Author's Note: This is my first story for this fandom, though I've read the books several times and am absolutely in love with them! I've always been a big shipper of Alec and Magnus. I hope you like this one-shot I whipped up. It's set during the City of Glass, before the big battle when Clary is explaining her binding rune.

Oh, and I am not Cassandra Clare, therefore I do not own anything affiliated with the Mortal Instruments series, no matter how much I want to. Especially Jace. I think we all unanimiously agree that it would be very nice to own Jace.

Bound

by: SmurfLuvsCookies

Alec was not a reckless person.

In order to be reckless, one must be able to face adversity toward their actions, to handle the attention earned because of their actions, to be able to justify their actions. One must be charismatic and confident. In summary, a person must have a certain je ne sais quoi about them in order to accomplish maximum recklessness.

Alec didn't possess this quality. All of the people closest to his heart did: Jace, Isabelle, Magnus. Alec preferred to be the silent supporter, the guardian in the shadows. He did not have the heart to stand brazenly in front of a crowd. He doubted that even if he did, they would listen to him. Why would they listen to a single Shadowhunter at the threshold of his adulthood, one who had the lowest number of demon-kills in Nephilim history no less? Jace, Isabelle, and Magnus were all spectacular people - of course society would listen when they spoke. But Alec? Alec was just a teenager with a slight slouch and a fondness for dark, moth-eaten sweaters.

But when Clary marched up onto the dais in the Accords Hall, standing amongst the highest authority in the Clave as though she mattered just as much as they did in her lime green sneakers and jeans, Alec realized that she was also reckless. When she spoke, people listened.

Mostly.

"That's enough," Consul Malachi interrupted while Clary was trying to explain her ability with runes to the Clave. Alec was almost relieved that he'd cut her off - hadn't Jace specifically told her not to alert the Clave to her abilities? And here she was, announcing it to them. "This is ridiculous. No one can create new runes. It's a complete impossibility. Like her father, this girl is nothing but a liar."

Suddenly, Alec felt a surge of protectiveness toward Clary, the same kind he felt toward Isabelle and Jace. Inwardly he sighed. He must have been a twisted masochist of some sort, wanting to protect so many irrational, passionate people. But Clary was looking very alone on the dais, and Alec knew he couldn't let Malachi destroy her. Not when she was only trying to tell the Clave the truth.

"She's not lying," he heard himself say. Magnus and Isabelle stepped up beside him out of the crowd, Simon and Maryse following suit. "I've seen her create a rune. She even used it on me. It worked."

"You're lying," Malachi insisted, but Alec could tell that the words were empty on the Consul's tongue. He could see in Malachi's eyes that what he'd said mattered, that he was breaking the foundation of disbelief with his words. It gave him a strange sort of thrill. "To protect your friend - "

"Really, Malachi, why would my son lie about something like this, when the truth can so easiliy be discovered?" Leave it to Maryse to administer the finishing blow. "Give the girl a stele and let her create a rune."

Patrick Penhallow obediently gave Clary his stele. Alec idly wondered what rune Clary would create - he'd only witnessed the Open rune, the Fearless rune, and he'd heard about the Portal. But none of those things would be particularly useful now, nor would they be enough to convince the Clave of anything.

He could see Clary considering it too, and watched as she seemed to decide on something and began scribbling with the stele on her wrist. Then, suddenly, Magnus was standing on the dais instead of Clary.

Alec glanced at the place where Magnus had been seconds before, only to discover that the warlock was still there, glancing at him in the same befuddled way. Alec felt himself blush and quickly looked back at the second Magnus. Why had Clary turned into Magnus of all people?

Around him, Alec noticed people murmuring names. From the front he heard a woman in near hysterics shouting the name Stephen and running toward Clary. Alec recognized Amatis Herondale. Stephen, he thought, that was her ex-husband. The Inquisitor's son.

Before Alec could process this, Clary reverted back to herself with a piteous look at the crowd. As though she had whipped something precious out of their reach. The faces of the Nephilim were pale and awed, but Alec didn't understand - why would Clary turning into Magnus incite this sort of reaction?

"I know what you all just saw, and I know that you know that that kind of magic is beyond any glamour or illusion. And I did it with one rune, a sing rune, a rune that I created," Clary said. "There are reasons why I have this ability, and I know you might not like them or even believe them, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that I can help you win this battle against Valentine, if you'll let me."

"There will be no battle against Valentine," Malachi spoke. "The Clave has decided. We will agree to Valentine's terms and lay down our arms tomorrow morning."

