heads of the New York Institute.”

Before the illness, Lydia would have dismissed those ‘contacts’. She didn’t care much for shadowhunters who thought she and Alec didn’t deserve their attention simply because the running of their Institute was slightly unconventional.

But she couldn’t be picky, so she nodded. Clary nodded back, silently acknowledging what Lydia wasn’t saying out loud.

“Any other questions?” She asked, suddenly tired.

Or maybe she’d just forgotten, for a second, that exhaustion had been tugging at her bones for months now.

“You’ve noticed patterns in where the illness is most prevalent?” Isabelle frowned. “Have you created pockets of isolation?”

“When we vacate those areas, the illness vacates them as well,” Lydia shrugged. “Evie was working on a map before she fell asleep; Jace and some of the junior shadowhunters have picked up where she left off, but they’re a lot slower than she was.”

“Right,” Isabelle mumbled. “I could help with that.”

“Ah,” Lydia grimaced. “Very generous, but we’ve got a different mission to take care of.”

“We?” Isabelle mouthed silently, turning to stare at Clary, whose lips were pressed together as though suppressing amusement.

“Let’s go find everyone else,” Lydia announced before Isabelle could pester her with even more questions. She didn’t want to talk about their potential mission to Faerie until she heard what Jade had to say about the situation in her world. “Alec will be impatient to find out what information our scout has gathered.”

She stood and moved to leave her office, forcing Clary and Isabelle to follow after her.

Thankfully, they didn’t try talking to her as they approached the atrium, letting her stew in her thoughts and consider the different avenues they would have to explore depending on what Jade had found out during her trip.

Alec was standing with the half-faerie in question when they entered the large room, and Lydia felt herself lighten a little at the sight of her husband. He smiled when he saw her, too, moving away from Jade so Lydia could come and slot herself perfectly next to him. When she reached him, his hand found hers, his golden band clinking against her signet ring.

She breathed out. The gesture was second-nature after years of tapping their rings together in a silent promise.

I’ve got you, it said. At first, Lydia had been embarrassed that Alec could read her well enough to know when she was having a hard day, but now she was only grateful for it. It was a unique kind of love she’d found; one that never demanded more of her than she could give and that would always lend her strength when she couldn’t muster it up herself. 

“Head Branwell,” Jade greeted her with a dip of her head. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Jade. I’m sorry that I couldn’t attend our last meeting,” she said sincerely, then gestured towards Isabelle and Clary a few paces behind them. “Have you met Isabelle Lightwood and Clary Fairchild?”

“I’ve heard tales,” Jade said, smiling charmingly at their guests. Isabelle waved at her with a flirty smirk and Lydia rolled her eyes.

“They’ve come from Alicante to help us with the illness,” Alec said, completely oblivious to his sister’s antics. “We’re hoping that you’ve got good news for us so we may delve deeper into the solutions Faerie may provide.”

“Well, there is a precedent,” Jade said hesitantly. “The problem is I can’t possibly see how it could be replicated in New York City.”

“Because of the lack of ambient magic?” Alec asked.

Jade shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again.

“Tell us about the precedent, Jade,” Lydia finally said. “We’ll see what we can make of it together.”

“It was about 500 years ago now,” Jade immediately started her story. “A prince of Faerie was born to the Seelie Queen and her third lover, adored by the people and his father. But the Seelie Queen deemed his magic too weak for her tastes and ordered him to be removed from Faerie so he would not become a proof of her weakness. His father, refusing to comply, bound the child to the land of Faerie. When the Seelie Queen attempted to remove him from the land herself, the child simply reappeared. So, she sequestered him, starved him, poisoned him, whatever she could think of that wouldn’t involve directly killing her child. For each month that the child was sick, so did the people of Faerie fall into inexplicable sleep. And for each faerie that fell ill, the child regained strength. Eventually, the Queen realised what the prince’s father had done and released him. From that day forth, they took care never to injure the boy again.”

Lydia felt her hopes wilt as the tale went on.

They didn’t have a prince of New York City. They didn’t have an evil queen to sequester him. They certainly didn’t have a land rife enough with magic to respond to the whims of a single individual.

She glanced sideways at Alec but, to her surprise, didn’t see the same hopelessness on his face as she felt in her heart.

His gaze caught hers and a small smile graced his features.

“It’s something,” he shrugged. “Sure, it’s a little bit whimsical and I can’t quite picture how it would apply to our city, but it sounds close enough to what we’ve dealt with here, doesn’t it?”

“In the sense that it’s a sleeping disease, maybe,” Lydia sighed.

“There could be more to the story than what’s been told to Jade,” Isabelle added. “Faerie stories are notoriously hard to recount, especially since everyone has a different version of the tale to tell.”

Jade hummed. “Even the version I shared with you is an amalgamation of several accounts I gathered from folks who had known the prince.”

“He’s not alive anymore?” Clary asked, her brows furrowed. “Is that possible, if he was bound to the land?”

“I don’t know the details,” Jade shrugged. “But he most definitely passed away before I was born.”

“Right, well, we’ll need those details,” Alec said sharply. “Thank you for your help, Jade; we should be able to handle it from here. If any of your half-faerie acquaintances fall ill, you know how to reach me.”

“You sure you don’t need me to run another trip to Faerie?” Jade asked. “College doesn’t start up again for a few weeks so I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.”

“Lysandra would be incredibly unhappy with me if I sent you on back-to-back errands,” Alec huffed out a laugh.

Lydia smiled along with him. Though Jade’s sister liked to act aloof whenever she was sent on a mission, they were all well aware that she always missed her terribly – and perhaps longed to be sent on missions with her. Alec took care never to ask too much of Jade, even though the girl was essentially the half-faeries’ self-proclaimed ambassador. Meliorn had the official title, but he’d been happy enough to delegate his tasks to Jade when she’d eagerly bounded up to him at 18, ready to help the shadowhunters that had saved Lysandra when she was still little.

“She can deal without me,” Jade said with a small pout. “But I could also deal with something here, if that’s better for you. Maybe Thea or Emma need some help with paperwork?”

“Go home, Jade,” Lydia laughed. “We’ll find something for you to do soon enough. Or you could go to Meliorn; you know he’s always happy to give you the tasks he doesn’t like as much.”

Jade sighed but didn’t protest any further. Lydia knew she wouldn’t go anywhere near Meliorn, holding out hope that Alec would contact her and let her work alongside Emma and – most importantly – Thea.

The second she was out of their sight, the mood soured again, the reality settling upon them that although Jade’s information gave them a lead, it didn’t provide them with the cure or explanation they’d been looking for.

“So,” Lydia muttered, sending out a prayer of patience to the angel before she continued. “We’re going to Faerie, then?”

“Looks like it,” Alec answered, catching Isabelle’s wide-eyed look at the same time as Lydia did. “I need to stay here, Iz. I’d let you go with Clary, but she doesn’t have the same weight that Lydia’s title will accord you.”

“What about Jace?” Isabelle argued, gesturing towards their brother where he stood with a group of trainees. “He’s the head of something or the other these days, isn’t he? Couldn’t he come along and act as an ambassador for the Institute?”

“I’m the ambassador for the Institute,” Lydia said as calmly as she could. “If we want to talk to people of significance in the Queen’s court, which we do, then we’d better give them the respect they’ll be looking for. It would be downright insulting to have Jace tag along with you, and I doubt it would get us the answers we need.”

Isabelle pursed her lips. Lydia looked away. Alec crossed his arms and stared his sister down, gaze both stern and pleading.

The siblings glared at each other like that for what felt like an eternity, but Lydia knew Alec would win even before Isabelle looked away, letting out a loud scoff. She turned to look at Lydia instead, her jaw clenched but the rest of her face carefully neutrally.

“Only because it’s for New York,” she said sharply. “And you need to follow my lead. You may outrank me, but Faerie is my land. I can’t have you wandering around on a whim; if we do this, you have to trust me to navigate and take us to the right place.”

“Of course,” Lydia nodded.

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at her for a moment before turning around and stalking towards Jace, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from his poor trainees, who stared after him with wide eyes.

Alec cursed under his breath and immediately went to take his place, catching Lydia’s gaze and tilting his head towards Clary as he hurried away.

“Well,” Clary chuckled. “I’m sure that went about as well as the two of you had anticipated.”

“I actually thought it might be worse,” Lydia admitted. “Isabelle hasn’t exactly been open to working together in the past.”

“She…” Clary started, then cut herself off with a shake of her head. “New York matters to her. She likes Alicante, but I know she wants to come home. She’s waiting for my mother to give me her approval to leave the capital so we can move here.”

“So is Jace, I’d imagine,” Lydia smirked, laughing when Clary’s cheeks darkened to match her hair. “He can’t let go of you whenever you’re here. I swear you spend more time with the trainees in those few weeks than I do in the whole year.”

It was an exaggeration, but not by much. Lydia left the trainees and junior shadowhunters to Alec and Jace, who’d always had a knack for dealing with the younger groups. Clary, eager to spend as much time with Jace when she was in New York, had become a bit of a guest star to their trainees.

“I actually think that if she doesn’t give me her approval by the end of the year, I might make the transfer request anyway,” Clary said, her smile turning soft and shy. “She doesn’t actually have much of a say when it comes to shadowhunter transfers, and the capital is always eager to shift things around. A transfer on my end means they can bring someone else in.”

“Well then,” Lydia grinned. “I’ll be the first to give you my stamp of approval when the paperwork lands on mine and Alec’s desks.”

“And Izzy’s paperwork too,” Clary reminded her, which only slightly dampened Lydia’s excitement at the idea of having Clary with them for good.

“Right,” she sighed. “Though Isabelle’s transfer will be easier to organise anyway, since New York is her home Institute.”

“True,” Clary hummed. “Are you sure the two of you will manage alone in Faerie? I know she’s particularly prickly when it comes to you.”

“Ah, we’ll sort it out,” Lydia said, trying to sound unconcerned.

If the look on Clary’s face was anything to go by, she wasn’t entirely successful.

Chapter Text

Alec hated losing his cool.

He didn’t like appearing irrational or easily-angered, and he certainly didn’t like the comments that usually followed about his father and his stature and the position of power he held within New York.

Which was why, when Lorenzo Rey paraded him around his party for an hour without so much as a mention of the illness, Alec forced himself to stay calm. He’d accepted the offer to join the party because it had been the High Warlock’s first sign of actually hearing them out and because Andrew had always had a weakness for this particular warlock.

He regretted it now. He awkwardly made his way through the crowd and endured trivial conversations with warlocks who feigned ignorance and mortals who didn’t have to feign anything but were all too eager to gush over his runes and compliment his physique. He was exhausted, and his brief conversation with Rey had soured his mood too much for him to endure even one more minute of this nonsense.

He’d almost made it to the front door when a hand on his arm stopped him. 

It was because he hated losing his cool that he didn’t shove the person to the side, but it was because of the individual’s face that he actually paused.

“Catarina,” he said, brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t think I’d ever catch you at one of Rey’s events.”

“I could say the same about you,” Catarina pointed out. The ever-present smile that Alec had come to associate with her was firmly in place, her eyes warm and her posture welcoming. “Come to chat with Lorenzo about the illness?”

“I thought that’s what I’d come to do,” Alec grunted out, frustrated. “Turns out he just needed the local gay shadowhunter to parade around to his friends. I’m heading out. Unless you needed something?”

“Let’s walk out together,” she answered, her voice calm as she extended an arm out to him. He linked it with his own and helped them push the rest of the way to the door.

As soon as the warm evening air hit his skin, Alec felt something loosen inside him.

“Any news on Raphael?” Catarina asked once they’d put some distance between themselves and Rey’s townhouse.

“He’s as well-cared for as he can be, considering the circumstances,” Alec responded honestly. “Lily has him in a separate room from the others and I know she keeps extra blood in stock for him in case he starts deteriorating. But he hasn’t shown any signs of recovery, if that’s what you were wondering. Neither has anyone else, vampire or otherwise.”

“No, I didn’t think he would,” Catarina said quietly. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“You’ll be the first person I reach out to,” Alec assured her.

She hummed and stayed silent for a few moments as they kept walking down Rey’s street. Alec knew they both had quicker ways to get home, but Catarina didn’t seem to be in a rush to split off from him.

“I only came to the party because I’d heard you might be there,” she finally admitted.

“Oh?”

She sighed, slowing their pace until they were barely moving, shuffling only ever-so-slightly forward.

“A friend reached out to me a few days ago,” she explained. Her arm slipped out of Alec’s grip, her fingers linking together nervously. She didn’t look at him as she spoke. “I tried to contact our dearest mutual friend on the matter, but he has been quite unreachable. I’m sure he’ll make a reappearance soon enough but, in the meantime, I think you’re her best chance.”

“Chance of what?”

“Her husband fell asleep,” she replied. The words seemed to pain her, and Alec wondered how close she was not just to her friend, but to this friend’s husband as well. “He is– was a shadowhunter. He hasn’t been active in a very long time, and they’ve lived in seclusion for years now. They have a daughter too, three-quarters Nephilim. They’re worried she’ll catch the illness as well, even though they’re aware it isn’t contagious.”

“Three-quarters?” Alec asked as neutrally as he could manage.

“Tessa’s half-shadowhunter, half-warlock,” Catarina explained. “Her first husband was the head of the London Institute in the 1900s. She’s a good person, Alec, and she just wants her family to be safe.”

“Of course,” Alec nodded. Neither of them mentioned that the Institute was hardly safer than the rest of New York. It would give her friend’s family a little more room to breathe, but it wouldn’t solve their issues or stop them from catching the disease. “She’s more than welcome at the Institute. All shadowhunters are. She must know she would have been well within her rights to claim asylum?”

“She doesn’t want to deal with the paperwork that comes with that,” Catarina said. “She’d rather their visit wasn’t too recorded, if that’s alright.”

Alec didn’t mind either way. His duty was to make sure the shadowhunters of New York were cared for, and a lack of paperwork didn’t change that. If Tessa was as old as the existence of her first husband implied, Alec couldn’t fault her for wanting to stay off the Council’s radar.

“I’ll look after her. And her family,” he told Catarina. 

She smiled warmly at him.

“I know you will,” she smiled back. “Besides, I think hosting her will prove to be quite helpful to your cause when Magnus finally remembers he’s the High Warlock of Brooklyn and actually has responsibilities to attend to.”

Alec had known Catarina was friends with Bane, but they’d always been careful not to talk business when they were together. Alec didn’t want her to feel like he was using her for political connections, especially since she’d been more helpful than the rest of the warlocks combined.

Still, he couldn’t turn down an opening when he saw one.

“You think he might actually help the Institute?”

“I never know what Magnus will do,” Catarina rolled her eyes. “But Tessa and Jem are some of his favourite people. The second he learns Jem is ill, I reckon he’ll be at your door demanding to see him and figure out what’s wrong with him.”

It wasn’t a guarantee that he would help them cure the illness. It wasn’t even a guarantee that he would show up. But Alec would have taken Tessa and her family in regardless; this added detail was nothing more than a potential benefit he would be happy to exploit if it came down to it.

Tessa, Jem, and their daughter Mina arrived at the Institute the day after Izzy and Lydia left for Faerie.

Their goodbyes had been quick and efficient. Alec had hugged Izzy for a few seconds longer than necessary but had otherwise not said much to her, knowing she understood how much this mission meant to him and the city as a whole. He’d pressed a kiss to the crown of Lydia’s head after that and silently asked her to be careful, their rings clinking together in a quiet promise.

Izzy’s status as an official ambassador of Faerie meant she had access to communication devices and artifacts that would help her keep track of the passage of time in the mortal world, but Alec knew he likely wouldn’t hear from them again until they left the foreign land.

Welcoming Tessa’s family to the Institute was a nice distraction from his worries.

They’d portalled just a few metres away from the front doors and had hurried in, Tessa levitating an unconscious Jem behind her and carrying her young daughter in her arms. They’d exchanged polite introductions and stilted small talk until Mina had tugged at Alec’s hair and broken the barrier between them.

“The infirmary,” Alec said as they entered the dreary room.

It wasn’t dreary, really, but Alec could barely look at it these days without feeling the stench of the illness all over him. It was scentless and silent, but it crawled over his skin as though it were a living thing.

Mina’s grip on her mother tightened as they gently transferred Jem into the bed next to Evie’s.

“She’s young,” Tessa said softly, placing a hand on Evie’s forehead.

“A year younger than me,” Alec agreed. His gaze strayed to the portion of the infirmary that had been blocked off by a wide, white curtain. “And she’s not the youngest to have fallen ill.”

She nodded, her hand falling away from Evie’s head and laying limp by her side. Mina, picking up on her mother’s listlessness, squirmed in her arms until Tessa granted her a small smile and a kiss on the kiss.

“If there’s anything I can do,” Tessa said, glancing from Jem to the other inhabitants of the infirmary. “I don’t quite have the power that full warlocks do, but I’m sure there’s something I could do to help.”

“There is,” Alec answered immediately.

He knew Catarina had meant for High Warlock Bane to come back naturally and find out about Tessa’s plight by his own means, but Alec wasn’t going to waste the one advantage he’d been given. If Bane cared as much about Tessa and Jem as Catarina had implied, then he would drag his ass back to the city and give Alec the magic and resources he so desperately needed to help their community.

“Can you reach High Warlock Bane?” Alec continued when Tessa looked at him questioningly. “Lydia – the co-head of the Institute – has been trying for months without success, and even Catarina hasn’t been able to get through to him. But if you have any idea where he may be or how to contact him, that would be more of a boon than you can possibly imagine.”

Tessa sighed softly, threading her fingers through her daughter’s hair.

“A man who can’t stay still taking over the position of High Warlock,” she said, shaking her head. “I told him he wouldn’t be able to handle the responsibilities when he got the role. He loves his people and heaven knows he’s got enough magic to lead the entire city, but commitment’s hard for him. Don’t judge him too harshly when he returns, alright?”

“I’ll treat him as respectfully as I do everyone else in New York,” Alec answered honestly.

Tessa shrugged, obviously deciding that was enough for her, before unceremoniously placing Mina in Alec’s arms.

“I’ll try to get him back here within the day,” she said. “Take care of my loves while I’m gone. You have a Carstairs here, don’t you? Jem keeps tabs on her; maybe this could be the opportunity for her to meet a cousin.” 

She whirled away too quickly for Alec to say anything, waving a goodbye to her daughter and promising her she would be back very soon.

“Well,” Alec said, staring after her as she trailed out of the infirmary. He blinked down at Mina, who gaped up at him with wide eyes. “Hi there little one. I’m Alec.”

“Alec,” she repeated quietly, and Alec couldn’t help but melt a little.

She didn’t speak again as he chatted to her, taking her out of the infirmary and slowly showing her the Institute, pointing at various paintings and features and shadowhunters wandering the halls. She earned herself a few smiles from Alec’s people, and an especially radiant one from Clary when they came upon her in the training hall.

“Well, aren’t you the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen,” Clary beamed. “You must be Mina! Are you here to train already?”

Mina cuddled closer to Alec, fisting his shirt with one hand. Clary, undeterred, proceeded to introduce herself and the many trainees that moved around the hall. When she reached Emma, Alec stopped her in her tracks.

“That’s who we’re here to see,” he explained. “I’ll catch up with you in a little while, alright? Just gotta handle this little one first.”

He strode over to Emma before Clary could ask any more questions or try to introduce Mina to any more aspects of shadowhunter life. The poor girl’s eyes were drooping and Alec didn’t fancy the idea of being stuck with a sleeping toddler in his arms for the rest of his work day.

