Chapter Text
Idris cut through the waves at the edge of the Edom Bay, the furthest point the Alicantian people have ventured out so far. The ship was under the command of a Lightwood, as was expected. The noble family has built its power over the years, giving everyone around them the time to accept their continued competency and to get used to the way they ruled their estate and the lands given to them in boons from the Consuls. With power and prestige came duty and responsibilities, especially when you happened to be the heir of the family fortune and name.
At 21, Alexander Lightwood felt all the weight there was to feel as the eldest Lightwood of the new generation, except for being solely responsible for his decisions. For now, he was 'only' the eldest son; he wasn't the head of the family yet. In his heart, there was no desire to be that just yet, not when he struggled to keep up with what he had to do to keep his parents happy with what he was.
At 21, Alec had no time left to put marriage off. It wasn't even about children (yet), though his parents themselves did have him quite early. He needed to show his family and the other nobles the intent, the readiness for getting the family ahead. He needed to choose well.
Some thought him lucky: he'd known the brilliant daughter of the Branwell family since their teenage years. She was set to be her family's heir, being born a woman but an alpha. Some said it was perfect, the alphas of the Lightwood and Branwell families creating their future together.
It sounded good. It even sounded good to Alec himself, so long as he gave no thought to anything beyond managing their estates and working with the Council together. They have always worked well with Lydia. Anything more than politics, however… he was not ready for it.
Hence his willingness to leave the land and give orders to set sail for a mission that came up somewhat unexpectedly. Having the physical distance put between Alec and Alicante served as a break of a sort, even if he had a whole list of tasks to accomplish, both expected by the ruling Council and by himself.
There have always been problems with Edom's peoples warring with each other and with the free people trying to live mostly peacefully in the stretches of land between Edom and Alicante. The problem has always been that Edom liked to push at its borders, to spread and move where they were not invited. They spread their violence or, where they were lucky, they spread their ideas, making others join them rather than be defeated and stolen from.
The capital, the heart of Edom, was far into the west, and the 'true' borders were also not where they appeared to be these past years. Edom did not have a king. It didn't even have a steady council resembling that of Alicante. The separate rulers liked it that way. They were as quick to form alliances among each other as they were to stab each other in the back. It made them unpredictable and that made Alicantians hate them more.
Looking over the waters of Edom Bay, Alec leaned on the handrail of his ship. They were not supposed to land anywhere that wasn't allied space, which was why they kept to the edges of the Bay.
There were as many pirates as there were military ships prowling the waters, the only difference between their actions being that pirates kept their coin to themselves and the military brought it back to the Lords they bowed to. Alec would like to sink at least a few ships from both factions, and he probably would do just that in the coming week. Since the borders were made so unclear by Edomites, Alicante was happy to use that as a reason to send their ships farther than they 'should' be and Alec agreed with that policy. If pirates dared venture so far, they deserved to be pushed back by Alicantian forces before they crossed the line. If legitimate Edomite military went just as far, they needed to be pushed back twice as hard.
Active combat would work wonders for Alec's current state of mind. He craved the distraction of what was simple and clear, unlike the vision of his future. He wanted to feel the simple accomplishment of having rid the world of criminals.
What he had his sights on this day was the mission he planned based on information they had received about a fleet recently completed and being tested out on the open waters of the Bay. Admittedly, it was a large area, and no one knew where they were headed, but that was just fine by Alec. He wasn't in a rush.
On top of that, three days ago when they sent boats out to an unimportant harbor in the Free Lands, they bought information that was confirmed later by more people: there was a ship, a sleek but well-equipped Edomite ship, carrying on its deck valuable people.
"We know for a fact the Edomite crew has a mage and an omega onboard," Alec told his people. "They're not pirates, but we all know the military isn't that much different from them. They do not care about others' freedom."
Edom's people generally believed it was bad luck to have women on ships and boats, for reasons Alec didn't know or care to know. It only made it more important that they help the omega. He didn't want to imagine why they would steal one to take him with them, if they didn't ask for a ransom and give him back.
"Which is our priority?" Isabelle asked the important question. It would matter to know that ahead of time, so they could make better decisions in the heat of the fight.