"You can't do that! You think everything will be all right if you just give up? You think Valentine will let you keep on living like you have already? You think he'll confine his killing to demons and Downworlders?" Clary gestured widely to her audience, who were all captivated. "Most of you haven't seen Valentine in fifteen years. Maybe you've forgotten what he's really like. But I know. I've heard him talk about his plans. You think you can still live your lives under Valentine's rule, but you won't be able to. He'll control you completely, because he'll always be able to threaten to destroy you with the Mortal Instruments. He'll start with Downworlders, of course. But then he'll go to the Clave. He'll kill them first because he thinks they're weak and corrupt. Then he'll start in on anyone who has a Downworlder anywhere in their family. Maybe a werewolf brother, or a rebellious teenage daughter who dates the occasional faerie knight" - Alec took that moment to glare at Isabelle, who tossed her head haughtily - "or anyone who's ever so much as befriended a Downworlder. And then he'll go after anyone who's ever employed the services of a warlock. How many of you would that be?"

Every pair of eyes instantly flickered over to Magnus, as he was the only warlock present. He didn't return a single stare. He fixed his eyes on Clary until everyone did the same. Except for Alec. When he noticed that Alec was still staring at him, Magnus returned his gaze with an intensity that made the young Shadowhunter's knees go weak. Magnus's eyes were like a cat's, and Alec couldn't help but think that they held the wisdom of a cat's nine lives and then some.

Discreetly, while everyone was focused on Clary's speech, Magnus reached out and entwined their fingers. Alec both loved and hated how familiar and comforting the touch was, the warlock's slender fingers between his own calloused ones. How often had he wished that it was Jace who made him feel this way? He thought frantically then of his mother standing not a foot from them, and snatched his hand away. Instantly he regretted it when Magnus's expression grew as cold and desolate as a glacier. The warlock folded his arms across his chest crossly and pretended to pay rapt attention to the rest of Clary's speech. Alec did the same.

"What if I could make a rune that could bind each of you, each Shadowhunter, to a Downworlder who was fighting by your side, and you could share your powers - you could be as fast-healing as a vampire, as tough as a werewolf, or as swift as a faerie knight. And they, in turn, could share your training, your fighting skills. You could be an unbeatable force - if you'll just let me Mark you, and if you'll fight with the Downworlders. Because if you don't fight beside them, then runes won't work." Clary was practically begging now, her hands clutching the stele so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Please, please let me Mark you."

It was clear that the speech was over. Clary had no more words to give. As the crowd slowly became a murmuring mass of people, Alec turned to say something to Magnus - he hadn't thought of what - but the warlock had already disappeared into the throng.

"Why," Alec pondered aloud, "was everyone so amazed when Clary turned into Magnus?"

He and Isabelle were huddled in a corner of the Accords Hall, where small divisions of Shadowhunters and Downworlders tentatively considered each other. After nearly half an hour of heated debate, mostly between Luke and Maryse and Malachi, the Clave had decided to try Clary's binding rune. Luke had gone to inform Clary and Simon, who hadn't been present for the meeting. It was probably a good thing, too-even Alec had been personally affronted by some of the Consul's accusations toward Clary. Some of them were just downright absurd.

Isabelle gave him a confused look. "She didn't turn into Magnus. She turned into - " His sister cut herself off suddenly, blushing in a very un-Isabelle sort of way. "Well, I mean, she turned into different people depending on who was looking. Isn't it obvious, Alec? She turned into whoever the person wanted to see the most. Whoever the person loves most. Didn't you hear Amatis, practically screaming Stephen Herondale's name?"

"Whoever the person loves most?" Alec echoed hollowly. Clary had created a rune that gave her the appearance of whoever the beholder loved most. And he'd seen Magnus.

Magnus, with his devilish three-hundred-year-old eyes and spiky, glittery hair. Magnus, with the ancient way of speaking that clashed with his overwhelmingly modern appearance. Magnus, who somehow pushed Alec into new things but was also unbelievably patient with him at the same time. The Magnus who would smile as he kissed Alec, who with just a touch could ease every worry from his mind. The one person in the world who sometimes could make him forget about Jace.

Of all the people he could have seen in the world, Alec had seen Magnus. And from the look on Magnus's face when their eyes met, he knew that Magnus had seen him too.

Isabelle seemed to be on the same train of thought. "Wait," she said, "you saw Magnus - ?"

She didn't get to finish her sentence, though, because Simon came jogging up to them. "They're beginning with the binding rune," he said without preamble. "And I've got something pretty big to tell you."

"Can it wait?" Isabelle shrieked. "I think Alec's just had an epiphany!"

"As lovely as that sounds, no, it can't wait," Simon insisted. "It's something really important that Clary just found out from her mother."

"Jocelyn? So they're talking now?"

"Yes, Izzy. And Jocelyn had some pretty big news. About Jace."

"Well, spit it out," Alec said impatiently. He craned his neck for a glimpse of Magnus. The binding was starting - what if someone else wanted Magnus as their partner? He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, after all.

"Long story short? Jace isn't actually Valentine's son," Simon explained. "In fact, he's not related to Clary at all. He is an experiment - they both are - but everything was done before he was born, and he has different parents entirely. Clary thought you should know because...well, because you should."