“Carstairs!” He called over as he reached her, smiling a little when Mina let out a sound of recognition at the name.

“Head Lightwood,” Emma greeted him in return, glancing curiously at the girl in his arms.

“Special duty for you today,” he smirked. “This is Mina Carstairs, a distant relative of yours. Her mother had to run off on an errand for me, so she’s in your care until she returns. You’ve got experience with children, right?”

“Um, yes?” Emma stuttered, her eyes glued on Mina. “I didn’t know I had any relatives.”

“I’m sure her mother would be happy to talk to you later,” Alec said gently. “She didn’t explain your relation to me, but I’m certain she’d love to chat with you about your family. Especially if you take care of Mina for me.”

At the reminder of her task, Emma nodded rapidly and extricated Mina from Alec’s arms. The girl smiled up at Emma, reaching out for the loose strands of blond hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

“She likes you already,” Alec grinned. “Stay away from anything dangerous while you’re with her, yeah? Maybe give her a tour of the library or the residential quarters. And for Angel’s sake, don’t let Clary talk you into anything stupid.”

“Noted,” Emma laughed lightly, her gaze never leaving Mina. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

“I wouldn’t have given her to you if I thought you would,” Alec said honestly. “You’ll resume your normal duties tomorrow. If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”

And with that he turned around, already regretting having swapped Mina for a day of paperwork and diplomatic missions.

He missed Lydia already.

His fingers ached from the number of documents he’d had to sign throughout the day, his head hurt from the calls he’d had to make to various leaders and allies in the city, and his heart clenched every time he remembered he’d sent his favourite person on a mission to a dubiously-safe location with someone she only vaguely tolerated.

As he sent off a copy of an agreement to a minor vampire leader regarding the acquisition of more angel blood for their recently fallen members, he played with his wedding ring.

He’d been Head of the Institute for longer than he’d known Lydia, but sometimes he forgot what life had been like before her.

It had been years since he’d had to truly handle any minor diplomatic issues and, though he knew his work on the field meeting the various members of their community was just as valuable, he couldn’t help but feel like Lydia had been the one holding the Institute together.

“Just a few weeks,” he muttered to himself.

Truthfully, he had no idea how long Izzy and Lydia would be gone for, but he refused to imagine it would be any longer than that. 

He sighed and put his pen down, pushing the remaining paperwork away from himself and shooting off a quick text to Jace and Clary, whom he’d paired up for a night patrol against his better judgement.

Emma and Blackthorn were out on the streets as well, and he needed Jace to make sure the couple wasn’t taking advantage of their pairing to visit areas Alec had deemed strictly off-limits.

He silenced his phone before he could get a reply, determined to give himself at least half the night off. Lydia would kill him if she knew he wasn’t getting rest, and he’d be a useless leader anyway if he didn’t get a couple hours of sleep before Tessa came back with whatever news she had of Bane.

He dozed off for a while after that, waking in intervals only long enough to move to Lydia’s office and settle in her armchair or to check his phone for any urgent calls from his subordinates.

It wasn’t the best sleep he’d gotten in his life, but it was better than he’d anticipated considering it was the first time in a year and a half that he and Lydia had been apart.

He gave up on going back to sleep once the sun started rising. He checked his reflection in Lydia’s office mirror, combed his fingers through his hair until he looked almost presentable, and headed back to his own office to complete more paperwork before he had to catch up with the night crew and give instructions to the day team on their missions for the day.

He wasn’t even halfway through his first document when someone knocked on his door. Thea popped her head into his office when he acknowledged her, her eyes scanning him briefly before she spoke.

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” she said quickly. “Miss Gray is back from the mission you sent her on? And she says she brings a guest with her, though he refuses to enter the Institute without express permission from one of the Heads. Something about not wanting the shadowhunters to take his head off for stepping in unaccompanied.”

Thea was clearly unimpressed by Bane’s dramatics, but Alec was willing to put up with a lot from the warlock if it meant they finally got the magical help they needed in their investigation.

“Thank you, Thea,” he smiled. “I had planned on going to see the werewolves in the Bronx this morning. Would you mind giving them a call and seeing if a replacement would suit them well enough? If they say yes, I’ll let you go there with Andrew. The two of you can report to me when you return.”

“Yes, sir,” Thea said, standing up straighter at his order. She hesitated for a moment when he made to walk by her into the corridor. “Is that… Is that High Warlock Bane?”

“I certainly hope so,” Alec said tiredly.

“Oh, okay,” Thea murmured. Alec glanced at her sharply. “He’s just not what I expected, sir.”

And that, even more than his desire to help their city, was why Alec picked up his pace and hurried down the halls of the Institute, wondering – not for the first time – why he’d never met High Warlock Bane before.

He reached the entrance hall in record time, noting the open doors and an exasperated-looking Tessa standing just within them.

Then he looked beyond that, out into the early morning light, and stopped in his tracks.

Standing outside of his Institute, wearing a shimmering red blouse and enough makeup to be visible even from afar, was the most beautiful man Alec had ever laid his eyes on.

Chapter Text

Lydia had had the opportunity to visit Faerie twice before in her life. Both times, the experience had left her feeling dazed and out of sorts. It was what every mortal said upon returning to their world; Faerie was disorienting in a way that was utterly unexplainable.

Somehow, it was different with Isabelle by her side.

Her travel partner had shown her the token that granted her safe passage to Faerie, but Lydia still struggled to understand how a simple – though admittedly gorgeous – necklace could possibly change her perception of a land. 

And yet, it had.

This time, as they walked through Faerie, Lydia didn’t feel the endless call of something in the distance, nor did she feel unsettled by the thought of eyes on her. Instead, she was able to enjoy the scents that were so unique to Faerie and the sights that she could never dream of seeing in the mortal world.

The only thing that remained the same was the loss of time. Even Isabelle admitted, embarrassed, that keeping track of time in Faerie was something he hadn’t quite mastered. It was the work of scientists and specialists in Faerie magic and, though Isabelle was an incredibly competent diplomat, she didn’t have the resources to spot patterns in the strange passing of time.

As it was, neither of them had any idea how long they had been in Faerie when they finally exited the forest they’d been walking through ever since they’d stepped out of the Central Park portal.

“Less than a day, surely,” Lydia frowned. They’d paused at the edge of the forest to give Isabelle time to find her bearings. “We would have gotten tired already if it was more than that.”

“Not necessarily,” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “You realise that time passing differently means our bodies are also adjusting to an entirely different system? Who knows what the magic does to us when we step through a portal.”

Lydia didn’t respond. She’d promised both Alec and Clary that she would be on her best behaviour with Isabelle and didn’t feel like starting their trip with a passive-aggressive conversation about her intelligence. Besides, Isabelle had a point. If the passing of time was different in Faerie, then their perception of it could also be skewed.

She just wished she had a way of knowing how long she’d been away from Alec – and New York – for.

“We’re not quite at the court yet,” Isabelle sighed a few minutes later.

She’d been inspecting the landscape closely, though Lydia had no idea what she’d seen that had confirmed or denied her suspicions of their current location.

“The portal in Central Park is meant to lead us almost directly to our destination, but the lands around here aren’t steady enough to guarantee we’ll always appear in the same place,” she continued without prompting. She glanced at Lydia briefly before gesturing to a road up ahead. “The road is meant to lead mortals in a loop around the land. Fae find us particularly predictable and pathetic; they think we’ll always pick familiarity over wilderness, and the roads are the oldest trick in their book.”

“Endless roads?” Lydia asked, her eyebrows rising.

It wasn’t as though she trusted faeries or thought they all beat the stereotypes associated with their race, but she hadn’t anticipated to be presented with such an obvious proof of their viciousness so early on in their journey.

“Even now, there are Seelies and Unseelies alike who would rather see my status as a diplomat eradicated,” Isabelle shrugged. “The Fair Folks that I trust have taught me how to spot a trap from ten miles away. We won’t be going anywhere near that road, no matter how appealing it may seem.”

“The hills, then?” Lydia said listlessly, her legs aching as she gazed at the steep climb to their left.

“We can only go up from here,” Isabelle smirked, though Lydia could see exhaustion pulling at her smile too. “If we’re where I think we are, it should only be a little while longer before we find a place to rest. The Seelie Queen is ruthless, but her world is soft to those who treat it well. And, not to brag, but I’ve treated it very well.”

She took a pouch out of her bag as she spoke. When she opened it, Lydia glimpsed what looked like petals and dust for only a moment before Isabelle let the mixture float away in the wind.

They started walking again after that. Isabelle was humming a quiet tune underneath her breath, the melody unfamiliar but comforting to Lydia. When she focused on the song, it was easier for her to pretend as though her thighs weren’t burning or that her toes weren’t aching.

They made it all the way up and down three hills before Isabelle pointed at something in the distance. Lydia paused, not sure for a moment whether she was dreaming or whether they had finally reached civilization again.

But when she blinked and rubbed at her eyes, the small gathering of cottages and fields didn’t disappear. In fact, they only got more vivid the closer she and Isabelle got to them.

There were children in the fields; dryads, if Lydia had to make a guess. They didn’t seem fazed by the appearance of two shadowhunter women and, much to Lydia’s delight, they even waved happily when Isabelle’s voice reached them. One of the little girls started singing along to the tune, keeping the melody going even once Isabelle and Lydia had passed their field.

Only when they approached an older dryad did Isabelle stop singing.

“Fair One,” Isabelle greeted, keeping her voice quiet and respectful. “My name is Isabelle, friend of Mark and Helen, beloved of Kieran and Meliorn. My partner and I are searching for a place to rest until we can continue our journey to the Seelie Court.”

“Greetings, Fair Isabelle,” the dryad returned. Her voice was like nothing Lydia had ever heard before; it was a quiet song and the rustling of leaves and the wind around her all at once. She had to stop herself from shivering or showing her unsettlement at the unusual sound.

Isabelle slipped a hand into hers and squeezed it warningly. She squeezed back, a promise that she understood they had to tread carefully.

“You may call me Shade, friend of Nene,” the dryad added. “It is an honour to be in the company of such esteemed guests, though it is my responsibility as a guardian of these lands to ask for proof of your devotion.”

Isabelle, clearly accustomed to this song and dance, slipped her token out from under her shirt, revealing one side than the other long enough for Shade to examine the necklace thoroughly.

“Beloved of Kieran,” the dryad said once she was done with her perusal, shaking her head in what looked like awe to Lydia. “A great honour indeed. A room is what you seek?”

“Yes, Fair Shade,” Isabelle nodded. “We would be most grateful.”

And so, without Lydia having had to say a single word, she and Isabelle were led towards a cottage furthest from the hills they had just come from. Their guide spoke quietly to Isabelle as they walked, the dialogue between them passing smoothly as Shade asked for news of the Courts and Isabelle gladly gave her tidbits of information to appease her curiosity.

It wasn’t anything like the diplomacy Lydia was used to employing in New York, but she had to admit it was a rather successful method. Isabelle gave nothing of great value away, Shade gathered the gossip she obviously craved, and neither of them felt as though they were being taken advantage of in the process.

By the time they reached the cottage and climbed the stairs to their room, Shade was laughing at a comment Isabelle had made about one of the various knights of the Seelie court. It was impressive, really, just how quickly she had managed to make an ally out of a complete stranger.

“I will leave you here, beloved of Kieran,” Shade told them as she pushed the door to their room open. “May you and your partner enjoy your stay. Any food in this home is at your disposal, and I shall make myself available to you should you wish for anything more.”

Without waiting for a thank you, she turned around and drifted back down the stairs silently, her hair floating almost unnaturally behind her as she descended.

Lydia shook herself out of her daze when Isabelle moved into the room, inspecting it appreciatively.

“We’ll have to be careful with the food,” Isabelle said as she tossed her small bag onto the twin bed closest to the window. Lydia knew, even before she leaned closer to the glass, that the view was unbelievable. “Shade seems mostly reliable, but better to be safe than sorry.”

“I doubt she’d harm you,” Lydia said, placing her own belongings on the remaining bed. “She seemed quite amazed by you, if anything.”

“Amazement isn’t always good around here,” Isabelle said seriously. “For all we know, she has a grudge against one of my patrons and is planning on using me as a bargaining tool against them.”

“Right,” Lydia hummed. “Beloved of Kieran. That’s the one she was fixated on.”

Isabelle shot her a curious look.

“Does it bother you?”

“No, I guess not,” Lydia shrugged, even though the words felt off as they left her mouth. “Just wondering about the turn of phrase. And honestly, I’m more interested in the story with Meliorn, since I haven’t a clue who this Kieran guy is.”

“Kieran’s a prince of Unseelie,” Isabelle said, her tone heavily implying that Lydia should have known this.

Considering Lydia spent most of her time learning the names of every leader and sub-leader in New York City, she thought she deserved a pass for not being aware of the entire royal family tree of the Faerie realm. Isabelle must have reached a similar conclusion because her voice didn’t contain even a hint of exasperation when she kept on talking.

“Meliorn and I had a… thing,” Isabelle explained. “A while ago. Not that it’s any of your concern, really. And Kieran’s more of a brother to me than anything. He gave me the title of Beloved because he knows his partners don’t mind, his father hates it, and it gives me more freedom to roam around the land.”

“I’m not judging,” Lydia said. Isabelle raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not. You’re a grown woman who also happens to be incredibly attractive. And charming, supposedly, though I’ve yet to have that part confirmed.”

She had, of course. She’d seen it in those months before she’d gotten engaged to Alec, before the ring on her finger had turned Isabelle against her. She’d been on the receiving end of her smiles and laughs and compliments enough to know exactly why Meliorn might have fallen for her, once upon a time.

But Isabelle didn’t need to know how much Lydia regretted those days.

“I guess you’ve never been deserving of my full charm,” Isabelle smirked. 

Lydia stayed quiet.

She pulled open the door on the right side of their room, reassured to find – as she’d expected – a small bathroom with all the amenities they would need to freshen up. It wasn’t until she’d grabbed new clothes out of her bag and started to make her way into the other room that Isabelle stopped her, cutting her path off and staring at her, her brows furrowed.

“Nothing to say to that?”

Lydia looked at her properly then, into those dark eyes that dared her to snap back at her. She shook her head.

“We have a city to save, Isabelle,” she said softly, stepping around the other woman and reaching for the door handle once more. “I can’t spend every minute of every day arguing with someone whose only gripe with me is that I married her brother.”

She closed the door behind her and stepped into a blissfully hot shower, eager to push Isabelle to the back of her mind for as long as she could get away with.

They set off for the Seelie court early the next morning, when the sun had barely risen. Shade had asked them multiple times if they were sure they didn’t want to stay for breakfast, but Isabelle had been insistent and Lydia was just as determined to reach their final destination.

In the end, Shade sent them away with a loaf of bread and a few jams that she assured them were safe for human consumption. Since Isabelle had seemed genuinely pleased by the gift, Lydia assumed they wouldn’t be tricked into some sort of eternal servitude should they decide to indulge in the treats.

They walked quietly again, Lydia pensive and Isabelle…

Lydia wasn’t quite sure whether Isabelle’s silence was thoughtful or brooding, to be honest, but she was wise enough not to disturb it. Instead, she took to mentally cataloguing the various species of flora they came across on their trip. Most were plants that Lydia had studied during her trainee years or seen throughout her various travels, but some were entirely new to her.

If they weren’t on a mission to save their city from imminent doom, she might have brought a camera with her and taken her time strolling through the lands.

But they did have a mission, which was why she didn’t complain when Isabelle led them through a dubious shortcut that she swore would take two hours off their trip. It was also why she didn’t needle Isabelle when she noticed how tired the woman looked.

She was sure Isabelle would have had plenty to say if their roles were reversed, but Lydia hadn’t been lying the night – day? – before. Arguments were altogether pointless when they were trying to solve an issue as big as the one waiting for them back in New York City.

Then, finally, they reached the Seelie court. 

It was just as Lydia remembered it from her first few stints in Faerie, though she certainly hadn’t come from the same road nor had the trip to the court felt so arduous when she’d been invited in an official capacity. Perhaps that had had more to do with her inability to keep a clear mind, which she couldn’t complain about this time around.

Isabelle presented herself to a nearby knight, gracefully including Lydia without fully revealing who she was or whom she might represent. The knight, recognising her seal – and maybe even Isabelle herself – was quick to lead them further into the court, chatting quietly with Isabelle as they ventured deeper into the Seelie Queen’s territory.

“She’s been in a mood,” the knight was saying. “One of her favourite pixie maids has recently gotten married and has left the court to be with her lover. She’s highly displeased by this turn of events and has been considering punishing the pixie for her slight.”

“Ah, yes,” Isabelle snorted. “How dare the pixie marry the person she loves. Treason of the highest order.”

“That’s how Her Majesty sees it,” the knight sighed. “She’d have rather the pixie married another servant, or perhaps a low lordling of the court. That way the pixie would still have a partner, and the queen would still have her favourite hairdresser.”

“That would have been perfectly convenient,” Isabelle said. She looked right at Lydia as she spoke, and the curl of her lip was downright disgusted.

Lydia looked away.

The ring on her left hand felt heavy, and she fiddled with it thoughtlessly, letting the weight of it be comforting rather than shameful.

Why would it be shameful?

“Anyway, we’re not here to see the Queen,” Isabelle told the knight once they neared the center of activity in the court. There was more noise now, sounds of merriment ringing in the corridors of flowers, and lights coming from all directions. “I was only hoping to take advantage of your marvelous library once more.”

“Of course,” the knight chuckled. “What else would the Beloved Isabelle be doing in Faerie?”

“Now Frost, it isn’t nice to tease a lady,” Isabelle laughed. “I come here almost as much for you as I do the books.”

“It’s a shame my inability to lie doesn’t come with a blindness to other people’s untruths,” the knight – Frost – said woefully. “Perhaps then I could let myself believe you mean half of the lovely things that come out of your mouth.”

He grinned when Isabelle laughed harder, and Lydia felt herself stiffen at the casual interaction between the two of them.

What had Frost done to earn Isabelle’s laughter? What could a knight of Faerie possibly give her that Lydia was incapable of providing? Why did his association with the Seelie Queen not poison him to Isabelle the same way her association to Alec did?

Since she would rather die than ask any of those questions aloud, she forced herself to stay quiet, pressing her lips together tightly.

Thankfully, the din of conversations around them dulled her awareness of whatever Isabelle and Frost were joking about now. She let herself catch pieces of discussions and arguments as they walked through the heart of the court towards what she assumed was the library. Seelies whispered about her and Isabelle when they saw their runes, though many seemed familiar enough with Isabelle that they quickly turned away and went on with their business.

It was, all in all, a lot more casual than any other trip Lydia had taken to Faerie. There was no pomp, no grand entrance, no big acknowledgement of their presence – though she was sure the Queen had been made aware of Isabelle’s arrival.

When they reached the library, Frost even left them to their own devices, tilting his head at Lydia before exchanging a warm smile with Isabelle.

“She’ll be expecting you to see her before you leave,” he told her, and Isabelle chuckled.

“I wouldn’t dare to step into her library and make myself sparse without making note of her magnificence,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Do tell her I’ll be on my way as soon as I’ve found the information I’m looking for.”

They waited until the knight was out of sight before stepping into the library. Lydia, mostly unsurprised, realised the library was far smaller than the one in the New York Institute. It held many beautiful tomes but, for the most part, the collection was severely lacking.

“Why exactly are we here when we know from Jade that the story we’re searching for is one transmitted orally?” She asked with a small frown, glancing around for any sign of a librarian.

