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A Desperate Proposal - Ch 2
The soft snick of the heavy office door closing was overly loud in the quiet room and Simon raised his head, blinking rapidly. Like breathing, blinking was still a habit that Simon had yet to shake in his five years as a vampire, but whatever, he had time. Oodles of time, apparently; a fact that still threw him on a regular basis. He blinked again, actually registering the quiet— when had his music stopped? Wasn’t his playlist something like five hours long? Had he really been working that long? What time was it?
This time it was the creak of the chair in front of his desk that got his attention. Simon finally snapped back to the real world and took in the sight of his Sire, sitting prim and proper as usual. Raphael’s face was a mix of resignation, amusement, and irritation; in other words, it was his “Simon Face.”
“Good afternoon, Simon. How are the books looking today?” Raphael’s voice was smooth and dry.
Simon automatically straightened and his hands started to shuffle the papers around on his desk, moving his laptop back, rearranging pens, voice getting brighter and louder as he talked. “Oh! It’s going well. The numbers for last month look good, we've made some necessary adjustments. Forcing you to let me buy Quickbooks is paying off, I’ve been able to sort through the mess from, err, before, so much faster and I think that if make a few strategic changes we’ll be able to set up the new vampires with like, an income that will let them not be whiny assholes about what they’re missing from their former lives and I think… that you are not actually here to talk about accounting, are you.”
Simon thought he could detect at least a hint of “impressed” in the lines of Raphael’s face now, but the irritation was also stronger. Simon shifted in the ornate chair and bit his cheek as he kept his mouth shut and let the silence grow.
Finally, Raphael spoke. “No, Simon, I’m not here to talk about accounting. I’m here to relay the latest news from the Downworld Cabinet. Decisions have finally been made and they affect you. Directly affect you, in fact.” Raphael tugged at his cuffs, the crisp white shirt peeking out from the dark blue of his suit jacket. Simon’s eyebrows rose; he wasn’t used to any signs of nervousness from his Sire. His curiosity grew, along with some burgeoning apprehension.
Rapael continued, his voice firming as he went along. “The Cabinet has had a series of emergency meetings with the Clave. After much negotiation we have what we hope is the start of a solution to the... problem we are facing. There will be a series of marriages, between the Downworld and the Shadowhunters of New York. These alliances, if they prove effective, will then take place across the world as we attempt to figure out what is happening and how to counter it. If, and only if, our help is essential to defeating whatever is causing the Shadowhunters to drop like flies, we - the Downworld - will be able to renegotiate the Accords in a manner that is fair and equitable to us and not the Clave. So. We are obviously very invested in making these marriages work and be productive.”
Simon was blinking rapidly again. He felt his brain kickstart into a different gear as he struggled to comprehend what Raphael was saying and the implications of what he was hearing. Marriages? The Clave willing to renegotiate the Accords? Really? Those stubborn assholes? He knew the situation was serious, but really? Marriages? Who was getting married? Wait, why did Raphael say that he, Simon, was going to be directly affected?
His mouth popped open and Simon heard himself say, in a strange tone he’d never heard himself use before, “Who am I marrying, Sire?” Then Simon froze in his chair, his body startled by the leap his brain had made. He watched Raphael twitch slightly.
“The Second in Command of the New York Institute, Jace Lightwood. Alexander Lightwood’s brother.”
The words fell like dead weights in the middle of the room. Simon’s muscles felt locked in place, while his thoughts started to race forward like a bullet train.
The events of the past few months flicked through Simon’s head like a movie on steroids. Simon noticing expenses for the Hotel Dumort increasing suddenly for no discernable reason. The realization that Downworlders and foreign vampires were quietly flooding into New York at rates that surprised even the older vampires in the Clan, causing them to spend more and more money to hide their presence in the city. Raphael taking his concerns to Magnus. Magnus talking to Alec about the increased number of Downworlders in the New York Institute’s territory.
