A/N: So who do y'all think the photo above is? 🧐🧐

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

"Hmm, I always thought you would be taller."

Alec stared blankly back at Malcolm from his spot in the stiff backed chair he sat in. There hadn't been much in the way of niceties exchanged on the short journey to the gallery room, and Magnus had to hold back his wince every time they walked past a dragon relic (read dragon body part) that was pinned to or hung from a wall. To his credit, the dragon prince didn't openly react to any of these things but . . .

Surely it's only a matter of time.

Idealistically, he would not have brought Alexander here, to this place that would likely scar most dragons from all the grotesque things Malcolm kept as keepsakes. But this is the only option. Ragnor was right in saying that Malcolm was the best person to turn to. Besides Magnus himself, there was no one King Asmodeus trusted more. So if he was going to get the trust of his Father this was what he had to do.

"Well, I didn't have any expectations for you, so you're out of luck if you expected me to say something back." Alec responded, tone brittle like frozen leaves on a branch.

Blue eyes were narrowed at purple ones, like the dragon expected the warlock to do something. Malcolm kept on blabbering nonsensical things about the newest pieces of art that came in. Anecdotes about the 'relics' prompted low growls. But there was also another problem to contend with. The many weapons in the room were just decorations, same as the paintings. But he doesn't know that. They were polished, sharpened just like any other killing device. Magnus had played with a few as a child, torn through a few paintings and smashed a sculpture on accident. He could attest to their effectiveness.

"Hah. Hah. So good to see you two talking." Magnus awkwardly cut in. This could either go perfectly right or horribly wrong. And judging by Alec's scowl and Malcolm's obliviousness it was leaning towards the latter. "Maybe we should have a drink or two." It would do nothing for Malcolm, but it might be just what was needed to get Alec to loosen up in what may as well be akin to a house of horrors for a dragon.

"No. Don't want one." Alec uttered flatly.

"Hmm, neither do I scaly boy." Malcolm responded in kind, lips curled in that condescending smirk Magnus figured was a poor imitation of his father's.

"Magnus. Do we have to get help from this guy?" Alec growled lowly. The scaly puns were clearly getting to him and that was saying something seeing how patient the dragon prince normally was.

"Yes. We do." Regrettably.

He remembered all those times he spent in this very room drinking alcohol and cracking up over the many bizarre kills Magnus had racked over the years. Malcolm was not much for style when it came to dragon hunting, far more interested in the stories Magnus could come up with about them afterwards. And oh, he certainly had come up with several. Regret came spilling out inside of him now. It had been wrong to speak so ill of dragons. While he still was not entirely sure how his mother had died, it was becoming increasingly clear to him that King Robert was not the real killer. But if he didn't do it then who?

Still unanswered.

"Shame." Alec muttered.

Magnus pressed closer to him, breath ghosting over the other's ear. "Sure you don't want that drink?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I need my awareness if I'm going to deal with all this."

Alec gestured subtly to depictions of dying dragons, dragons who had scales ripped off of them, other creatures who had been sliced to bits by swords and knives and axes of all shapes and sizes. They used to fill him with such satisfaction, but with all he knew now they left him with a sense of despairing shame. There was so much to make up for. How would one even begin?

"Fair enough."

"So, seeing as you came to me I assume you know that my help is paramount," Malcolm said, setting his cup of tea down on its small corresponding plate on the tea table beside his chair.

"That's what we've been told, but whether or not that turns out to be true has yet to be seen." Alec muttered for the second time. His head was down as he stared blandly at his lap. He really isn't enjoying this.

To be fair, Magnus wasn't exactly sure he was either. It was strange to remember himself as having joyous conversations with this man, this warlock who enjoyed the destruction of dragon kind so much. I used to be the same way. I used to hate them too. Because they killed her. But now . . . The warmth he felt inside at the thought of Alec changed so many things.

"We just need your help talking to my Father. Something to help him understand we mean business." Magnus told the purple eyed man.

Malcolm took another sip from his cup before sitting it back down on the counter. It made a small clink. The poised way in which Malcolm sat, one knee over the other with his back straight . . . probably irked Alec all the more.

"Hah. How interesting you don't find yourself capable of such a thing. Is that because you've become so . . . Entwined with this one?" He gestured flippantly at Alec.

Two pairs of eyes were on him, Alec's peeking up from their lowered position from earlier. "I . . . Yeah. I am."

A soft smile from Alec, egging Magnus onto reaching out to grab at the dragon's pale hand. Fingers entwined, having a part of him so close gave Magnus a burst of courage. They would get through this together and then . . .

And then nothing can stop us from being together. From being happy together.

"We are very happy together." Alec added in. "And I trust Magnus. If this is what he thinks is best then I'll believe in his judgement."

"Is that so? Well, then I have just a the thing you need."

A curling smile took up Malcolm's face. And while that look normally made him feel relaxed and pleased there was something odd. It was hard to explain this feeling, this emotion lodged between his head and heart. But one glance at Alec had the feeling dissipating. As long as he had Alec everything would be fine.

We'll be just fine.

"And what would that be?" Alec asked, suspicion clear in those blue eyes of his.

And that was when Malcolm snapped his fingers. Magic light glittered in the air, an object solidifying into the space as his long fingers wrapped around a slender circle. It was a dark ring, big enough to slide over someone's head like a necklace. The material was dark, pitch black just like an abyss. And just like the darkness of the void it seemed to absorb the light around it and make the space feel darker.

"This."

*******

A/N: Fingers crossed that I'll have the next update out much quicker than this time around!