“We’re here because I don’t want the Seelie Queen asking too many questions about my presence in her court,” Isabelle sighed, leaning against a shelf and picking up a book at random. She leafed through it without stopping to read a single page. “I’ve read most of the books that I find interesting in here already, but the court believes I’m an avid reader. So long as they believe that, they don’t ask themselves if there might be another reason behind my many visits.”

“That reason being?”

“Usually gossip,” Isabelle shrugged. “Information, as the Council would put it. I know your half-faeries in New York are mostly pleasant, but the full-blooded faeries we have to deal with are not so keen to engage with us.”

“They’re to you what warlocks are to us, then,” Lydia nodded understandingly. “Do they truly believe you read every time you come here?”

“Reading isn’t exactly a hobby here,” Isabelle answered. “They believe it’s a mortal folly and only created this library when a Queen of times past took on a human lover who enjoyed reading in his free time. They think I come in here because, like all other humans, I like to engage in what they see as a frivolous pastime.”

“Smart,” Lydia hummed. “How long will we have to stay before we can head out and gather the ‘gossip’ we’re searching for?” 

“A few hours?” Isabelle estimated. “Maybe a little bit more? I usually fall asleep in here for a little while or I end up being dreadfully bored. No offence to faeries, but they have absolutely no idea what makes for an entertaining book.”

“Hours?” Lydia gaped, schooling her features into something a little more neutral when Isabelle looked at her sideways. “I mean, that’s fine. You can enjoy your nap while I look through these books and see if there’s anything worthwhile. You never know, maybe I’ll open a book and come across an exact cure to the illness in New York.”

“Sure, you go ahead and do that,” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Don’t complain later on when you’re dozing off at the dinner table and the Seelie Queen decides to make an example out of you.”

Lydia hesitated for a moment but, when Isabelle’s lips twitched slightly, decided there would be no blatant public humiliation even if she did happen to fall asleep at dinner.

She started wandering through the bookshelves without delay, foolishly hoping that perhaps she was right and there was an answer to all of their problems hidden neatly inside one of these books.

A girl could dream, right?

Chapter Text

There was a moment, right after Alec realised how heartstoppingly beautiful Magnus Bane was and just before he opened his mouth to properly greet the man, where Alec wondered if he was dreaming.

If it hadn’t been for Tessa’s presence and her obvious desire to drag Bane into the Institute by force, he might have pinched himself.

As it was, he had all of two seconds to collect himself and not look like an utter fool in front of a man who was not only attractive, but also a leader whose support he desperately needed if he was going to solve their current problem.

“High Warlock Bane,” he said, keeping his tone even and holding a hand out as he finally reached the other man. Standing so close to him, he could see the golden flecks in Bane’s dark eyes and the small smirk curling at his lips. Why was Alec even staring at his lips? “Thank you so much for coming here today.”

He should have looked at pictures of Bane before the man showed up on their doorstep. He should have prepared himself for their meeting. He should have pitched in more when Lydia had asked him to look into warlocks months ago. He should have done something – anything – to prevent himself from being starstruck at the sight of the man.

“Thank you for having me,” Bane said, his voice somehow even more enchanting than his appearance. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Alec glanced sideways at Tessa then. She’d pinched the bridge of her nose and was shaking her head as though she couldn’t quite believe Magnus was as clueless as he claimed to be.

“Alexander Lightwood,” Alec responded. “Co-head of the New York Institute.”

He mentally slapped himself. He never used his full name. No one ever used his full name. It was the sort of thing his parents would have wanted him to do back when they’d still been here, desperate to rise to the top of shadowhunter society.

Now here Alec was, using their training on Magnus Bane, all because he couldn’t keep it together in front of beautiful men.

The last time he’d been this foolish, he’d been 21 years old and recently introduced to Meliorn.

“A Lightwood, huh?” Bane raised a single eyebrow. “I didn’t know they made such pretty models these days.”

In another world, Alec was the sort of person who stayed perfectly impassive when a compliment was dropped in his lap. In this world, however, he was the type of man who blushed excessively and forgot that his tongue was used to talk, not to flap uselessly in his mouth as he stared agape at Bane.

“Cat got your tongue, darling?” Bane chuckled, and even Tessa let out a snort, as though she was in on some cosmic joke that Alec would never understand.

“Sorry,” Alec mumbled, clearing his throat and attempting to regain his composure. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up. We’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months. My co-head hasn’t been able to reach you even once.”

“Ah, yes,” Bane said lightly. “I was away. The beauty of Thailand waits for no person, especially not when the beauty also involves a clan of wild vampires, a group of faeries who have for some reason left their native land, and a grand total of three werewolves battling it out in the capital city.”

“I see,” Alec nodded.

And he did, really. Bane may have been the High Warlock of Brooklyn, but it wasn’t as though New York City had been left warlock-less without him. In fact, if any of his colleagues had deigned to offer even a smidgen of help, Alec wouldn’t have needed to call Bane back from his trip.

“The High Warlock of Bangkok recently passed away,” Tessa explained, though really, Alec had already taken Bane’s explanation at face value.

“Honestly, I understand,” Alec said, meeting Bane’s eyes in the hopes of letting the warlock understand that he wouldn’t hold his travels against him. 

Even if it had been incredibly frustrating on their end.

Angel, Bane was lucky Lydia wasn’t the one greeting him at the door.

“Good,” Bane smiled, and Alec–

Alec wasn’t sure what he did then, because it felt a little as though he’d lost control of his body and mind. Bane was attractive enough as it was, but with his full charm on display, Alec felt breathless.

Tessa coughed loudly next to him, and he dragged himself back to the present.

Seeking comfort, he traced his wedding ring absently. He could tell the moment Bane noticed it too, because the warlock’s smile went from teasing and flirtatious to polite and formal, like a light had switched off.

Alec, foolishly, wanted the light back. 

And if that didn’t prove he hadn’t slept with anyone in years, he wasn’t sure what did.

“My apologies, I’m a little out of sorts today,” he laughed awkwardly. “We’ve had a long few months.”

“Of course,” Bane said, his gaze turning regretful. “And I must apologise, truly, for my fellow warlocks’ incompetence. I didn’t anticipate New York would go through any major changes while I was gone, otherwise I would have better prepared for this sort of thing. Creed is possibly the most cowardly woman I have ever met, and Rey would only ever raise a finger if he thought his life was in danger. Even then, he might simply flee the scene and start over somewhere new.”

“The man’s a nuisance,” Tessa agreed, nodding fervently. “Maybe if he’d bothered to take you seriously even once, Jem would be–”

Her voice cracked then. Bane, who still hadn’t stepped into the Institute, finally crossed the door’s threshold in order to grab her hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

“I’d like to see him now, Head Lightwood,” Bane said seriously. “Jem has gone through far too much to be defeated by a sleeping disease.”

Alec nodded and led them towards the infirmary once more, even as a part of his heart thrummed with bitterness.

Months, it had been, since the disease had started claiming people and turning them into husks of their former selves. Months of werewolves in agony, crying out to Alec and begging him to help their dying loved ones. Months of vampires lying still in beds, of Raphael looking like a ghost of his former self. Months of shadowhunters sweating under the pressure until they fell as well, until the illness took the girl Lydia and Alec had raised as their own for years.

And only now did a warlock care to show up, simply because a person they loved had been put on the line.

So, when they reached Jem again, his figure as still as it had been when Alec had left him there earlier that day, he excused himself.

Instead of staying with them and going over the details of the illness – which is what he had planned on doing, as a good Head – he stepped further into the room, away from Tessa’s sad eyes and Bane’s somber face.

He slipped past the curtain that he hadn’t dared to touch since it had been put up, his hands trembling as they touched the fabric, and let himself enter a space that he wished didn’t exist.

He moved over to the single infirmary bed in the middle of the space. A flowery blue blanket had been placed atop the unmoving girl laying on the thin mattress, her dark braids pooling around her head. Her skin, usually a glossy brown, was dull and gray-ish, even worse now than it had been in Alec’s memory.

“Hi Fran,” he whispered, placing a hand on her cheek. He swallowed thickly and sat down on the chair next to her bed. “You’ve got some new company in here. Evie– Evie’s been with you for a few weeks. I’m sure the two of you are shaking your heads at us, telling us to get over ourselves and sort this out before it gets any worse. Jem’s just arrived. He’s a distant cousin of Emma’s, so you should take good care of him, yeah?”

He paused, breathing in shakily.

“We all miss you, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Simon’s been asking after you. If he could come in here, I’m sure he’d be by your side telling you stories and keeping you updated on this miserable situation. And Luke’s worried as well. You know he always liked you more than the rest of us, and he’s devastated that you’re not there to help me with my runs to the packs anymore. I’m letting Thea take the lead on some of them. I know you’d approve, since you still think she hung the stars and the moon.”

Still, she didn’t move. She didn’t blink, didn’t laugh, didn’t smile. Sometimes, Alec wanted to burst into this space just to make sure she was still breathing.

Still living.

“You have to come back soon,” he said, wiping at his eyes as tears threatened to fall. “I’m going to make sure you come back soon, alright? I’ll figure this whole thing out, even if it means paying Bane a fortune and spending a month without Lydia here so she can find a cure in Faerie. Okay? I promise.”

He didn’t expect an answer, but he gave her a second anyway. Then he leaned over and kissed her forehead, wishing she was still awake to groan and tell him she was too old for his affection.

He felt more like himself when he saw Bane again.

He and Tessa had still been busy with Jem when he’d reentered the main infirmary room, so he’d told them to meet him in his office when they were done.

In the end, Tessa had excused herself and sent Bane his way alone so she could find Mina and get some rest after a long day. So, Alec found himself sitting across from the warlock, pushing his stacks of unfinished paperwork out of the way and ignoring his phone as it vibrated on the surface in front of him.

“You must be a busy man, Head Lightwood,” Bane commented. He’d settled into his chair regally, his legs crossed at the ankle and his gaze curious as he peered around Alec’s office. His eyes lingered on the pictures Alec kept on his desk, though they were turned away from him, visible only to Alec from this angle.

“The whole city’s busy these days,” Alec pointed out. “But yes, I suppose the Institute has had to pick up on a lot more patrols and duties these past few months. And with Lydia gone, my phone’s been going almost non-stop.”

“Lydia is your wife, then?”

Alec paused, his brows raising slightly.

Truthfully, his marriage to Lydia had only ever fooled the shadowhunters back in Alicante. In New York City, it was no secret that the two of them were married in name only, and Alec didn’t think anyone had ever seriously referred to Lydia as his wife before.

“She’s the co-head of this Institute,” Alec replied. “And the two of us are married, yes. She usually handles matters of diplomacy while I lead our internal teams and patrols. Though I suppose we’ve both had to deal with our fair share of diplomatic matters in this past year. I tend to be in the field with the vampires and werewolves so Lydia can contact the half-faeries and your lot.”

“Ah, yes,” Bane chuckled. “Unfortunately, us warlocks tend to be a little more loosely organised than the rest of the communities in this city. You haven’t had any luck convincing a single one?”

“Catarina Loss has been incredibly helpful,” Alec shrugged. “But she’s only one woman, and a busy one at that. Though I commend her for having supported us from the start, even before someone she cared about was affected.”

“Who?” Bane’s voice was sharp, and only then did it occur to Alec that if Catarina was friends with him, then there was a good chance they had several other friends in common.

“Raphael Santiago, one of Lily’s,” Alec answered, politely looking away when Bane’s mask slipped for a second and revealed genuine anguish. “She’s been trying to reach you, but she obviously doesn’t have the same resources that Tessa does.”

“I–” Bane cleared his throat. “Admittedly, I don’t always tell all of my friends where I’m heading or how they can contact me. Tessa was only aware of it because she was friends with the former High Warlock of Bangkok. Raphael… How long has Raphael been ill?”

“Four months now,” Alec pursed his lips. “He’s doing well, all things considered. Lily’s been taking good care of him and we’ve made sure he’s comfortable at the hotel. Jace, my brother, has been providing blood to the vampires who have caught the disease.”

“Jace…” Bane frowned. “As in Jonathan? The fool who let people know about his higher levels of angel blood and has been turning vampires into Daylighters for the past couple of years?”

“The one and only,” Alec snorted. “And hey, the idea may have been foolish, but it hasn’t backfired yet.”

“Heaven only knows how,” Bane grumbled. “Now, tell me, how can I have possibly met your brother and yet never caught sight of you before?”

“With all due respect, High Warlock Bane, I’m not sure we frequent the same downworlder haunts,” Alec said, his lips twitching when Bane let out an amused huff. “Besides, Jace doesn’t have an Institute to lead. Though really, none of us have been getting out much since the illness started. Has Tessa caught you up to speed?”

Thankfully, she’d already given Bane most of the details.

Alec filled him in on the rest, telling him about the symptoms he’d noticed in the different communities and the areas in which the disease had spread most quickly. He mentioned the lives lost as well, which he’d been careful not to do when Tessa had been around, not wanting to make her any more anxious than she already was.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he even shared Izzy and Lydia’s location as well as their mission.

“You believe the cure is in Faerie?” Bane asked, sounding skeptical.

“We believe the precedent is in Faerie,” Alec corrected. “And, honestly, I’ve started to wonder if the disease might not even come from there. An infection from Faerie would surely affect individuals with lesser levels of magic first.”

“A possibility,” Bane nodded slowly. “Which would mean the half-faeries would be the next population to be targeted."

“I won’t let it come to that,” Alec said firmly. “We’ve known it was a magical illness all along, since the mundanes have been unaffected, and we’ve been looking into patterns for months, but the addition of a Fae element has made it easier for my teams to pinpoint areas of weakness in the city. The disease has to be coming from somewhere, since it isn’t contagious, and we’re getting close to finding the source.”

“How so?” Bane asked, and Alec was surprised to notice that the man was genuinely listening to him.

He’d half-expected him to disappear as soon as he’d gathered whatever information he could regarding Jem.

Instead, here he was, his fingers laced together and his face a picture of concentration as he stared at Alec intently.

“Alright, look at this,” Alec said, unfolding the map he kept on his desk for this specific purpose.

The map covered all five neighbourhoods, with buildings blacked out where individuals had fallen asleep. Some of those buildings were isolated but, for the most part, they came in clusters. Those clusters had been circled in red, with dates next to them to indicate the first and last appearances of the disease in those zones. As time had passed, Alec and his crew had been adding significant markers to the map: communities of vampires and werewolves, homes of High Warlocks, the Institute, portals to Faerie, demon sightings…

There was still no direct correlation between the clusters and the environment, but if one knew the city well enough, they could draw some conclusions.

“It isn’t necessarily hitting people in their homes,” Bane hummed, his fingers pointing out Hotel Dumort. The hotel’s residents had been touched by the disease, yes, but the majority of them had fallen asleep in a secondary location. “And the Institute is entirely untouched.”

Alec nodded.

“The shadowhunters that have fallen ill were all on patrol when it happened.”

“The demon sightings in those areas are higher,” Bane continued.

“But only after the initial infections,” Alec sighed. “The disease isn’t attracted to demon portals; it’s the other way around. The best lead we have so far are the entrances to Faerie. They’re all located in areas we’ve deemed at risk.”

“Alright,” Bane said thoughtfully. “Then that’s where we’ll look first.”

Alec blinked at him.

“We?”

“It seems rather foolish to investigate separately when we could make the most of each other’s strengths,” Bane shrugged. “You need a magical expert, and I’ll need someone who understands the disease as intimately as you do. Unless you’d rather send another member of your team? I understand you have a lot to do here.”

“No, no, I’ll come,” Alec said quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I didn’t want to work with you. I just didn’t expect you to…”

He cut himself off there, aware that anything he added would come across as rude. He didn’t know Bane enough to trust him, but he also couldn’t deny that the man had done more in a few hours than his fellow warlocks had done in months. Insulting him wouldn’t exactly lead to a healthy working relationship.

“I care about this city,” Bane said, his lips curled into a sad smile. “It’s been there for me through a lot of things, and I’d hate to see its magical communities disappear because of an illness I could have prevented. Some warlocks are content to stand back and watch disasters unfold because they know they can leave at a moment’s notice, but I’ve grown rather fond of these streets and the people that inhabit them.”

“Noted,” Alec smiled back. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. New York deserves to be taken care of.”

Some of the sadness leeched out of Bane’s smile then, leaving behind only brightness and determination, and Alec–

Alec cleared his throat, looked away, and fought the urge to play with his wedding ring.

Chapter Text

Even with Isabelle’s necklace in play, Lydia knew the two of them were losing time.

For one, she couldn’t recall when they had arrived at the Seelie court. She remembered the library and her conversations with Isabelle and even their first dinner with the Queen, but everything around these major events felt blurry in her mind.

And for another, she couldn’t seem to sleep. She would toss around in bed when the lights dimmed outside, but rest evaded her as though her body knew it was out of sync, in a world where time was meaningless. She would close her eyes for what felt like hours but wake up within minutes, Isabelle still dozing in her bed across the room from her.

Isabelle wasn’t as affected by the strange passage of time, but even she had started to grow antsy when she looked at the sun and noticed how slowly it was moving.

She’d told Lydia, on their third day – or what Lydia assumed was their third day – at court, that time had never been a concern for her before. She was sent on missions for however long it took her to resolve a diplomatic situation, never worrying about when she might return to Alicante.

But with the illness looming over them, her usual carefreeness had been replaced by urgency, her nonchalance disappearing underneath layers of desperation.

Not that they could show any of that to the Faeries they currently lived with.

No, their lives at a court were a nightmare full of small talk and arguments that went in circles for hours. Isabelle would navigate conversations too complex for Lydia to entirely grasp. Lydia would snoop around and pray she wouldn’t get caught. They met more and more people, each of them knowledgeable on court matters but uninterested in sharing their secrets with mortals.

They’d been in Faerie for at least a week now, and Lydia was losing hope – and patience. If it wasn’t for Isabelle’s presence, she was certain she would have already burned something down or screamed at someone or burst into tears in the middle of an important discussion.

Thankfully, despite her misgivings about Alec’s sister and the layer of unease that still existed between them, being in Faerie together meant they always had someone there to ground them.

“Lydia?”

She blinked, her gaze focusing once more on the pair in front of her. Isabelle was wearing one of her more extravagant court outfits, a long crimson dress that made Lydia feel slightly dizzy. Her conversation partner, a minor lord of something or the other, hadn’t taken his eyes off her since he’d accosted them at the beginning of the party.

A party which Lydia thought was possibly a birthday celebration. Or maybe an homage to the good weather they’d benefited from since they’d arrived. Or some kind of flower festival?

Honestly, she couldn’t keep up with the amount of bashes that faeries threw in order to please their queen.

“Sorry,” Lydia smiled awkwardly. “What were you saying?”

“I was telling Grey here that you were a leader yourself,” Isabelle said, visibly holding back an eyeroll. Sometimes, Lydia wished they didn’t have to be on their best behaviour at court. It made things with Isabelle so stale.

“That’s right,” Lydia said, turning her gaze towards the faerie – Grey – and waiting a few seconds to see if he would acknowledge her.

His eyes didn’t so much as twitch in her direction.

She breathed in deeply, desperately holding onto the shreds of her restraint.

“I lead the New York Institute. Have you ever had the pleasure of being there? There are quite a few portals to the city not too far from here,” she said pleasantly. “The summer months are lovely.”

The faerie wasn’t listening to her. He nodded vaguely, his gaze never leaving Isabelle’s cleavage. She grit her teeth in irritation. Isabelle’s eyes widened as she looked at her, but Lydia was on her last straw.

