Chapter Text
Everybody in Edom had been invited to the feast, nobles and commoners alike. The best food and drink had been laid out for everyone in the grand hall: animals slaughtered and roasted by the dozens, mountains of jewelled pastries and sweet treats, succulent fruits from the castle's own orchards, and the best wine from the cellars. The celebration spilled out from the confines of the castle walls into the streets of the small town where the servants and guards lived with their families, bright streamers and lanterns adorning the shops and houses, and entertainers of all sorts - minstrels, actors, jugglers, fire-breathers, and sword-swallowers - had been paid good coin to thrill and delight everyone.
It was the most extravagant celebration in living memory, all the more excessive when one considered the decades of war between Edom and Idris, which had drained the kingdom's coffers and weakened its people with death and deprivation. But King Asmodeus had spared no expense in the wedding feast he was throwing in honour of the impending nuptials between Princess Lilith and the former Crown Prince of Idris - former, because he had been forced to abdicate the throne, and leave his country and people to become part of the royal family of Edom.
In a way, it was a justifiable expense. After all, the marriage would end the decades of bloodshed, and buy them the promise of peace - Edom and Idris, one family at last. But all Magnus saw was a grand spectacle intended to thoroughly humiliate their glorified prisoner-of-war in front of all the people of Edom, masquerading as a magnanimous offer of peace. Even a fool could see that. Idris had been at the point of total annihilation, the battle lost a decade ago, if not for their stubborn insistence not to surrender. For every warrior Edom lost, Idris had lost a few dozen. The people of both Edom and Idris had once had magic in their blood, thousands of years ago, but the way that it was told in Edom, the people of Idris had turned their backs on the things in life that gave the magic, and over time they had lost the gift almost entirely. They did not have vast resources of magic the way Edom's warriors did, and it had been their downfall. When the king of Idris had finally swallowed his pride enough to plead for mercy, Asmodeus had offered him a boon with a sting in it. Why else had he insisted that he would take no lesser than the heir apparent as a consort for his own child? Why else had he offered the hand of Princess Lilith, a mad, cruel creature who roamed the castle hallways screaming and laughing to herself?
Magnus couldn't help pitying her intended; Lilith had a rather unfortunate habit of maiming her servants when in one of her violent temper tantrums. But as the youngest prince, there was little Magnus could do to help ease his new brother-in-law's situation even if he'd been inclined to do so - which thankfully he was not. Politics bored him, and his eldest brother Azazel had political aspirations enough for all of them combined.
Still, it did not sit well with him to have to watch another person be brought low like this, enemy or not. His father's insistence that they all sit at the royal dais for a better view of the wedding ceremony was only making it worse. Magnus wished this whole farce would be over soon, so that he might seek out the fair Lady Camille, the daughter of a minor noble who was spending her first season in court, and the current object of his affections.
Unfortunately, there was no end in sight to this torture. Lilith was fashionably late to her own wedding - not because she was getting primped up for her groom, but more likely because she was deep in the throes of one of her spells of madness, which meant that Catarina was busy tending to her. Asmodeus was in another of his constant arguments with Azazel about something undoubtedly tedious, and Ragnor had only been too glad to have been tasked with strengthening the wards around the castle so he had an excuse to miss the celebrations. It seemed Magnus was doomed to fall asleep in his chair before the party from Idris even arrived.
"You seem exhausted, my son," Asmodeus observed when Magnus stifled another yawn.
"You know how it is, Father - parties and revelry are pleasurable but tiring even for someone with my constitution. I know you enjoyed your fair share of such festivities in the past," Magnus replied with a false smile.
"The responsibilities of the Crown may one day rest on your shoulders. Perhaps it is time that you started to behave in a way more befitting of your status, and took interest in more serious matters of the state," Asmodeus said in a low voice, out of Azazel's ear-shot. "You are not some lower noble of lesser blood, free to waste your time on pleasures of the flesh. You are my son."
"I'm afraid I must beg to differ. You forced yourself on my mother, and you forced her to bear a child, but I am and will always be my mother's son - not yours," Magnus bit out. "I have no interest in being king, and nothing will change my mind. You had better set your hopes on someone else."
Asmodeus' eyes glittered coldly. "There must come a time, Magnus, when we must all set aside the distractions of our youth, and follow in the path that honours our fathers."
"Then I hope that when that time comes, I will be dead and buried so that I will not inadvertently lead Edom to ruin," Magnus replied with an ironic toast to his father, and pointedly emptied his goblet of wine in one gulp.