And then the horrifying knowledge that Shadowhunters were dying, dying everywhere, and it was forcing Downworlders into the city as they sought the protection of the Nephilim that remained, the protection that they would have fiercely denied ever needing in the past. Finally, endless hushed meetings between the various contingents of the Downworld as they struggled to make sense of what was happening. Simon, as Raphael’s reluctant Second, had attended several before his annoyance at the Seelie representative and his general impatience at the slow pace had led to Raphael kicking him out.
And now here they were, and Simon was beginning to realize that hiding his head in the accounting nightmare that was the New York Clan for the last month had probably been a mistake.
“I’m sorry, what? I’m marrying who? Why him? Why me? Who else is getting married? When are these marriages happening? What about the fact that I’m a vampire? The Seelies agreed to this? The werewolves? Is that what you’re saying? Really? I’m getting married? But my mom won’t be there. Or my sister. I never thought I’d get married without my mom there. What am I going to wear? Are the marriages taking place at the same time? Is this really the only way? Is Jace the hot blond one? The one who always looks constipated? I’m getting married?”
Raphael’s hands were suddenly on his face, cold brands on his cheeks, and Simon realized that at some point during his semi-hysterical rant he’d gotten up and was standing in front of his Sire. His body was vibrating.
“Simon. Child. I am here. I know that this is a shock and I am sorry for it. But yes, this is the only way. The Nephilim have been hiding their true situation, or they actually didn’t realize it until now, it’s unclear. Regardless, their numbers are now so low that the Downworld is legitimately in danger. We need them and for the first time in forever, they are admitting that they need us. Alliance through marriage has worked for Mundanes for millenia, we might as well try it. This is happening.”
“But why me?” Simon’s voice was a whine that he couldn’t control. Simon stayed still even as Raphael let go of his face and moved back to the chair in front of Simon’s desk. Watched Raphael settle back down, adjusting his suit for the second time. Finally, he spoke.
“Simon, I’m not sure if you have ever fully realized your power, or your responsibilities, as my Second. When I Turned you, you automatically had greater status than most as my Child, but when you presented as a Daylighter… Simon, the only reason that the New York Clan is mine is because I am your Sire. If I were not here, the other vampires would follow you. That is how powerful the draw of a Daylighter is. Especially because we have no idea why they exist, why you are one. If this plan is to work, each representative has to be of high importance, someone that proves that we are committed and have power to offer.”
Simon’s mouth opened. And closed. And opened and then closed again. He felt like a fish out of water, trying to grasp the full weight of what Raphael was saying. He’d known that the other vampires treated him differently but he’d thought it was just because he was young. And a bit of a spaz. And a nerd spouting pop culture references to creatures that were around when the only entertainment was going to see P.T. Barnum and his fish-monkeys. This was different. Slightly scary.
A brief wince crossed Raphael’s face and Simon’s focus sharpened. “What else, Raphael? What aren’t you telling me?”
“The Shadowhunters— Alec— put Jace’s name into the negotiations first, as a sign that they were willing to offer their best and brightest, and someone near and dear to the Institute. But we still weren’t sure how desperate they were and if the Clave was actually committed to changing some of their… prejudices. So we offered you. And they agreed. They are serious. Alec Lightwood is the one that discovered the depth of the problem in the first place. He seems level headed and not as willing to put up with the Clave’s bullshit."
The hits kept coming, apparently. “Does Jace even like guys? Do I have to get married to a straight guy? I thought this wasn’t supposed to be a complete sham?”
“Alec has assured me that his brother is bisexual and I believe him. But Shadowhunters are notoriously homophobic and it might be... difficult for a while. You remember the scandal when news of Magnus dating Alec broke. I think the Nephilim were more upset that Magnus was a man than he was a Downworlder. Or maybe it was equal, who knows. Regardless, no, you will not be marrying someone who isn’t interested in men. These marriages are meant to be alliances, they need a chance to work. ”
Simon drifted back to his own chair and sat down. “Well, at least there’s that. Although he could just be an asshole. The few times I’ve seen him lurking around Pandemonium he always looks angry. Maybe he just has Resting Bitch Face. Hopefully.” He met Raphael’s eyes. “This is really happening? It’s the only way? I feel like a broken record, but I need to know. I kinda gave up on marriage when I became a vampire, I’m not sure how to feel about this.”
