Chapter 25
No one dared to so much as breathe, until Alec vanished around the corner. Magnus braced himself on one of the gargoyle's wings. The full implications of Alexander's confession had not yet sunk in. Watching him lose his composure had been unsettling -witnessing the burden he had been carrying come crashing down all at once.
Magnus had suspected that something had happened during the holidays. Yet in light of what Alexander had just admitted, Magnus marveled at how he still managed to hold on, how he had gotten through the last few weeks. Placing so much responsibility and so many secrets upon the shoulders of a single person could not end well. It was only a matter of time before Alexander fell apart. And then there was the question of what he had meant by the murder of his little brother. His eyes had been fixed on Magnus as he spat out the words.
His seething fury for Maryse and Robert Lightwood was outweighed only by his growing concern that he had no clue how to support Alexander. This situation was far too complex, festering within him for years. Layer upon layer of scars, tissue that might never mend properly. Trivial platitudes about how Alexander deserved better wouldn't suffice, he realised.
Alexander was right: for years he was forced to take charge of his siblings, in a desperate attempt to grant them a childhood he denied himself. That was denied to him. Could he just turn his back on his parents from one day to the next? Even more so with their considerable influence in the magical world. Magnus understood why Alexander didn't want to admit what had been done to him. After all, he knew a thing or two about the intricacies of family dynamics. He had learned the hard way that you could love someone despite the pain they inflicted.
Then again, could he just stand by and watch Alexander destroy himself in the name of a family that had done nothing but protect him? On the contrary. Given that Alexander refused any kind of help outright, distancing himself further and further, was there anything he could do?
Andrew let out a desperate groan, tearing at his tousled curls. “Fuck…” he murmured to himself. “Why does he have to be so bloody stubborn? All of this is my fault.”
As neither Isabelle nor Jace stirred in their state of shock, Magnus took it upon himself to comfort Andrew. “You did the right thing. It's not like keeping quiet about it would have helped. Sooner or later it would have come out anyway. Don't be so hard on yourself.”
“That's easy for you to say,” Andrew replied, frustrated. “Maybe I've just made things worse. Now he hasn't got anyone left he can trust. You heard how he feels about me.”
“Give him some time to calm down,” Magnus advised in a deliberately gentle voice. “I'm sure he'll realise that he would have done the same for you.”
Isabelle cleared her throat. Her face was ashen, her eyes still wide with terror. “I think I need to sit down.” she announced, collapsing onto the cold stone floor right where she stood. “I don't understand how... How did I not see this? I knew Alec wasn't on good terms with them, they were always fighting. But this is…” Her voice broke. “How could they? Even Mother wouldn't go that far.”
“I have to go after him.” An expression of grim determination crossed Jace's face. “He shouldn't be alone right now.”
“I'm not sure that's a good idea.” Magnus interjected, concerned. Alexander had been very clear about not wanting to be disturbed.
“But he's my brother,” Jace protested, gesticulating wildly. “You've all seen that he's not doing well. Alec needs me.”
Magnus wasn't sure whether Alexander needed Jace or whether it was actually the other way around. Time and time again, he seemed to be the one who assumed responsibility for his siblings. He was their rock, always prepared to console them or sort out their problems. His sense of obligation went beyond that of a big brother.
Magnus was aware that Alexander had borne his sacrifices for Jace and Isabelle with no complaints. But all the secrets, all the expectations, all the unspoken pain was more than one person could bear. No matter how resilient and determined that person might be.
Especially after this confession, it was all the more important that Alexander be allowed to work through this without a guilty conscience. That he would not also take responsibility for his brother's feelings. It was apparent that Jace was only trying to help. And yet, he might only end up making things worse.
Magnus withdrew his hand from the gargoyle's wing. “He made it quite clear that he doesn't want to see any of us right now. We should respect that.”
“Alec will come to us when he's ready,” Andrew added quietly. His blue-grey eyes were bloodshot, the muscles in his jaw tense. “Magnus is right, it's better if we don't disturb him now.”
“But then what do we do?”, Isabelle asked, still huddled on the floor. “We have to do something. I think I finally get why Alec agreed to marry Lydia. Not just for our sake, but for his own future, too. How can we put a stop to this?”
