A/N: So depicted above is kind of what I imagine King Robert Lightwood to look like. Of course, it's missing the crisscross zig zags that are found in Alec's pic. I'm thinking about maybe drawing all the dragons at some point (the main ones anyways) but that'll take time. I may post it on here if I think it looks good enough and y'all want me too. With that said, let's get into it.
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Flashback . . .
Dinner had been as lovely as ever. The little girl played with her brother after they were done eating, laughing at his giggles and food smeared all over his face, much to their mother's char grin. The fire was dying out to embers as the sun began to disappear fully behind the tree line. She was left now with her Father once more, mother and brother gone back into the house for the night.
"We should be going in soon." Father began to rise from the log he sat on, the old dead thing eliciting a groan as his weight left it. The little girl grabbed at his sleeve in a rush, face flushed in the cold air.
"No!"
"No?"
She shook her head firmly. "No going in until story time."
Her father frowned a little, gaze scanning their surroundings. There was plenty of good to living on the outskirts of the woods . . . but just as much bad too. His narrowed gaze was picking up on any sign of the latter. Leaves blustered with the wind, grass swaying in a sleepy tune.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have story time inside?"
And maybe inside would have been a better choice in retrospect. But there was no going back to the past, and being under the stars was something worth the chill. Or, at least it was to the girl. Being out here was worth every cold and cramp in her small bones.
"Nope. Want it out here."
The stories of the stars were better anyways.
He shook his head, though the fond smile he gave her revealed the warmth he held for his daughter. The tall man motioned for her to get up. The girl did so with a giggle of glee, accepting the position of sitting on his lap as he sat down and she plopped right on his legs.
****Magnus's POV****
He watched Maia carefully, every bit of him remaining tense as he waited for a reaction out of her. Out of all his friends, Maia would likely have the worst reaction to this information. That he had been living with dragons and had befriended them . . .
It would have been unheard of before.
At the beginning of their friendship, it was easy to bond over dragon hunting with Maia. Her tragic tale strengthened his resolve that exterminating dragon kind was the right thing to do. But since Alec everything changed. Because he knew now this was wrong. Because dragons, while big and scaly and winged, are just trying to live in peace the same as us.
Sure, there was the mystery of his mother's death to puzzle out, but he had the increasingly growing suspicion he only knew a small sliver of the truth.
"Maia? Say something please." He prompted her quietly.
It was with great difficulty he managed to keep his voice between gentle and hoarse.
Maia was not the type to be treated like glass.
And she did not like pity.
So all he could do was stare at her, patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop. Ragnor was doing the same, not looking at the potion bottle whose lid he was screwing back on the top. Maia's expression was like a blank canvas; no emotion was painted on it, her mouth flat and eyes distant. He wondered what she was thinking about, took a guess mentally.
Her parents.
Her little brother.
He knew a little about the three of them and how they died. Maia was never willing to share the whole story.
"Is that all?" She said.
Magnus felt a shocked tremor run through him. What was that expression she was wearing now? There was a hint of something cold to her demeanor, an iciness akin to a frozen lake. One of her incisors peeked out of her mouth as she gnawed on her lower lip. It was almost like she was sizing him up.
"Is that all." Magnus echoed, sans the question at the end.
Maia pushed him none to gently back down onto his bed. Magnus landed on his rear, the mattress cushioning him like it was meant to. Her hands found their way to his hips before traveling up to his shoulders. That firm grip was so tight. Nails dug at the skin there, and without the presence of fabric a part of him instinctively knew they would have broken past his skin. Maia was always strong. She hid a lot of it during the work hours at the tavern, so it was the sole few times they had fought —he could count them on one hand— for training that he saw how powerful Maia truly was.
"Magnus, I knew from the moment you walked into the tavern that something was off about you, and that guy you were with even more so. I'd bet money he's a dragon right?" Maia inquired, tightening her hold on him somehow.
Magnus wriggled a little in her hold to no avail. He shot Ragnor a 'mind helping me out' look, but his friend just shrugged his shoulders rather unhelpfully. So he sighed, shoulders hunching forward. "I'd rather not say."
