Hello everybody!

This is my first Malec story/series in which I wanted to explore moments in their lives as a family. There are going to be stories from different times in the Lightwood-Bane's lives. Some might feature characters from the Mortal Instruments, The Infernal Devices and from The Dark Artifices but I will let you know if there are any spoilers. One or two of the stories might even be told in different points of view but they will all feature the Lightwood-Banes in some form or another.

I have already written four stories already including this chapter but I'm going to publish them hopefully every fortnight. I am more than happy to recieve prompts of any kind from any of you if you like what I'm writing. Please feel free to let me know what you think. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it too.

Quick note: I am British so I use the British spellings and terms so as to not confuse myself.

Spoilers for Born to Endless Night and possibly The Dark Artifices/A Long Conversation, (although I'm sure if any of you are like me, many of you already know what happens).

Enjoy!

The Lightwood Bane Chronicles

The Comforts of a Dream

Magnus woke in a sweat, his chest heaving with stuttering gasps and his heart hammering against his ribcage like a frightened bird beating its wings. He could feel his whole body trembling as his eyes darted around the darkness of the room, blindly taking in but not entirely registering the fact that it was night time and he was lying in his bed.

Tiredly rubbing his eyes he tried to take in a calming breath to settle his nerves as the harsh images of his nightmare slowly faded from his mind. He had never had a dream like it nor had he felt that much terror all at once. Not even when he was a child being held underwater by his cursed stepfather.

There was a quiet shuffling sound from behind Magnus shortly before he felt a strong but gentle arm curl around his waist. "Magnus…are you okay?" Alec mumbled sleepily into the back of Magnus's neck.

Magnus wove his long fingers between each of Alec's own, lifting up his partner's hand and placing a gentle kiss on his palm. "I'm fine Alexander. You go back to sleep, I'll just go get a drink of water." He whispered, reaching over his shoulder with his free hand and touched Alec's cheek affectionately. Alec hummed half-heartedly in protest only to be replaced by soft snores a moment later. Magnus carefully removed Alec's arm and got out of bed, slipping into his silk kimono style dressing gown in one fell swoop as he exited his bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him.

Magnus made his way over to the kitchen area of his apartment, conjuring up a glass with a spark of blue flame and then filling it up with fresh cold water from the tap. Normally Magnus would have just conjured up the glass with the water already in it but he preferred to take things slow for the moment, focusing on his task so as to save himself from thinking of his nightmare. It had left him unsettled. He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, for Lilith's sake. He didn't get nightmares.

Magnus snapped his fingers and the reading lamp by his armchair flickered to life with a soft orange glow. He decided a bit of light reading might help him get back off to sleep. So he sat in the armchair, fidgeting slightly so that the cushion sat just right against the small of his back and picked up a forgotten book lying on the side table beside him. He opened the book and flicked through the pages until he reached his previous spot and stared at the blurry lines.

No matter how hard he tried to focus his attention on the words in front of him, all he saw was remnants of his dream flicker like echoes across his eyes. The dream had started peacefully, as dreams always do. It was like imagining that you were looking at a painting from Picasso, taking in all of the abstract colours and designs, the melting clocks hanging on spindly branches and so on. But then the clocks are morphing into sunflowers and you suddenly realise you're looking at a Van Gogh painting instead. Only the Van Gogh painting is actually a terrifying monster, intent to crush your bones and destroy your entire world.

Magnus shook his head out of his morbid thoughts and focused on his book.

When summoning a demon, it is vital that the pentagram you have drawn is secure and holds the correct runes and symbols that will contain the demon in question…Many have tried to summon a demon whose power is too great for their pentagram to hold and has resulted in both their lives being taken and unleashing the beast on the mortal world…there is no known source of a warlock successfully summoning Lucifer himself…

Magnus snapped the book shut with trembling hands. Though he knew of the existence of angels and demons, to believe that the Fallen One actually existed…

Magnus startled at the sound of a quiet creak to find his son Max standing in his baggy pyjamas – a pair of grey sweatpants and one of Alec's old black, long-sleeved shirts – holding on to his tatty, threadbare comfort blanket. "Oh Blueberry, it's only you…"

Magnus beckoned the young warlock over to him. Max shuffled along the floor never once loosening his grip on his blanket and crawled onto Magnus's lap, lying his horned head carefully against Magnus's shoulder. Magnus rested his cheek on top of Max's unruly, dark blue hair and wrapped his son in a tight comforting hug. Although Max was now seven years old his face still held the youthful look of a boy almost half his age. Max leaned into Magnus's side, curling up into an awkward ball of jutting limbs, but comfortable enough. "I had a bad dream Papa." Max whispered his little blue hand grasping hold of the lapel of Magnus's dressing gown.

