Title: Demon Towers
Relationship(s): Alec/Magnus, OMC/OMC
Content Rating: R
Word Count: 1299
Warnings: AU, implied OC character death, canon level violence, episode spoilers
Summary: The origin of Demon Towers that protected Alicante, wasn’t what Nephilims thought it was.
AN: First of by birthday fics. Enjoy!
Magnus was getting tired. His hands shook with the effort to stall the wave of demons coming at them from every side. He came here, to the heart of Idris, to make Alexander explain himself and his irritating habit of self-sacrificing. Instead, he found the famous Nephilim city in the flames and a demon invasion in progress. The entire situation had Lilith written all over it. The demoness and her ill-begotten offspring somehow managed to break the wards protecting the most sacred of Nephilim cities, their capital.
Something pulled at his magic, distracting the warlock. Magnus snarled, as one of the demons used his slight inattention and slipped through his defences. He waved at the annoyance and the demon exploded several feet before it became any serious danger to him or the Nephilims he protected. Another insistent tug made the warlock close his eyes and follow what he deciphered was a desperate cry for help.
He almost missed it, with how diminished it was; the pulsing ball of power quivering inside the walls of the oldest parts of the city, deep under their feet.
Regardless of its current reduced state, the symbiotic existence of two opposing powers that should have annihilated each other as soon as they touched was awe-aspiring to see even for an old and tired being like him. The hell-fire of warlock magic and coolness of angelic power fluttered around each other, twisting in an endless dance, sometimes flirting, sometimes making love, sometimes protecting the other.
The origin of Demon Towers that protected Alicante, wasn’t what Nephilims thought it was. Not by far. Magnus knew it better than anyone now. Their ignorance wasn’t even probably entirely their fault, if he remembered the scant information correctly, partly because the written records were scarce at the time of the birth of the angel-blooded race, and partly because a lot was lost in the chaos of the first years before Nephilims firmly established themselves in the Shadow world as the protectors and law-keepers.
The newly established race was rightly proud of the exceptional beauty of their capital, colloquially known as the City of Glass. The ancient architecture in combination with the silvery-white light of sky-high adamant spires made Alicante the envy of the entire Shadow world, from the scheming Fey Queen on her throne of vines, down to the last werewolf living wildly in the vast forests.
As the years passed, the Nephilims drifted from their original purpose to guard the world against the demons. The prejudices against anyone different became more and more ingrained in each new generation of Shadowhunters, reserving most of the vitriol for the children of demons. They needed some kind of very visible and impressive symbol to show off their right to rule over the other Shadow world races. The choice was obvious – adamant towers protecting the heart of their sacred land. At least, that was how Ragnor explained it to him after they once again debated the origin of the wards protecting Alicante.
And here, Magnus guessed, the Nephilim scholars run into a problem. How to explain the existence of Demon towers if there was no information available?
The founders of Idris were clever when they decided to build their new home directly over the rich mine of adamant, scarcely a few decades since Jonathan Shadowhunter died. The frequent attacks of demons, lured in by the smell of angelic blood, threatened to make Nephilims extinct long before they could have made their new home safe to rest and recharge, before returning to the never-ending war with the demons. But how exactly the towers and the impenetrable wards were built was the subject of a lot of conjectures and guessing.
The representatives of the oldest and coincidentally the most powerful Nephilim families came together in an effort to find a solution to this problem, forming the first incarnation of the body that would become the Clave in the future. The weeks-long deliberations resulted in the final official declaration that was promptly spread far and wide in various subtle and not-so-subtle ways. So, the belief that Raziel gifted his children with adamant towers protecting their city became prevalent, if not exactly true, as Magnus realized belatedly, his magic flirting with the ancient power.
And it all began and ended with a simple truth.
That Alexander and him weren’t the first same-sex Nephilim-Warlock couple this world had seen.
It was a pity Shadowhunters lost so much of their early history or were content to rewrite it to their liking. It would be quite a different world today if the truth were widely known. Maybe then Alexander wouldn’t struggle so much with his feelings at the beginning of their acquaintance.
Magnus shook his head. The slippery slope of what-ifs… He learnt long ago not to dwell on the dreams and to live in the here and now, no matter how hurtful it was sometimes. The warlock eyes fell on the silver ring on his left hand. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now; not when he had something to fight for.
Drops of sweat were rolling down his face now as he strained to hold the wards of the entire city on his own, with more and more demons arriving through the breach. His heart squeezed with sorrow at the sight of ruined adamant towers. Magnus’s eyes drifted towards the rift high in the sky and realized the truth in his father’s last words, that he would be stronger in Edom. Perhaps strong enough to seal the rift and save his beloved.
A tear rolled down his cheek. Just as he thought that he would finally be allowed to be happy after all the suffering he endured in the course of his life. In response, the ancient power of forgotten lovers, a warlock and a Shadowhunter, Marius and Nathaniel, formerly weakly flickering in tightly wound little ball, blew up to life, flooding Magnus with so much power that anyone else would drown under it. Only holding back the New York Institute’s angelic core from exploding came close and Magnus barely managed to tame it with a sheer force of his will.
“They injured us. They disrespected our love and our sacrifice. They forgot us.” The dual voices echoed hollowly all around the city. Every angel-blooded being felt the stab of pain in their hearts at the accusation. Their own prejudices caused the wards to degrade and fail to such a degree it was easy enough for Jonathan to use his blood to allow in the legions of Edomites.
“I know.” Magnus agreed easily as the decades, centuries of oppression unfolded in his mind. “I know. But many of them aren’t like that. Not anymore.” He said, looking at the Lightwood ring on his finger, heart swelling with immense love for his Nephilim. The ball of ancient power was flickering in his hands, interacting with him, testing him, and finally giving its approval.
“Alexander, I need you,” Magnus called for his Shadowhunter, as a plan formed in his mind.
Bless his wondrous lover, his fiancé. Alexander didn’t hesitate to hear his plea. He plastered himself against his back, arms winding around his waist, fingers tangling together, as he put his head on the warlock’s shoulder. “Take what you need.” The Shadowhunter whispered in his ear as he selflessly opened himself to his fiancé.
Magnus soaked up the power Alec freely offered and channelled it into the ground, Marius and Nathaniel working alongside him. With a roar, Demon towers shot up again, high in the sky and pierced the rift, shutting it down easily. The protective dome encased the Nephilim capital once again.
And Alicante shuddered as it claimed Magnus, the city’s first High Warlock since Marius and Alec as the land’s protector, the first one since Nathaniel.