"But you're going to tell me. Because you want my help." Maia stated.
"And whose to say I really want your help though." Magnus said, knowing it was a foolish effort to stall.
"Ugh, come on Magnus, just tell her already." Ragnor prompted him. His friend clearly could care less about how mad Maia might get. And for that he shot Ragnor a glare, not that it did anything. Ragnor just smirked at him, the man calm as ever.
"Alright. Alright. You see, Alec, or should I say Alexander, is . . ."
"Is what?" Maia waited for his answer with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Alec is a dragon. The prince of dragons to be exact."
There was a heartbeat of pause, then another.
And then . . .
"WHAT!?"
******Flashback . . .******
The little girl was curled up in her bed. A blanket was snuggly wrapped around her frame, tucked under chin. It was dark out that night. Stars crept through the clouds, hazy with all the puffs of gray. Their light leaked through the curtains in her room just barely. It cut a thin light trailing off to her bedroom door. On these nights, where the cold seemed to seep through everything, she found it hard to sleep. No amount of bedtime stories abated the chill after all. But where they failed exhaustion usually took its course. Her brother's small snores were muffled by his pillow. He was just old enough to no longer be in a crib. The old wooden thing was a storage for the books she loved to read.
Creak.
Rustle. Rustle.
Half-lidded eyes flicked to the window. A faint scratching sound made her think of tree branches. It was what her sleep-addled brain convinced her of as her eyes slipped shut again. Her brother remained undisturbed. But rarely anything interrupted his sleep, so it was hardly a surprise this would not.
Sleep seemed about to wrap its veil around her when the noise returned again. It was louder this time, wriggling against the wood of the logs building up their home.
Creak. Creak.
Rustle. Rustle. Rustle.
Sleepy eyes opened again. She knew there would be no sleep until she handled this noise. Branches were easy enough to yank down from the window. And if they were more difficult, well, this was where the saw leaning against her bed frame came in handy. The bow and arrows on the far side of the room along with a few small daggers were all hung up neatly. Mother did not like all these weapons being in the kids' room, but Father argued they were necessary.
Because you never knew where trouble would strike.
And oh, how right he was.
Because when she pulled the curtains open slightly it was not an unruly branch that greeted her.
Instead, she was met with the sight of a massive dragon.
*****Izzy's POV*****
Some part of her felt angry.
Not at Clary, who hovered over Jace like a worried starling, big green eyes round with concern. Nor was she mad at Simon, who was trying to abate his friend's fears with soft words of encouragement as he tried to calm her down. She wasn't even mad at Luke. Luke, the hidden dragon who was telling them all to ease up, that this wasn't something any of them could help Jace with. The platonic bond was something the two involved alone had to manage. All they could do was wait for Jace —who had passed out— to return to consciousness.
So no, she wasn't mad at any of her friends, least of all Simon who had noticed her rigid shock and slung a caring arm around her shoulders to stop the shaking that had apparently seized her. Isabelle Lightwood held anger towards only one person, or well, dragon then . . .
And it was herself.
Because she was the one who was taught by her mother Maryse on platonic bonds. Izzy knew there was an old language of them, how at one point this pairing was known as a parabatai; this bond was the friendship tied between two interwoven souls. And so she knew what happened when one dragon in the bond felt extreme pain; the other felt it too.
Whatever happened to Alec just now had to be awful.
It was a thought circulating in her brain with all the stewing anger towards herself as Luke led them to what appeared to be another small house. He was carrying Jace like the limp rag doll he currently was. Clary flanked her adoptive Father, and if she was in dragon form now Izzy could imagine the state the redhead would be in. Her wings would be flailing, scales shifting in distress. There was a small part of her that distantly felt jealous of her friend. Clary was lucky to have a predestined. It was a gift far too few dragons received in recent centuries.
Some of the elders say it's because we're at war, that Omni and the others are displeased.
And they may very well be right. But none of them could confirm it. Not when no one had seen Omni in several thousand years. What an awful time to be abandoned.
"—he going to wake up soon?"
"He should wake up in a few more minutes." Luke told Clary.