Raphael leaned forward and kept Simon’s gaze. “Yes, Simon, this needs to happen. We don’t know what’s killing the Shadowhunters and it’s affecting all of us worse than we could have imagined. We need to figure out what’s happening and stop it, hopefully without too many more casualties. And we can use these marriages to make a better life for ourselves afterwards. If there is an afterwards.” His voice faded away and there was silence again.
“Shit. I guess I’m marrying a Shadowhunter.” Simon let his head rest against the heavy wooden chair and closed his eyes.
“Yes. Simon. Thank you. We’ll talk more soon.”
Simon heard Raphael get up and walk towards the door, enhanced hearing picking up every footfall and swish of cloth, knowing that it was deliberate, that Raphael was a master of silent movement, that his Sire wanted Simon to know that he was leaving, that he was retreating to give Simon space to absorb the bombshells dropped into his life.
The door shut soundlessly this time, just a whiff of displaced air. Simon swallowed hard.
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A Desperate Proposal - Ch 1
“Have you gone absolutely insane, Alec? What the fuck is this shit?”
Jace had barely even entered Alec’s office before he started yelling, waving the crumpled, fine linen paper bearing the official Seal of the Clave around wildly.
Alec sighed and leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands to scrub at his face. Sounding absolutely exhausted, he said, “Ah. Jace. I see you got the memo.”
Jace could feel himself going redder. “Yes, Alec, let’s start with the fact that I found out that I was getting married in a fucking memo! Are you shitting me right now? A memo? What, were you too scared to tell me in person? You had to write it on fucking Clave stationary? This is a joke, right? It’s got to be a joke. What the fuck is going on?”
The room was quiet for a solid minute, apart from Jace’s furious panting breaths. When Alec still didn’t say anything he lowered the (goddamn) memo and finally looked at his parabatai. Alec’s head was resting on the back of the ornate chair, the very same one that six Heads of the New York Institute had sat in over the course of the last two hundred years, and he was staring blankly into space. There were deep purple bruises under his eyes and permanent frown lines had been carved into his brow and mouth that had slipped Jace’s notice until now.
Jace’s anger suddenly cooled, and he dropped heavily into the chair in front of Alec’s monstrous desk. Which he now saw was practically buried under paperwork. He said quietly, “Alec, what the hell is going on?”
Alec still didn’t meet his eyes. “How many Shadowhunters have we lost in the last year, Jace? Do you know?”
Jace shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to be reminded of the funerals that somehow had become a normal part of their lives. “I dunno, maybe ten? Why? Demons get lucky sometimes and we die. What does that have to do with me getting married?” Although now Jace was trying to think about when that had happened, when it had become normal to have this many funerals. It hadn’t been like that when they were younger. Right? He was pulled from his thoughts when Alec spoke again.
“Twelve. We’ve lost twelve Shadowhunters in New York alone, just last year. That’s one a month. And some of the other Institutes have been hit worse. We’re dying, Jace, at an alarming rate.” There was a depth of grief in Alec’s voice that Jace couldn’t understand, more than just the normal loss that all Shadowhunters felt when one of their own died, and he found himself pressing a hand over his parabatai rune, feeling an echo of it deep inside him.
Alec gestured at the mess on the table in front of him. “Do you know what I’ve been doing the last few weeks? I’ve been combing the archives to see if something like this has happened in the past. I’ve asked Magnus to search his Downworld scrolls to check and the answer is no. The Shadowhunter population has stayed almost completely stable for centuries, regardless of wars or anything else. Something new is going on. Something is killing us off, bit by bit.”
Jace was dumbfounded. “And your solution is to fucking marry me off? To a vampire? In what world does that make any kind of fucking sense?”