"Are you serious, Simon? It's really true? That's fantastic! It's wonderful!" Isabelle turned to Alec, reaching for his hand. "Alec, did you hear what Simon said? Jace isn't Valentine's son. He never was."

"So whose son is he?" Alec asked. By the Angel, where was that stupid warlock? The one time that Alec actually needed him to dress like a neon sign, and he decided to dress all subdued. Usually he had no trouble picking the flamboyant man out of a crowd.

"Who cares!" Isabelle cheered. Then she paused and considered Alec's inquiry. "Actually, that's a good point. Who was his father? Michael Wayland after all?"

"Stephen Herondale."

A realization suddenly struck Alec. "So he was the Inquistor's grandson. That must be why she - " Oh, was that Magnus's black coat? No, just more misleading Shadowhunter gear. Why black of all colors?

"Why she what? Alec, pay attention," Isabelle snapped, "or at least tell us what you're looking for."

"Not what. Who," Alec replied, ignoring her venomous tone. "Magnus. I wanted to ask him if he'd be my partner in the battle. But I've no idea where he is. Have you seen him?"

"He was up on the dais with Clary," Simon answered, standing on his toes to check. "But he's not now. He's probably in the crowd somewhere."

Great, Alec thought bitterly, as though I couldn't have figured that out myself.

"Really? Are you going to ask him to be your partner?" Isabelle remarked slyly, wiggling her eyebrows. "It's a like a cotillion, this partners business, except with killing."

"So, exactly like a cotillion," Simon said.

Isabelle considered the rare vampire for a moment. "Maybe I'll ask you to be my partner, Simon."

Alec paused in his pursuit of Magnus to frown at them. As if all this talk of killing and cotillions wasn't taboo enough, now Isabelle was ludicrously implying that she was going into battle? Whilst flirting with Simon, no less? "Isabelle, you don't need a partner, because you're not fighting. You're too young. And if you even think about it, I'll kill you." Alec wasn't sure if he was talking about the battle or about dating Simon - not that Izzy dating Simon would be too bad, he supposed, since the vampire was a good deal tamer than her previous boyfriends - but he didn't have time to consider it. He saw someone who looked familiar. "Wait, is that Magnus?"

"Alec," Isabelle huffed, "that's a werewolf. A girl werewolf. In fact, that's what's-her-name. May."

"Maia," Simon corrected. But Alec barely heard him, because Izzy hadn't been looking at the right person - just a little to the right of Maia was Magnus, talking to a faerie woman with luminescent blue skin, a row of gills, and webbed hands and feet.

"There's Magnus," he muttered triumphantly, leaving Simon and Isabelle behind in order to cut his way to the warlock. When Magnus saw him, the shock on his face cut Alec deeper than any hateful words could. The fact that he would be so surprised that Alec would address him in public was painful. It made Alec that much more aware of the wrong he'd been doing his boyfriend - that is, if they were still even dating. If Magnus would still have him.

Alec didn't know what he would do if Magnus wouldn't have him.

"Hello, Alexander," Magnus said formally, as if he were greeting someone he barely knew. He gestured to the faerie woman. "I was just explaining to Arissamae here how the binding rune worked."

"Magnus, I need to talk to you," Alec said. He glanced at Arissamae. "In private."

The warlock raised his eyebrows. "Well, I suppose. Just let me finish up here - "

"Please," Alec whispered.

"...Fine," Magnus said. He turned to the faerie. "If you have anymore questions, the lovely couple over there" - he gestured to Jocelyn and Luke - "will be happy to help." As Arissamae sauntered away, Alec grabbed Magnus and pulled him out of the group and into a private corner. He could tell that he'd upset Magnus earlier - the warlock's lips were drawn, his eyes narrowed. "Oh? Are we not going to sneak outside where no one can possibly see us having a conversation?"

"Magnus," Alec said, trying and probably failing to put everything he felt, his guilt, his regret, his love, into those two syllables. "I'm sorry."

"You know, Alexander, you say those words more often than any man should," Magnus replied harshly. Alec winced - the warlock wasn't going to give in so easily, not this time. "I've heard somewhere that if you say a word enough times, it looses meaning. Perhaps that is the case for you, because every time you apologize you just go off and do the same thing again. It's rather tiring."

"I know I do. I did," Alec admitted. "I just - Magnus, this is hard for me. And I know that's an awful excuse, but it's the only one I have. I've grown up my entire life hiding who I am, what I feel, and expressing it just doesn't come naturally to me. But you don't deserve that. You deserve better."

Magnus said nothing.