Izzy barely registered the redhead's incessant questioning, taking time to canvas their surroundings. This little house seemed set aside from the others. Instead of the raucous market and the people strolling around the fountain her boots met uneven pebbles slotted into a path. Weeds sprung up along the borders while the grass grew to be halfway up to her knee. The house itself was built mostly of stone, a rarity for humans. The straw woven roofing seemed a dull yellow, though there was something darker hidden underneath, almost like the straw was merely a cover of sorts.
"What is this place?" She asked.
"This is Ragnor and Catarina's." Simon was the one to answer her. She only noticed now that his arm was still around her shoulders. The slight sweat mixed with grass scent of him did wonders for her nerves. The wings in her other form would've slowed the same as her heartbeat. His was a steady example, thumping like it wanted her to hear it. "But why bring us here? Catarina's not home."
"Oh. That does explain a lot." Luke sighed. "Like why she never dropped by the tavern earlier, you know what, never mind." He cut himself off at their confused looks. Jace's right arm swung loftily as Luke turned swiftly to the door handle. One jiggle revealed it was locked. But this hardly stifled the gruff man. "I'm actually looking for Ragnor."
"Ragnor? The stuffy old recluse Magnus likes to hang out with?" Clary questioned with a frown.
"While that isn't a lie, there's more to him than just being a recluse." Luke kicked the door as hard as he could. The loud thud and the creak of the door as the hinges broke from his force had the door crashing to the ground. "He's also a warlock, just like Catarina."
"A warlock? How many warlocks does you guys know?" Izzy eyed them all confusedly.
Simon gave a small shrug that she felt. "I thought just Catarina too, Ragnor being a warlock though . . . I suppose it fits."
"But why didn't he say anything? After all these years, to hide himself . . . why would he do that?" Clary still wore a frown, eyes screwed with confusion.
Luke sighed, beckoning them all to follow him inside. "It's not something I expect kids to understand, but . . . back in the day it was decreed by new king that all warlocks had to register themselves in the Official Warlock Registry, or OWR for short. Someone like Catarina had no problem with it. Her healing powers would not be kept watch of. But someone like Ragnor who—"
"Let me guess, his offensive magic wouldn't sit well with King Asmodeus."
She barely knew Magnus's father, but she already disliked him. No, dislike was the wrong word for it. But I don't hate him either. Not really. Not now that she knew why he hated dragons. To lose your wife had to be tragic, yet to punish ALL dragons was more than a little excessive.
The darkened hallway they stepped into was surprisingly spacious for what the house had looked like on the outside. Luke led them through the place like he knew all its ins and outs. Which was how they ended up in an office of sorts. The study had one wall crammed with books. A desk sat in the middle of the room, with papers scattered on top of it. Luke gingerly lowered Jace so he laid sprawled out on the leather chair behind it. Her adoptive brother was still out of it, head lolled on his shoulder. Clary kneeled down to stay with her predestined, brushing blond locks out of his closed eyes.
"Yes, but also the Registry was put in place so Asmodeus would have access to the warlocks and their magic. He believed that having magic at his disposal would make it easier for him to take down dragon kind and protect Alicante." Luke continued on, wiping away at the thin layer of dust coating the windows. The curtains were drawn back, their heavy velvet material brushing against the floor. The whole room felt strangely ornate. The wallpaper added to this effect, whorls of gold mixing with the royal blue and thin stripes of burgundy.
"Huh. I guess it makes sense, but forcing people to do things against their will—" Simon was cut off. He still had not let go of her, something Isabelle found herself increasingly grateful for.
"Is wrong." Clary finished firmly. She sniffed the air. "It doesn't seem like anyone has been here for a bit."
Izzy took a whiff of the air too, finding the scent of the people who occupied it to be stale. Catarina's scent was the oldest of the two, gone for awhile now. Which made sense. They all knew she was back in the Valley safe and sound. But this Ragnor guy . . .
Luke furrowed his eyebrows. "He's not here, but I doubt he went far."
"Then what are we waiting for! Let's go." She urged them. If something really had happened to her brother Alec —and it almost certainly had— then the quicker they found this Ragnor person the quicker they could go back to trying to find him.