“I’m sorry Grey, but you’re really making quite a fool of yourself tonight,” she said snidely, surprised at the venom in her voice. “Isabelle’s already been spoken for by two faeries, each of them of far higher status than you. Do you truly wish to be the person who tries to claim Isabelle when Prince Kieran has already made it clear he favours her?”

Isabelle gaped at her.

Grey, finally, looked at her, his cheeks flushed.

“Pardon me?”

“Isabelle has been gracious all evening, trying not to offend you, but she really does have quite a few people expecting her,” Lydia continued, on a roll now and eager to put even a single faerie in their place.

She missed Jade and Lysandra. She missed Meliorn. She missed the faeries in New York who never acted like they were better than everyone else simply because of their blood.

She missed Alec. He would never have snapped at anyone like that.

Angel, he would be so disappointed if they had to return to New York because she’d accidentally stepped on the wrong toes.

Shame started to curdle in her stomach, burning away her resentment. Before she could apologise for her words, however, Isabelle stepped in, ever the picture of elegance and diplomacy. She smiled at Grey and the faerie instantly relaxed.

“Lydia doesn’t mean any harm,” Isabelle cajoled him. “She’s a little bit blunt, but she isn’t wrong either, dear. I’ve lots of people wanting to talk to me tonight, and you know my visits are always too short for my liking. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel as though I’m spending too much time with a single person.”

“Of course,” Grey acquiesced, tilting his head courteously at Isabelle and shooting Lydia one last venomous look as he left, his face still red.

Isabelle turned to Lydia, eyebrows raised.

“Want to tell me what that was about? Grey may be slightly insufferable, but I was hoping he would take me over to meet his cousin, who is far more involved in court life than he is.”

“I’m sorry,” Lydia winced. She rubbed at her forehead, hoping it would stave off the headache she had been fighting ever since her introduction to the Queen. “It’s just… He kept staring at your cleavage and I’ve seen him be an absolute dick to everyone he interacts with who he deems unworthy of his notice. Then when he refused to even look at me– It’s no excuse, I know. The court’s getting to me.”

Isabelle hummed softly, narrowing her eyes consideringly at Lydia as though she could solve her like a puzzle.

“Come this way,” she finally said, wrapping her fingers delicately around Lydia’s wrist and dragging her away from the crowd.

When Lydia saw where they were heading, she sighed and tried to extract herself from Isabelle’s grip. Isabelle didn’t let up.

“I’m not going into the maze, Isabelle,” Lydia huffed. “I know it’s a death trap in there. Who knows what kind of tricks they have in place for any mortals who dare enter one of their little games? I overheard one of the pixie servants talking last night and she said they’d ‘lost another one in the maze’. I don’t want to be the next one in line.”

“Oh, do calm down,” Isabelle rolled her eyes.

Despite herself, Lydia smiled.

There was the Isabelle she knew.

“Now,” Isabelle said, grinding to a halt in front of – surprise – the maze. “This is the meditation maze. Labyrinth, if you’d prefer. I’ve walked through it plenty of times and can assure you there are no tricks in it. All it does is clear your mind from the woes of court and remind you to take deep breaths before insulting a potentially influential lord.”

“How specific,” Lydia drawled.

“I know,” Isabelle grinned. “Isn’t it perfect?”

“I wouldn’t say–”

“Glad we agree,” Isabelle cut her off sharply. When Lydia glared at her, she simply looked away, her gaze almost fond as she stared at the maze. “The best part about the maze is that it won’t let you run into anyone else until you’ve either found the center or made your way back to an exit. Peace and quiet guaranteed.”

“So it is magic,” Lydia pointed out, unease colouring her tone.

“Just because it’s magic doesn’t mean it’s going to trick you,” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I need to get back to the party. You can either come with me or take your chances with the maze. Up to you.”

Except it wasn’t, really.

She’d already messed things up for Isabelle once that evening and, though she knew the woman wouldn’t hold it against her in any dramatic fashion, she also knew they needed a breakthrough. A quick one. That couldn’t happen if Lydia was snapping at lordlings or glaring at every person she was introduced to.

She looked at the maze again, the hedges high and flowery.

She sighed.

“Good choice,” Isabelle smiled, patting Lydia’s shoulder encouragingly. “Try not to get lost. I’d hate to have to come and rescue you.”

She wiggled her fingers at Lydia as she left, her long gown trailing behind her alluringly. Lydia stared after her, momentarily dazed, before remembering what she was meant to be doing.

She let out another loud breath.

Here went nothing.

Frustratingly, the maze was aptly named. Even more frustratingly, Isabelle had been right about the peaceful quality of the labyrinth.

Not once did she run into a tipsy elf or a mischievous brownie. As she turned corner after corner, going in circles and backtracking more times than she could count, she remained utterly alone. 

She hadn’t quite realised how much she’d missed the relative privacy of the Institute. Although she was never really off-duty as the co-head, she was still afforded time to herself and plenty of opportunities to stay away from her subordinates if she didn’t wish to interact with them.

In Faerie, life was a carousel of interactions. The maze, in comparison, was blissful.

When she turned yet another corner and realised she’d actually made it to the center of the damn thing, she felt a strange wave of disappointment wash through her. She wasn’t sure what awaited her within the circular space, but Isabelle had made it clear it would end the solitary portion of her walk.

She stepped through thick foliage which had obscured the correct path – Lydia had probably missed it three times already – and stopped dead in her tracks.

It wasn’t that the fountain was particularly impressive. In fact, its architecture was rather dull in the grand scheme of fountains. It was white marble, a statue of three women weeping acting as its centerpiece, and quite like most of the fountains Lydia had encountered in her life.

The water, however, was almost impossible to describe.

It was both everything and nothing all at once, at times translucent and at times slick like oil reflecting a rainbow in the night. It made Lydia want to bathe in it, and it made her want to stay as far away from it as she could possibly manage.

A pixie sat on its rim, dipping their toes in the liquid and frowning as though they weren’t quite sure what they were experiencing. Lydia was too afraid to ask what, exactly, the water felt like.

On the edge of the circular space, cuddled on a rather shabby-looking bench, was a couple. They seemed happy enough ignoring Lydia, a favour which she gladly returned.

In fact, she briefly considered turning around and making her way out of the maze without acknowledging a single person or thing within this space.

Then she noticed him.

Standing a few feet away from the fountain, staring at it as though he couldn’t bear to look away, was a man Lydia recognised from quite a few encounters – including her wedding reception.

“Mark?” She frowned.

At the sound of his name, the half-faerie turned around, his eyes widening when he noticed her.

“Well,” he sighed. “I should have known there was a reason I wanted to come here tonight. The maze is tricky like that.”

“I was specifically told it wasn’t tricky,” Lydia huffed.

“Izzy lies,” Mark laughed. Lydia wondered how he knew Isabelle had been the one to tell her about the maze. “Although I suppose she knew you wouldn’t have anything to worry about. The maze is one of the few things in the Queen’s court that was designed to trap faeries instead of mortals.”

“How lovely,” Lydia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s the trick, then?”

“I wish I knew,” Mark chuckled. “The center’s different every time we find it, you know? Sometimes a fountain, sometimes a statue, sometimes a room or a house or some other alien contraption. Never the same one twice. But every time a faerie feels drawn here, they run into someone they know.”

“Oh,” Lydia breathed out. “I suppose that’s not the worst of tricks. And now here I am. Does that mean you’ll be able to leave now?”

“We can always leave,” Mark shrugged. “It’s just that curiosity usually keeps us here. The one time I left before I’d met anyone, I slept poorly for an entire month after, wondering if I’d missed out on the love of my life.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Lydia snorted.

“Nothing to apologise for,” Mark laughed. “I’ve found them already. Now I come here because I like the walk.”

“It’s a good walk,” Lydia agreed. “Does the maze get easier?”

“Nope,” Mark grinned ruefully. “Now, care to tell me why I’m here?”

The thing was, she wasn’t sure.

Mark Blackthorn had become a regular fixture in her life once she’d moved to New York, both because of his friendship with Alec and because of his brother’s presence in their training programme.

He was friendly, open-minded, and mostly seemed to want to bring joy to the people around him. Lydia knew he’d had his fair share of tough encounters with shadowhunters who thought less of him because of his faerie heritage, but he’d always been welcome in New York and had never harboured any resentment against the Institute.

That being said, he and Lydia rarely interacted. She was usually busy, and Alec was more than happy to entertain his friend when he made an appearance in their hallowed halls. She could probably count the amount of times they’d had a proper conversation on one hand.

She did, however, know why she was in the maze.

“Isabelle sent me in here to reflect on my actions and try to calm myself down,” she rolled her eyes. “Apparently, it isn’t acceptable to snap at other guests at the party, no matter how crude or unpleasant they may be.”

“Ah, yes, the horrors of polite society,” Mark grimaced.

“I wouldn’t call the Seelie court ‘polite’,” Lydia frowned. “It’s just… Isabelle and I are looking for something – or someone – important, but I don’t see why we have to slog through so much bullshit before we can find it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before,” Mark said, his lips twitching with amusement. “It’s a shame the answers to our problems can’t just land in our laps, isn’t it? Especially when it could save lives.”

“It would certainly make my life a hell of a lot easier,” Lydia sighed. She looked at Mark for a moment, noting his solemn face and the softness of his gaze as he glanced at her. “You know about the illness, then?”

“Emma told me,” he said. “Julian would never want to bother me with what he views as his own problems, but Emma’s my family too. She knows I wouldn’t want to be kept in the dark when it comes to my brother’s safety.”

“They were fine the last time I saw them,” Lydia said, hoping she sounded optimistic. She had no idea how many people had fallen ill since she and Isabelle had left the city.

“They’re resilient,” Mark hummed. “So are you and Alec. Given how much the two of you work, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d been the first to succumb. Instead, here you are, searching for a solution in a land you clearly don’t care much for.”

“Yeah,” Lydia said wryly. “I hate to admit it, but I’d be lost if Isabelle wasn’t here. She’s saved me from so many social blunders, I’ve stopped keeping track. I’m surprised she didn’t send me back to the guest quarters after my little blow-up tonight.”

“Izzy’s no stranger to the toll Faerie can have on a person. You know, I sometimes wonder if she even likes it here. She’s in and out so often I forget she isn’t a permanent resident of the lands, but I’ve never seen her as happy as she was when she was younger and living in New York.”

“Really?” Lydia’s eyebrows flew up.

Mark nodded, and she stayed silent, staring at the fountain in contemplation.

When she and Alec had sent Isabelle back to Alicante, they’d done it because they truly believed she would be happier there. She’d be with her parabatai, she would get to work as a highly-respected diplomat, and she would no longer have to answer to her brother. It had been the perfect solution.

It had felt like the perfect solution.

“I would never have guessed,” she finally murmured.

“I don’t think Izzy wants people to know that she’s anything other than perfectly content,” Mark smiled sadly. “I imagine you can relate.”

Lydia felt her ears redden at the blunt – but truthful – statement. She could have blamed her desire to downplay her emotions on her status as a leader, but she’d been hiding her feelings for a lot longer than that.

Even longer than she’d known John, if she was being honest with herself.

“Well, I’ll be sure to talk to her and make sure that she’s still happy enough with her position in Alicante,” Lydia said, clearing her throat. “Thank you for– Sharing your thoughts, I suppose.”

“Pretty sure that’s what I was here for,” Mark chuckled. “It was good seeing you, Lydia. Don’t be a stranger the next time I come to visit my brother.”

“You know where to find me,” Lydia smiled. “And hopefully you know where to find the exit as well?”

“You just have to step through the fountain,” he said, gesturing towards it. “It’ll spit you back out where you entered. You’ll know how to make your way back from there?”

“I’ll follow the noise,” Lydia said, scrunching her nose up in distaste. “Any last words of wisdom?”

“The Seelie court’s just the shadowhunter Council with flowers and magic and less lying,” Mark told her seriously. Lydia straightened, having half expected him to send her on her way without adding anything. “Whenever you feel like snapping at them, remember that they’re just a chess piece in a bigger game that the Queen is playing, the same way most Nephilim are pawns in whatever political battle is happening at any given time.”

And if they were pawns, that meant they could be played in their favour. Which was what Isabelle had been trying to do for days while Lydia trailed after her uselessly, not using the benefits her own power granted her.

She smiled at Mark gratefully before stepping into the fountain.

When she reappeared in the spot she’d left hours – or was it only minutes – ago, she didn’t hesitate. She moved towards the noise, back to Isabelle, and promised herself she’d be more like a queen and less like a pawn.

Chapter Text

“Tell me, Alexander, how long are you intending on keeping Blackthorn around after he finishes his final probation?”

Alec snorted, the question so unexpected he had to cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from spitting out his food. It had the handy advantage of also hiding the blush that always crept up his cheeks when Bane – Magnus, he insisted – called him by his full name.

“No need to be bashful,” Magnus smirked. “I won’t judge you for kicking him out onto the streets the second he’s done if that’s what you want to do.”

“He’s not that bad,” Alec laughed lightly, pushing his noodles around with his chopsticks in an effort to avoid the warlock’s playful gaze. “He’s… Overeager. And he doesn’t quite realise that he needs to utilise his own strengths instead of relying on Emma’s. She’s come such a long way while he trails behind, always following her lead.”

“He’s devoted, I’ll give him that,” Magnus hummed. “But he doesn’t suit your Institute, does he?”

Alec sighed.

He hadn’t expected their daily strategic dinner to turn into a discussion of internal politics, but he was coming to learn that nothing was ever expected when it came to Magnus Bane.

It was one of the reasons he enjoyed the warlock’s company so much. That and the fact that Magnus was a leader in his own right who didn’t have to report to Alec every other hour. 

(Alec loved Jace, but their power dynamic sometimes made it hard for him to properly appreciate time with his parabatai.)

“The problem is that he does suit it,” Alec explained, leaning back in his chair and dropping his chopsticks. He glanced up to meet Magnus’ eyes and immediately regretted it when he remembered how nice they looked, his lids dusted with golden powder that made them glitter even more than they usually did.

He cleared his throat and hoped his blush would stay at bay.

“Blackthorn’s a good shadowhunter, he likes the city, and he’s accepting of our more progressive attributes,” Alec said, ticking off each item on his fingers. “I should be glad to have him on our team.”

“And yet, the mighty Alexander Lightwood can’t seem to look at Julian Blackthorn without rolling his eyes,” Magnus chuckled. “It’s quite entertaining, actually. The boy obviously looks up to you and wants to earn your approval. I reckon he’s seconds away from trailing after you every time you leave to go on patrol.”

Alec winced.

He wasn’t trying to be harsh on Blackthorn. He was a good kid and a great shadowhunter, and he did try to treat him fairly. It was just that he lacked grit. He didn’t have Thea’s stubbornness or Emma’s flair or even Fran’s passion. Sometimes, Alec wondered why he’d even bothered to go through formal training when it was obvious he was happiest amongst his paints and brushes and canvases.

“I’ve still got a few months to decide what I’m going to do with him,” Alec grimaced. “I’ll have Clary talk to him, I think. She loves art too, and she might be able to tell me if his hobby is just that or if he needs to get his act together and look into mundane education.”

“He won’t leave without Carstairs,” Magnus pointed out.

“He won’t have a choice if I don’t let him stay past his probation,” Alec shrugged. “Because she’ll stay, no matter what.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. She clearly adores him,” Magnus said, laughing when Alec’s face twisted with disgust. “She does!”

Alec didn’t disagree. What Magnus didn’t know, however, was that Emma loved New York too. Blackthorn had missed Los Angeles when they’d first arrived, but Emma had immediately fallen for his beloved city. She strolled through Central Park on weekends, ran through the Bronx in her free time, and volunteered for the most outlandish missions to Staten Island that no one else wanted to claim simply because she loved exploring the streets.

And more than the city, she loved Thea. She loved Fran. She loved having girls around her who understood her and admired her and wanted to spend time with her. She loved Lydia too – wanted to be her, Alec suspected – and had told Alec during their last meeting that if he wanted her to stay after her probation was over, she would.

A million times over, I would, she’d said.

Magnus didn’t need to know all of that, of course. 

Alec was more than happy to let him believe in the innocence of young love.

“Speaking of Emma,” he pivoted. “She investigated that area you told me about yesterday and found a werewolf asleep in an alley. She says there were signs of demonic presence as well. How did you know?”

It had been almost two weeks now since they’d started looking into the areas Alec had marked on his map, and every day Magnus suggested more locations for them to investigate. Three out of four times, his guesses yielded results.

“Are you finally going to share your secret?”

“The ley lines,” Magnus answered.

Alec blinked, not having expected such a straightforward answer after spending so many evenings trying to convince Magnus to give him even a morsel of information.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“It’s the ley lines,” Magnus repeated. “That’s where the illness is manifesting. Every case has been reported in close proximity to one, and the hubs are where the lines intersect. I didn’t want to share the secret until I was sure. I know you’ve been looking for answers for a long time, Alexander, and I wasn’t about to give you false hope.”

“Can we avoid the lines?”

Alec didn’t care that Magnus had been holding back the information. All that mattered was that he was giving it to him now. And if they could avoid them, if he could give the community a way of staying away from danger… It would be worth the wait.

“I can give you an approximate map of them, yes,” Magnus answered. “I might be missing some, but warlocks tend to keep a pretty good account of the lines that pass through major cities. We know how easily they can be used to harm others. If any of my colleagues had cared to look into this– Ah, but there’s no use in dwelling, is there?”

Alec swallowed back the bitterness he still felt well up whenever they discussed the lack of action on the warlocks’ part. He knew Magnus understood and respected his frustration, and there was no use in hashing it out again. They couldn’t change Rey and Creed’s uselessness or selfishness. 

What they could change was the impact of the illness on the city. And Magnus was the one helping him do that, his colleagues be damned.

“If the ley lines truly are behind the illness,” Magnus continued. “We should ask ourselves questions about the locality.”

“About New York?” Alec frowned.

“Have any other cities been impacted?” Magnus questioned, his tone patient even though they both already knew that New York was the only one affected by this impossible sickness.

Alec just didn’t like to think about his city’s weakness when compared to the other Institutes around the world. He’d fought hard to make it what it was today and it killed him to know that it had all been put on hold for the past six months.

“So the ley lines could be… infected?” Alec suggested, trying to grasp what Magnus was implying.

“Or poisoned,” Magnus shrugged. “I suppose it depends on whether the initial tainting was purposeful or accidental.”

“Or a mix of both,” Alec said softly, pieces slotting together in his mind even as he struggled to understand what it could mean for the ley lines and the city and the illness. “If you truly think the illness is linked to the city, then the story Jade told us might be closer to our current situation than we’d initially anticipated.”

“The story about a faerie prince being bound to the land?” Magnus raised his eyebrows, and Alec’s cheeks flushed a little as he realised how childish his suggestion was.

“I only thought…”

He trailed off, unsure what he’d been thinking.

It was just that the illness was so similar to the one Jade had described, and the ley lines were, in a way, a manifestation of their land. They didn’t have magic all around them like Faerie did, so it would make sense for the city’s sentience to appear in the form of the lines that concentrated all of its magical potential. 

It was outlandish, yes, but this entire illness had been nonsensical from start to finish.

“It’s not a ridiculous idea, Alexander,” Magnus drew him out of his thoughts. “Excuse my initial reaction; I simply tend to dismiss everything faeries tell me as a lie until proven otherwise. For a people destined only to tell the truth, they sure know how to weave grand tales and pass them off as reality.”

