Chapter Text
It happened on just another sunny, beautiful day in the heavenly realm. Alec had spent most of it watching the sunrise over Earth from different parts of the world and taking some of the smaller cherubs out to the South Pacific to look at dolphins playing in the waves. He was just on his way back to the Clave headquarters to finalise an overdue report when Jace, another angel and Alec’s closest friend, materialised next to him and collapsed in a cluster of pink clouds, looking decidedly worse for wear.
“Hey.”
Jace was covered in soot from head to toe, and his wings looked severely singed at the edges. Alec took a couple of steps closer to him, crouched down and brushed away some burned feathers from his shoulder.
“Did you fly too close to the dragon again?”
Jace shook his head, not making any other attempts to move from where he was.
“Annoy the leprechauns?”
“No.”
“Please tell me you weren't actually stupid enough to go volcano-hopping with the fire spirits after what happened last time?”
“Oh, please,” Jace huffed. “Of course not.”
Alec frowned. “So what happened?”
Jace made a miserable sound and dug himself deeper into the clouds, muttering something about “Clary” and “painting” and “if you don’t want someone’s honest opinion about your stupid experimental phase, maybe you shouldn’t ask for it”.
Alec rolled his eyes. Of course. Jace and his mundane had had another fight. What else was new?
Except—
“Are you saying your mundane set you on fire?” he asked incredulously. “Can they even do that?”
Before Jace had a chance to reply, another angel came into view, bigger and brighter than both Jace and Alec and holding an impressive roll of parchment in her right hand. She looked absolutely livid.
“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed, addressing Jace, who quickly got to his feet and tried to brush the worst of the soot off his damaged clothes. “It's called holy fire , Jace! Not play-with-as-you-like fire! It’s part of the sacred flame of life, for God’s sake—given to the angels to help battle the darkest of hellish creatures in times of desperate need, not for smiting mundane objects in times of childish temper tantrums! ”
Alec winced in sympathy. Jace kept his head down, mumbling something that sounded a lot like “Clary” and “special circumstances” under his breath.
“Sorry, what was that?” Maryse asked pointedly, and Jace promptly shut his mouth again. “I don’t care what your mundane did this time, Jace. I don’t care how adamant she was to get her way or what she said about your divine taste in art. You’re a level four guardian angel. You have existed in the world for over three thousand years. You should be able to handle a eighteen-year-old mundane without blatantly abusing your heavenly powers!”
Maryse’s voice seemed to echo around the three of them long after the last word had left her lips. She also seemed to have grown to about twice her original size during the outburst.
“I'm sorry,” Jace said, biting his lip as though he wanted to say something else but realised that silence was the better option. “It won’t happen again.”
“You're damn right it won’t,” Maryse replied, unrolling the scroll in her hand, “because I'm removing you from your post. You and this girl are obviously a bad combination, so I will transfer her to somebody else—someone with a little more patience, who takes the rules a little more seriously than you do—and you will get a new mundane to watch over.”
“What?” Jace said, suddenly very pale, even with the soot covering him. “No! Maryse, you can’t do that! Clary’s mine . She—she needs me.”
“The Fairchild girl needs an angel,” Maryse said dismissively. “Someone to guide her on her chosen path and make sure no danger comes too close to her. Seems to me that what you’re doing is making her withdraw from mundane society altogether, spending all her time alone with you, breaking rules left, right and centre.”
“But—”
“It’s not how guardianship works,” Maryse interrupted firmly. “I know it’s different with a mundane who sees you. It’s easy to step over the line and become too involved in their lives when that happens. But, Jace, you are so far past the line that I’m not sure you even see it anymore.”
Jace opened his mouth again, clearly set on arguing back. Maryse held up a hand, and silence fell around them.
“You manifest,” she said, eyes locked with Jace’s. “That’s another ‘only when absolutely necessary’ that you have taken to mean ‘whenever Clary Fairchild wants me to’. You spend an unhealthy amount of time together. You find faults with every mundane suitor who expresses an interest in her. You let your bickering escalate to the point where you eradicated her easel from the physical plane . Jace—” Maryse’s voice softened, a rueful smile settling on her lips. “You’re not being her guardian. You’re being her friend. You’re letting her fall in love with you, and it’s not fair, because you’re not mundane and you can’t be what she needs. Letting yourself get caught up in mundane emotion the way you are isn’t right. We are here to protect the mundanes, not to share the lives they live. You know this.”
Jace looked back at Maryse for a long time and then lowered his head.
