seveninchmotto | Magnus Bane's Loft, New York, Sunday Eve–

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Magnus Bane's Loft, New York, Sunday Eve–– okay it's really Monday Morning

It was either the middle of the night or the very early morning, and it was freezing out, so cold that even the thermis rune Isabelle had put on herself weren't doing much to keep her from shivering as she pushed open the door of Magnus's apartment building and ducked inside. After being buzzed up, she headed up the stairs, trailing her hand along the splintering banister. Part of her wanted to rush up the steps, knowing Alec was there and would understand what she was feeling (apart from the nausea, perhaps). The other part of her, the part that had hidden her parents' secret from her brothers all her life, wanted to curl up on the landing and be alone with her misery. The part that hated relying on anyone else — because wouldn't they just let you down? — and was proud to say that Isabelle Lightwood didn't need anyone reminded herself that she was here because they had asked for her. They needed her. Isabelle didn't mind being needed. Liked it, in fact. It was why it had taken her longer to warm up to Jace when he had first stepped through the Portal from Idris, a thin ten-year-old boy with haunted pale gold eyes. Alec had been delighted with him immediately, but Isabelle had resented his self-possession. When her mother had told her that Jace's father had been murdered in front of him, she'd imagined him coming to her tearfully, for comfort and even advice. But he hadn't seemed to need anyone. Even at ten years old he'd had a sharp, defensive wit and an acidic temperament. In fact, Isabelle had thought, dismayed, that he was just like her.

In the end it was Shadowhunting they had bonded over — a shared love of sharp-edged weapons, gleaming seraph blades, the painful pleasure of burning Marks, the thought-numbing swiftness of battle. When Alec had wanted to go out hunting alone with Jace, leaving Izzy behind, Jace had spoken up for her: "We need her with us; she's the best there is. Aside from me, of course."

She had loved him just for that.

She was at the front door of Magnus's apartment now. Light poured through the crack under the door, and she heard murmuring voices. She pushed the door open, and a wave of warmth enveloped her. She stepped gratefully forward. The warmth came from a fire leaping in the grated fireplace — though there were no chimneys in the building, and the fire had the blue-green tinge of enchanted flame. Magnus and Alec sat on one of the couches grouped near the fireplace. As she came in, Alec looked up and saw her, and sprang to his feet, hurrying barefoot across the room — he was wearing black sweatpants and a white T-shirt with a torn collar—to put his arms around her.

For a moment she stood still in the circle of his arms, hearing his heartbeat, his hands patting half-awkwardly up and down her back, her hair. "Iz," he said. "It's going to be okay, Izzy."

She pushed away from him, wiping at her eyes. God, she hated crying. "How can you say that?" she snapped. "How can anything possibly be okay after this?"

"Izzy." Alec drew his sister's hair over one shoulder and tugged gently at it. It reminded her of the years when she used to wear her hair in braids and Alec would yank on them, with considerably less gentleness than he was showing now. "Don't go to pieces. We need you." He dropped his voice. "Also, did you know you smell like rum?"

She looked over at Magnus, who was watching them from the sofa with his unreadable cat's eyes. "Where's Clary?" she said. "And her mother? I thought they were here."

"Asleep," said Alec. "We thought they needed a rest."

"And I don't?"

"Did you just see your fiancé or your stepfather nearly murdered in front of your eyes?" Magnus inquired dryly. He was wearing striped pajamas with a black silk dressing gown thrown over them. "Isabelle Lightwood," he said, sitting up and loosely clasping his hands in front of him. "As Alec said, we need you."

Isabelle straightened up, putting her shoulders back. "Need me for what?"

"To go to the Iron Sisters," said Alec. "We need a weapon that will divide Jace and Sebastian so that they can be hurt separately — Well, you know what I mean. So Sebastian can be killed without hurting Jace. And it's a matter of time before the Clave knows that Jace isn't Sebastian's prisoner, that he's working with him —"

"It's not Jace," Isabelle protested.

"It may not be Jace," said Magnus, "but if he dies, your Jace dies right along with him."

"As you know, the Iron Sisters will speak only to women," said Alec. "And Jocelyn can't go alone because she isn't a Shadowhunter anymore."

"What about Clary?"

"She's still in training. She won't know the right questions to ask or the way to address them. But you and Jocelyn will. And Jocelyn says she's been there before; she can help guide you once we Portal you to the edge of the wards around the Adamant Citadel. You'll be going, both of you, in the morning."
Isabelle considered it. The idea of finally having something to do, something definite and active and important, was a relief. She would have preferred a task that had something to do with killing demons or chopping off Sebastian's legs, but this was better than nothing. The legends surrounding the Adamant Citadel made it sound like a forbidding, distant place, and the Iron Sisters were seen far more rarely than the Silent Brothers. Isabelle had never met one.

