Summary: Following the war with Valentine, Alec is banished from the Clave. Shattered by the betrayal and the heartbreak of his break-up with Magnus he runs away and along the way, sheds the name Alec to take up a new one; Skull De Mort.
Pairing: Malec, Sizzy, Clace
Tags: Minor Clary Bashing possibly; Canon Typical Violence; X-over; Spoilers; Alternate Universe; OOC!ness; More to be added
Chapter One
In the end, he'd expected it.
He could see it in the way his fellow shadowhunters' gazes lingered on him, disgust and ire always visible.
In the disgruntled whispers they thought he couldn't hear.
In his mother's power hungry eyes and false platitudes and his father's ever-present arrogance.
In Lady Herondale's superior smirk.
He'd seen it, had felt it in the very marrow of his bones and he'd prepared for it as much as possible, hiding away money when he could and discreetly packing it away with some clothing and necessities he kept hidden beneath his bed.
Yet, it didn't make it any less painful.
Blue eyes gazed listlessly at the assembly before them, taking in the stoic expressions and disgusted sneers.
He wouldn't let them see his pain, to see the tears building behind his mask of impassiveness.
He couldn't.
Especially when his parents, the people that were supposed to love him unconditionally were amongst them.
"Alexander Lightwood. You have been charged with treason, heresy, and homosexuality due to your escapades with the Warlock Magnus Bane as well as downworlders in general. How do you plead?" Lady Herondale asked and he stared at her.
"Does it matter?" He asked softly and she frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"Does it matter what I plead? We all know the verdict. This trial is merely a farce so that you can tell everyone you gave me a fair chance. Yet I have no representation, no one to speak on my behalf and, most importantly, your prejudices to take into account. Please convict me and be done with it." He replied and she eyed him for a long moment.
"Very well, Mr. Lightwood." Her cold gaze softened. "You have served us honorably for over a decade and while you dalliance with downworlders is a mar against you, you fought valiantly in the war against Valentine, even when your family and those you care for would not. Due to this, we have levied your sentence."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Levied?"
"Indeed. You will not be DeRuned as your crimes would normally call for. Instead you will be banished from the clave, runes in tact. Consider it our boon for your service in light of your crimes. Your banishment will be reconsidered in twenty years time, as is customary. You have until sunset to leave the premises. Dismissed."
He stared at her wide-eyed, then nodded and fled to room.
When he arrived in his bedroom he grabbed his bag and his bow, his heart screaming as he left behind the only place he'd even known.
Steeling his nerves, he made his way to his sister's bedroom and knocked.
She answered quickly, blinking as she saw his bag. "Long mission?"
He shook his head. "Banishment."
Her eyes widened, flashing furiously. "What?! Why?!"
"Homosexuality, Treason, and heresy. So mainly, my relationship with Magnus."
Tears welled in her eyes. "But you aren't together anymore." She argued and his heart ached at the reminder.
"I know."
"Where will you go?"
He looked away.
His original plan had been to go to Magnus, but...his warlock wanted nothing to do with him. Their last few exchanges had been cold, impassive, and his heart broke a little more every time they were in the same room.
There was no way Magnus would help him. Not with this…
And he wasn't sure he wanted him to because he knew he would blame himself.
It was a trait they shared.
Izzy seemed to get the message, because she nodded and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him tighter than she had since they were kids.
"Are you gonna say goodbye to Jace and Clary?"
"No. They're not here."
She nodded once more, eyes wet.
"Be safe, Big Brother. Stay in touch."
"I will."
Heart heavy, he walked away from her, knowing it would be decades before he saw her again.
He walked away and forced himself not to look back.
It was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
*/*
He leaves New York with $6,000, his bow and arrows, stele, and a duffle of clothes.
It leaves him feeling hollow.
At night he dreams of strong arms and glitter.
The hollowness grows.
*/*
Three days into his banishment, he finds himself in Rhode Island and happens across a shadowhunter fighting three demons, alone.
The kid is a rookie, only fourteen or so and losing horribly.
