The Hunter and His Dragon

GET OUT, The Past Sadness

A/N: Yay for angst! Sorry, I know some of you don't like it but . . . what can you do? Storms usually come before rainbows and all that. So enjoy!

****Magnus's POV****

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

He pounded on the door with his fists. Wrists aching enough turning and turning and turning, fingertips oozing out dark blood. This frantic energy held him in its vicious grasp. Hollowed out eyes were imprinted in his mind. There was no life in them. Blue which swam with so many emotions were now blank voids. The same blue which assured him, trusted him despite the unease felt . . .

It's all my fault.

His heart was seizing up from all his efforts. It was hard to know how much time had passed, all his adrenaline thrown into trying to escape from his room. The large king sized bed with its plush comforter, the pool table off to the side, velvety armchairs and posters of hunters from legends . . . none of these things comforted him. Not now, when his voice was raw from all the shouting.

"Father! Father come back!"

Some part of him knew this was useless. The sound of wing beats from earlier almost ascertained his Father and Alec were already gone. But he tried anyways, desperate hope dying on every gasp he let out. Please come back. Please.

There had been pain on Alec's face, right before he was lost to the world.

Right before he was lost to him.

Magnus would never forget that look.

Which was why he kept pounding at the door with his fists. And when that failed, he resorted to throwing his whole weight against the wooden frame. Unintelligible cries left his throat, much like a wounded animal on its last legs. Which probably was close enough to the truth. Whatever had happened to Alec had torn apart a piece of him. The tether binding them together seemed to be pulled so tight to the point of snapping. It hurt worse than any physical affliction he bore did.

"Alec . . ."

The dragon prince was still on his mind as his body gave out to exhaustion.

Time Skip . . .

The blackness that blanketed him was that of a void.

There was nothing to be felt in its embrace except for the piece of being freed from despair.

Magnus wrapped it around himself, letting go of all the troublesome feelings which felt meaningless inside this cloudy haze.

"Magnus?"

A voice.

A prod to the shoulder.

"Magnus wake up."

The prod happened again.

And then again.

"Magnus."

Something was shaking him now. And it refused to stop.

"Come on. Wake up."

Blindly, he reached out at it, trying to push whatever was responsible for interrupting his slumber away. But this thing refused to leave him alone. The shaking became increasingly insistent. Magnus begrudgingly open his eyes . . .

Only to slam them shut again. There was a brightness, accompanied by an aching hurt that extended deep into his bones. He groaned.

The owner of the voice let out a humming sound. "There you are. For a second I thought you were dead."