A/N: Yay for angst! Sorry, I know some of you don't like it but . . . what can you do? Storms usually come before rainbows and all that. So enjoy!

****Magnus's POV****

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

He pounded on the door with his fists. Wrists aching enough turning and turning and turning, fingertips oozing out dark blood. This frantic energy held him in its vicious grasp. Hollowed out eyes were imprinted in his mind. There was no life in them. Blue which swam with so many emotions were now blank voids. The same blue which assured him, trusted him despite the unease felt . . .

It's all my fault.

His heart was seizing up from all his efforts. It was hard to know how much time had passed, all his adrenaline thrown into trying to escape from his room. The large king sized bed with its plush comforter, the pool table off to the side, velvety armchairs and posters of hunters from legends . . . none of these things comforted him. Not now, when his voice was raw from all the shouting.

"Father! Father come back!"

Some part of him knew this was useless. The sound of wing beats from earlier almost ascertained his Father and Alec were already gone. But he tried anyways, desperate hope dying on every gasp he let out. Please come back. Please.

There had been pain on Alec's face, right before he was lost to the world.

Right before he was lost to him.

Magnus would never forget that look.

Which was why he kept pounding at the door with his fists. And when that failed, he resorted to throwing his whole weight against the wooden frame. Unintelligible cries left his throat, much like a wounded animal on its last legs. Which probably was close enough to the truth. Whatever had happened to Alec had torn apart a piece of him. The tether binding them together seemed to be pulled so tight to the point of snapping. It hurt worse than any physical affliction he bore did.

"Alec . . ."

The dragon prince was still on his mind as his body gave out to exhaustion.

Time Skip . . .

The blackness that blanketed him was that of a void.

There was nothing to be felt in its embrace except for the piece of being freed from despair.

Magnus wrapped it around himself, letting go of all the troublesome feelings which felt meaningless inside this cloudy haze.

"Magnus?"

A voice.

A prod to the shoulder.

"Magnus wake up."

The prod happened again.

And then again.

"Magnus."

Something was shaking him now. And it refused to stop.

"Come on. Wake up."

Blindly, he reached out at it, trying to push whatever was responsible for interrupting his slumber away. But this thing refused to leave him alone. The shaking became increasingly insistent. Magnus begrudgingly open his eyes . . .

Only to slam them shut again. There was a brightness, accompanied by an aching hurt that extended deep into his bones. He groaned.

The owner of the voice let out a humming sound. "There you are. For a second I thought you were dead."

Upon the second time he opened his eyes the world went into focus with gradual blinks. Maia's face loomed over him, her worried frown telling him all too easily what state he had to be in. What happened before I passed out? It was hard to remember with the massive headache drumming away in his skull.

"If he kept going I'm sure he would've been."

Another voice. This one from farther away. Magnus turned his head to the owner, finding none other than Ragnor Fell. His good friend was flipping through a newspaper, like the sight of a disgruntled Magnus was just an everyday Tuesday thing. To be fair, it had been once upon a time. Back when he was experimenting. But those men and women did nothing to satiate the feelings bubbling up in him. Only one man, well, dragon had been capable of doing so thus far.

The thought of Alec was what had him shooting up from his bed.

"Alexander!"

The previous events of the past few hours played out like some sick horror tale. The unease Alec carried, his selfish demand, the wicked smile his Father wore as the collar was slid around Alec's neck, the loss of emotion on the prince's neck as dark magic took over the light in his eyes. Nausea came with the headache now. Unable to help the rising bile in his throat, Magnus coughed out.

"L-look away."

"Look away for wha—"

His answer was an expulsion of that nasty fluid. A sickening puddle on once pristine bedsheets.

"Oh." Maia stared at the puddle and then him, clearly disgusted. "That's just gross."

"Sorry. Ugh."

Ragnor just waved a hand. A tissue appeared in front of Magnus. He took it, gingerly wiping away the slop from his lips. Of course, the sight of his hands almost had him vomiting again. Bloodied. Bruised. Split open knuckles. Those were some of the terms used to describe what he was looking at. Tiny splinters stuck out of his pinky and one of his forefingers. One look at the door and it's busted in frame retold the hours he had put in trying to get out. The dark blotches on his arms were less discerning, but just as painful when touched. He hissed as Ragnor put a finger under his chin, lifting his head up to meet his gaze.

"Don't talk. Not right now. Save your strength until after you've taken this." A thin vial was passed to him, it's suspicious contents a swirl of mysterious garnet. Bubbles were sprinkled inside too. They popped the same way nasty tar did, hot and airy. He did not yet smell it, but it was clear how disgusting the scent would he.

"What is this?" He was glad not to stutter this time, taking the vial. A strange heat emanated from it, making his eyes attempt to flutter shut for the second time that fateful day.

"Not your concern."

Unscrewing they cork at the top, the smell entered the open atmosphere. And Magnus found himself barely holding on to whatever was left over in his gut. The stench was that rank, the liquid that nasty. He instantly felt bile yanking it's way up his poor throat and for a second he was covering his mouth with his other hand, forcing himself to breath through the sleeve like he was in a smoke infested building instead of the comfort of his own room. Maia's odd looks she shot his way were understandable, as was the disdainful snip Ragnor shot his way. All of this strain left him more exhausted than before —if that was even possible— body threatening to shut down with the newest wave of tiredness.

Except Ragnor would not let such a thing happen.

"Don't fall asleep Magnus." Ragnor pinched his cheek the second his eyelids began to flutter shut. The pain was so startlingly he jolted in place, causing fingernails to dig deeper.

"Ack! Stop that!"

"I will, but only if you stay awake."

"Ugh. Fine."