“Who will you pick?” he asked quietly, doing his best to keep a tremble out of his voice. “When, you know...”
Alec reached out and put a careful hand on Jace's back, sending a small jolt of strength and faith out through this fingers. Jace leaned into him, singed feathers brushing against Alec's shoulder, blinking furiously as though he’d got something in his eye.
Maryse’s eyes moved from Jace to Alec and back again, quietly assessing. “I'll come up with something,” she said, making a few notes and rolling the scroll back up. “Don’t worry. It will all turn out okay.”
She faded from view, leaving Alec alone with Jace in the field of clouds. Jace shifted closer, burying his face in the curve of Alec’s neck and clinging desperately as his whole body began to shake. A confused frown spread on Alec’s face; tears were flowing from Jace’s eyes—except angels didn’t cry, so they couldn’t be tears. Crying was something mundanes did. Grief and pain (like bliss and love) were things they felt. Not the higher beings.
The higher beings existed to help the mundanes through those things.
Alec had known Jace since they came into existence, born on the same day from the same wisp of white smoke. They had lived side by side ever since. Holding Jace in his arms and not knowing what was happening to him stung in a way that prickled under Alec's skin and made him feel slightly nauseous. He squeezed Jace tighter the way he often saw mundanes do, stroking Jace's wings and hair with steady hands until Jace quieted down against him.
“Promise you'll never leave me,” Jace whispered into his neck, and Alec found himself tightening his hold.
“Don’t be stupid. We’re angels, remember? Stuck on this cloud from now to eternity, like Izzy always says.” Alec smiled his brightest smile, the one that never failed to get Jace to smile back.
Except for today, apparently.
Jace looked up at him, eyes red and face wet, looking so much like one of Alec’s mundanes that Alec felt disoriented and wrong all over again.
“It’ll be fine,” he tried again, stroking the outside of Jace’s wing with his own. “You’ll see.”
***
Three days later, after Maryse came back to announce that Alec—with his exemplary record—was just the kind of principled guidance an adventurous mundane like Clary Fairchild needed, Alec was one mundane soul ward and a million colourful threats from Jace richer for his troubles. He sighed inwardly as he made his way down to Earth, arriving at a bedroom in a small, but homey apartment in the middle of the night. The young mundane was lying in bed, sleeping soundly amidst piles of colourful pillows. Alec took a moment to look around, noting the general lack of furniture and the mess of paints and canvas filling up the space in its place.
Deciding that he might as well get to work, he reached out and touched Clary’s temple, intending to take a quick look at her dreams.
“I'm still mad at you,” Clary mumbled, “but I'm glad your wings are okay.”
Alec pulled his hand back in surprise, looking down. Clary’s face was still mostly buried in the pillows, but her eyes were partly open and focusing on the spot in front of her where the tip of Alec's right wing was resting on the mattress.
Alec immediately took a step back and gave himself a little shake to refocus. Out of all the mortal charges he’d had over the centuries, only a few had been blessed with the sight, and for a second, it had slipped his mind that Clary was among their number. He cleared his throat, taking another step back as Clary turned her head, fully opened her eyes—and cried out in shock.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”
Alec took a slow breath and did his best to turn his face into something open and soothing. “Don’t be afraid. I’m Alexander, and I’m your guardian angel. I’ve been—”
“No, you’re not,” Clary interrupted him. “My angel’s Jace.”
“Not anymore. Like I said—”
“Why? Did something happen to him?”
Alec took a long, even breath. “He’s fine. He’s just been reassigned for the moment.”
“For the moment?” Clary insisted. “When will he be back?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Okay, in that case, who else can I talk to about this?” Clary asked. “Is there an angel manager or something?”
For a brief, glorious second, Alec pictured her in the Great Hall of Angels, standing in front of Archangel Herondale, who probably hadn’t even seen a mundane in several millennia. Then he took another look at Clary’s determined face and figured that trying to reason with her tonight would be pretty pointless.
“I’ll be back tomorrow; go back to sleep,” he said, escaping the new wave of protests that began to flow from Clary’s mouth by fading out of the room.
***
He came back into his regular form in the dark hallway outside the Fairchild apartment and took a moment to re-centre himself. Now that he’d met his new charge, he could feel the mystical link begin to form between them—the slight imprint of Clary’s soul on his grace that would allow him to know if she found herself in a situation where she needed his help. For the moment, the link was quiet, except for an undertone of frustration and confusion. A little later, a telephone rang inside the apartment, followed by the feedback through the link changing into something… giddy? Alec frowned, unable to put his finger on the strange sensation.