"That's terrible news." Magnus frowned, hugging Max closer to his chest. "Did the Chairman not do his job again?" Max shook his head and Magnus tutted in reply. Max always tended to sleep better when the little cat was sleeping in the boys' bedroom, acting almost like a living dream catcher. Magnus lifted his head and peered down at Max's face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Max blinked slowly and gave Magnus a short nod. Magnus smiled at Max encouragingly and waited patiently for his son to speak. "We were at the park having a picnic with Daddy's family." Max said slowly, staring off into nothingness as he retold his dream. "We were having fun. I was pretending to be a pirate with Grandma Maryse and Rafe was showing his new shoes to Uncle Simon. You were sat with Daddy in the shade by the duck pond when Uncle Jace said that the ducks had disappeared."

A small crease appeared on Magnus's brow as Max continued to speak. "Then, the birds began to fly out of the trees and the squirrels scattered about without their acorns. Everyone was getting worried because the ground was shaking. I felt sick." Magnus heard Max's breath hitch as the boy stared down at his hands in thought.

Magnus shifted in his seat wishing now that he had just sat on the sofa. It was a lot more comfortable anyway. Perhaps he should just throw the armchair out altogether. It did clash with the homely décor he had decided upon after all. Magnus knew it wasn't the seat at all that was making him uncomfortable.

"I tried to conjure some bubbles to calm myself down like how you showed me Papa, but every time I tried, my magic burned my hands. My horns started hurting…" Max sniffled and looked up at Magnus. "My horns never hurt, Papa. Not even when my hat gets caught on them, or when Chairman Meow tries biting them when he's sat on my shoulders."

"I know Max, I know." Magnus said soothingly. "But it's only a dream Blueberry. It's not real."

"But that wasn't the worst part Papa." Max said sitting up and facing Magnus with wide worried eyes. Magnus watched Max, feeling his body tense with a deep feeling of dread. Max wiped his nose with the corner of his blanket as his eyes began to well with tears. "A m-monster came out of the pond…a giant, red beast…"

…with broken wings of dazzling white flames and eyes so dark and merciless, to look upon them would destroy your mind and leave you screaming and writhing in agony… Magnus shuddered as Max's monster appeared before his eyes, rising from a pool of pitch and flames.

"It killed Daddy." Max sobbed. "A-and Rafe. And Grandma and Uncle J-Jace…" Magnus pulled Max to his chest and rocked him back and forth as Max cried. "It killed everybody Papa! I was so scared. I couldn't find you and then – t-then it killed you, Papa…"

"Max it was just a dream. Nothing is going to take your Dad, or your brother or I, away from you." Magnus said firmly.

"But Daddy and Rafael aren't like us, Papa. You said they're mortal." Max blubbered into Magnus's chest. "I don't want them to die Papa! It's not fair!"

"Hey now," Magnus took Max's head in his hands and wiped his tears away with a few swipes of his thumbs. "We've talked about this haven't we?" Max reluctantly nodded and Magnus gave the boy a comforting smile. "Yes, your father and brother are mortal and they…they will grow old and die." Magnus paused a moment to compose himself, feeling a heavy knot constrict in his chest. "And when that day comes it will be difficult. But that day will not be anytime soon, will it? Not if we have anything to do about it."

Max wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded firmly. "Daddy and Rafe protect the Mundanes."

Magnus nodded with a smile. "And we protect Dad and Rafael."

Max smiled a little at Magnus before he wrapped his gangly arms around Magnus's chest and hugged his Papa close. They fell into a comfortable silence, neither one wanting to move just yet. They listened to the sounds of Alec's gentle snoring and Rafael's soft breathing coming from their bedrooms.

When the skies outside the windows started to lighten, Max looked up at Magnus curiously. "Papa, why were you awake? Did you have a nightmare too?"

Magnus remembered the echoes of his dream as clear as daylight. The clear blue skies tearing apart as the ground shook from beneath their feet…the water in the duck pond swirling with the blood of the damned souls of hell…the Fallen One rising from brimstone and flames…

Magnus shook his head. "No Max. I just wanted some chocolate." He watched as his son glanced at the cupboard in the kitchen where Alec liked to keep the sweets, far too high up for either Max or Rafael to reach, and matched Max's mischievous grin. "I won't tell if you don't." Magnus whispered conspiratorially. Max nodded eagerly. Magnus snapped his fingers and the sweet jar appeared in Max's hands in a flash of blue flames.

"Make sure you save some for Rafael too. You know how much he likes the toffees." Magnus chuckled as Max rummaged in the jar, feeling proud that he had managed to clear away his son's troubles for now. Magnus knew that there will always be times where the deaths of Alec and Rafael would trouble both Magnus and his son. But for now they could be forgotten for just a little while longer whilst he helped himself to some chocolate.