With what little energy he had Magnus leveled a glare at Ragnor. After all this time apart, one would think his friend would be nicer. But no. Of course not. Perhaps it had something to do with Catarina still being in the Dragon kingdom. Thoughts of the star flowered place had him growing serious again. Any ideation of sleep went down the drain with the increasingly somber atmosphere of the room. Silence stretched like a cat at the window before Maia picked up the conversation.

"Mind telling us what happened Magnus. We can't help if we don't know what's going on." Her voice was unusually quiet, his tired exhales almost as loud.

"Ngh. I guess that would be best. But I—"

"But what?" She asked.

Magnus was reminded of their previous conversations. Of all the shots and glasses of ale they drank in commemoration of his many draconian kills. What would she think about his current concerns? About the need to save a dragon prince of all things? And a dragon kingdom to boot? Maia had hated dragons ever since her family had been murdered by one, vowing to always despise the creature responsible for their deaths. A dragon who might still be out there in the world today. It left him a little sick to know that. Because unlike what Alec claimed with Robert, there was no doubt a dragon had been responsible for Maia's family's murder.

She was there that very night.

Perhaps the trauma was even worse for her compared to what he felt for his mother. Because she was there, experiencing things. Watching her world get taken from her. So how could she possibly support his goals?

But . . .

Maybe there was one way.

And so he opened his mouth to speak, keeping his tone gentle and serene in the hopes that it would convince Maia enough to let him get through the story. "I have quiet the story to tell you. It all began—"

"Wait." Ragnor reached over and tapped on the vial. The sickly color of the contents inside promised a disgusting taste with certainty. "You need to drink this. It'll speed up your healing."

He hung his head. "Do I have to?"

It was hard to keep the begging out.

"Yes. It's the only way you'll be able to do what's needed."

"Ugh. Fine."

True to form, the liquid tasted just as disgusting as he inwardly knew it was going to. It was only the reminder of who he was doing it for which kept him from throwing up the second the nasty liquid hit his tongue. The sour, garbage like taste had his stomach roiling for hours afterwards. But it would be worth it.

*******

Flashback . . .

A little girl clutched a stack of wooden close to her chest. It was getting to be evening time, the sun falling behind the thick, blustery trees. The wood cabin she called home rose up in the distance. It was a quaint little place, perfect for her family. Father was outside, humming a tune as he roasted a deer over the open flame. The fire pit came in handy often during the fall season, the little rocks and pebbles she had helped her mother choose for decoration bordered the burning stack of wood. Mother herself was likely inside with her little brother. He was a little below the age of four at the time. The meal would be his last event for the day before he was tucked into bed.

"Papa! I'm back!" She called out cheerfully, almost skipping at the end of her little walk, before remembering all the reasons why not to. Far too many times the roots of the trees would catch at her little feet wrong, causing her to go crashing to the ground.

"Oh! There you are my little Flower." His tan face greeted her with same endearing grin as always. One of his big hands patted her head lovingly, making her giggle. "I see you got the extra firewood."

"Yes. Just like you asked!" It was one of the first activities her parents had deemed she was capable of doing on her own. Living right on the outskirts of Alicante came with its own upsides and downsides. But the biggest concern was always dragons.

They had never encountered one thus far, but the Hunters surely weren't lying about their existence? How dangerous they truly were? Her parents acted more concerned about bears than dragons, yet both still featured in the warning tales her father told in the late hours of the night, of creatures that would eat little boys and girls if they being naughty and had wandered away from home. The young girl hardly knew if they were true. But she trusted the judgement of her parents. What they said goes.

"Yes. And you collected a lot too!" He praised.

"She's becoming quite the strong little lady." Her mother agreed. The little boy on her hip was threatening to pass out already, drool piling on the smooth skin of her mother's arm.

"Yep! I'm gonna help Papa with hunting someday too!" She fully believed that at the time.

Of course, Maia was hardly aware of the prevailing gender roles of the time. How the men would hunt while the women stayed home to cook, clean and raise a family. All she knew was the desire to make her parents proud of her, and to be a good role model to her brother too. And back then that was enough.

But things changed that very night.

Flashback end . . .

****Jace's POV****

It was hard to explain what the feeling was in his chest as he stepped outside Clary's home. There was this sudden, stinging pain. All encompassing in nature, Jace had no warning as it shook him to the core. He dropped to his knees as agony racked him.

"AHHHH!" The shrill cry left his lungs burning.

He curled forward, hands grasping at his blonde hair, yanking. But none of that brought relief from the hurt he felt. And the name and dragon flashing in his mind, the internal sort of thing only platonic shared made it all the worse. The dark spots swirled in his vision. The dragon prince was among them. There were voices shouting out to him. A flash of red at the corner of his vision that had to be Clary. But his mind was stuck on him.

"Alec . . ."

*****NO POV*****

Flashback . . .

After mother had gone things were different.

So different.

Too different.

For the shortest interlude it was just him and Father. The once friendly face was constantly scowling then, flames threatening to pour out of his mouth towards the dragons which dared to get in his way. He was carefully hidden during every horrific scene. Splatters of blood, the bodies of the dead, all of it was left forever in memory.

And then there was the other dragonet.

The golden one.

The one Father seemed to love more than him.

It was hard to explain the feelings felt when he went ignored while his newfound "brother" received praise. The little dragonet, so dependent on his new Father. No amount of slaughtering the hunters that they found in the woods garnered the same loving affection the golden dragonet received. And as the years passed and this pattern continued, some part of him grew to hate everything about his brother.

And it was this hatred that he would carry with him until the end.

********

A/N: So I said this chapter would be longer and it totally was! Buckle in, because we've got heavy plot to come AND the big reveal. Don't forget to vote and comment and I'll see everyone next time!