Alec's sister stood beside his adopted brother, both wearing the plain, practical clothes all crew wore on a normal day of sailing. Away from the family home, they were his subordinates, not the privileged family.
"Do your best to catch both, and if they use the mage against us, do your best not to injure them beyond help. If you have to choose, losing the mage will cost us more than losing the omega." Alec said. "Unless, of course, they're clearly on the side of Edom. In that case, eliminate them."
It was accepted. His crew generally agreed that acquiring a mage they could convert to their side was worth more. Every mage was valued if they were allied with Alicante. If they refused... They needed to be convinced or killed. With both nations growing in power and inevitably heading towards a conflict, they could not afford to let a mage go to be a weapon for the enemy.
"What if the omega is a mate to one of them?" came another question from someone.
"Thank you for asking. Our information says he was stolen from the Free Lands, not there voluntarily. If it turns out he is, in fact, someone's mate, well, we'll see how our meeting with the ship will go." Alec replied. "It might not be easy to win. We've heard the captain's name, and we're aware of his reputation. He might be a true challenge. If we have to, we'll destroy the whole ship."
Soon after that, once the plans for the next day were clear, the meeting with the crew and soldiers concluded.
No one knew that for Alec himself, the male omega held more value than the mage. The sole chance of meeting one was his driving force on this mission and he kept that thought hidden deep. Luckily, the challenge of going against the Edomite captain was enough to make Alec shift his focus completely from personal to professional. This was not going to be easy.
The day was beautiful, the sun was bright and high on the sky, following the same path it did every day. The wind was, on one hand, too weak to be appreciated by merchant's vessels but that didn't matter to the two ships turning in the waters against each other. The Edomite ship flew sails with dark stripes on each side. They didn't go as far as to dye their whole sails black but they did like their dark details. Ironic that black was the preferred color for Alicante's soldiers, while Edom went with plain brown leather.
The western flags were burgundy, the opposite of Alicantian blue. On a burgundy background, there were two pikes and a pair of ram horns embroidered in gold. Alicante's symbol was a white, winged crown, even though they no longer elected kings and the Council, led by a Consul, ruled them. Alicantians all agreed on this: they did not miss having a king, but they all loved royal symbols in their main streets and palaces.
Alec wasn't looking at the colors. He followed the enemy ship's movements with his eyes, shouting orders as he saw fit. His people followed them without delay, their blood running faster too, as his did. For all the order and quiet that Alicantian treasured, their blood was that of warriors. They didn't acquire their peace by being soft and they kept it by being strong and swift in their reaction whenever it was needed. The seamen and the soldiers were equally strong, loyal people and Alec did his best to be worthy of being their leader.
Each man and woman on Idris was here because they were chosen, not because they were they by chance. The best proof of that was that all three Lightwood siblings were on the ship. Well, except for the one not considered an adult yet, the youngest Max. Idris was made for success, the bright and young people of Alicante leading it and working on it.
Azazel woke Magnus up with a kick to his hip. It wasn't particularly strong or vicious and Magnus has become used to sad awakenings this past year. It used to be different for him. He wasn't born into this, and he'd spent the majority of his life free… but a whole year of constant captivity with no chance of escape, a year of captivity enforced by magic-suppressing shackles and a chain at the ankle always trapping it within its length changed a man. Seeing wooden bars day after day, after day, changed a man.
"It's your time to be useful, omega," Azazel said, his voice carrying viciousness brought on by the current events, which Magnus didn't know about yet. "We're about to be under attack unless the first move is ours."
Magnus pushed himself up from the cot, watching as the key unlocked the ring of metal around his ankle. A danger to Azazel's ship was a danger to him. He'd learned early on that it didn't mean a chance of freedom for him, and he didn't hate his life enough to want to end it on the bottom of the sea by being passive in the face of an attack.
"Who is it?" Magnus asked.
"Alicantian bastards," Azazel answered, looking into his eyes. "You know what that means. You make yourself useful and help sink them, or they will sink us. If they board us first… they'll make sure you don't see the light of the next day, mage."
With that said, he unlocked the cursed shackles that kept Magnus defenseless. They dropped to the wooden floor of his little cell with a dull noise. At Azazel's signal, Magnus let the two crewmen accompanying the captain manhandle him until he was standing up.