"When do we leave?" she said.

Alec smiled for the first time since she'd arrived, and reached to ruffle her hair. "That's my Isabelle."

"Quit it." She ducked out from his reach and saw Magnus grinning at them from the sofa. He levered himself up and ran a hand through his already explosively spiky black hair. "I've got three spare rooms," he said. "Clary's in one; her mother's in the other. I'll show you the third."

The rooms all branched off a narrow, windowless hallway that led from the living room. Two of the doors were closed; Magnus drew Isabelle through the third, into a room whose walls were painted hot-pink. Black curtains hung from silver bars over the windows, secured by handcuffs. The bedspread had a print of dark red hearts on it. Isabelle glanced around. She felt jittery and nervous and not in the least like going to sleep. "Nice handcuffs. I can see why you didn't put Jocelyn in here."

"I needed something to hold the curtains back." Magnus shrugged. "Do you have anything to sleep in?"

Isabelle just nodded, not wanting to admit she'd brought one of Flick's shirts with her from the dorms. "It's kind of weird," she said. "You demanding I come over right away, only to put me to bed and tell me we're getting started tomorrow."

Magnus leaned against the wall by the door, his arms over his chest, and looked at her through slitted cat eyes. For a moment he reminded her of Church, only less likely to bite. "I love your brother," he said. "You know that, right?"

"If you want my permission to marry him, go right ahead," said Isabelle. "Autumn's a nice time for it too. You could wear an orange tux."

"He isn't happy," said Magnus, as if she hadn't spoken.

"Of course he isn't," Isabelle snapped. "Jace —"

"Jace," said Magnus, and his hands made fists at his sides. Isabelle stared at him. She had always thought that he didn't mind Jace; liked him, even, once the question of Alec's affections had been settled. Out loud, she said, "I thought you and Jace were friends."

"It's not that," said Magnus. "There are some people — people the universe seems to have singled out for special destinies. Special favors and special torments. God knows we're all drawn toward what's beautiful and broken; I have been, but some people cannot be fixed. Or if they can be, it's only by love and sacrifice so great that it destroys the giver."

Isabelle shook her head slowly. "You've lost me. Jace is our brother, but for Alec - He's Jace's parabatai, too."

"I know about parabatai," said Magnus. "I've known parabatai so close they were almost the same person. Do you know what happens, when one of them dies, to the one who's left —"

"Stop it!" Isabelle clapped her hands over her ears, then lowered them slowly. "How dare you, Magnus Bane?" she said. "How dare you make this worse than it is?"

"Isabelle." Magnus's hands loosened; he looked a little wide-eyed, as if his outburst had startled even him. "I am sorry. I forget, sometimes... that with all your self-control and strength, you possess the same vulnerability that Alec does."

"There is nothing weak about Alec," said Isabelle.

"No," said Magnus. "To love as you choose, that takes strength. The thing is, I wanted you here for him. There are things I can't do for him, can't give him." For a moment Magnus looked oddly vulnerable himself. "You have known Jace as long as he has. You can give him understanding I can't. And he loves you."

"Of course he loves me. I'm his sister."

"Blood isn't love," said Magnus, and his voice was bitter. "Just ask Clary."

-----

Isabelle settled down in Magnus' guest room, and did her best to go to sleep after changing into her commandeered pajama. But not before sending out a text. Long overdue.

[ooc: NFB, for that other guy. From CoLS again.]

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The big bed had been a help. The wish to feel just a little bit better yesterday had helped too. After getting Isabelle's text, he'd wished for a warmer coat and gotten that so now he was on his way to Magnus's apartment.

He walked slowly just because though he felt better, he still didn't feel great. But, he made it there eventually and stood outside the house. He rapped his fingers on the door and waited, hoping he'd gotten the right place.

That question was answered as soon as the door opened. They'd only met once, and very briefly, but hopefully he'd remember Magnus. Because Magnus certainly thought himself to be very memorable.

"Ah," he said. "The cute mundane so often seen on the Institute steps. I suppose Isabelle called you?"

"Texted me but yeah," he said, nodding. "Good to see you again. Sorry to come so late."

"It's fine," Magnus said, although few things were fine right now, and even he looked a little tired. He stepped out of the way. "Come on in. I'll show you where she is."

Flick took a few steps inside. "Thanks," he said before adding, "I can come in here despite being a mundane? No rules here?"

"You're not allowed to insult the decor," Magnus quipped as he began to lead Flick through the apartment. "But no, I don't have any anti-mundane wards here. Whatever you've learned about the Nephilim doesn't apply to me."