“It’s still a stretch,” Alec mumbled. “The faerie prince was bound to the land by his father. We don’t exactly have anyone here capable of recreating a phenomenon like that, do we? And what would they bind an individual with?”

“That, at least, is explainable,” Magnus interjected. “Blood and loyalty to a land can do a lot for a spell, even if the land itself happens to be a mostly mundane city with very little to show for in terms of magical power.”

“Doesn’t answer the question of who could possibly need to bind themselves or a loved one to New York,” Alec sighed. “Or how we would find them, if that is truly the reason why we’ve been losing people.”

“Now, let’s not start with the pessimism,” Magnus tutted. “You’ve always struck me as someone who constantly has another trick up his sleeve, Alexander. Don’t tell me you’ve run out now, when we’re so close to something that resembles an actual explanation.”

Alec blushed a little at the unintended compliment. Magnus had a way of making him feel like he wasn’t utterly failing as a leader, even when the decisions he made felt like a blind shot in the dark. He knew Magnus wasn’t exactly the world’s most prolific or revered High Warlock, but he certainly held enough respect for Alec to feel like his words mattered.

“Alright,” he said, then repeated himself again, with more assurance. “Alright. If there’s an individual bound to the city who’s making it go haywire, then surely they’ll be somewhere close to the first hub, right? The city would have picked the ley line closest to the person it’s bound to in order to give them strength.”

“A logical assumption,” Magnus smiled approvingly. “Good thing we have a map telling us exactly where that hub is. It’s almost as though the leader of this Institute has been handling the situation perfectly.”

His blush turned a blazing red, and Magnus laughed at the sight.

Instead of being embarrassed, Alec found himself laughing along with the warlock, wondering why he hadn’t been having this much fun leading the Institute all along.

As much as Alec had wanted to rush to the initial hub of disease and find out if his theory had any merit, Magnus had wisely pointed out that entering the fray would make them perfect targets for the illness. 

They’d already sent out messages across the city warning people to avoid the ley lines. The map accompanying the message had immediately caused an uproar from the vampires and werewolves whose bases were located at the intersection of multiple leylines. Relocation was tricky enough as it was, but even harder to pull off when one had to worry about unconscious individuals in active states of deterioration – at least for the werewolves; the vampires’ main concern was, as always, the sun.

As a result, Alec had spent his entire day – and the day that followed – helping members of the community move away from the ley lines. They had no proof that this would entirely stop the illness from spreading, of course, but it was their best course of action.

Every single member of his team was recruited to aid in the moving of entire clans and packs. Thea was up first thing in the morning, having already coordinated meetings with multiple werewolf packs. Andrew had been gone all night to help the half-faeries find lodgings across the city. Clary and Jace had been coordinating with Simon to make the vampires’ trips quick and effective – unlike Emma and Blackthorn, the throuple thrived when they worked together, becoming an unstoppable unit. Emma, he’d sent along with Magnus to discuss the situation with warlocks whom he thought might be most vulnerable. Blackthorn was sent on regular patrol duty, much to his consternation.

It was a busy two days. It felt like a week. It felt like grasping at straws. It felt temporary. It felt pointless.

And so, on the second night, he found himself reminding himself of the reason he was doing all of this.

He didn’t step past the curtain this time, merely looking at the space beyond, at Fran and the rise and fall of her chest. She hadn’t moved, of course, though a part of Alec had hoped she would have.

She would have been busier than any of them if she’d been awake. She’d have worked herself into the ground despite her status as a trainee and would have rolled her eyes if Alec had dared imply she should take things easy.

He missed her. Fran the girl and Francesca the shadowhunter.

If he had the time, he would spend his entire night by her side, telling her about Magnus and Tessa and Clary. He knew if he took even one more step in her direction, he would be there for hours.

Which was why he stepped back, drawing the curtains firmly shut behind him.

When he turned around, he startled at the unexpected sight of Magnus sitting beside Jem. The warlock had made a few trips to the infirmary, but Alec hadn’t seen him there since the day he’d first shown up on the Institute’s doorstep.

“I didn’t hear you coming in,” he told Magnus softly, walking closer but staying a respectable distance away from his sleeping friend.

“I just wanted to make sure he was comfortable,” Magnus murmured, his hands smoothing Jem’s blanket over in a soothing gesture – more for Magnus than Jem, Alec knew from experience. “You were quite lost in your thoughts.”

He didn’t pry.

Alec found that he wanted to speak regardless. He dragged a chair over to his spot and shuffled slightly closer to Magnus, enough that he wouldn’t have to raise his voice but not so much that he would intrude on his personal space.

“Fran Goldcross,” he said, his throat closing up as he spoke her name. He had to swallow thickly and take a deep breath before speaking again. “She’s seventeen. Her parents left her here long ago and don’t care to visit much, so she’s–”

She’s ours, he wanted to say. Theirs to love and care for.

“I don’t think I’ll ever have children, but she’s our daughter in all the ways that matter most,” he admitted.

He and Lydia had never said it out loud, but Fran was another promise born of the rings they wore on their left hands.

Magnus’ gaze had softened the more Alec spoke. He didn’t think he’d ever been this vulnerable in front of anyone other than Lydia – and perhaps Jace. Magnus hadn’t struck him as the kind of person to wear his feelings on his sleeve either. Maybe that was why he didn’t mind telling him about Fran.

“You’re doing this for her,” Magnus guessed. 

Alec instantly shook his head.

“No,” he said. “No, I was doing this long before she fell asleep. She’s just the reason it hurts so much. She worked so hard on the illness, going out to meet packs of werewolves who snarled at her and vampires who dismissed her because of her age. She charmed them all because that was who she was, and she’s the one who made it possible for us to organise a lot of the systems we have in place now.”

The donations of Jace’s blood, the contacts between different communities in case anyone was found unconscious, the idea of drafting a map to spot patterns… It had all started with Fran, who loved her city and loved life and had been devastated when the first werewolf had died of the sickness.

“For what it’s worth,” Magnus said quietly. “I’m sure she’s very proud of you. You obviously love her dearly.”

“Yeah, she’s– I still remember when she was just a baby,” Alec shook his head, his lips curling up a little as he recalled the day a tiny Fran had been placed in his arms. “I was only ten, and I had no idea what to do with her. Ten years later, Lydia and I were talking her through her first period and her first crush.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Magnus smiled. “If you ever changed your mind, I’m sure you and Lydia would make wonderful parents.”

Alec frowned a little, his mind momentarily straying from the question of Fran.

In the privacy of their rooms, Lydia and Alec had talked about kids before, but it had been a general assumption by the wider public that they would never have a child. The biological way was out of the question, and bringing a child into their unconventional couple would feel too much like cruelty.

Every single active denizen of New York’s shadowworld knew this, even if it had never been said to them directly.

“Magnus,” Alec said slowly. “You were already High Warlock of Brooklyn when I took my place as Head of the Institute, were you not?”

“Undoubtedly,” Magnus drawled, as though Alec’s question was ridiculous.

Perhaps it was, but it was also dawning on Alec that Magnus’ bubble of warlock magic had kept him isolated from even the most well-known pieces of shadowworld gossip. He wasn’t the one who should be embarrassed.

“You must know that my rise to power was controversial.”

“I know you were young, yes,” Magnus said slowly, suspicion entering his gaze as he realised Alec was leading up to something. “What am I missing?”

“Only the knowledge of the shadowworld’s most infamous marriage of convenience,” Alec chuckled. It felt odd to be laughing in an infirmary that had brought him nothing but pain in the last few months. He found he didn’t mind the strangeness of the situation. “My ascension was controversial because I’m gay, Magnus. The Council in Alicante made a very big fuss at the time, and felt vindicated when I ended up marrying a woman. Now all of New York laughs at them for being so easily fooled, when all Lydia and I wanted was the Institute.”

Magnus was gaping at him, which Alec knew was no easy feat. Nothing seemed to mystify Magnus Bane.

Nothing except, apparently, the concept of two shadowhunters marrying for power. Such an unprecedented occurrence.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Alec laughed, truly delighted now. “And here I thought you were more in touch with the local community than the rest of your peers.”

“Now, that’s just mean of you,” Magnus sniffed. “I’m very in touch with the community. I just… may have avoided conversations about the new head of the Institute when I heard it was another Lightwood taking over. How was I supposed to know you were gay and about to revolutionise the city?”

“You could have given me the benefit of the doubt,” Alec suggested teasingly. Magnus did at least have the grace to look chastised. “It’s no harm, really. I just can’t believe you thought Lydia and I were involved.”

“I did wonder, the first time we met…” Magnus said, his sentence trailing off and leaving Alec to guess at what he’d meant to say.

“You weren’t what I expected,” Alec said.

He was quite certain that wasn’t what Magnus had meant; was almost sure, in fact, that the warlock had noticed Alec’s initial attraction to him and had been playfully flirting in return.

But they were friends now, or something of the sort, and Alec didn’t want to make things awkward between them by pointing out the obvious.

“Right,” Magnus said, his eyes roving over Alec’s face as though looking for something there. Alec had no idea if he found it. “You weren’t what I expected either, Alexander.”

From Magnus’ lips, those words sounded like the sweetest of compliments.

Chapter Text

They were getting somewhere.

It was their third week in Faerie, Lydia thought, and they were finally making decent progress in their mission.

After the disastrous Maze Night, Lydia had apologised to Isabelle for her behavior and had promised her that she would take their social life at court more seriously. It hadn’t been easy, given how infuriating she still found just about every faerie they met, but she’d learned to hide her distaste and show only the best parts of herself.

She dazzled people with her knowledge of faerie politics based on the conversations she’d had with the half-faeries in New York. She found the more liberal crowd, those who cared for mortals and had half-faerie children of their own, and told them all about the community they’d fostered in New York – though she never mentioned which city she hailed from. She found the older folk who were wary of Isabelle and used her experience as the leader of an Institute to earn their respect.

Isabelle was as charming as ever and, slowly but surely, it seemed people were starting to trust them with more than superficial gossip.

“I heard that Prince Terrence might be in attendance tonight,” Isabelle was telling Lydia as they got ready for that evening’s festivities.

As usual, Lydia was unsure what they were celebrating. At this point, she’d grown accustomed to nodding politely and complimenting their surroundings whenever someone asked her what she thought of the parties.

“You think he’ll be willing to talk to you?”

There was no doubt in Lydia’s mind that the prince would have answers to their questions. It was just a matter of knowing whether or not he’d be willing to share them.

“I think so,” Isabelle said, tying off one of her long braids and turning to Lydia to show off her outfit, as she did every night.

She was resplendent, of course. She wore an outfit made specifically for her, a flowing dress in the most alluring shade of dark blue crafted from the petal-like fabric faeries favoured. A matching flower crown had been gifted to her for the occasion, and Lydia’s heart stuttered when Isabelle placed it atop her hair with a delighted smile.

“How do I look, then?”

Lydia had always found Isabelle beautiful.

She just hadn’t realised how much their mutual dislike had poisoned her opinion of the other woman. Hadn’t known how much brighter Isabelle would be to her once they stopped snapping at each other every second of every day.

“You look wonderful, Isabelle,” she said honestly.

Self-consciously, she smoothed down her golden dress. It was shorter than Isabelle’s and made of the starlight material more typically worn by women in the Unseelie court. Isabelle had been the one to give it to her, telling her a friend had passed it along.

She wondered what could have possessed Mark to give her a dress in traditional wedding colours.

If she didn’t look so nice in gold, she would have sent the dress right back to him.

“Stop fidgeting,” Isabelle chuckled. “You look perfect. The prince might not even care about me when he sees you.”

Lydia stopped breathing for a second before she remembered air was a necessity.

Because really, it wasn’t just that Isabelle had stopped being rude to her. It was that she’d shifted in the completely opposite direction, always happy to bestow a compliment upon Lydia or to give her a hand when Lydia was out of her depth.

She didn’t know what to do with so much positive attention from a woman who, just weeks ago, had sneered at her and treated her with nothing but disdain.

She didn’t like how eager her body was to forgive Isabelle if only to have her smile at her for a little longer.

“I have no intention of talking to the prince,” she rolled her eyes. “You know very well that the royal members of the court still don’t like having me here. The Queen never so much as looks at me.”

“Which is a good thing,” Isabelle insisted for the hundredth time. “Anyway, Prince Terrence is nothing like the Queen. He’s almost… kind.”

Lydia snorted, and Isabelle smiled wryly.

“Hard to believe, right? But I swear he’s nothing like everyone else here,” Isabelle said. “Though if he’s to attend the party, there’s a high chance his brother will be there too. I recommend you stay far, far away from him. The last time I saw him, he broke my first faerie token and tried to spirit me away to the darker parts of Unseelie.”

Lydia’s jaw dropped at Isabelle’s nonchalant tone.

“I’m sorry,” she gaped. “You want us to attend a party with a man who has already tried to harm you once? And who clearly doesn’t care about your status as a diplomat?”

“He was told not to do it again,” Isabelle shrugged.

They both knew a request from the Queen would mean nothing to a faerie who was determined enough to hurt them. Lydia’s eyes narrowed.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” she declared. “Missing one party won’t be the end of the world.”

“Missing Prince Terrence would be, though,” Isabelle frowned. “I can handle myself, Lydia. Emery won’t get anywhere near me if I’m with his brother. Though now that you mentioned it, maybe you should stay here tonight. Who knows what he’d do with a fresh mortal to toy with.”

“I’m not letting you go there alone!” Lydia exclaimed, outraged that Isabelle would even suggest such a thing. “Is there no other way for us to get an audience with Prince Terrence?”

“He’s paranoid,” Isabelle sighed. “Which is why I think he’s our best lead. He’s exactly the kind of person who would keep tabs on mysterious illnesses and the issues of princes long gone.”

“I thought you said he was friendly,” Lydia grumbled.

“Kindness and paranoia aren’t mutually exclusive, you know?” Isabelle snorted. “Look, I’ve seen Prince Emery plenty of times since that first encounter, and I’ve not had any issues. But if you’re so concerned, you could always stick with me while I talk to Prince Terrence. I’m sure he’d be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

It was a lose-lose situation.

Either Lydia put both herself and Isabelle at risk by splitting them up, or she risked making a fool of them in front of their best lead so far.

“You really think Terrence will have what we need?” She asked, feeling like a broken record but needing to confirm it regardless.

“If not, he’ll know which direction to point us in,” Isabelle said decisively.

And really, what could Lydia say to that?

They had a city to save from a disease that had already claimed two people Lydia loved, and no other leads beyond a prince in a foreign land. If Isabelle thought this was their best chance, then they would go to the party and avoid Prince Emery and hope like hell that they didn’t run into any trouble they couldn’t handle.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Let’s go, then.”

In the end, she’d let Isabelle approach Prince Terrence by herself, terrified that she would say something that would cost them a cure.

She watched them from the beverage table, pretending to sip from a drink that she had no intention of touching. Isabelle’s lips were pressed together tightly as Prince Terrence spoke; she’d warned Lydia that she’d have to discuss politics for quite some time before trying to pry information out of Terrence.

It was a tricky game, Faerie politics. A constant back-and-forth of thinly veiled threats and power struggles. Terrence was near the top of the pyramid, all things considered, but even he had to tread carefully in his own territory.

If Isabelle could give him just one thing he needed, she assured Lydia they would get what they wanted in return.

The waiting, however, was starting to kill Lydia. Maybe she should introduce herself after all. What if she was the one who could give Terrence something? What if she was ruining their chances by staying away, too scared of making a misstep that she was sabotaging their most promising opportunity so far? 

She made to move forward but startled when a hand wrapped around her upper arm.

She tried to shrug it off and swallowed back a wave of panic when she realised the grip was too tight for her to slip out of.

Slowly, she turned.

Next to her stood a picture-perfect copy of Prince Terrence, down to his outfit. Curly black hair framed his face, his brown skin standing out against the regal white suit he sported. A delicate golden crown had been placed atop his head. Honey eyes pinned her down, making her words catch in her throat.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Prince Emery said, his voice deep and silky smooth. “Terrence is easily spooked.”

With more force this time, she wrenched herself away from the prince, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Ah,” Emery grinned wickedly, revealing sharp teeth. Lydia shuddered. “I see that beloved Isabelle has told you about me.”

Beloved, again, though the word felt wrong coming from Emery. Isabelle had never mentioned him during her formal introductions, and she doubted the prince would have bestowed such an honour upon her after trying to kidnap her.

No, in his mouth the word sounded predatory, as though it was enough to grant him ownership over Isabelle.

“Good thing I’ve heard about you too, little Lydia,” he smirked, leaning closer to her again.

She took a step back, ignoring the irritation that flashed through his gaze.

“I don’t believe I’ve given you leave to touch me,” Lydia said, hating the way her voice shook ever-so-slightly, revealing the nerves she desperately wanted to keep hidden. When Emery’s eyes darkened dangerously, she grit out: “Your Highness.”

“Was that so hard?” He laughed, the sound intoxicating and terrifying and alluring and–

Lydia’s head spun.

Isabelle hadn’t warned her that Prince Emery would be like this. She’d expected him to be openly hostile, not… Not eerily beautiful and obviously reckless.

She also hadn’t expected him to seek her out. Either his past encounters with Isabelle had been more loaded than she’d been told, or there was something else he wanted from her. Her mortality, maybe? Her life?

“Were you looking for something, Your Highness?” She asked, surprised to note that her tone was more even this time around. “I don’t believe we’ve ever been introduced, after all.”

“You’d remember it if we had,” Prince Emery said with a smile. Then he held out a hand to her.

She blinked at it.

“A dance, Miss Branwell,” he continued silkily. “Or do you prefer Lightwood?”

“Branwell is fine,” she replied out of habit, immediately wincing.

She’d been so careful with her name since she’d arrived in Faerie. Isabelle’s name was widely known at court, but she’d danced around the specifics of their relationship and had never mentioned her last name in front of mixed company. 

Since she’d never specified which Institute she came from, she’d hoped the details of her identity would remain murky.

Of course, the rules she applied to most people at court didn’t exactly apply to a prince of the realm.

“How fortunate for you, isn’t it, that most faeries are not aware of what the ring on your finger signifies,” Prince Emery smiled, one of his fingers coming out to touch the item in question.

As soon as he touched it, he flinched away.

Lydia’s eyebrows rose, staring down at her signet ring curiously.

“A dance, then,” she found herself saying before she could think it through too thoroughly.

When she glanced back at Isabelle and Terrence, she found her partner looking at her with wide eyes.

She shrugged and took Emery’s hand with her right one, careful not to let the ring touch him again. Whatever reaction he’d had to it wasn’t a good one, and she didn’t want to push her luck or accidentally cause a political scandal by harming a member of the royal family.

Emery was a good dancer, Lydia a passable one.

If any shadowhunters had been present at the function, they would have looked over and assumed they were looking at a couple getting married. The thought had Lydia frowning, though she made sure to smooth her features over when Emery looked down at her.

“Your sister-in-law is looking in the wrong place,” Emery finally said. His voice had lost its dangerous edge while they danced. He seemed more at ease among the other twirling couples, and Lydia hated how she let his softness influence her opinion of him despite knowing what he was capable of.

“How would you know what Isabelle is looking for?” Lydia asked, barely more than a hiss.

They’d been careful not to let word of the illness in New York spread at court, conscious that many would be all too happy to take advantage of such a weakness. As far as she knew, neither she nor Isabelle had uttered a word of the sleeping sickness outside of their rooms.