But Simon was shaking his head. "We can't just go off searching for him yet, not until Jace—"
"Not until I what?" A tired voice asked.
"Jace!" Clary cried out in palpable relief.
Golden eyes met Izzy's own as her adopted brother blinked blearily. There was a certain exhaustion to him, but with how he was awake and breathing she could hardly care. "Brother!" She managed to wrap her arms around him before Clary even had the chance.
******Jace's POV******
The world was a swimming cycle of colors as he opened his eyes. Pain riddled him, his head lolling off to the left. The act of raising it hurt. Isabelle's arms around him should have hurt too, but it did not. After what he had felt back then —from Alec— feeling her warmth encompass him came as somewhat of a relief.
"I— where are we?" He asked next.
They were in some room of sorts, the cramped space filled with books on one side. Paper and dust littered the floor. Whoever had lived here was hardly neat, nor the slightest bit aware of smell. Like something died almost. But that scent very well could have just been some human contraption he did not know. Clary at least did not seem bothered by the smell. Her eyes were too busy welling with tears, an outpouring of relief towards . . .
Towards me.
He realized now how this all must have scared her.
"Ragnor's study. Jace, are you okay?" Izzy asked him, pulling back long enough to stare him straight in the eyes. Her own gaze was filled with worry too. Just how long was I out for. It would be easier to think if it wasn't so overwhelming.
As if reading his thoughts, Simon responded. "I'm sure he's just fine. It's not like he's been out long, so I think we should just give him a little space." The glasses wearing male tugged Izzy with one hand around her slender wrist. Reluctantly Isabelle let go of him. He would have given Simon a murmur of thanks if not for his attention switching out to Clary. Clary, who had been waiting for him to return with bated breath. He could feel the bond between them, pulsing with all her worries and concerns. It was strong already without the full cementing of their predestined relation.
"Clary, I'm sorry for worrying you."
His redhead was suddenly on his lap, hands running up and down his chest. This little action seemed to confirm something for her. She went lax shortly thereafter. Her breathing was slow and steady as she laid her head on his shoulder.
"Im just glad your alright."
"But what about Alec?" Izzy asked.
Her question, while expected, brought back with it the weight of crushing emotion he felt just moments before his own collapse. Jace froze in place, each small exhale like the slight release of a crushing weight. Platonics could always feel one another. Their consciousness was somewhat connected through their bond. In the strongest Platonics, they heard each other's thoughts. He and Alec did that sometimes. But now, as he closed his eyes to search for Alec . . .
Now . . .
He was struck with a nothingness so huge it left all of him cold.
Isabelle seemed to sense something was wrong. As did the rest of the room.
His face had likely gone pale.
"Jace. How's Alec?" Clary asked him.
Their bond, so new and fragile, might as well have been the only thing warming him in that moment. The thin tendril of warmth seeping into his skin allowed him to respond.
"I don't know."
The honest answer made the atmosphere of the room that much worse.
******Flashback . . .*******
She was still screaming, but her voice had long since left her.
The dragon. The monster that appeared in her window, had gotten the attention of her Father. He had come to her room, mother in tow, brandishing an old sword.
"Begone monster!" He had threatened.
But the dragon, whose white scales looked like sickly bones in the moonlight, just laughed with a decidedly evil tone. A crooked smile missing some teeth was shot their way. And in one small moment the focus was on her. Those blazing, evil eyes that twinkled with darkness.
"I don't think I will. Thank you for bringing them all here little one." His voice traveled through the walls, reverberating in the open air.
And that was when it had started.
The dragon, the monster, had shoved a clawed hand through the window. The glass had done nothing to that tough, scaly skin. Glass which made her little brother cry and her mother Yelp as a large piece embedded into her skin. There was no end to her screaming then either as the dragon proceeded to tear a hole in the roof next. And then the monster was inside with them.
And then she could only watch in horror as the dragon set her parents and brother on fire.
Before he swallowed them whole.
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A/N: Soooo, probably the longest chapter I've written in awhile for this.