Asmodeus shook his head. "I have indulged you too much. I admit that part of it was my guilt at your mother's passing, and the circumstances under which she came to be one of my consorts. But if I let you waste your talent and potential, it would be a poor tribute to her memory. She would have been disappointed in the way you pass your days."
"Don't presume to know anything of her wishes. You're not fit to even speak about her," Magnus seethed, but Asmodeus ignored his outburst and calmly returned to his conversation with Azazel.
Magnus clenched his fist, prepared to leave the table and bear the consequences of his father's wrath some other time, when the herald ran in, announcing the arrival of the wedding party from Idris. Despite himself, Magnus had to admit that he was curious. While Asmodeus himself often led troops into battle, none of his children had ever been to the front lines, and Magnus had made himself scarce on the occasions that the soldiers returned victorious and paraded the dismembered heads of their enemies in the square. Everything he knew about their enemy he only knew from stories whispered amongst the common folk and Ragnor's persistent attempts to teach him something about history and politics.
Heaving a sigh that he made sure was audible to Asmodeus, he leaned back in his chair again. Just as the gathered guests were beginning to squirm restlessly in their seats, a few dozen guards marched in, flanking a small group of strangers, all men. Magnus feigned disinterest, while watching the wedding party closely from the corner of his eye.
The people of Idris were warriors, brutes, and it showed in the rigid way they carried themselves and the weather-beaten state of their clothes and bodies. With little magic at their disposal, they had been forced to resort to increasingly savage weaponry, and all of them were armed with blades of cold iron and adamas, a metal which supposedly held magical properties, and one of them also had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder.
Physically, there was little that set the archer apart from the rest. There were others as tall as him in the group, and he wasn't the only one with dark hair, although in Magnus' completely biased opinion he was definitely the most attractive of them. But it was the look in his eyes that told Magnus who he was - the hopelessness in them, tempered with fierce pride. It was the look of a man who had accepted that he was going to die a miserable death, but who was determined to meet his fate with his head still held high, and Magnus knew at once that this was the prince - his people's sacrifice.
He was a broad man, perhaps slightly taller than Magnus, and his shoulder-length dark hair was tied back in a rough warrior's tail. Magnus had expected a prince to be better dressed, but he wore the same crude full-body leather armour as his small entourage, although his cloak was perhaps cut from slightly better cloth. He wore no adornments - no gold, silver, or gems, save for a carved wooden pin on his cloak. As was the custom of his people, his skin was marred with harsh designs that looked like they had been branded into his skin, which Magnus had heard were supposed to help the warriors of Idris call upon the weak dregs of magic that flowed sluggishly in their veins. The prince was by far the most scarred of them, although the blond man at his right hand also had more scars than the rest of the group - some sort of personal guard then, Magnus decided.
"Prince Alexander Lightwood of Idris!" the herald announced, but nobody was listening, because nobody cared about his name. Like Magnus, many of the nobles had never seen their enemy up close, or at least not alive and in one piece. Already the titters were starting up about their coarse dress and mutilated skin.
"Your Majesty," the prince said, with a curt bow to Asmodeus. His voice was flat but strong, carrying easily over the hundreds of whispered conversations the hall.
"Everyone, please join me in welcoming our guests from Idris, enemies no longer. After tonight, we will be one big happy family," Asmodeus said, flashing his teeth in a too-wide smile. "And yet, you have come into my home bearing weapons. Did you think that you had anything to fear in my court?"
The prince replied with almost no hesitation, "We beg your pardon, Your Highness. We meant no offence, but the journey here took us past the border of the Drowned Lands, and it would have been foolhardy to travel unarmed."
"Then set aside your weapons before you join in the feast. Perhaps things are done differently in Idris, but in Edom, nobody bears arms at a wedding," Asmodeus said, and the crowd laughed in amusement - for the people of Edom bore their weapons in their veins.
The prince's entourage turned as one to their prince to await his decision, and Magnus immediately saw that all of them would have laid down their lives and their weapons for him. That, at least was one thing that the foreign prince had in advantage over Azazel - only in his dreams would Azazel command such loyalty from any of Edom's soldiers, even his own personal guard. Magnus wondered if his father intended to murder the entire wedding party and do away with this farce of a ceremony altogether, and evidently the same thought crossed the prince's mind.
"We thank you for your hospitality, but I am afraid that my guard and my sworn brother are merely here to bear witness to the ceremony. They will not be partaking in the feast, as they must leave for home immediately, to convey the glad tidings to my family and the people of Idris," he replied quickly, handing his bow and quiver to the blond man to his right.
