Shadowveil

The Anniversary

 Something whizzed past Alec's face.

Possibly an arrow, or a demon tentacle, or another Shadowhunter's head. He didn't bother to look. He was too busy trying not to get eaten.

The demon's teeth clashed shut an inch from his nose, foot-long incisors grazing a shallow cut through his gear. He swore and jammed his bow deeper into its mouth, muscles straining as he tried to keep it away from his head. It snarled and shook itself madly, like a five-hundred-pound demonic dog with a fun Nephilim chew toy.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up in this situation. He'd been minding his own business, running up and down the outer city's south wall and shooting anything that moved and had more than two legs (usually a fail-safe for spotting a demon). Someone had screamed a warning to him, and he'd turned around to find a massive demon bearing down on him. There wasn't enough time to nock his bow or draw a sword--hence the current lying-on-the-ground experience.

He felt his bow start to bend with an ominous creak. The strength rune on his wrist flared as he thrust the bow up again and freed a leg to smash a knee into the demon's underbelly. Unfortunately, it had spikes--he felt them puncture through his gear--but it seemed that his kneecap caused discomfort to the demon too, because it rocked backwards with an angry growl.

He probably set the world record for the scoot-and-crawl-away move as he threw himself out of its path, grabbing for the sword at his belt. He squared off with the demon, flashes of fire raining down from the clouds. Heat from the burning city seared his face. 

The demon growled; Alec adjusted his grip on the sword nervously. Its hilt felt slippery in his hands. The sword had never been his weapon of choice, even as a kid. That had always belonged to Jace with his easy confidence and careless mastery, not someone like Alec who preferred a less showy supporting role. 

Alec lunged for the demon with a wild overhead swing, nearly unbalancing himself. He tripped ungracefully on the uneven ground and just barely managed not to tip over. Even the demon looked mildly surprised, like it hadn't expected such a pitiful showing from a fully grown Shadowhunter. Alec sighed. Even the demons were judging him. 

This clearly wasn't his day. 

The demon stalked towards him, its head swinging low, a growl rumbling through its throat. This was classic behavior: the stalk and pounce, followed shortly by quite a bit of ripping and tearing. Alec tensed. When the demon leapt, he leapt too. For a second, they both hung weightless in the air, suspended over the burning city. Ashes seared Alec's skin as he raised the sword over his head, the silver blade catching the light and refracting it in a thousand bright rays. 

The demon flailed midair as the light pierced its eyes. Alec shifted and spun midair, letting his leap take him onto the demon's back. He brought the sword down between the demon's shoulders, the blade scraping past scale and bone to lodge somewhere between the ribs. He hung on to the sword grimly as the two of them hurtled towards the ground. 

It was a bad landing. The demon took the brunt of it, but something popped in Alec's wrist when the exposed sword tip bounced against the tiled street. He staggered off, swearing and clutching his throbbing forearm, as the demon dissolved into dust. Slow clapping sounded from the sky; Alec looked up in bewilderment, reaching for a dagger. 

Magnus floated out from behind a building, wreathed in blue fire. He was wearing a glitzed-up version of Shadowhunter gear, the utilitarian jacket replaced with a sweeping onyx-studded frock coat and the cargo pants with elegant red-embroidered palazzo pants. His husband's face was smudged with ash and what looked like flecks of blood, but his eyeliner was intact and his eyebrows still spangled with glitter.

Those glittery eyebrows waggled as the warlock took in his Shadowhunter husband. "Darling, I hate to say this, but you look so sexy when you kill things." He eyed the knife in Alec's hand. "Even when you try to kill me." Alec blushed a little and returned the knife to his weapons belt. "Sorry. I'm not really used to clapping come from the sky," he said sincerely. 

Magnus floated down to the ground to examine Alec's wrist, fixing it with a tap of an orange-varnished nail. "Be more careful," he scolded, moving from joking to seriousness in the blink of an eye. "And you're down a weapon," the warlock sighed. Alec looked ruefully at the splintered halves of his favorite bow. "I just got it last year too," he muttered. "What a waste."

His husband patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll be sure to put it in the recycle when we get home, Alexander. It'll live a second life as someone's lovely footstool, perhaps, or a bed headboard." Alec blinked. "Can you recycle wood?" he asked. "I thought it was just paper or plastic and stuff." Magnus paused with a finger in the air, mouth open. "Actually, you might have a point there--I've never been too careful with what I put in the trash. I'll look into our local laws later."

Magnus clapped briskly. "Now, moving on. I was going to give this to you for our anniversary in March, but I suppose you need it now more--voila!" With a spark of blue fire, the warlock conjured up a sleek, dark bow, complete with a quiver full of peacock-feather-fletched arrows. Alec took it with a gasp of delight, testing the draw. "It's perfect," he gushed. "Just look at the curvature--" Magnus patted him on the back. 

"Weapons," he sighed. "Always a surefire way to please the Nephilim. I'll be sure to give you something different for anniversary--maybe a spa treatment, or a mani-pedi. Or maybe a massage chair with a tiger-skin cushion. Alexander, how would you like a massage chair?" Alec looked up from his bow. "Oh, I don't need a present. You gave me this, after all."

Magnus hissed like Chairman Meow. "An anniversary without presents is like a man without glitter: incomplete and destined for divorce. I've already picked out anniversary gifts for the next twenty-five years, so I'll just bump one up. It'll give me a chance to go shopping again." Something roared in the distance. A gout of fire bellied up towards the sky, carrying several human screams with it. 

"I'd best be off," Magnus said. "As much as I'd love to linger with my handsome husband--" he leaned in close--"duty calls." The warlock started to disappear in a wash of blue flame. Alec felt panic stir in his stomach. "What do you mean you have twenty-five years of anniversary presents saved up?" he screeched. "I don't even have a present for Christmas prepared yet! And that's in two weeks!"

His husband just waved. "Don't disappoint me," he called. "I expect something glittering and unique and fantastically fabulous!" 

Alec felt rather than saw the tremendous, alarming abyss of gift-shopping closing in around him. Thousands of possibly wonderful or absolutely detestable gifts rotated around his head.

A demon snarled.

Alec screamed his panic as he dashed after the demon, eager to shake off his anxiety by killing something. The demon didn't stand a chance.

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A little Malec fluff to lighten the mood:)

How was Alec's perspective? Did he interact well with Magnus? Let me know!