“You’re not the only one getting married, Jace. The Clave has ordered a series of marriages to create an alliance with the more prominent groups of Downworlders— warlocks, Seelies, werewolves, and vampires. Izzy, mom, and I are all getting married to Downworlders the same day you are.”
Jace’s head was pounding. “What? The Clave wants all of us to marry Downworlders? Who are you marrying? Who is Izzy marrying? Why are any of us getting married at all?” His voice was getting slightly hysterical but Jace didn’t think he could be blamed for it. Nothing made sense.
“We are dying, Jace. Something is going on and we need other people to help us stop it and the Downworld is our best option. At this rate, we can’t keep the demon world in check and figure out why we keep getting killed with the number of Shadowhunters we have. We need allies. We need more people on patrol. We need the knowledge the Downworld has that we’ve been ignoring for centuries because of our own stupid prejudices.
“So Izzy’s going to marry a Seelie, I’m marrying a warlock, Mom is marrying a werewolf, and you’re marrying a vampire. This is happening.” Alec’s words were hard and firm.
Jace was reeling and he couldn’t figure out what to comment on first. He fell back to repeating his earlier question. “Who are you marrying? Who is Izzy marrying?” Jace’s eyes widened as he realized that he’d missed something in Alec’s deluge of information. “Wait, who is Maryse marrying?”
“Izzy is marrying Meliorn, he’s one of the Seelie Queen’s knights.” Jace saw Alec take a deep breath. “I’m marrying Magnus,” Jace started to puff up and Alec spoke louder, “the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the inventor of the Portal. Mom is marrying Luke, the Beta of the New York pack.”
The knot of rage in Jace's throat was now so large he could barely speak. "So you get to marry your boyfriend and Izzy gets to marry someone she knows and likes and has been sleeping with for six months already, Mom gets to marry her ‘one that got away,’ and I get to marry a stranger. A random-ass vampire. Do I have it right, Alec? Anything I’m missing?”
He watched Alec swallow. Jace was in complete disbelief. “I am missing something, aren’t I. Holy shit, Alec, what else? Is there something I should know about this vampire? Do you even know her name? Anything about her?” Jace could hear himself shouting but didn’t care.
Alec seemed to shrink down into himself, shoulders curling in for a long moment before he stood up and came around the desk to stand in front of Jace. He straightened into an open battle stance, centered on the balls of his feet and braced for anything. Jace stared up at him. There was an ugly sense of foreboding in his gut.
Alec's voice was even, no inflection whatsoever, and he was looking past Jace’s head to the far wall. "There tend to be more male vampires than female. I told the Clan that you were bisexual. I don't know if you’re marrying a man or a woman."
Jace's fist had broken Alec's nose before he had even registered that he'd moved. Alec's head snapped back and blood started to pour out immediately. He’d made no move to defend himself, just rolled with the punch, hands hanging loose at his sides.
Jace could hear the breath sawing in and out of his lungs and his hand was throbbing in time with the heartbeat thundering in his ears. He looked at his parabatai and saw the acknowledgement of betrayal in Alec’s eyes. And regret and resignation and about five other emotions Jace couldn't identify.
Alec stood there, unmoving, and the blood slowly dripped down his face as they stared at each other.
Jace's voice was a croak when he finally spoke. "Is it really that bad?"
Alec's voice was nasal and choked and he had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. "Magnus and I estimate that all the Shadowhunters in the world will be dead in three years if we don't do something. Maybe less."
Jace staggered back, moving far away from Alec until he hit the wall of the office. He slid down until his ass was on the floor. He buried his fingers in his hair and blindly looked at the carpet in front of him.
He heard Alec sigh and move back around his desk, rattling drawers until he found a handkerchief. Jace watched as Alec put it over his face and set his nose with a crack and a grunt. He made a cursory wipe at the blood and then dropped the handkerchief in the trash bin.
Jace let his head fall back against the wall as Alec walked over and settled down on the floor next to him. They breathed for a few more minutes before Jace spoke. "How could this happen? How come no one has noticed that we're all fucking dying? What the hell, Alec.”