“I have informants,” the prince murmured. “People in New York. People here. People who are curious about the two mortals currently traipsing around their court. Beloved Isabelle usually has more of a purpose when she comes here, and many are curious what her current mission may be.”

“So what, they’ve been snooping around? Listening at our doors?” Lydia said underneath her breath, her nerves spiking once more as she wondered what could have been overheard. Had they said anything incriminating? They had little to hide, but Lydia had no idea what counted as an illegal offence here.

“Hardly,” Emery chuckled. “No, my scouts in New York were far more helpful in obtaining information about your visit. I know what you want and, though Isabelle is on the right track, she won’t get anything from Terrence.”

“Because he won’t want to share?” Lydia frowned. “Isabelle was quite certain she would be able to get through to him.”

“Because she has the wrong brother, little Lydia,” the prince corrected her, his smile more than dangerous now.

He was looking at her as though he held the answer to her prayers and knew exactly how much it was worth to her.

“See, beloved Isabelle loves to assume that there’s only one prince in this court willing to help a mortal in need,” he continued, waving a dismissive hand in Isabelle’s direction. She was still deep in conversation with Terrence, though her eyes flitted over to Lydia every few seconds, as though assuring herself Emery hadn’t hurt her. “She heard a tale about a prince who may know more about the disease and be of use to her. Her mind immediately jumped to Terrence. A foolish, foolish mistake, given Terrence is the reason the disease exists in the first place.”

Lydia froze, her feet forgetting to keep dancing as she stared at Emery.

“What?” She croaked.

“Ah, she wants to know more,” Emery laughed, tossing his head back gleefully. “But does little Lydia know that everything has a cost in Faerie?”

“I’ll pay it,” she blurted out.

Isabelle would have cursed at her, she was sure.

But Emery clearly knew something, knew more than anyone else they’d come across, and she wasn’t afraid to admit that she was desperate.

“Awfully quick to agree,” the prince said, sounding genuinely surprised at her easy acceptance of his vague terms. He urged her to keep moving and, robotically, she remembered how to dance. Her hands were tight where she gripped him, a reversal of their earlier encounter.

“My daughter is sick,” Lydia replied, deciding she may as well lay her cards out on the table. “The most phenomenal girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting is in a bed right now, asleep, unsmiling, a fragment of the daughter I raised, and I will do anything to wake her up. I will kill you if I have to, Your Highness. I’ll ruin myself. Your little games don’t scare me. You know something. You want something. So, let’s make a deal.”

She was a queen, she reminded herself. She had power in her own right.

Prince Emery’s eyes flitted down to her wedding ring, and she held herself straighter. He’d touched it and flinched away. He wasn’t invincible and, somehow, she was part of his weakness.

Maybe she wasn’t such a fool after all.

“Come with me,” Prince Emery said, lacing his fingers with hers – her right hand, of course. “Don’t make a spectacle.”

Lydia had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

She followed him willingly.

Right before they left the room the party had gravitated towards, she looked over her shoulder, towards Isabelle and Terrence.

Isabelle looked terrified.

Lydia shook her head once, decisively, and left her behind.

Chapter Text

The day they finally had a break in their case started off on the worst foot possible.

Alec woke to pounding at his bedroom door, his phone already lit up from multiple missed calls that he’d evidently slept through, his body too tired to react to the sound.

He was out of his bed in seconds, bothering only to put on shoes and throw a jacket over his pyjamas as he swung the door to his room open. Jace and Emma wore matching expressions of distress. Jace, in fact, looked near tears. If Alec focused, he could feel a throb coming from his parabatai rune. 

“What’s going on?” He asked tersely, already storming out towards the atrium. “Clearly and concisely, please.”

“A team made up of members from various communities went out to investigate one of the hubs yesterday,” Emma answered immediately. “Jace and I were part of it. We understand this goes against your direct instructions not to approach the hubs, but we felt it was our responsibility to oversee the missi–.”

“Stop explaining yourselves and tell me what happened,” Alec cut her off. “The facts, Carstairs.”

“Fourteen of us were part of the team,” she said quickly. “Eleven are now asleep, Lewis, Larkspear and Jade amongst them.”

“Thea?” Alec asked, frowning. He’d stopped walking, his body refusing to keep going as his mind processed her words.

“She found us right as we were about to reach the hub and tried to stop us,” Jace whispered. “She only crossed the ley lines to join us when the first person collapsed.”

Alec didn’t let himself react. In fact, he didn’t let himself think about Thea for a moment longer. She was undoubtedly in the infirmary already. She was being taken care of. There was nothing more he could do. 

“Clary is already looking more into the incident,” Jace continued, his voice raw. “She’s here for now, but she told me she’d head to the clans and packs afterwards. We’ve given Jade a bed here since we’re not sure…”

“Good,” Alec nodded. “Lysandra shouldn’t have to see her sister in such a state. Carstairs, find her and make sure she’s aware of what’s happened. Regroup with Underhill and Blackthorn and make sure Fairchild gets the support she needs in spreading the news.”

“Understood, sir,” Emma said, setting off to follow his instructions as soon as he was done speaking. He stopped her with a tap on the shoulder.

“You’re not in trouble, Carstairs,” he added. “Thank you for telling me what happened.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she kept moving. Alec trusted she would get on with her tasks as instructed.

Once she was out of sight, he let some of his concern show on his face.

“Go to the hotel, Jace,” he said, his voice leaving no room for arguments. His brother opened his mouth to protest but Alec shook his head. “No. There’s nothing you can do here while you’re in this state. The only reason I’m letting Clary get on with her course of action is because I know she’ll crumble if she doesn’t keep busy. Go be with your boyfriend until she can join you.”

“Alec, I swear I didn’t know–”

He cut himself off with a choked sob. Alec drew him in for a hug, squeezing him tightly as he spoke.

“I know you didn’t,” he murmured.

There was no use in berating him now. Jace should have known, of course, that stepping into the hub would have consequences. They’d pulled all of the communities away from the ley lines, which meant the illness would have been desperate to spread to anyone who came near.

A grouping of supernatural individuals right at a junction would have been just the opportunity it needed.

But Jace would come to his own conclusions. Perhaps he already had. Telling him would only upset him further, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“I need to get to work,” he said as he pulled away from their embrace. He stared at his brother until he met his eyes. “Go to the hotel. Be with Simon. Don’t come back here until you feel like you can stand on your own two feet. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jace answered. Instead of leaving immediately, he pulled Alec in for another brief hug. “Thank you.”

Then he was gone.

Alec stared after him. He breathed in, breathed out. He lifted his left hand and delicately traced his wedding ring and, in his mind, promised Lydia that he wouldn’t let her live in a world without Fran or Thea.

He gave himself a single minute to collect himself before he walked out into the atrium.

The room was buzzing with movement and noise, the same as every day, yet Alec couldn’t help but notice the increasing number of faces they were missing. Though Lydia’s absence wasn’t the same as the shadowhunters they’d lost to the sickness, it was yet another part of their system that was unavailable to them.

Such a vital part, too, when it came to rallying their teams during difficult times.

“Everyone, listen up!” He called out, forcing himself to appear calm and collected as every shadowhunter in the room turned to look at him – including Clary, whose eyes were red-rimmed but determined. “I’m sure rumours have spread about what happened last night. This changes nothing. We keep moving, keep looking for ways to enter the hubs without falling ill. Two of our own made it out unscathed, which means there must be a solution to be found. Morning teams, Fairchild will give you a list of packs and clans to visit today. Be tactful, be kind, be mindful of the lives that are currently at stake. Trainees, you’ll be going with them.”

The four trainees – all under the age of sixteen, all having shown impeccable behaviour since the beginning of the pandemic – straightened and saluted him seriously.

Satisfied that the most urgent matters were being taken care of, he started making his way towards Clary, who’d turned back to her work with single-minded focus.

Before he could reach her, a sound from the entrance hall drew his attention away and, unbeknownst to him, the second bad news of the day came running at him.

Lysandra looked pale, her skin clammy. 

“She’s here, Lysandra, you don’t have to-” He started, assuming – incorrectly – that she had come looking for her sister.

Lysandra cut him off.

“I know Jade’s here,” she whispered, speaking quickly. “I… She’ll be okay. She has to be. I’m not here about that. I have news from Faerie.”

Alec froze. His left hand tightened into a fist, his heart rate spiking.

“There’s a prince at court,” Lysandra continued, tripping over her words as she tried to get them out in a hurry. “Prince Emery. Someone says they saw him in New York yesterday. He was digging around for information about Isabelle and Head Branwell and the disease in the city.”

“How dangerous is this man?” Alec asked frostily.

“Meliorn followed after him,” Lysandra said. She worried at her bottom lip. “She said if he wasn’t back in two days, we should think about sending more people into Faerie. Alicante officials.”

“I see,” Alec breathed out. 

Was he breathing?

Living without Fran was one thing. Living without Thea was another. Living without Lydia, however?

That was inconceivable. 

“I’m sure they’ve got things under control,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as devastated as he felt.

He trusted Lydia and Izzy, of course, but Meliorn wouldn’t have gone into Faerie on a whim. If he’d followed the prince, it meant he thought there was a very real threat to their lives. A threat that Alec could do absolutely nothing about.

He looked back at Lysandra.

“Carstairs was coming to look for you. She’s the one who told you about Jade?”

“Yeah, I ran into her outside the Institute,” Lysandra admitted with a chagrined moue. “I may have pushed past her to get to you.”

“She had other things to do elsewhere,” he assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Do you have anywhere to go? I know some of the half-faeries have regrouped in Brooklyn, if you wanted to join them.”

“I was going to go home,” Lysandra said stubbornly. “We’re nowhere near a ley line.”

Alec opened his mouth to protest – Lysandra was only fifteen, after all – but snapped his mouth shut with a click when he saw the determined set of her jaw. She wouldn’t listen to him if he asked her to leave her home behind.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Be careful. It may be daytime, but demons have been unpredictable since the disease appeared. Keep to the light, don’t go down any dark alleys, and lock your door behind you.”

“I’m not dumb, Head Lightwood,” Lysandra pouted, though Alec could tell she was a little rattled by the intensity of his instructions. 

Her hands shook a little as she stepped away from him. She looked so much like her sister. A sister who would murder Alec if anything happened to Lysandra.

He waited for her to leave the Institute before calling Jordan over and sending them after her with strict instructions to keep her safe.

He refused to lose anyone else.

Eleven hours later, Alec was close to falling over from exhaustion.

He’d gone to meet with the various leaders across the city, bringing with him supplies and advice and maps of the ley lines for those who may have missed his instructions the first time around.

Once he’d done all he could for the community, he’d gone back to the Institute for a couple of hours to complete paperwork and update Alicante on their situation. As soon as that had been done, he’d donned his gear and gone out on patrol with Andrew, leaving Clary in charge in his absence.

Andrew had gone back to the Institute an hour earlier, promising Alec that he would relieve Clary of her duties and force her to go to Hotel Dumort.

And now, somehow, Alec found himself standing in front of an apartment building that he’d never been to before but whose address he’d memorised the second Magnus Bane had become a frequent visitor of the Institute.

Before he could second-guess himself, he walked up to the buzzer and found Magnus’ name. The buzzer was clearly under some sort of spell, most likely to shield it from unknowing mundanes.

Magnus lived in the loft apartment, of course. Nothing less for the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

“Who dares disturb the High Warlock at this time!” Magnus’ voice snapped through the intercom. Alec found himself smiling at the dramatics.

“Magnus,” he said softly. “It’s Alexander.”

There was a brief moment of silence and then, miraculously, the door opened in front of Alec.

“Top floor, pretty boy,” Magnus told him before cutting their connection.

Alec, breathless and tired and in way over his head, laughed deliriously.

He was still chuckling to himself when he stepped out of the elevator and onto a well-kept landing. A lone door stood in front of him, plants framing it in an almost welcoming manner – Alec didn’t doubt the plants were spelled with all sorts of defences in case of an intruder or ungrateful customer. 

It was very like Magnus, he thought, to decorate the space around him beautifully while also giving himself a way to protect his home.

He’d barely even touched the door when it swung open, revealing a smirking Magnus.

It had been less than two days since he’d last seen the man, but Alec suddenly realised how dearly he’d missed his presence at the Institute. He’d missed the ease between them, the banter, the sarcasm, the way Magnus wasn’t afraid to speak his mind even if it meant offending Alec’s sensibilities.

“Hi,” he murmured. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He wasn’t sure what state he was in, exactly, but the smirk on Magnus’ face quickly faded, leaving behind a soft smile and warm eyes that Alec couldn’t stop staring at.

“You could never bother me, Alexander,” Magnus said, stepping to the side and gesturing for Alec to come in. “Shoes off, please. You look like you’ve just been in battle with a dozen demons.”

“Close to that, yeah,” Alec said, sighing contentedly as he freed his feet. His entire body ached from the hunt. “It’s been a long day.”

Magnus hummed.

“I heard about the team last night,” he said quietly, placing a delicate hand on Alec’s lower back and guiding him towards the couch.

Alec felt like he was on fire, the point of contact between them burning brighter the longer Magnus let his fingers linger there. Inexplicably, he felt as though he might burst into tears.

“A warlock got ill as well,” Magnus continued. “Elias. Always been a little too brave, a little too impulsive. He heard what happened and went back to look at the hub, hoping he could bring me something to investigate. I think he felt guilty about Lorenzo’s callousness and his own inaction.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec said. “I had hoped…”

“Yes,” Magnus smiled sadly. “I think, selfishly, I’d been hoping the same. But I suppose it was only a matter of time before one of us fell. How did yours fare? I heard whispers that your brother was the one leading them.”

“I–” Alec started, the words sticking in his throat.

Thea, he thought. Thea, who hadn’t hesitated to help gather those who had fallen ill within the hub even though she’d disapproved of the mission to begin with. Thea, who had shown him what the Institute could be when they trained their shadowhunters properly.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

“It isn’t fair,” he said, his words paper thin. “That the city has spared me but taken her.”

“Fran?” Magnus asked gently.

“Thea,” he whispered. “I know I should have gone back to the Institute, but I… It doesn’t feel right anymore. Lydia’s not here and the girls are asleep and Lewis just had to catch the disease as well, which means Jace and Clary will be a wreck. What’s the point of an Institute if I can’t keep the people inside it safe?”

He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the dam from breaking. His lips trembled, his hands shook, his body felt like it might burst if he didn’t do something. His breaths were short and unsteady, and he just–

He wanted to be asleep too. Just for a little while.

Maybe then he could be with Fran and Thea. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to keep watching his city crumbling in front of his eyes.

Warmth spread across his cheek as fingers wiped his tears away.

Stunned, he opened his eyes.

Magnus knelt in front of him.

Alec suddenly realised that the gold in his eyes wasn’t a reflection of sunlight, but a glamour that he’d been keeping up. He could see the magic in them even though the glamour was still firmly in place.

He wished, foolishly, that he could touch Magnus as well. That he could see what was beneath the glamour.

“You’re saving them now,” Magnus told him, breaking the silence between them but not the spell that Alec had fallen under. The hand on his cheek wasn’t pushing for anything, was more comforting than sensual, but Alec still found that he couldn’t remember what he had felt like before Magnus had touched him. “You can’t stop an illness, Alexander. And you certainly can’t dictate who it’ll take next. You can, however, find what’s causing it and put an end to it. Isn’t that what we’ve been doing together these past few weeks?”

“We still haven’t found anything,” Alec shook his head.

“Now, I know you’re not trying to dismiss the hard work I put into this case,” Magnus huffed, smiling when Alec snorted wetly. “We found the ley lines and the hubs and we’ve kept people away from them, one foolhardy team notwithstanding. Meanwhile, your sister and Lydia are out there finding a cure for us.”

“Except they have a prince after them now,” Alec said shakily, remembering how anxious Lysandra had been when she’d found hom that morning.

“Who?” Magnus asked sharply, drawing away from Alec so they could stare at each other more evenly.

“Emery.”

To his utter confusion, Magnus relaxed at the name.

“Meliorn went after them. I’m not sure what he knows, but I thought that perhaps Izzy had met him before, that there was history there or…”

“Emery won’t hurt them,” Magnus said. He sounded so sure of himself, Alec could do nothing but believe him. “No, Terrence is the one they have to look out for. He hates this city more than anything else in the world.”

“Oh,” Alec said, his nerves soothed despite everything he still hadn’t solved.

“One less thing to worry about,” Magnus smiled at him. “Feel better?”

“I… Yes, actually,” Alec admitted. It was ridiculous. Lydia and Izzy should have been the least of his concerns, and yet the idea of one of them getting hurt in Faerie had been weighing on him more heavily than even Fran and Thea’s uncertain fate. “Thank you.”

“Thank yourself,” Magnus winked. “For knowing to come here in the first place.”

Alec’s cheeks blazed. Magnus chuckled, the sound warm and intoxicating.

“It’s nice to know I have some uses,” Magnus continued. “And quite interesting to note that you knew my address even though I never gave it to you.”

Alec stuttered, trying (and failing) to explain his presence at Magnus’ apartment in a manner that didn’t immediately reveal his bewildering feelings for the man.

Thankfully, the ringing of his phone saved him from having to think of a plausible explanation.

“Clary,” he greeted his sister’s parabatai, clearing his throat when it came out croaky and uneven. Magnus laughed silently. “Is everything alright?”

“I found something,” she said quickly. Alec’s eyes widened. “Come back to the Institute now. I think we can get to the source tonight if we can pinpoint it on the map. You know it better than anyone, right?”

“Right,” Alec nodded, already on his feet. “I’m bringing Magnus with me.”

“Good,” Clary said, then hung up.

“We have to get to the Institute,” he told Magnus, rushing back to grab his shoes.

Magnus didn’t question him, summoning his own footwear without so much as blinking.

“Lead the way, Head Lightwood,” he grinned.

If they hadn’t been in a hurry, Alec thought he might have tried to kiss him then. Just to wipe the grin off his face.

Chapter Text

She was almost certain they were no longer at court. They’d been walking too long, had made too many sharp turns, and had left behind any kind of familiarity that Lydia had gained from living in Faerie for the past few weeks.

There was also the fact that Emery kept taking them down paths that were entirely obscured. In those moments, Lydia found herself wondering whether they were going through portals she couldn’t sense. Her heart had been pounding ever since she’d lost sight of Isabelle, her mind flooding with all the horrible things Emery might do to her in exchange for the information she seeked.

Finally, they came to a stop.

They stood at the top of an open valley, which was entirely made up of fields except for a single cottage that had been erected right in the middle of the flowers and grasses and wild animals.

It was a beautiful house, though Lydia couldn’t help but think that it looked lonely, the only sign of civilisation nearby. There were no people in sight, no shops or rings of fairies or pixies running about causing trouble.

“Where are we?” Lydia frowned, unwittingly stepping closer to the cottage. They were nowhere near it yet, of course, but she felt drawn to it regardless.

Emery had brought her here for a reason, after all, and there was nothing else for her to explore. Just a cottage and its supposed inhabitant, since the cottage looked to be in far too good condition to be abandoned.

“I call it The Hallow,” Emery shrugged. He started down a steep path towards the cottage. Lydia followed. “It doesn’t have an official name, not in the eyes of the courts. In fact, most people don’t even know this place exists.”

“Just you?”

“And Terrence,” Emery said, his voice dark. “And anyone who has inadvertently stepped through the misdirection wards we’ve placed around it. Careful, little Lydia, for the story that lives in that cottage is nowhere near as pleasant as the home may appear to be.”