“It would be best if Alec just cut all contact with them.“ Andrew's voice was harsh, full of stifled rage. ”As far as I'm concerned, Alec should never set foot in that damned house again. It's not safe for him there.”
“I don't think that's realistic.” Jace sighed wearily. “Especially not if Alec…” He shot Isabelle a meaningful look. “The only way to escape the influence of our…” He faltered, a shadow crossing his face. “From Maryse and Robert would be to leave the country. Maybe not even then. And if Alec wants to work at the Ministry, he'll have to stay on good terms with them, for better or worse. The same goes for us. At least for a few years, we have to keep up appearances. We have to be sensible about this. Maybe I can convince them that Alec has to focus on his education. Then he could keep up the engagement just as long as it's necessary.”
An unsettling shiver stirred under Magnus' skin. Discussing Alexander's future as if he were a chess piece to be moved at will, regardless of his feelings, felt terribly wrong. “You surely can’t mean this, right?” Magnus asked in disbelief. “You know how miserable he is. There's no way he can keep this up for years.”
“I'm just trying to find a realistic solution,” Jace replied with a little more edge than needed. “You act as if this is easy for me. I just don't want Alec to lose everything he has worked so hard for. This feels wrong to me as well, but what is the alternative?”
“I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. To me it just sounds like this isn't really about what's best for Alexander. Maybe it's comforting for you not to have to worry about your future. But that can't be the realistic solution.” Magnus forced himself to remain calm, crossing his arms over his chest. He was tired of Alexander's suffering being dismissed as inevitable.
“What's that supposed to mean?” Jace asked dangerously slowly, his lips pressed into a firm line.
“It just feels like you take your brother and the sacrifices he makes for you for granted.” Magnus held Jace's gaze without flinching. “Is this really about Alexander or is it more convenient for you to say that there was nothing you could have done?”
Jace let out a snort. “Do you have a better suggestion? Alec is of age and can make his own decisions. Maybe it's hard for you to fathom, but we're family. We support each other even when things get difficult."
Magnus winced at this, clenching his fists. “Well, I've just heard all about how amazing your family is,” he shot back through gritted teeth. “Sounds very wholesome to me."
“And you think you're better, huh?”Jace hissed. “That holier-than-thou attitude is really starting to piss me off. You and your father –”He faltered. A panicked expression flashed across his face, as if he had already revealed too much. In a matter of seconds, his anger had been replaced by deep shame.
“What does this have to do with my father?” Magnus asked, growing increasingly alarmed. Ice spread from his fingertips across his limbs, as if he had remained in an uncomfortable position for too long.
“Jace-” Isabelle scrambled to her feet.
“What does this have to do with my father?” Magnus repeated firmly, before Isabelle could stop her brother from replying.
“Your father is the one who killed our brother Max.”
*****
Alec stared at the meticulously polished handle of his Firebolt, laid across his lap. He had changed into his gear, aside from this helmet and protectors. He had felt so certain that the bite of the cold wind against his face would help him clear his mind. But now that he was here, the changing rooms dark and deserted, he found he couldn't muster the will to drag himself off the worn wooden bench.
Without the usual illumination, the hazy shadows on the hardened floor took on a strange, otherworldly presence. The smell of leather and weathered wood was replaced by that of silver polish and smouldering candles.
His knees caved in under the weight of his body. Alec didn't even feel himself hit the floor with a dull thud. The pain was beyond anything he had ever known. No knife, no fire, no bullet could have caused even a fraction of this agony.
Every single cell of his body, every neuron, every synapse burned and twisted under the influence of the foreign magic. His muscles twitched in vain. He couldn't even muster the strength to scream.
The phantom of old pain refused to relent. He found himself stranded on the threshold between past and present. A small rational part of his brain was aware that control over his body was just within his grasp. Still, it seemed insignificant in the face of today's developments.
Alec whipped his head around to meet Andrew's eyes. “Let go of me. I don't want to do anything I'll regret later.” It wasn't easy to contain his rage, especially when Magnus joined Andrew in the hallway. They were all conspiring against him and Alec... Alec couldn't take another second of this.
Quidditch had always been his refuge. The rush of freedom he felt when soaring through the air was unlike anything else. And yet, his limb felt so incredibly heavy. Every movement demanded more than he could give at the moment.
