Chapter Text
Magnus was a little worried about his boyfriend. Alec’s jaw was set tightly, his knuckles turned white as he leaned forward in his seat. He trembled slightly, though Magnus knew better than to think it was from nerves. Honestly, he worried more for the innocent-if-not-highly-stupid Shadowhunters surrounding them in the Hall of Accords.
“This is outrageous,” one of the insipid Clave members argued. “A Downworlder raising a child of the Angel? It spits upon Raziel’s name!”
There were a few murmurs of agreement amongst the crowd. Magnus put a hand on Alec’s arm as he hissed furiously. It was the first hours of the first day of this charade, and if Alec couldn’t calm down…
Another of the Clave stood. This one looked something like the cross between a raisin and a banana - wrinkled skin a yellowish hue. “I agree. The abandoned Downworlder child was one thing - they are of the same kind. But this…” Elijah Pontmercy gestured to Magnus where he sat. Magnus wished for not the first time that looks could kill. He couldn’t even stop Alec from standing indignantly. His mouth was set in a hard line, his hands shaking at his sides. “Unless you’ve forgotten, Elijah, I am Nephilim and for you to — “
“Sure, you are Nephilim, no matter what else you may be…” Elijah looked at Alec, sneering.
There was a cry of outrage from the adjacent section of the Clave seating. Jace had stood up looking ready to throttle the Pontmercy boy. He waved his finger viciously. “You son of a — “
“SETTLE DOWN,” The Consul shouted above the din, silencing the room. Alec, still shaking slightly, sat down. Jace followed his parabatai’s lead. “We are here to discuss one matter and one matter only, Mr. Pontmercy,” Jia glared with fury in her eyes. “If you cannot stick to the matter at hand you will be forced to leave.”
Elijah’s eyes narrowed at the Consul, probably wondering how much trouble he would get in if he brought up Jia’s own bias on the matter of homosexual Shadowhunters. “Fine.” he bowed his head in agreement. “But the issue still stands. What we have here is unjustified and completely —“
“Oh shut up, Elijah,” came a voice. Elijah, looking startled (he was not alone in his shock), turned to find the source of the affront.
A young woman stood amongst the crowd. Probably in her early or mid twenties, dark hair and olive skin. Pretty, despite the look of disdain on her face as she glared at Elijah. “Don’t act as if being raised by two Shadowhunters forever holds you above the rest of the world’s inhabitants. How is your son, by the way? Still covered in spots or has the pox turned him to lunacy yet?”
The crowd stirred, and Magnus couldn’t help the smile that spread across his mouth. From the other side of the room he could hear Jace whisper “Demon pox!” happily. Even Alec sat up a little straighter, craning his neck to get a better view. Elijah, on the other hand, looked pale and a little nauseous.
The girl didn’t pause for him to recover. “As far as I’m concerned this Clave has already failed the boy in question. We left him unaccounted for, we left him a homeless orphan for five years.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” said the resin-banana.
“It’s pertinent because Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane are the only people in this room who did anything to rescue the boy. Who is better qualified to raise him than they?”
It was quiet for barely moment before someone spoke. “But the question isn’t if anyone else is qualified - its about whether a Downworlder is qualified.” It was an older woman who spoke, dark hair falling from its chignon. A couple of sheathed throwing knives stuck into her hair. “Who are you anyway?”
Tactless Nephilim, Magnus thought. Although it was a question he wanted answered himself. He simply would have asked more pleasantly.
The woman looked around, hard, dark eyes meeting her elder’s. “Esra Kalptas.” she said. “You knew my mother, Mallory.” she said pointedly to the woman. Mallory herself looked a little shocked at this revelation. “You want to know if a Downworlder is qualified to father a child of the Nephilim? Honestly if that’s what this is about let’s start administering parenting qualification tests to every member of the Clave. Question number one, are you or have you ever been a homophobic, bigoted old bat?”
Mallory glared. “How dare you.”
“Careful, Ms. Kalptas,” Jia murmured from her seat before them all. “Withdrawn,” Esra muttered, rolling her eyes and falling back to slouch in her chair. Several people had begun murmuring, scattered whispers about disrespectful youth — though there were several aged faces nodded. Parenting was not something one was simply prepared for. He and Alec had already learned that with Max. There was some natural ability and instinct, yes. But more than anything you took a wild guess and hoped to god it was a good one.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met her,” Magnus whispered thoughtfully to Alec. Alec was smiling in the woman’s general direction.
“Everyone here knows my opinion.” Clary spoke, not standing. Magnus supposed she didn’t need to, as Esra had. Everyone knew Clarissa Fairchild. She would be heard without having to assert herself to the crowd. “I was raised as a mundane by a Shadowhunter in hiding and ex-Shadowhunter werewolf.”
“And not to toot her own horn,” Jace said, grinning. “But she’s turned out rather wonderfully.”
“Lucien Greymark at least used to be a Shadowhunter,” another spoke from the crowd. “He was raised by the Nephilim and trained by the Nephilim. Magnus Bane on the other hand is and always has been a warlock.”
“A bloody good warlock, at least,” said a another.