Lydia hadn’t expected anything else.

They were here to talk about an illness that had ravaged her city, and she couldn’t see a single world in which the explanation was a happy one. She couldn’t picture a tale of love without tragedy, couldn’t imagine a story of family without betrayal.

It was becoming clear to her that the story of the dead prince was very near a mirror of their current situation, and that had been a sad tale indeed.

“Are we here for my answers or for your price?” She asked, because that seemed like a smart thing to know before she stepped into an unknown house.

“Both.”

She nodded.

“But you’ll get more than answers, little Lydia,” he said. They were getting closer to the cottage faster than she’d anticipated; probably another piece of faerie magic she would never be privy to.

“What else, then?”

“What else?” Emery raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were looking for a cure.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Emery didn’t let his gaze linger on her, his attention fully fixed on the cottage ahead, but Lydia found herself staring at him as they walked.

What a paradox he was, dangerously charming and alarmingly helpful. If Isabelle’s warnings weren’t still echoing in her head, she would have dismissed them entirely.

As far as she could tell, Prince Emery was prickly but mostly harmless. The most he’d tried to do was grab her arm, and even that had backfired on him.

“I must ask that you be gentle with the person we meet,” Emery spoke up. They were almost at the cottage now. A few more strides and they would be in the garden. Less than a minute until they would be knocking on the front door. “Just because your story has been a difficult one does not mean theirs has been any easier.”

Lydia nodded jerkily.

Answers and a cure.

A cure. 

She didn’t care if the person hidden within the cottage was the worst faerie known in all the lands. So long as they had what she needed, she would be the perfect picture of civility and kindness.

They knocked at the door. They waited. They could hear someone shuffling inside, but Lydia forced herself to remain patient. Civil. Kind.

Finally, the latch clicked. The door opened.

The woman within was heartstoppingly beautiful. Inky hair fell in curls down to her waist, brown skin glinted in the sun, and honey-gold eyes sparkled happily as they spotted Emery.

“Hello, sister,” he smiled.

The woman threw herself at him, spinning in his arms the same way Lydia had seen Isabelle do with Alec. When he put her down, it was with the same care and love that Alec had shown Isabelle, like his sister was more precious to him than the sun and the stars.

He gestured towards her.

“This is Lydia, beloved of Isabelle,” he introduced her.

Lydia’s heart stuttered in her chest. That was not the name Isabelle had been using for her at court. It certainly wasn’t the name she’d been using for herself.

“Isabelle of New York?” The woman’s eyes widened.

“The one and only,” Emery hummed.

It struck Lydia as odd, considering that Isabelle had only been back in New York for a week. She hadn’t even been born there; she’d been two years old when the Lightwoods had dragged their entire family to the States.

“Lydia lives in New York as well,” he added. “She’s the Head of the Institute, actually.”

“Lydia Lightwood, then?”

“Lydia Branwell,” Emery corrected. Lydia smiled at him appreciatively. “And this is my sister, Princess Blair.”

“Who’s about to be in trouble, if you’re here,” the princess sighed.

She let them into her cottage then, her brother easily taking up space and claiming a chair at the kitchen table as though he belonged there. Strangely enough, he did. Even with his extravagant white suit and the crown on his head, he seemed more at ease here than he had when they’d been at court.

How strange, Lydia thought, that she shared so much with a prince of the lands.

Seeing the princess taking a seat as well, she sat down, not wanting to be the odd one out. Blair beamed at her. A kettle was floating over to them, pouring them cups of tea like it had a mind of its own.

“Is it New York?” Blair asked once they were all sipping on their drinks. Her voice was tense, her hackles raised.

“It is,” her brother answered. “A sleeping illness.”

The princess winced, as though she knew exactly what was going on. Lydia thought maybe she did.

“Terrence will likely be close behind,” Emery added. At this, Blair’s entire body went rigid.

Lydia was starting to feel that something was very, very wrong. Nothing was making sense anymore.

“Why are we worried about your other brother coming here? Isabelle told me he was lovely,” she frowned.

“Isabelle told you he was lovely?” Blair asked, her jaw dropping. She glanced at Emery then, a question in her eyes. “Didn’t he kidnap her the first time they met?”

“That he did,” Emery nodded, smiling wryly at Lydia when she gaped at him. “Funny, isn’t it, how easily a story is twisted. Three siblings, two of them identical. How easy would it be to claim one was behind the actions of another? Isabelle doesn’t remember our first meeting, which was a perfectly normal conversation about faerie delights, because someone had introduced me as Terrence. She’s a clever woman, but the differences between my brother and I are a mystery to everyone other than ourselves.”

“You’re telling me,” Lydia started. Swallowed. Started again. “You’re telling me Isabelle is with your brother who already tried to harm her once, and you didn’t think to warn me? Even though it sounds like your brother is very much in the mood to hurt someone?”

“Ah, so you do care about her,” Emery laughed. “I was wondering. I’ve been watching the two of you at court, you know, and your relationship is utterly fascinating. It seems neither of you can fully make your mind up about the other.”

“That doesn’t mean I want her dead!” Lydia exclaimed, pushing her chair back and standing over Emery, resisting the urge to slap him.

“He can’t hurt her,” Princess Blair piped up, shooting Lydia an apologetic glance when she turned to glare at her. “The Queen placed the entire Lightwood family under protection after that first incident. Isabelle isn’t quite aware of it, since the Queen doesn’t want her to know how much we value her, but she won’t be harmed, I swear.”

“Good thing you married into it, huh?” Emery chuckled, flicking Lydia’s wedding ring and smiling wider when it burned him. 

Angel, Lydia couldn’t wait to be back home, far away from Faerie. She was tired of their games and riddles. She just wanted to find a cure, keep Isabelle safe, and collapse in Alec’s arms.

“Patience, little Lydia,” Emery said. She hated how easily he read her. “As soon as my brother and your beloved Isabelle arrive, I promise we’ll share everything.”

“Why do they need to be here?”

“Because Terrence will be less likely to throw a fit if he’s included in the discussion,” Blair rolled her eyes. “Brothers, always trying to cause drama. Would you like a biscuit while we wait?”

She didn’t.

Blair shrugged, grabbing one for herself and Emery, and drew her brother into a conversation about the latest party he’d attended in the Unseelie court.

Lydia, quiet and seething, turned away from them.

The door banged open, and Isabelle came tumbling in, her outfit slightly out of her sorts and her face twisted with fury.

“Izzy!” Lydia cried out, rushing over to her. There was no blood on her, but Lydia fretted anyway. There were ways to hurt someone without so much as lifting a finger. “You’re alright?”

“I chose the wrong brother,” Isabelle muttered, her eyes flitting over to Blair and Emery. “Good thing you found the right one.”

“Couldn’t let you down,” she smiled shakily, then stood up, her hand clasped in Isabelle’s.

Beyond the door, Terrence stared past them, his lips curled into a snarl.

“Time for a family reunion,” she said underneath her breath, shooting Isabelle a warning look.

As much as she wanted to run and get the hell away from this cottage, the siblings still had the information they needed. And a cure, she reminded herself. The cure mattered more than her sanity, in the long run.

“Don’t loiter on my doorstep, Ter,” Blair huffed. “Come in or close the door and leave.”

He stepped in, slamming the door behind him.

“New York,” he sneered. “Do you really think it’s good enough to hide something so precious? Did you think you’d keep him hidden from me forever?”

“You haven’t found him yet, have you?” Blair snapped back. Emery was looking between the two of them, his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile playing on his face.

“Ah, but someone’s going to have to go to him,” Terrence said mildly, pointing at Isabelle and Lydia. “They won’t leave until you’ve told them where he is and how to undo whatever nonsense it is you thought you could get away with.”

Blair’s confidence faltered for a moment.

“I can fix it without your involvement,” she said sharply. “In fact, I won’t have to leave Faerie at all. I’m sure beloved Isabelle and Lydia are more than capable of sorting things out in the mortal world.”

“You’d trust them with him?” Terrence asked her, looking disgusted. “He’s a prince, Blair, not some random riffraff you found on the streets. He belongs here.”

“Right, with the uncle who’ll kill him in his sleep the first time he closes his eyes,” Blair rolled her eyes. “What a wonderful idea. Nevermind that he’s happy in New York, that he has friends there, family there. Nevermind that you’d rather kill a child than see my half-blood heir on the throne.”

Isabelle and Lydia were riveted.

To be honest, Lydia didn’t think they were in any real danger. It was clear that Terrence’s issue was with his siblings, not with them. And if Blair was right, he couldn’t hurt them even if he tried.

“Didn’t know drama was just as petty in the Faerie realms as it is in the mortal world,” Isabelle said softly. Lydia laughed silently, happy to see Isabelle looking more like herself. Even the leaves in her hair couldn’t take away from the way she naturally shone.

Terrence and Blair were resorting to insults and thinly-veiled threats while Emery busied himself with his suit, seeming more amused than worried. And though Lydia agreed that the argument was rather entertaining, she’d also come to the cottage seeking answers, not to watch two siblings bicker for hours.

And she knew, from experience, that bickering amongst faeries could, in fact, take hours.

She cleared her throat, holding back a flinch when both Blair and Terrence’s gazes snapped in her direction, angry and frustrated and ridiculously entrancing.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, not feeling sorry at all. “But is there any way we could move onto the part where we actually get the answers to our questions? And a cure for the illness?”

“There wouldn’t be an illness without her!” Terrence yelled, pointing at his sister accusingly.

“Oh, do calm down,” Emery finally spoke up. “Little Lydia and Beloved Isabelle only want to get back to the city. They have no interest in Blair’s kid or your hysterics. You can always keep arguing once they’re gone.”

“I’ll be going with them,” Terrence scoffed. “You don’t actually think I’ll let my nephew disappear again when I finally know where he is, do you?”

“I’d prefer he was alive,” Emery drawled. “So I do think you’ll be staying here with us when the ladies leave. Blair has some rather interesting spells placed around the house. You’d be surprised how many of them can keep you restrained while Isabelle and Lydia go deal with our nephew.”

“He’s sick, isn’t he?” Blair asked, her lips pressed together tightly.

Emery nodded and, much to Lydia’s relief, finally told them the whole story.

It was eerily similar to what had happened to that prince all of those years ago, even if the specifics diverged.

Princess Blair had had an affair with a mortal man when he had accidentally found himself in Faerie. She’d been enamoured, he’d been infatuated and, before long, there was a baby on the way. Not just a baby but an heir, since Blair was the eldest of the triplets. Terrence, who had been second in line for the throne until his sister had gotten pregnant, had started plotting to kill the child as soon as it was born.

“So we hid him,” Emery shrugged. “New York is a vast city. And just in case our dearest brother ever did come upon him, we tied the child to the city. His father is the only one who can take him out of the city without dire consequences. Of course, we all know the story of the prince, yes? When Blair’s son got sick, the city reacted by taking energy from those who had some to spare.”

“Our lives aren’t a resource,” Lydia snapped, annoyed at how casually Emery referred to the illness.

“They are to the city,” he said nonchalantly. Lydia hoped today was the last time she would ever see him. “His illness is a faerie one, which means he needed magical energy. I can brew a remedy for him and have it ready for him tomorrow.”

Isabelle was staring at him, her gaze hard.

“All this time, all we needed to do was heal one child,” she hissed. “You’re telling me that if a single one of you had cared to check in on the boy, we could have avoided this entire situation?”

Blair, at least, had the decency to look ashamed. Terrence and Emery’s expressions didn’t change.

“Fine,” Lydia said, disgusted. “We’ll wait another day. Where will we find him?”

“No idea,” Emery answered cheerily. “The half-faeries keep tabs on him but never share his location with us. Safety precaution. I’m sure you understand. Hopefully the rest of your team in New York has stumbled upon him in their search for a solution!”

Isabelle stormed out of the cottage in frustration. Lydia couldn’t say she blamed her.

“You’d better hope they have,” she told the siblings. “If I lose my city because of a family squabble, I’ll make sure the Queen knows exactly who’s to blame for New York’s ire. I can’t imagine any of you will be the heir if it comes to that.”

And then she jogged after Isabelle, who may not have always been kind to her but who had at least always cared for the Institute she called home.

Angel, how she hated Faerie.

Chapter Text

All the victims, Clary had said when they’d rushed into the Institute. All the victims are from New York.

Every single one of them born and raised, every one of them having chosen not to leave, no matter how hard things may have been.

Raphael Santiago, who had stayed at Hotel Dumort even after suffering abuse from his family, from his peers, and from the leader of his clan. Elias, the warlock who could have picked any city in the world but who’d loved New York too much to leave. Simon Lewis, who’d been traumatised when he’d been forcefully turned into a vampire but had fallen in love with the people. Jem, whose parents had been in America when he’d been born and who had made his way back there in a second life. Thea, who’d gone to Alicante for a few years but had begged her parents to take her back when she’d started training.

Fran, beloved Fran, who had never stepped foot outside of the city. Who had stayed with Alec and Lydia because she loved them and loved her city despite the parents who had abandoned her there. Maybe because of her parents.

A connection not easily made, since Alec often forgot not every shadowhunter under his care had grown up in this city, but one that Clary had finally cracked when she’d wondered why Jace had come out of the hub awake while Simon had fallen asleep.

“It means we can go in there,” she’d added. “You and me and Jace and anyone who wasn’t born here. We can find the source, whatever it is. You think it’s a person, right? So we’ll narrow down the neighbourhoods to those that have the most demon presence of the hubs and go there. There must be magical ways of finding someone, right?”

Magnus had confirmed that yes, if they were in close enough proximity to the source of the illness, there were ways of revealing them.

He’d disappeared for a few hours and had come back with Catarina and Tessa in tow, all three of them carrying heaps of items that Magnus distributed amongst all the shadowhunters who had been born out of the city.

It was a good thing most of them were from Alicante or Los Angeles or the dozens of cities that hadn’t wanted to keep shadowhunters who were eager to change the world.

After a quick demonstration of how the items worked, they’d all set out to finally put an end to their city’s deterioration.

Now Alec walked in the dark with Magnus by his side, feeling hopeful and anxious and warm and terrified.

“I can hear your thoughts from over here,” Magnus said as they walked around Central Park, by far the city’s biggest hub of ley lines. “You don’t think this is going to work?”

“I think it will,” Alec answered honestly, slowing down his pace so he could walk in tandem with Magnus. “I think we’ll find the source and finally have an answer to our questions, but I’m terrified Lydia and Isabelle won’t be back. They could be dead, for all we know. They could be going around in circles, unable to find a cure. Then I wouldn’t have a city or the two women I love most in the world.”

“Or they could be on their way back to us right now,” Magnus pointed out. Alec hated that his optimism made him feel better. He would have preferred to wallow, thank you very much. “They’ll have the cure, of course, because I would expect nothing less of the women you speak so highly of.”

“If they’re on their way back, they have the cure,” Alec said seriously. “Lydia wouldn’t come back without it.”

“Sounds like your wife has her priorities straight,” Magnus said, laughing loudly when Alec scrunched his nose up at the moniker.

“She doesn’t have to be my wife forever,” Alec retorted.

He stopped walking.

Magnus stopped too, looking at him inquisitively.

Alec looked down at his hand, at the ring on his finger that he had never taken off. He’d thought it would be there forever. It was forever. 

Why wouldn’t it be forever?

He looked up at Magnus, at the man who shone golden and made Alec feel like he mattered. He hadn’t thought someone like Magnus existed. Had never even considered it.

“I–” He began but found that the right words wouldn’t come out.

“You love her deeply,” Magnus murmured, looking at Alec as though he’d just realised something important. “I must be a lucky man indeed, to have you reconsidering the love you promised her all those years ago.”

Alec shook his head.

“I promised her an Institute,” he said, snorting when Magnus huffed. “We can have an Institute even if we’re not married. I can love her even without a ring. Just so you know.”

“Just so I know,” Magnus smiled.

It was a real smile, one that lit up his entire face and made his glamour falter ever-so-slightly, just enough for that little bit of gold to peek through.

Maybe he would get to see what hid behind it someday. He’d suggested divorcing his wife and hadn’t been met with utter bafflement. They were a long way away from anything as serious as what he and Lydia had, but they had something.

He had someone who looked at him and maybe actually saw the person Alec had spent his entire life trying to become.

Lydia would be overjoyed.

“We need to find the source before Lydia gets back,” he said, forcing his legs to move.

“Ah, so you agree that she’ll be back soon!” Magnus grinned. “I knew you were an optimist deep down, Alexander. You can’t hide those kinds of things from warlocks. We’re too perceptive.”

“Or maybe you just know me,” Alec rolled his eyes, smiling softly when Magnus’ grin turned warm.

Their entire conversation turned warm after that, in fact.

Their eyes were trained on the item in Alec’s hands, but they didn’t need to look at each other to feel the joy unfurling between them.

They spoke about Lydia, most of all. About how much Alec wanted her to meet Magnus and how well they’d get along. About the things he’d missed most while she was gone. He told Magnus things he’d never told anyone else about his relationship with Lydia; how they slept together, sometimes, just for comfort, how they’d spent weeks crying when Fran had first fallen ill. 

Magnus told him about Raphael, too. Then about the places he’d visited throughout his life, all while keeping his gaze steadfastly on the artifact he’d enchanted.

It was a strange feeling, Alec thought, to be doing his job while also walking next to a man he was beginning to suspect he greatly cared about.

Finally, while Alec was halfway through telling a story about Izzy’s disastrous attempts at cooking when she was a teenager and Magnus was laughing along, the item lit up.

It wasn’t just a twinkle, nor was it a gradual increase in luminosity.

One second the item was dark and dull, and then next it was blinding Alec, pulsating as though it wanted to escape his grip and run towards whatever had caused it to react so violently.

Despite his instinct to let it go, Alec held on and turned to look at the apartment building to his left.

It was unassuming. Just a regular building in the middle of a city that never slept. If they hadn’t had Magnus’ artifacts, Alec was certain they would have never found the source of the illness.

“Shall we knock, then?” Magnus asked cheerfully.

“I don’t think that’ll get us very far,” Alec huffed, gesturing towards the myriads of names displayed next to the intercom. “I don’t imagine you recognise any of these names, do you?”

“Unfortunately not,” Magnus frowned. “It’s rather late for us to be trying random people until we find the one we’re looking for.”

“If they’d even tell us,” Alec sighed. “For all we know, they’re hiding an incredibly illegal object that’s causing this. And yes, I know it’s probably just a person who’s doing this against their own will, but I’d rather not chance it.”

“So you want to wait?” Magnus asked.

He didn’t sound bothered. In fact, he looked as though he’d happily do whatever Alec suggested, whether that be banging down on each door until they found the person responsible for the losses in their community or staying on the porch all night until it was a reasonable hour to start investigating.

He groaned.

“Better get comfortable,” he said, lowering himself to the ground and pressing his back against the brick wall.

With a sniff, Magnus cast a spell that cleaned the floor beneath them and joined Alec, their legs touching.

“Not exactly romantic,” Magnus said blithely.

“I don’t know,” Alec smiled. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

And just like that, he made Magnus Bane speechless.

He immediately wanted to do it again.

Inexplicably, Alec woke up to the sound of Lydia’s voice.

To the sound of her yelling his name, actually, which he found rather odd. Lydia wasn’t one to raise her voice.

“Alec!”

His eyes snapped open.

He was still outside, on the front porch of a building near Central Park, his fingers laced with Magnus’ and his back aching against the wall.