Gravity weighed on his body, a firm hand holding him down. He wasn't quite sure how long he had been sitting in this position. He couldn't even be bothered to worry about making it back to his dorm before curfew. Maybe it was the cold creeping through the folds of the tarp that was starting to take hold of his body. Nothing more than a faint tingle on his skin.
Robert Lightwood leaned over his son's limp body, his hand stroking a damp strand of hair from Alec's forehead. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “Alexander, please believe me when I tell you that this hurts me as much as it does you. We love you and only want what's best for you. Magnus Bane is using you. It is my duty as a father to protect you.”
Alec studied his hand, pale and stiff on his thigh. It was increasingly difficult to distinguish where his own body ended and the space around him began. The boundaries blurred, like a mirror clouded with steam. Lines between subject and object merged until his thoughts were no more than a silent whisper.
“You know this can't go on any longer.” Andrew's iron grip on his wrist didn't loosen at all. “We all just want to help you.”
Alec's chest tightened painfully. It had become all too clear to him today that he could no longer exert the slightest control over his most intimate secrets and his life. There was no way he could take back the words that had slipped over his lips. He had lost what little remained of his privacy. How could he ever bear to face them again?
For so many years he had protected them from this pain, only to fail when it mattered most. A feeling of terrible dread stirred deep inside him, making his heart flutter. The familiar tremor in his fingers flared up again.
Shadows flickered across the edges of his vision. Alec tried to keep his breathing under control, but the pressure building in his chest threatened to overwhelm him.
“Lightwood.” A sudden snap of fingers in front of his face made him jump. He raised his head in a stupor. Someone was crouching on the floor in front of him, their features hidden in the shadows. It took Alec a moment to coax his eyes into focussing on the figure in front of him. Raphael Santiago's dark curls were rumpled by the wind, his cheeks flushed from the cold. “Is everything alright?”
Alec blinked in confusion. The words felt as if they were coming from afar. He hummed in agreement, anything beyond that would have required too much effort. Why couldn't they just leave him in peace for once? He didn't have the strength to pull himself out of his daze.
“ Hostia. ” Raphael swore and started to rummage through his cloak pocket. “Where are you hiding?” He was wearing his dark green quidditch uniform, clearly Alec wasn't the only one who had been planning an evening training session. With a huff of triumph, he pulled the object of his pursuit from his pocket. The crackle of a wrapper broke the strained silence. Then he raised his hand to Alec's lips. “Open up,” he ordered in a stern voice. “This might be a little uncomfortable.”
Without much thought, Alec followed his instructions. As soon as his teeth pierced the soft shell of the candy, an intense sour taste spread across his tongue, almost as if he had bitten straight into a lemon. He grimaced in revulsion. The acidity blocked out all other sensations for a moment, effectively tearing him out of his thoughts. “Merlin, that's disgusting,” he gasped, resisting the urge to spit the candy out immediately.
“That is kind of the point,” Raphael commented dryly. “I'm going to sit down next to you, alright?”
Alec nodded quietly, but forced a soft ‘Yes’ after catching Raphael's withering look.
As soon as Alec given his consent, Raphael rose. The Slytherin lowered himself onto the bench, careful not to touch him. As the minutes passed, silence fell over the room. To Alec's surprise, it was quite comforting not to be alone in this moment. Raphael's presence was like an anchor that helped him to escape from the turmoil of his mind. Slowly, Alec's heartbeat started to settle.
“How are you feeling?”Raphael asked with unusual tenderness.
Alec sighed softly and let his head droop in exhaustion. “I'm fine. I just need to – I'll be all right in a minute.”
Raphael scoffed. “Come on, Lightwood. That's pathetic, even by your standards. You look like you're about to keel over and you're telling me you're fine? I don't really care what triggered this episode but you don't have to lie to me. If this sort of thing is a regular occurrence, you should prepare yourself. Find out what helps you.”
“I'm not sure, maybe,” Alec mumbled. It wasn't easy to remember the days after the Christmas party. Back then it had been much worse. Whole days had been cut from his memory, blended into a jumble of emotions and sensations.