"It wasn't until now that I realized how much I need you," Alec continued. "How much I - how much I love you. It scares me, it really does. I'd always thought that when I said those words to someone, when I felt what I'm feeling now, it would be Jace. Meeting you - it shattered all of my dreams. But I realized that everything I ever dreamed from a relationship with Jace, I have it with you right now. I was using him as an excuse, as a way to hide from the truth. To hide from you. Because I was afraid that if I gave myself over to you like I did - like I thought I did to Jace, and you ended up hurting me, then I wasn't sure what would happen. And I know you can still hurt me, you could kill me with just a few words if you wanted to, but it doesn't matter now. I'm not afraid anymore."

Magnus regarded Alec for a just a moment, then he gave him a wan smile. "You know," he said wistfully, "I believe that's the most I've ever heard you say in one sitting."

"Well, it's not as though you give me much of a chance to talk."

This time Magnus tipped back his head and laughed. "That's too true, Alec darling."

Alec felt a warmth spread through him. Magnus was back to his silly endearments. He hated it when he used his full name, Alexander, in such a terse, curt manner. "Magnus," he said, "would you like to be my battle partner?"

"There's only one thing that would make me happier, though I'm sure you wouldn't agree to it," Magnus said.

Alec was perplexed. "What is it?"

"You stay here."

"Not a chance."

"I didn't think so." Magnus gave a sad smile. "In that case, I'd be honored." He rolled up his sleeve while Alec pulled out his stele. "Is there a catch phrase or something that you Nephilim say? 'Mark me up' or something of the sort?"

Alec snorted, but didn't bothering replying. He held the stele expertly in his hands, poising it over the exposed skin of Magnus's forearm. He felt his lips twitch. Magnus was ticklish there. "This might sting a little," he warned.

"I don't mind," Magnus murmured. Alec felt his stomach do a sommersault and ducked his head, focusing on the tip of the stele. He placed it on Magnus's flesh and began to draw the rune that was being passed around. Magnus let out a hiss and the tendons in his arm stood out, but they relaxed after a second or two.

"Finished," Alec declared, pulling the stele away. The lines of inky black on Magnus's golden skin were a strange sight. He knew that the Mark would leave a scar, and wondered if Magnus minded it.

He gave Magnus the stele and rolled up his own sleeve. Magnus bent down and adminstered the rune with quick, even strokes. The pressure was gentle, almost too gentle, so much that Alec barely felt it. But even as the warlock drew, he could feel the power of Lilith's Children in his blood.

"Magnus," he said after a pause, "can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"When Clary was up on the dais and she drew that rune on herself, who did you see?" Alec looked up as the warlock completed the rune. He found Magnus staring back at him, the glinting yellow of his eyes flickering like several tiny candle flames. Magnus returned the stele with a crooked smile that Alec loved.

"Do you even have to ask?" he replied.

It was all Alec needed to hear.

He stepped foward and took Magnus's waist in his hands, pulling him close. The warlock's eyes widened, and Alec saw with some satisfaction that his slitted pupils devoured the yellow around them and became as round and fathomless as a full moon. "Alec," he hissed, "what the hell are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a while ago," Alec answered, although it was probably the most cliche line he could think of - but that was okay, because Magnus was a sucker for cliches. While he was aware that he'd successfully grabbed the attention of probably every Nephilim and Downworlder present, Alec was beyond caring. There was only one thing that mattered in that moment.

He leaned forward and caught Magnus's mouth in his own, a kiss that was familiar but never lost its appeal. Magnus tensed up - his hands were wrapped around Alec's biceps like talons, his his long, spindly legs splayed on either side of him as though to keep their bodies as separate as possible - but eventually Alec felt the tickle of lashes as Magnus closed his eyes and Magnus's grip loosened, traveling up his arms and to his shoulders. He felt the pressure of Magnus returning the kiss, of the warlock nipping Alec's bottom lip with his teeth and tasting the somehow-sweet taste that was Magnus on his tongue.

He let out a growl in the back of his throat as he felt Magnus gently tug at the hair at the nape of his neck. If only this kiss would last forever, this perfect kiss where Alec didn't have to worry about anyone catching them because they were already in plain sight.

He felt Magnus tug again, and realized that the warlock was disengaging himself from their embrace. Magnus smiled at Alec's sullen expression as he pulled away, pressing their foreheads together. "Now, buscuit, it's not like I want this to end anymore than you do but, alas, I'm afraid if we carry on like this any longer we'll shock your poor mother into cardiac arrest. Perhaps this is something you should have led her into by incriments - no bother, it's too late now." He touched the tip of Alec's nose with his index finger. "Go talk to her. You can introduce me to her later. I have a feeling that she doesn't want to talk to me right now."

In a swish of black coat - which, Alec noticed, was now complete with sequined trim - Magnus sashayed away, ignoring the stares he was getting from Nephilim and Downworlder alike and whistling a merry tune.

Hope you liked it! If so, don't be afraid to press the blue button down below! Perhaps it will inspire some more Alec and Magnus goodness. :)