Azazel didn't waste any more words on Magnus, even though the mage would have appreciated a little more description of their situation. The men dragged and pushed him up from his cell in the dark lower deck to the sunny topside, where chaos reigned. Magnus had to close his eyes against the brightness, but he only had seconds to orient himself before he had to act. He could see that they should have come to him sooner. The great enemy vessel wasn't approaching them; it was right there, almost looming over theirs. It wasn't much wider or longer but its masts stood taller, and the cut of their sails was different, giving the illusion of greatness. It was curious how these inanimate pieces of fabric could convey the pride of the people who made them.
Magnus had to make his decision, as usual. As usual, he chose: making sure that Azazel and his crew lived meant that he would live, as well. He feared no death by Azazel's hands, no matter if he angered him. Today, going against Azazel would free Magnus from his prison only to lead him into the hands of Alicantians, who were known for little compassion for people who weren't their own or at least of mixed blood. Especially people as dangerous as a mage.
Magnus couldn't expect anything better than execution for being what he was, his blood a mix of the free peoples and Edomites, none from Alicante. Even his second gender wouldn't help him, and it might even make things worse.
The second he began to help 'his' ship, he'd be recognized as a threat by the enemy, which meant he couldn't fail. Free of the confines of the locking curse, his smothered magic was now free to wreak havoc on the enemies who were attempting to board them. Magnus hated this. Being freed temporarily only to immerse himself in offensive spells was no joy when the violent energy of them coursed through his body, bringing no relief.
He always had to do his job, this or that task, and do it well enough to be deemed acceptable so he could return to his cell and his chains with bruises only on his pride, not his body.
The Alicantians fought hard. They were strong people, trained and fit. Most of them were beautiful, too. Magnus wasn't noticing it just now; he knew them from before. Now, he was too busy weaving a spell to protect the ship's construction from damage. It was curious, actually, how no cannonballs were hitting them, as if the enemy didn't want the ship destroyed. It would have been the easiest to damage them and sink them. Azazel's ship was nothing special, it was of good design and construction and had served for a long time, but it was just like other vessels built in Edom, one of many. What the Alicantians could possibly want with it, Magnus didn't know and he didn't care to find out. He couldn't let them get as far as carrying out any of their plans today. Awakened magic thrummed in his veins, in his fingers. It rose from them, building up until it was potent enough to be used as he wished.
The Alicantians raised an alarm eventually, shouts going out to warn the others and Magnus knew he had to expend even more of his magic. He had to protect himself because he knew none of the Edomites would protect him. They saw him as a tool, a weapon, and a slave. He wasn't one of their own despite half his blood coming from Edom. The only one who would possibly do anything to protect him was Azazel himself, for his own selfish reasons but he wasn't anywhere near Magnus at this point, or Magnus couldn't see him.
The Alicantian soldiers were well-trained and endlessly loyal to their Council. Magnus didn't have the time to form a plan, he could only act in the moment. He cursed the crew and Azazel for leaving him in the cell until the last moment just because they didn't trust him.
He pushed two Alicantians off of the ship with a burst of magic. He stopped another two from climbing across the rail by setting it on fire. It was a magical fire that burned only where cast and mostly served as a threat. It worked well enough when you were sailing a large wooden vessel in the open sea.
Magnus had to be careful with his spells. With the way he was treated, his magic was stunted and didn't have the time to bloom into what it could be. They always expected him to show no side effects of the shackles, they expected him to do this or that. When he sometimes told them that he couldn't, not right after he was freed, they sneered at him, pushing the fault for that onto him and sometimes claiming it was because he was an omega. Azazel knew better than that, but he didn't care to say a word in favor of Magnus.
So Magnus weaved the spells he knew he could handle casting, doing his best even if the others would never appreciate it. He protected Azazel's soldiers when they were losing, he stopped more Alicantians from swarming them.
No one warned him when he became the target himself. No one warned him when the captain of Alicantian forces threw a dagger at his back, knowing it was the only way of landing a hit on the mage. Otherwise, no one would have gotten to where he was standing near the steering wheel, higher than all the other men were.