"I've learned that they're complicated as hell," he said almost under his breath before sighing. "You okay?"

He said it without thinking but he figured the look of weariness he'd seen earlier on Magnus's face meant he was hip deep in all this too.

"I'm too old to not be okay," he replied, right as they came to the living room. Alec was asleep on an overstuffed sofa, next to the grated fireplace with its blue-green enchanted flame. Magnus lowered his voice and nodded down the hallway to the right. "She's down the hall that way, the first bedroom on the left."

"Thanks," Flick said, sticking his hands in his pockets and moving down the hall. He glanced at Alec as he walked before stopping in front of the indicated door.

He knocked.

Alas, Isabelle was asleep. She might have heard something, in some distant way, but not enough to actually wake her up.

After the knocking wasn't answered, Flick tried the door. It opened and he stepped inside, eyes finding a sleeping Isabelle within. He closed the door quietly.

Then, he wiggled out of his jacket and toed off his shoes, leaving him in socks and his clothes. He came closer to her, rubbing his stomach and pushing the pain away.

If she was sleeping through him knocking, then he knew she was tired. He touched his fingertips to her cheek lightly and exhaled. "I'm here," he whispered before kneeling down beside the bed and resting his arms on it.

He watched her sleep.

Isabelle was asleep on her side, her black hair fanning out across the pillow. She looked younger than she usually did, her face relaxed, her long eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheekbones. Her mouth was slightly open, her feet curled up under her. She was wearing only one of his T-shirts.

She murmured and turned her face into the pillow.

Flick reached out and brushed a kiss, feather light, against her forehead before he grabbed his jacket and balled it up. He slid down and lay on the floor next to the bed.

He would have gotten into bed with her but he wanted her to sleep and not wake up if he could help it. He stared up at the ceiling, one hand tucked under his head and listened to her breathe.

After a moment, Isabelle rolled sideways even more towards the edge of the bed and him. Maybe she'd sensed something. "Flick?" she said groggily.

"I'm here," he murmured, sitting up a bit. "Shhh. It's okay, I'm here."

"You came." She didn't open her eyes, and she murmured her words softly. "I didn’t think you would."

Flick smiled sadly at her.

"Whatever might have happened in the past," he whispered, watching her face, "doesn't change the fact that I want to help you. I wanna be there for you if oyu need me. I'm here."

"Join me?" she sighed. "On the bed."

That was what she'd asked him to come here for.

"Okay," he breathed, getting to his feet slowly and shifting so he could climb onto the bed behind her. He was careful so he didn't cause himself any pain and jostle her too badly.

He ended up on his back, sighing as he settled.

Isabelle rolled sideways against him, her soft cheek against his shoulder. She smelled like rosy perfume, and rum. "Sorry I'm asleep," she murmured.

"S'okay," he told her, working an arm around her shoulders and bringing her closer to him. "Sleep's a good thing. You can keep sleeping."

"Can you tell me a story?" she requested, as she curled up against him and settled down. She hadn't opened her eyes once through all of this. It wasn't necessary when she could feel him right there.

"Hmm?" Flick looked down at her and brushed his lips across her hair. "Yeah, I can tell you a story."

For a few seconds he was quiet, trying to think of something good to tell her. "Once upon a time in a place that you've never heard of, Bilbo Baggins was celebrating his one hundred eleventh birthday. The Shire was alive with activity and, in the middle of it all, was Bilbo's cousin, Frodo..."

Yes, he was going to tell her Tolkien. He figured she'd never heard it before and it had action and adventure and romance and drama and a happy ending.

And she hadn't even had to specifically request one where the good guys win and the bad guys lose and stay dead.

Isabelle sighed and relaxed. Yes, she was going to listen to this until she drifted back off to sleep.

"A while ago, Bilbo had found this magic ring, a ring created by the ultimate bad guy, Sauron. When you put the ring on, you disappeared. It even got a pretty badass name, The One Ring. And all that power fell into Bilbo's hands."

He looked down at her. "After Bilbo's birthday, he used the ring to make like a tree and leave. He left the powerful ring with Frodo, who was none the wiser. Gandalf, a tall, wizard, knew exactly what the ring was and made Frodo keep it secret. So, Frodo did."

Poor Frodo. "Gandalf kept an eye on Frodo and the ring until he came to Frodo one day and told him about the ring's origins and that Sauron was rising again and he was building a fortress in Mordor. And Sauron wanted that ring so he was hunting it. Intensely."

"I already hate this Sauron guy," Isabelle mumbled sleepily, because f course she did. He sounded like Valentine to her.

"He is kind of a putz," Flick told her quietly. "He's also a giant eye but more on that later."