But he didn’t care about any of that – couldn’t even feel embarrassed at having been caught in such a compromising position with the High Warlock of Brooklyn – because running towards him, her blond hair out of its usual ponytail, was the most marvellous sight in the world.

Lydia, holding a glass bottle in her hand.

“I didn’t expect you to be this close to our portal,” his sister said, coming up behind Lydia at a more leisurely pace. She looked a little harried, a little tired, but most of all happy. Alec couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so carefree. “Lydia was panicking about getting back to the Institute when we saw you guys.”

“Right,” Alec blushed as Magnus stirred next to him. “This is Magnus Bane.”

“The High Warlock of Brooklyn?” Lydia asked, her eyebrows raised.

“The one and only,” Magnus said with a sleepy smirk. “And you must be the wonderful Lydia Branwell. I’ve heard good things about you, dear.”

“Of course you have,” Lydia grinned, shaking the bottle she was still holding. “I’ve come bearing a miracle, haven’t I? As long as you’ve done your part.”

“Is this the building where the prince lives?” Izzy asked curiously.

Alec and Magnus blinked at her. It was too early for this.

“Prince?” Magnus was the one to finally ask the question.

“It’s a whole story,” Lydia waved him off. “He’s linked to the city. If we cure him, the city will stop pulling on everyone’s energy. Isabelle has a case of potions to give to anyone who doesn’t immediately wake up. It was… a frustratingly simple solution.”

“I’m familiar with the feeling,” Alec grumbled. “You wouldn’t happen to know the prince’s name, would you?”

Lydia and Izzy peered over his shoulder at the names next to the intercom, both of them letting out a sound of success halfway down the list.

Izzy pointed at a name.

“Terrence?” Magnus frowned. “What a disappointingly mundane name.”

“I think the point was for him to blend in,” Lydia said, amused. “Do you think it’s too early to ring the bell?”

“We’ve been waiting for months,” Alec huffed, already tapping at the intercom to find the right name. The second he found it, the bell started ringing.

When no answer came, he tried again. And again. And again.

“Alexander, maybe we shou–”

“Who the fuck are you and why are you ringing my doorbell at 6 in the fucking morning,” a voice finally came through the intercom.

Everyone’s eyes were on Alec. He sighed.

“We’re here to give your son a cure,” he replied honestly.

“You’re here to…” The voice trailed off, and Alec dearly hoped he hadn’t turned this situation into a break-in. “Right. Shit. Yeah, come on up. Sixth floor.”

Alec went first, Lydia close behind him, then Izzy, and finally Magnus.

They were silent as they walked up the stairs, having unanimously decided not to risk the rickety elevator that had greeted them when they’d walked into the foyer. Lydia’s grip on the cure was bordering on deathly and Alec had to resist the urge to pluck it out of her fingers lest she break it.

Thankfully, they reached the sixth floor before he could make up his mind, and Lydia’s grip loosened ever-so-slightly.

The door to their right was ajar.

Alec breathed in, channelled Magnus’ optimism, and walked into the apartment.

It was small, which he had expected from the look of the building. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for the place to be so… normal. He’d thought they would walk in and find evidence of faerie magic and supernatural forces, but the living room was sparsely furnished, the kitchen utterly ordinary, and the walls adorned with pictures of a father and his son.

His young son. Alec’s eyes stayed fixed on the picture closest to him. The boy couldn’t have been older than seven years old. The man in the photograph was identical to the one standing in front of them.

Seven years old.

Fuck, now he couldn’t even be mad at the catalyst behind the illness.

The man had his eyes narrowed at them.

“Not faeries?” He asked suspiciously.

“Are you surprised?” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Couldn’t care less about the state of the mortal world. Though I’ll give it to Blair; she seems like she genuinely loves your son. She’d have come along if she didn’t think her brothers would follow.”

“She doesn’t want to know where he is anyway,” the man said gruffly. “Fucking inconvenient when I’m trying to get a hold of her to tell her our son’s sick and something’s wrong with the neighbourhood. Nature’s been acting strange, shadows are longer than usual. I can’t see the demons around him but I know they’re there. It’s cause Remi’s sick, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Alec confirmed, seeing no point in denying it. “His sickness has caused… quite a stir. We’re sorry we couldn’t find you earlier.”

The man stared at him intently then. Alec didn’t know what he saw: the exhausted leader, the relieved father, or the shadowhunter who just wanted his life to go back to a semblance of peace. Whatever it was, it had him smiling sadly. 

“Sounds like I should be the one apologising,” he hummed. “Remi’s in his room. Hasn’t woken up in weeks, and even then it was only for a minute. Maybe one of the ladies can go in with me? In case he wakes up and gets a fright.”

“Sure,” Lydia smiled back at him. “And you’ve got nothing to apologise for. Faeries are a nuisance, even when it comes to their children. I’m just glad we could find you before anything else happened to Remi. You know, I learned a lot…”

Her voice trailed off as they closed the bedroom door behind them, leaving Alec and Magnus to face Izzy alone.

His sister, now that Lydia and the cure were out of sight, stared at them with utter delight.

“Well, well, well,” she chuckled. “I leave for a few weeks and you find yourself in the arms of a High Warlock? I didn’t even know there were handsome ones around here. Maybe I’d have stayed in New York.”

“A shame,” Magnus laughed along with her, then looked fondly at Alec. “If you’d been here, perhaps it wouldn’t have taken me years to meet Alexander. Your brother’s quite an impressive man, you know?”

Alec stepped away from them as Izzy started mercilessly teasing him, bringing up things that he would have rather never been reminded of. He could have interrupted, but he was rather curious to see how his sister and Magnus would get along if left to their own devices.

Instead, he waited near the bedroom door until it opened up again.

Inside, a small boy with pointed ears weeped in the arms of his father. Lydia closed the door again to give them privacy.

“We should make ourselves sca– Oof! Alec!” 

He’d wrapped her in his arms, burying her against his chest. Once she got over her initial shock, she relaxed in his embrace, her own arms coming around him to squeeze him as tightly as she could manage.

When they let go of each other, he analysed her face more closely. Her skin had taken on a healthy glow that only came from time spent in nature, but she was otherwise exactly the same.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Oh Alec,” she said tearily. “I missed you too.”

“Let’s go wake up our daughter,” he murmured.

She all but ran out of the building, Magnus and Izzy chasing after them and begging them to slow down.

They did no such thing.

They had a city to bring back to life.

Chapter Text

Though they’d run towards the Institute as though they were being chased by demons, they’d eventually come to a stop and realised they had duties to attend to. There were werewolves and vampires who’d been asleep for a lot longer than Fran had been and who deserved to be given the cure first.

It was an excruciating day, made better by Alec’s presence at her side and the constant chatter coming from Bane and Isabelle.

But it was also a wonderful day.

She got to watch as the Hotel Dumort filled with noise. Some vampires had already awakened when they arrived, but Lydia handed out doses of the cure to those who needed it, her eyes widening in astonishment every time it brought someone out of their slumber. It was the kind of effect that didn’t stop being impressive after the first time.

Lily and Bane were both tearful as they woke Raphael up. Clary and Jace burst into tears the second Simon opened his eyes. The poor boy was immediately buried underneath their bodies as they checked him for any sign that he wasn’t alright.

The werewolves were an even greater sight. They wept as their loved ones awoke, thanking Isabelle and Lydia profusely for their work and embracing Alec when he tried to fade in the background.

Still, Lydia was antsy.

She was buzzing and restless and by the time they returned to the Institute – late in the afternoon – she thought she might cry from the sheer anticipation of it all. 

“Hey Tessa,” Alec greeted a woman who was carrying a small girl on her shoulders. “Interested in a cure?” 

She almost dropped the girl in her shock, though a wave of Bane’s hand had her daughter floating safely to the ground.

Their procession kept getting bigger as they approached the infirmary. Lydia had always known, of course, that their Institute was more tightly-knit than most, but it warmed her heart to see that every single one of their shadowhunters was eager for their team to be complete again. Even the trainees trailed after them, their gazes worried but hopeful. 

“Alright, let’s leave some room for them to breathe,” Alec announced as they reached the door. He laughed lightly when their subordinates expressed their frustration. “I know we want to see them again, but it won’t do them any good to be assaulted the second they wake up. You can take turns coming in once they’re all feeling better, alright?”

It was not, in fact, ‘alright, but the shadowhunters begrudgingly agreed to Alec’s request. Lydia bit back a smile at their disappointment.

“Jem first,” Alec said, nodding at Tessa. “It’s the least we can do for the help you gave us.”

“Thank you, Alec,” the woman replied. She held her daughter even closer to her as they approached a middle-aged shadowhunter. Tessa’s partner, and the girl’s father, she assumed.

They left them to their reunion – along with Bane, who Lydia discovered had joined their team when Tessa had dragged him out of Thailand and had not in fact been ignoring her calls.

One by one, they administered the cure to the people they’d cared for ever since they’d taken over the Institute – almost a decade for Alec, almost five years for Lydia.

Jade and Thea were new additions to the ward, and Lydia was glad she only had to see them asleep for a few moments before they bolted up in their beds, their gazes panicked.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lydia said, approaching Jade while Alec went over to comfort Thea. “You’re alright. The city’s alright. We did it. You did everything right, and now you’ve got an entire squad waiting for you outside the infirmary.”

They relaxed slowly, though Lydia noted Thea scooched over to Jade’s bed the second she and Alec left their sides. She smiled at the sight of them.

When she turned back towards Alec, he’d given the cure to the last few shadowhunters who needed it, leaving only one girl.

She threw the curtains open, a vial of the cure in her hand. Alec placed a hand on her back as she tilted it into Fran’s lips, holding her breath as though the cure would suddenly stop working, just to taunt her.

But it didn’t.

Just like all the others, Fran opened her eyes. 

She blinked, moved her head slightly, spotted Lydia and Alec, and immediately started sobbing.

They encircled her within moments, piling awkwardly onto her bed so both of them were touching her, feeling her breath, hearing her cry.

“You’re okay,” Lydia said. “We’re okay.”

Fran was sleeping again. They all were, those who had been sick and those who had been trying to save them.

Only Alec and Lydia were awake now, unable to take their eyes off Fran.

“She’ll wake up in the morning, right?” Lydia asked for the tenth time.

Alec had already asked the question fifty times, so she reckoned she was alright to push for a while longer.

“Of course she will,” Alec said. “She’s mad enough at everything she’s missed; I don’t think she’ll be leaving again anytime soon.”

“She might not want to stay in a city that tried to steal her life energy in order to keep a half-faerie prince alive,” Lydia huffed. “I wouldn’t blame her if she decided to try her luck in Alicante. At least they only have to deal with Faerie when they want to.”

“But we’re here,” Alec pointed out. Lydia’s heart settled a little at that.

He was right. Fran may have been frightened and upset but, more than anything, she’d been grateful to be back with them. She’d held both of their hands when they’d tried to leave her in her infirmary bed, begging them to stay until she woke up again.

“I’m glad it’s in the past now,” she said quietly. “I don’t think I could have kept going for much longer.”

“No,” Alec agreed. “I don’t think we could have.”

“How strange is it going to be to go back to living our normal lives?” She chuckled, careful not to be too loud lest she wake Fran up. “I can’t even remember what the patrol schedule looked like before we had to change everything.”

“You’ve never known what the patrol schedule looked like,” Alec said teasingly. He grinned when she punched his arm lightly. “It’ll be easier than you think. We’re all desperate to forget this ever happened.”

“Are we?” Lydia asked, her lips curling into a smirk.

Alec’s ears, his constant traitors, turned red.

“It’s nothing yet,” he said. “I mean, obviously I like him, no secret there, but it’s… We’ll see. We’re still married, he’s still a High Warlock who struggles to stay in one place, and there’s no telling how many things we actually agree on. What if he hates the Shadowworld Alliance and that’s why we’ve never met him? What if he thinks I’m boring when he realises I don’t want to go out and party or whatever it is he likes to do?”

“What if he falls in love with you?” Lydia countered.

Alec had nothing to say to that.

“You don’t have to rush into anything,” she continued earnestly. When he refused to meet her gaze, she tapped their wedding rings together. “Don’t be a coward, Alec Lightwood. I didn’t put a ring on your finger so you could use it as an excuse not to fall in love.”

“No, you just did it so you wouldn’t have to find a partner again,” Alec said. He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to contradict him.

They both knew she couldn’t. 

“I dream about him less and less, you know?” She told him. He’d linked their fingers together when she’d reached for his wedding ring, and he squeezed hers now. “Sometimes, it feels like all those years in Brussels weren’t even real. I mean, what was life before New York? I can’t imagine it. And I feel guilty, because it means I’m forgetting him too. Forgetting what life was like when he was still alive.”

“You’re moving on,” Alec said quietly. “You’re allowed to do that. John wouldn’t want you to wallow in misery for the rest of your life. If – and it’s a big if – something does happen between Magnus and I, you won’t be married anymore. You can look for your own partner in life.”

“And the Institute?”

“Lydia,” Alec scoffed. She felt instantly chastised. “Do you really think Alicante can do anything to take this Institute away from us now? Not only have we turned this city into an example for Shadowworld communities all over the country, we also just saved it from impending doom.”

“Right.”

“Besides, it’s your home,” Alec added. “I wouldn’t know how to run it without you anymore. It’s like you said; I can’t imagine how I lived before you were here. It’s the two of us forever, Lyds.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He’d never lied to her before, and she didn’t think he’d start now.

Not when their wedding rings were still on their fingers, not when their daughter was sleeping just a few feet away from them, not when he still looked at her like he would burn the world down if it made her happy.

He could have Magnus, and he could have her too.

It didn’t mean she had to be alone.

Isabelle hadn’t left the Institute.

It had been a week since they’d returned from Faerie and brought the cure with them, but neither Isabelle nor Clary had mentioned Alicante or a return to their normal lives.

Instead, Clary had begun training the younger shadowhunters with Jace. She’d taken Blackthorn underneath her wing in the studio, having set aside an entire room for them to paint in. Lydia could see how much joy it brought the boy and wondered if he’d be with them for much longer.

Isabelle had also found a kindred spirit in the form of one Lysandra, who had set eyes on her and immediately decided she wanted to know everything about the shadowhunter who had saved her sister. Isabelle had told her it was a group effort, but Lydia didn’t think anything was going to stop the crush that Lysandra was evidently developing.

Surprisingly, their presence hadn’t upset the Institute’s return to normality. They’d slotted themselves into the dynamic seamlessly, and Lydia had already had several conversations with Alec about the paperwork they’d need to draft for their transfers.

He’d laughed and had shaken his head, wondering how many times he’d have to arrange for his sister to move to a new Institute.

Privately, Lydia hoped this would be the last time.

She hadn’t asked Isabelle though, mostly because the two of them were busy but also because she wasn’t quite sure how to talk to the other woman now that they were back in New York.

They’d come to a truce while they were in Faerie, but Lydia wasn’t sure it would apply now that they’d settled back into their routines. She still wasn’t sure what had caused Isabelle to run so hot and cold, and she doubted it had changed in the span of a month.

Which was why she was caught off-guard – though not entirely shocked – when she entered her office after a day of chatting with the vampire clans and found Isabelle lounging in her armchair.

She’d always looked like she belonged there.

“I’ve been waiting forever,” she grumbled when Lydia dragged a chair over to sit with her. She didn’t make a move to get out of the armchair and Lydia knew better than to ask. “Still dealing with all the diplomatic fallout of the disease? Alec said lots of people want to strengthen our alliances now that they’ve seen how efficient we are in times of crisis.”

“They do,” Lydia nodded. “I’ve turned down all the warlocks except Magnus, of course.”

“Of course,” Isabelle grinned. “Is it because you trust him or because Alec would have gone behind your back to secure the alliance regardless?”

“Can’t it be both?” Lydia snorted. “Though I don’t think Alec would have done that. He’s so cautious about keeping their work lives and personal lives separate. I think he’s terrified that Magnus is going to reveal he actually hates all shadowhunters and wants Alec to give up on the Institute.”

“He’s ridiculous,” Isabelle rolled her eyes.

Lydia laughed.

“Yes, I do believe that’s most of your brother’s appeal,” she said. “It certainly isn’t his charm.”

“No,” Isabelle shook her head. “That’s rather your trick, isn’t it?”

Lydia didn’t answer, her voice suddenly tied in knots in her throat and her heart pounding in her chest.

Maybe their truce would last beyond Faerie after all.

“I owe you an apology.”

If she’d been holding the cure in her hands right then, New York City would have never woken up.

“Sorry?”

“No, I’m apologising,” Isabelle said, amused. Lydia narrowed her eyes at her. “You’re too easy to tease, really. But seriously, I haven’t exactly been kind to you these past few years. When you and Alec got engaged… I was just angry, you know? The Council had been pushing for him to get a wife and then suddenly there you were, like an offering from Alicante itself. It was too perfect, and Alec was so enamoured with you, I didn’t know what to do about it.”

“You could have mentioned this to Alec,” Lydia pointed out.

“Yeah,” Isabelle blushed. “I should have. But he’s always been so good at putting himself second. When Alicante gave him a hard time because of his sexuality, he was all too quick to assure them he wouldn’t try to force a husband upon them. So when you told him you wanted to get engaged, I thought it was yet another example of him putting his needs before everyone else’s.”

“I don’t think Alec would have married me if–”

“I know,” Isabelle cut her off, looking genuinely bashful. “I know that now. You two love each other so much, it’s actually quite nauseating. I don’t know how Jace deals with all the emotions coming off him. At least Clary’s situation is more straightforward. I can tune her out when things get too intense. But with you and Alec, it’s this constant thing.”

“That is how marriage works,” Lydia said fondly. “Even when it’s not the most conventional of partnerships.”

“Do you think you’ll be okay with him and Magnus?”

“Yes.” 

No hesitation. She’d seen the way Alec looked at Magnus. It had only been a week but she could already tell Alec was captivated. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the warlock, couldn’t stop talking about him, and was always staring at his phone as though wishing for Magnus’ name to appear on the screen.

She’d never been so happy for another person.

The only person who was more delighted by the situation was Fran, who had squealed when Alec had introduced Magnus to her. Lydia had no idea how she’d picked up on the romantic undertones between the two men, but she was glad Fran didn’t mind.

“It means I can start looking for a partner, too,” she added, her eyes never leaving Isabelle.

Isabelle stared back at her.

“I didn’t know you were considering it.”

“I didn’t either,” Lydia said. “But it turns out there are a lot of things I haven’t considered in the past few years because I thought they were out of reach. And now they’re not.”

Isabelle nodded slowly.

“I don’t think I want to work in Faerie anymore,” she told Lydia after a minute of silence.

Lydia hummed.

“You’re not surprised?” Isabelle asked, sounding nervous. “I know you and Alec had to pull some strings in Alicante to make sure I got placed in the diplomatic sector. The transfer wasn’t exactly expected, and you could have left me to fend for myself, but…”

“We wanted you to be happy,” Lydia said honestly. “Back then, that meant letting you go to Alicante and making sure you could work in Faerie. But it was obvious to me when we were there that you weren’t enchanted by it anymore.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle said quietly. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

They couldn’t stop looking at each other. Or at least, Lydia couldn’t. Maybe they were under a spell. Maybe there was something in the air, the same infection that had taken over Alec and Magnus’ minds in the past week.

“Besides,” Isabelle whispered. “New York’s far more magical.”

Lydia smiled.

“It’s a good thing we have your transfer papers sorted then, isn’t it?”

Isabelle beamed at her.

She was glad things were going back to normal, but a few changes wouldn’t hurt anyone.

It was what their city was made of, after all.