Blood soaks her skin, and she's dead on her feet, the demons attacking her viciously and without fail.
As one goes for a fatal blow, he feels something warm spreading throughout his body because, he isn't gonna make it in time!
A flare of purple surrounds him, interspersed with a gentle orange and it as if time had slowed down.
He's suddenly in front of her, demon blade cutting through his arm as his body shielded hers.
Together, they defeat the demons, before she passed out unceremoniously.
He caught her, loosening his grasp on the warmth that had overtaken him, and the flames flicker away as if they'd never existed.
It leaves him befuddled and as soon as the girl is safe within her own institute, he goes and researches it at a local shadow world store owned by a vampire.
Soul Flames or Dying Will Flames.
The ability to manifest one's will in physical form and use it to one's own means.
His are amber and purple. The sky and clouds.
A leader and a drifter, forever on the fringes of society.
He snorted.
Yeah, that sounds about right.
Later that night, he checks into his hotel room, and when he catches his reflection in the vanity mirror, it freezes him.
Violet eyes stare back at him in the place of blue, a shock of vivid hair the same color in the place of his normal black.
The colors are bright, and they remind him of Magnus.
He loves them.
Besides, they give him an idea.
When he leaves the hotel, his name is no longer Alec.
His name is Morteo.
Death.
The death of Alexander Lightwood, the Clave's perfect soldier.
He imagines the laugh it would've drawn from Magnus and pretends his heart doesn't break all over again.
*/*
He joins the circus on an impulse.
It had been three months since he'd been banished and his money had started to run low, so he'd tried to search for a job in the mundane world. However, having no mundane documents, he had found it difficult.
Or at least he had until he'd happened upon a man talking about auditions for a new stuntman.
He didn't know what had made him sign up, probably curiosity, but once he'd mounted the bike and taken off, it became as easy as breathing.
Flips, spins, all of it came to him naturally and he felt a wild grin split his face at the freedom it left racing in his veins.
Afterwards, the man hosting the auditions had smiled at him, awe clear in his gaze.
"How long you been driving bikes, Kid?"
He'd shrugged. "This was my first time."
The man's jaw dropped then an unholy grin crossed his lips and he'd held out his hand.
"Welcome Aboard, Kid. You got a name."
"Skull." He decided after a moment. "Skull de Mort."
"Nice ta meetcha, Skull. The name's Lorenzo Ciccaro.
*/*
He crafts 'Skull's' personality after Magnus.
Its ridiculous, and it makes no sense to anyone, especially himself, and yet he throws himself into the act.
He's melodramatic and exuberant, the exact opposite of himself, and it works to help him shove away the pain that he still feels for being rejected for who he is.
Only Lorenzo has met him without his mask but the man only smiles whenever the facade is in full effect.
When asked why, he tells him that everyone copes in different ways and that he had no right to question how he did.
About three weeks in, he discovers that he's immortal.
He'd been doing a stunt and it went wrong, his bike crashing and bursting into flames.
He was perfectly fine as he exited the vehicle, his suit in tatters and a vivid grin on his lips as adrenaline pumped through his veins.
It earns him a new name.
The immortal stuntman; the man death hates.
The irony makes him laugh so hard that he cries because one of the reasons Magnus had left him was to protect himself from being left behind when Alec died.
Now, that is no longer a problem, but Al- Skull is the one all alone.
*/*
The letter finds him on the anniversary of his second year at the circus.
They're in Italy, their last show there, and he'd entered his dressing room to find the letter waiting for him on the vanity.
"I Prescelti Sette"
Skull De Mort
He only thinks about it for a few moments, then he consults Lorenzo, who urges him to go, knowing he'd been itching to travel more for a while.
"You were never meant to be caged to one place, Kid. Go check it out for a while. There'll always be a place for you here."
He does as the man says.
He doesn't regret it.
Even after he's led into a trap and turned into a toddler.
The others of the group, the arcobaleno, are too easy to fool and its almost amusing that they think he's the weakest amongst them.
He does nothing to discourage this idea.
He doesn't regret that either.
Or at least he hadn't...until now…
TBC...