He rubbed her shoulder. "So, Gandalf tells Frodo he's gotta go. And Frodo takes Sam, Pippin and Merry with him. They're his friends from the Shire, fellow hobbits. They gotta flee because Gollum ratted Frodo out to Sauron. Gollum had possession of the One Ring once before and he was corrupted by its power. So, he tattled and Gandalf told Frodo and his friends to go to Rivendell. That's where elves lives and where Gandalf hopes they can decide how to deal with the One Ring. So, they head to Rivendell without so much as a second thought."

Isabelle sighed and nuzzled his shoulder. She was breathing more steadily now than before he'd shown up. At least that's what it felt like. "What are elves?"

"Physically, they look like you and me," he told her quietly, glancing down. "But, they've got pointed ears, are great at archery, and have longer lifespans. They can be kind of high and mighty too. So, similar to you in that respect."

He was teasing her. "Anyway, they set out of to Rivendell but it doesn't go very well. They're being pursued by Black Riders or the Nazgul. And these guys are bitches."

He nodded. "The Nazgul find Frodo and his friends and the chief of the Nazgul stabs Frodo right in the shoulder with a cursed knife."

He mimed waving a knife before stabbing himself in the shoulder and wincing dramatically. "Luckily, the Nazgul are driven off by Aragorn, a human man, who makes the save!"

This time, Flick cheered a little. "Anyway, Aragorn notices that part of the knife is still embedded in Frodo so they gotta make double time to Rivendell. They ride fast but meet up with the Nazgul again and there's nine of them now. But, they don't get too far because Elrond, the lord of Rivendell, commands a huge wave and sweeps the Nazgul away, allowing the group to get to Rivendell."

Isabelle thought the elves sounded far more like fair folk than they did like her, but she didn't say anything. She just smiled quietly at his animated telling of the story.

And sighed.

Flick kissed the top of her head.

"Frodo, of course, recovers. Elrond saves him with his elven magic and there's a big, happy, group hug scene before the group moves onto serious business. Elrond convenes the Council of Elrond, where Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Aragon and Gandalf are joined by Boromir, another human, Gimli, a dwarf, Legolas, an elf. There, Gandalf tells the group that he'd gone to Isengard to talk to Saruman, a powerful wizard to basically get guidance."

Flick sighed. "Saruman turned traitor though and while he hadn't sold Gandalf out to Sauron yet, he was mustering his own army. So, the Council of Elrond makes a plan. It's that the ring needs to get tossed into the fires of Mount Doom. Simple plan, right?"

Flick looked at her and shook his head. "Boromir argues because he wants to use the ring to defeat Sauron but Elrond basically tells him to sit the fuck down since the ring's intrinsically evil and can't be used for that sort of thing. Boromir knows his place and sits the fuck down. Frodo offers to take the ring to Mount Doom and the group of nine becomes the Fellowship of the Ring."

Isabelle stayed quiet. She was still listening, but she was also drifting off. The sound of his voice was soothing, especially after the night she'd had, and the day she knew she was about to have.

It was so good to have him here.

Flick brushed his lips back and forth over her hair, watching her drift off. He kept going to make sure she'd fall asleep, though.

"The Fellowship sets out for Mount Doom but it's not an easy trip," he continues quietly. "They try and cross the Misty Mountains but can't because it's snowing a fuck ton and none of it's glitter."

Not that she'd understand that but still. "So, they go through the Mines of Moria, an ancient dwarf kingdom. Gimli's pretty stoked about this until the Fellowship gets into the mines and finds it deserted, finds that many people were killed by Orcs and other evil things."

He took a moment to watch her again. "Unfortunately, I lied when I said the mines were deserted. They're not. The group runs into Balrog, an ancient demon of fire and shadows. Gandalf throws down with it but both Gandalf and the Balrog fall into the abyss."

Flick gently mimed a fight and then a fall into nothingness. "The rest of the Fellowships makes it to a place called Lothlórien, another elf haven. They're given gifts by Celeborn and Galadriel that they'll use later in their journey. It gets worse though when Boromir tries to take the ring from Frodo because he hasn't been able to resist the ring's evil lure."

He was quiet again. "It's this event that makes Frodo realize he has to go to Mount Doom alone. Sam pesters him into taking him along and thus, Sam and Frodo set off for Mount Doom while the rest of the Fellowship sets off to try and find Frodo. The Fellowship is broken."

For now.

Her breathing was getting slower and even. She was pretty much out of it again, yes, drifting off to well-deserved sleep for the third time during this night.

He could tell her the rest later.

And he would. But right now, he wanted her to sleep so he stopped talking and just held her against him, letting her warmth seep into him.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd doze off for awhile too.

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Magnus Bane's Loft, New York, Sunday Eve–– okay it's really Monday Morning

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