Alec blinked. Time had become a thick syrup, running through his fingers. His mother had come to check on him. She put her hand to his forehead. He let her. She spoke to him. He didn't answer, couldn't find the will in himself. Instead, he watched the piece of wallpaper steadily coming undone. The sky-blue violets printed on it had started to fade in his early childhood. Badrey carried the next untouched plate out of the room and gave him a troubled look. Alec couldn't bring himself to avert his eyes from the ceiling.
“But how did you know what would help?” he asked, turning to Raphael. “I just figured it would be best to just wait it out. Sometimes it goes away after a while.” Despite the lingering taste of acid, Alec found that he still wasn't in full control of his body. The feeling of not being entirely corporeal was fading, but his senses were still dulled by the strange hollowness inside him.
“I guessed you might be the kind of guy who likes to suffer in silence,” Raphael muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “What I'm about to tell you is not to leave this room under any circumstances, understood? And believe me, I will find you if you so much as utter a single word about it.”
Alec was too tired to concern himself with the Slytherin's threat. He didn't have that much left to lose anyway. “You have my word.”
Raphael was silent for a moment. He seemed to be struggling with himself as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck, pulling a delicate chain out from under his uniform. The silver crucifix was almost impossible to discern in the darkness of the changing room.
“I was raised a good Catholic. Never missed Mass, that sort of thing.” Raphael explained hesitantly. “I don't know how much you know about Muggle religion, but any form of magic is considered a sin by the church. There may not be any more public witch burnings, but that doesn't mean attitudes towards wizards have changed. When I received my letter from Hogwarts, my parents wanted nothing to do with it. I knew even then that I was different. No matter how hard I tried to suppress my magic, children are more prone to magical accidents. You probably know how dangerous it can be to force back your powers."
Alec nodded in understanding. He was familiar with obscurials thanks to his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks. When a young child's magic was restrained by fear or force, it would begin to erupt from the body with great destructive force. Most obscurials didn't live past the age of ten.
“I prayed and begged God to spare me from this curse so many times. But as you can see, I'm still here.” He sighed softly. “After a while I found my own path to God. I can't change who I am, and God loves all of his children. My faith saved me during some of my darkest days. But my parents still think I'm off to a catholic boarding school. It was the easiest way to hold on to my family. I know they love me. But the son they know doesn't really exist.” Raphael was still clutching the crucifix as if his life depended on it.
“Merlin,” Alec murmured, concern slipping into his tone. “That couldn't have been easy for you.” He was well aware of what it felt like to conceal a vital part of himself from one's parents.
“My first year at Hogwarts was the hardest. The guilt was almost unbearable. I just couldn't get out of my head, that I was living in sin. My panic attacks destabilised my magic so much that it lashed out at anyone who came too close.” Raphael took a deep breath. “Professor Fell referred me to a therapist at St. Mungos. At first I didn't want to go, but... It was the right decision. I have much better self-control now, but old habits die hard. That's why I always keep sour candy in my pocket. The sour taste helps to distract from the spiralling thoughts.”
“I didn't know there was something you could do about it,” Alec admitted sheepishly. He had, until now, shouldered every burden placed on him alone. He had never considered reaching out for assistance. The mere thought of confiding in his parents turned his stomach.
“It's different for every person. What helps me might not be the right approach for you.” Raphael's expression was serious as he tucked his necklace back under his shirt. “I don't know what caused this, but it might help you to talk to someone who is more familiar with these issues. If you want, I can put you in touch with my therapist.”
“I... I don't know-” Alec started warily. “I'm not sure if that would be a good idea.”
“No one can force you to accept help. This is a decision you have to make for yourself,” Raphael countered, indifferent. “But I can lend you some of my books. It can be useful to know how your body reacts and how to recognise your warning signs.”
“Why are you like this?” Alec asked in a low voice.
“Extremely handsome? Well, I was born this way, Lightwood.”Raphael's brash tone brought a small smile to Alec's lips.
“I mean, why are you being so nice to me?” Alec pressed.
“Consider it my good deed for the day.” Raphael grumbled, somewhat disgruntled. “No matter what happened between you and Magnus, he cares about you. So your well-being is a family matter. Now come on, I'll drop you off at the common room before we get caught sneaking around.”
“Thanks,” Alec breathed, still a little dazed.
“Don't mention it, Lightwood.”