Pain shot through Magnus, unlike anything he felt before, and he staggered. The spell died in his fingers, which began to shake. After that… there was darkness.
The potion-drenched dagger hit the mage's right shoulder, as planned. Alec didn't enjoy making the man cry out in pain, but it was the quickest and surest way of eliminating him from the fight before he could do something Alicante couldn't forgive him for. Jace, who's been inching towards the mage for the past minute finally leapt forward, catching the falling man and then throwing him over his shoulder. He was fulfilling their goal as Alec had ordered: get the mage out of the game and to safety. Jace didn't look back, knowing Alec himself wasn't in any immediate danger. He had to make it down the stairs and then to where the two ships were almost touching sides.
Clary was waiting for him, her red head like a beacon on Idris's deck, her eyes looking for signs that more assistance was needed for their soldiers on the Edomite ship. She was supposed to be ready to help once the mage or the omega was found. The rest of the men on Idris who weren't attacking with Alec were supposed to defend their own deck should the need for that arise.
Alec shouted orders at his men to cover the side of the ship, prevent the Edomites from harming Jace or the mage.
Isabelle was moving like a flash of darkness, quick, and sure in her movements, protecting his back while he was taking aim at the mage. With that done, Alec was able to return to the fight with her, keeping constantly in mind that they hadn't found the omega yet and that the enemy captain was still in good health and killing Alec's men. They couldn't let the fighting continue for much longer.
Alec and Isabelle exchanged glances. The two siblings worked as they'd always trained, a perfectly fitting team. Jace would be getting back to them soon, and hopefully, it'd be the end of it after that.
Magnus woke as he always did: with shackles on his wrists and the third weight around his ankle. He woke on a bed as usual, but for once, he was covered with something that actually felt like a blanket instead of paper-thin fabric. He also woke flat on his stomach, which was a position he rarely slept in… In his sluggish brain, he didn't process one more thing: the constant dull pain in his shoulder that shot like lightning through his back and down his arm the second he tried to roll onto his side. A whimper left his lips involuntarily.
A voice spoke to him, and he didn't recognize it. He was quite certain he could recognize anyone from Azazel's crew by their voice alone, and this was nothing like anyone he knew.
Even though he wanted to see the owner of the voice very much, he didn't dare move again. First, because of the pain, and second, because there wasn't anything to be done about the stranger anyway, what with the shackles holding him down. If they were hostile, he had no way of defending himself.
The voice repeated, "Do not move, you're not healed."
That, at least, he understood. "What happened?"
"You were sedated. And stabbed."
That made sense to him. He remembered the unexpected pain back on the open deck… and then nothing. A wound to that part of his body by sword or arrow shouldn't have made him pass out in such a short time. He barely remembered falling.
The voice was female, gentle. The person wasn't standing in his line of vision and what Magnus could see, told him he was either still on a ship, or a small hut resembling it on the inside. His mind swam enough that he couldn't even tell if they were on water or solid ground.
"How long was I unconscious?" Only five words, but speaking them seemed to drain his body of the little strength it had to keep him awake. It worried him that there might have been something else besides a sleeping potion on whatever hit him… what if he was poisoned?
"Half a day," came the answer.
It did feel like it might be the truth. Although his body wasn't in the best shape to be telling him anything. He didn't know what was done to help him, if anything, beyond wrapping him in bandages. He could feel them going around his back, his right arm, and chest, stopping the arm from moving freely. He hoped he didn't shift them when he tried to move.
The pain wasn't as bad as he would expect it to be after only half a day without treatment, so he assumed there was something they did to him. Was it magical or just potions? He could not tell.
"Don't move, I'm going to touch you." Magnus didn't move while hands, warm hands, touched his bare skin below the edge of the bandage. A different kind of warmth spread from them, sinking into his skin and muscles, covering the pain with numbness. He breathed out in relief.
"Did we lose?"
"Yes. If you consider yourself part of Edom's crew, you lost."
Magnus closed his eyes. He wasn't ready to consider the consequences of it. The woman was still speaking, telling him something more, but he let his thoughts drift. It was easy, with whatever was in his veins and the temporary lack of pain. He fell into a dreamless sleep again.