Alec sighed and Jace watched as Alec let his long legs stretch out on the floor before glancing over at him. His voice was tired. “Magnus thinks that there’s some powerful magic going on, some kind of worldwide glamour that makes us, just, look away? Just accept what’s happening and not think about it. Like you did. By the Angel, Jace, you thought that ten Shadowhunters had died last year and you said it like it was no big deal! And in reality it was twelve. One every damn month. There are only a few hundred Shadowhunters at the Institute in the first place. And it’s getting worse. Only six died two years ago.” He huffed out a breath. “Only six.”
Jace shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that he was under some sort of glamour and didn’t know it. “So how did you notice it?”
Alec’s laugh startled them both. He cut an amused glance at Jace and said, “Magnus says it’s because I’m a workaholic with a giant hard-on for paperwork.” Jace grinned and Alec smirked back before sobering. “Although he’s not really wrong. Do you know how much funerals cost, Jace? It’s a lot. And suddenly the Institute was slowly going broke and I couldn’t figure out why. And then once I started connecting the dots, it was like a veil lifted and everything was clear. Ask Magnus; I freaked out on him pretty badly when I figured it out. He started investigating too and then we reached out to the other Institutes to see if it was just us. It wasn’t.
“They didn’t actually believe us, at first, either. We had to ask for their funeral records. Those were harder to ignore. We got the Clave involved a few weeks ago and everything has happened pretty fast since then. Even those stubborn asses could see the problem. Magnus and I were able to convince them that with the help of the Downworld, we might have a chance to figure out what the fuck is happening and hopefully not all die before we can. This was the best solution we could come up with to make alliances quickly that couldn’t easily be broken. There will be an amendment to the Accords to include our marriages right now, and then we will rewrite them completely in the future, after this is over. That’s the deal. If this works at all.”
The room went quiet again after Alec finished. They sat there. Jace listened to the clock on Alec’s desk tick softly. Alec didn’t say anything. When Jace glanced over at him, Alec’s head was leaning against the wall and his eyes were closed. He looked almost asleep. Jace was startled to realize that he didn’t remember the last time he and Alec had trained together. Or done much of anything together in the last few weeks. Jace’d been so busy with patrols. And apparently funerals.
Jace closed his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, “okay, I guess I’ll marry a vampire.”
There was a touch on his arm. Jace looked down as Alec wrapped a cool, dry hand around his wrist. “Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee. For whither thou goest, I will go, And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.” Jace heard the words Alec spoke softly reverberate in his head and his parabatai rune burned.
“Jace, I am sorry. I know you have… complicated feelings towards being bi. I hope it’s not even an issue and that you’ll end up with a woman that you can get along with. I just knew that the Clan might not go for it unless I offered them the option. You know they have weird hierarchies. I couldn’t take the chance. We’re dying and I can’t stop it.” Alec’s hand abruptly tightened on Jace’s arm, becoming a bruising vice grip. “But Jace, you are still my parabatai, your soul is in my soul, and I will be with you through this, every step of the way. And I’ll find a way out of it if we need to. I promise you.” Alec’s voice was fierce before fading away into silence again.
Jace was suddenly exhausted, the maelstrom of emotions coursing through him finally easing, leaving behind bone-deep weariness and a headache behind his temples. Alec’s hand rested on his arm for another minute before dropping away. He looked over and Alec’s eyes were closed again. He wondered when Alec had last slept. The leftover blood still on his face had turned dark brown and was crusted in little flakes around his nostrils. The bruising would be spectacular if it wasn’t healed soon.
“Are you going to use an iratze on your nose.” Jace’s voice was flat, more of a statement than a question.
Alec’s eyes opened a slit and peered over at him. “No,” he said, shortly. His eyes closed again.
Jace felt a small, vicious curl of satisfaction in his gut. He relaxed against the wall and closed his own eyes. “Shit, man. This sucks.”
Alec let out a breathy chuckle. “Yes, Jace. This fucking sucks.”
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