A middle aged man rolled his eyes. “Whether he’s good at magic or not doesn’t really have a bearing on this case, Alyssa.”
“Well at least he’s a member of the council, Roger. He could be some recluse the Clave doesn’t know anything about.”
“He’s still a warlock —“
“Why does it matter?”
It was Esra again. She hadn’t stood, but slouched in her seat with her arms crossed, as if too tired of the conversation to bother.
“I beg your pardon?” Roger asked, giving her a look of unveiled contempt.
“I asked why does it matter that he’s a warlock.” she repeated.
Roger blinked. Nobody else in the room spoke. Simon turned to whisper in Izzy’s ear.
“Tell me that’s a rhetorical question, Esra. You know why it matters.”
Esra frowned. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ear. Magnus noticed a charm around her neck as the light through the windows cast a gleam. It was the shape of an eye - blue ringed around white and yellow stones. A symbol meant to ward off evil from the Middle East. “Nope. I really don’t. Please, spell it out for me.”
No-one in the room had an answer for her, though the words whizzing through their minds were loud as could be. Because Shadowhunters are better.
Esra cocked her head and smiled sweetly. “Just like asking someone to explain a racist joke. Which is what this is, essentially.” she said, pointing around at them, addressing the room. “Shadowhunters scorned the mundanes during the centuries in which they treated those of ethnic differences with contempt because they knew it didn’t matter. The color of someone’s skin has no bearing on their worth. It is one’s actions that determines what they are.”
“You suggest we ignore this man’s demon blood —“
Esra cast Roger a look that thoroughly silenced him. Magnus resisted the urge to woot. “I suggest you look at this man’s character rather than the parentage he has no control over.” She continued to glare for a moment, then sighed and sat up straight in her chair. “Look at who Magnus Bane is and not at what he is. He is a good man. More than I can say for many people in this room.” she looked pointedly in the direction of Elijah Pontmercy. “All he wants is to give his love to this child. You would deny Raphael that love based on senseless prejudice. Shame on you all.”
She went back to slouching.
Magnus tore his eyes from the young woman to look around the room. The faces were either beaming with righteous zeal, conflicted, or furious - presumably at their own wrongness, Magnus thought.
“I agree,” the woman called Alyssa said. “You’re all worried about a Shadowhunter being raised by a Downworlder but look!” she pointed at Magnus. “I have no idea how old he is but he’s seen a hell of a lot worse a Clave than us, and you’re all being horribly rude. And he still wants to raise a Shadowhunter child as his own! It’s a bloody miracle if you ask me.” While Magnus did not appreciate the insinuation about his age, no matter how true, he was delighted by these turn of events. Alec, apparently did too. He had calmed down enough to notice Magnus’ grimace at the mention of his age and cough a laugh.
Alyssa turned in her own seat to look pointedly at a young man beside her who’s resemblance to her own could only make him her twin. “Tom?” she asked.
Tom looked tired, but he hadn’t been amongst conflicted or angry when Magnus had looked around the room. “I honestly don’t see why we’re here.” he nodded to Alec and Magnus. “If it were just Bane and no Lightwood, sure. But at least one Nephilim parent… there’s no reason to argue. Let them keep their son.”
“I still say no,” Emily said. “The child deserves two Shadowhunter parents. A father and a mother.”
“And another father, if your second marriage says anything, Emily.” sniped a grey haired man in the corner. “If traditional marriage is your argument then I’d like to make our short-lived marriage exhibit A in this presentation I like to call You’re Full of Shit.”
“Gerard you leave your personal feelings toward me out of this — “
“And I will thank you to leave your personal feelings about same-sex marriage, out of this, Emily,” Jia said, silencing the woman. “That is not why we are here and this Clave has already passed a decision on that front.”
“Kalptas is right,” said another. This time a man who had to be nearing his sixties. “We have no right to tear this family apart. The boy is already attached. He will have two parents and a sibling. I say let them raise the boy.”
It was a game of tennis. Back and forth, back and forth. Magnus noticed the Kalptas girl didn’t say another word, just slouched in her chair with a dark look on her face, chewing industriously at her bottom lip. The arguing went on like that for an immeasurable amount of time before Jia decided they had heard enough to cast a vote. To be honest the vote would not have mattered much to Magnus, or to Alec. The Clave would not take Rafe from them. Over their dead bodies.
Luckily, there was no need for bloodshed. A few impassioned speeches from what Magnus lovingly referred to as the Squad and another round of praise from his various past clients, a little prejudice here a little youthful rebellion there… Though it had taken nearly the full day, the Clave voted in their favor.
They didn’t clap or cheer as if it were some miracle that allowed them to keep their own son. That was nothing to celebrate. Rafe was theirs, and no one would take him from them. Screw the law, Magnus had thought often during the bitter lows of the trial. Of course, now he thought he’d be open to a more gentle love-making of the law. It might be a cruel mistress, but on occasion a soft side did appear…
They left the hall with their heads held high, only a few shaken hands and smiles to old friends… It felt rather somber, actually. Except for Robert and Maryse exchanging almost giddy explanations about being grandparents twice-over. He and Alec would celebrate later. First with their sons, and then again later, once everyone was asleep…