“You’re new.”
Alec spun on his heel, his grace expanding instantly to form a protective layer around him in response to potential danger. His wings flared, and the holster at his thigh where he kept his blade came into view, as well as the bow and arrows strapped to a harness on his back.
“Who’s there?”
At first, he saw nothing but the dark corridor in front of him. Then a spark of gold flashed, growing until it formed a pair of gleaming eyes, followed by a man materialising in front of him.
Alec couldn’t help but stare. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and brown skin that formed a stark contrast to his brilliantly golden eyes. He wore a long, black coat adorned with gemstones, high in the neck so that only his face could be seen clearly, the heavy drape of fabric cleverly disguising any weapons he might be carrying. What struck Alec numb, however, was the space behind him, where large, gleaming black wings protruded from the man’s back. They stretched and moved slightly, reflecting the soft glow emanating from Alec’s grace in deep reds and purples.
An Ignis . A breath caught in his throat as realisation hit.
The Ignes were angels of fire, a mystical race as old as Alec’s own, and with whom diplomatic relations had always been tenuous at best. Alec had never met one in person, but he’d heard the stories: of passion and blood and magic; of strength and arrogance and recklessness; of lack of clear rational thinking and decorum which made it impossible to involve them in any political policy. They were warriors and warlocks, charged with keeping the ever-looming threat of escaped hell creatures at bay—their realm placed strategically between Earth and the demon dimensions. Alec knew they were frequent visitors to Earth, some even choosing to live hidden amongst the mundanes for periods of time. They tended to stay well away from Alec’s people, however, so to meet one here, at the home of his new charge just moments after being appointed to the mission seemed… ominous.
The man in front of him shifted his weight, and Alec saw a flash of seraph blade through the parting in his coat. The man caught him looking and smiled, slow and unreadable. Then let his coat fall open with a casual wave of his hand, his stance relaxing into something open and inviting. “If I show you mine, will you show me yours?”
As Alec kept staring, at loss of what was going on, the man drew his blade from its sheath. The adamas inside lit up a deep, ruby red as he touched it, infusing the runes carved into the metal with ancient magic. Then he held it out to Alec, the point angled towards the ground.
Dumbfounded, Alec’s hand automatically went to his own blade, his mind screaming out warnings as he unsheathed it and held it out, matching the man’s insane offering with one of his own. As the blades shifted hands, the adamas shifted colours: Alec’s blade morphing from its regular bluish-white to deep red in the Ignis’ hand; the other man’s unfamiliar weapon, in turn, glowing bright white in his own.
“So what happened to Blondie?” the man asked, as he casually held up Alec’s blade in front of his face, admiring its lines. “Did Biscuit finally realise she could do better and kicked him back up to the clouds?”
Alec tore his eyes away from the man’s hands, trying to process the words. “What?”
“Blondie,” the Ignis repeated. “Mostly blue eyes, big white wings, the other lead in my young charge’s self-proclaimed epic love story? I figured you guys would know each other?”
Jace . Apprehension raced up the length of Alec’s spine. Epic love story?
Then another part of the Ignis’ words hit him.
“Wait. Your charge?”
The Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Clary and her mother are clients of mine. I’ve kept an eye on her since she was born.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. “You’re not mentioned in her file.”
The other man snorted. “Oh, please. I have no wish to tangle in angel affairs. Besides, your brother isn’t exactly the brightest star in the sky when Clary’s around to distract him.” He finished his examination of Alec’s blade and held it back out to him, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. “What about you, then, Angel? Got a name and a mission to go with that handsome face?”
A curious, hot sensation bloomed inside Alec at the words. It spread through his chest, up his neck, causing his breath to stutter and his face feel as though he’d just flown a little too close to the sun.
“I, um—Alec,” he blurted inelegantly. He mentally shook himself, then tried again. “Alexander Lightwood. I’m here to watch over Clary Fairchild.”
The Ignis placed his blade back into his hand, their fingers brushing lightly, causing Alec to draw an sharp, involuntary breath. “Magnus Bane. Pleasure to meet you.”
Alec cleared his throat. Adjusted his stance. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
“Oh, I bet it could be,” Magnus said. He took another step closer, into Alec’s space, as he reached out and retrieved his own weapon from where it hung uselessly at Alec’s side. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
He threw Alec another wink and pulled back, one of his massive, black wings brushing against Alec’s shoulder as he turned to snap a portal into existence.
Alec kept staring after him long after he was gone, the skin of his shoulder tingling.