Magnus Bane and Isabelle Lightwood had already been through a lot together. It had all started when Magnus visited the market one day; Port Royal’s market, although abundant, was rife with soldiers who would question you if you even looked rowdy--they feared the presence of pirates, and despite Magnus’ existence clearly being one of poverty and servitude, more often than not, he was one selected for questioning. That fateful day, however, as Magnus made his way through the bustling streets, a basket of food balancing atop his head, he spotted a younger woman stuffing handfuls of bread into her pocket before making off with a whole bowl of soup. Something drew the young man to the other, and without a second thought, Magnus chased after her, and the soldiers already hot on her tail. 

                      He tossed his basket at the feet of the tailing soldiers, leaping over them as he remained behind the girl. No other soldiers seemed to be in pursuit, so he slowed his pace and just followed quietly, hoping to understand the situation and the girl without really knowing why. Approaching the doorway to a small hut, Magnus stood and stared at the scene before him. The most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life lay prone on a bed, sheets ruffled and kicked to the side, his forehead drenched with sweat. The woman sat beside him, offering spoonfuls of the soup to him as she whispered under her breath; something Magnus couldn’t hear. It was clear without the knowledge of their shared untouchable beauty that these two were related, and if Magnus could assume a bond, he’d say they were siblings. Magnus had had a brother once; a man he had loved more than anyone else, except his own mother, but hadn’t seen him since he’d been dragged from the home they’d worked for. 

He hoped he’d see Ragnor again, but believed in his heart that he was dead. That was just the way things were around here. 

        Magnus watched them for a few moments, suffocated and halted by a deep ache in his chest, before a crowd of soldiers burst in the door behind him, guns primed and voices raised. Shackled alongside the siblings, Magnus kept his gaze on the ground as soon as he spotted the expression on the woman’s face. Why had he followed her? Why was he in her home? He could read it all in her eyes, and more than anything, he felt shame rise in his throat. Not only had he let his emotions carry him here, and had let himself become involved with a crime, he was now imprisoned and would most likely be put to death. Magnus curled up in the farthest corner of their shared cell, never given the chance to explain the situation and how he was not involved. To be fair, he had assaulted guards, so, there was that. Tucked away, he could hide from the woman’s gaze, the burning intensity of her warm irises. 

   Magnus was a voyeur once more, watching the sister hover over the brother uselessly, as though she could heal him with just her hands. They were in a cell beside a man who raved over and over about how he was a Captain, Captain John Salamander, or something or other. Then, the raid happened; cannonballs shook the stone that encased them, the man next door shouting what couldn’t be heard over the din, and Magnus, God, Magnus just hoped that a cannonball would strike him dead post hast. When the firefight ceased, a hole had amassed between the two cells, and the Captain (however he didn’t look much of a Captain), struggled through the hole and into their cell, where he proceeded to ramble on. It wasn’t until a man named Will Turner came to their cell, fingers wrapping around the cool metal of the bars, and begged for the Captain’s aid in rescuing some fair-haired dame that Magnus awoke from his emotional hibernation. 

       He had stood from his corner and approached the man, soot-covered face earnest and nearly eager at the chance for an escape. “We can help you,” Magnus had promised, “We can help you get her back.” He didn’t know why he had included the woman and her brother in the equation, but he felt an urge to help them as well. Turner seemed to like the idea of more bodies to help the rescue, and without question, unlocked their cell and ushered them out. Magnus had very little knowledge on how to sail; what little he did have, he’d learned from his mother, who always dreamed of being out on the ocean, but wasn’t allowed to because apparently, women were seen as curses aboard a vessel. Through his adventures with Will and John (or whatever--), he’d mastered the art of sail and had become very much bonded with one Isabelle Lightwood, and her brother, Alec. They’d seen an Aztec Curse, seen the undead, seen a curse of a different variety and a man whose face had resembled an octopus, had helped Elizabeth trap Jason aboard the Pearl and be swallowed by the Kraken.

                As Magnus turned his back to Jaxon, the older, frightfully smelling man had grabbed his hand and pressed something against his skin, closing his fist around his palm. Magnus only realized once he sat on the dingy, pacing away from the Kraken’s destructive path, what Jefferson had given him; a piece of eight. 

Now, the co-Captains of their own vessel, Magnus and Izzy had been implored by Barbossa, Elizabeth, and Will to help them rescue the Pearl and Jacob from the world of the dead. Magnus was reluctant, but, persuaded by his partner, he accepted and here they were, freezing their asses off, icicles clinging to his eyelashes. 

           “I knew this was a bad idea. Anything involving that Jason fellow ends up terribly. Why do we have to recuse him anyway?” 

// @runedwhip bc ;;; yolo ???