"Alec!" his sworn brother hissed in protest.
"You promised, Jace," the prince replied, in a hard voice that brooked no argument. He removed the sword from his belt and handed it to him as well.
Magnus had to admit that the courage that the prince was showing in the face of his circumstances was starting to win his sympathy. Perhaps he could be persuaded to care enough about his new brother-in-law to slip him a short dagger with which to end his own misery.
Then one of the prince's guard, a blond man with curls in his hair, removed his sword as well, handing it to the man next to him. "My liege, I will remain in Edom with you," he said softly.
The entire hall went quiet. The prince swallowed hard, nodded in acknowledgement, then turned back to face Asmodeus with renewed fire in his eyes. Magnus sighed inwardly - it had been a noble gesture from the prince's guardsman, but a foolish one. He knew that it would only drive Asmodeus to greater cruelty, and now two lives would be lost instead of one, all for no reason other than his father's pettiness. Some movement of his must have caught the prince's eye, and for a few seconds, they held each other's gaze. Magnus hoped he managed to convey his sympathy in the small smile he sent the prince's way.
It was only after, that with dread Magnus realised that his father had noticed the little moment he had shared with the prince.
"Since your sworn brother and your guard are in such a hurry to return to Idris, let us commence with the ceremony," Asmodeus said with the air of one granting a great boon. "There is just one small problem. My daughter is indisposed, and could not join us tonight. Since you cannot wait, you will wed my youngest son instead."
Magnus froze. A low murmur started up in the hall, and after a moment of stunned silence, the prince's sworn brother blurted out, "But they are both men!"
"In Edom, marital unions do not have to be between a man and a woman, as long as both parties are compatible," Asmodeus said with a shrug.
The prince's entourage looked outraged and disgusted, but Magnus couldn't help but notice that the prince's sworn brother wore a strange expression on his face, almost like relief. The prince himself did not let any emotion show, his gaze fixed firmly forward on Asmodeus. But Magnus was in no mind to puzzle out where the prince's inclinations lay, not when he was being dragged into this mess against his will.
"What do you hope to gain from this, except my eternal hatred for you?" Magnus snarled at his father in a low voice.
Asmodeus smiled indulgently at him. "You are indeed your mother's son, too naive about the harsh realities of the world. Perhaps being forced to spend some time with our enemy will show you why war is sometimes necessary."
"I'd sooner you exiled me to the Drowned Lands and left me to die," Magnus snapped.
"Don't behave like a child, Magnus. You are a prince, and a prince does not get to marry for love - he marries for duty, to secure alliances for his kingdom," Asmodeus said in a slightly louder voice, obviously intending to shame Magnus into complying.
"I know my son will have no quarrel with marrying a man - but do you? Will you honour the promise of peace your father made?" Asmodeus asked, smiling cruelly and daring any of the prince's entourage to speak up.
"I will honour my promise to marry, even if I was promised someone else," the prince replied calmly.
Asmodeus' face hardened at the prince's audacity, but he didn't drop his smile. "Then let us begin."
Wedding ceremonies in Edom were usually simple, with more emphasis on the feasting and celebrations that came after. A goblet and silver knife was brought in, and the prince ascended the dais to stand in front of Asmodeus. Magnus remained fuming at his seat, desperately wishing Ragnor was here to help him think of a way out, until everything was ready and there was no other choice but to stand up and join his newly betrothed on the dais with as much dignity as he could muster.
"Congratulations, little brother," Azazel sneered as he walked past, and with the flick of his fingers, Magnus made his brother's goblet of wine flow over and spill on his foppish new brocade coat out of spite.
Magnus took his place at his father's right hand, and already nothing about this was how he had imagined marrying someone would be like - as the youngest prince, he had hoped that he would be able to marry someone of his own choosing, or at least someone who didn't look like he was awaiting his turn at the gallows. Asmodeus said a few empty words about how happy he was that their two kingdoms would no longer be at odds with each other, then handed Magnus the silver knife.
Magnus gritted his teeth, rolled up his left sleeve and ran the blade across the inside of his arm, as he had seen it done before, and let some of the blood welling up from the cut drip into the goblet, then handed the knife back to his father and healed the cut in a flash of sudden blue magic that made the prince flinch. The prince accepted the knife and mimicked Magnus' motions, letting his blood mingle with Magnus' in the goblet, then relinquished the blade and gripped his own arm tightly in an effort to stem the bleeding.
"Both of you shall now drink from the cup - and henceforth you shall be of the same blood," Asmodeus announced, handing the goblet to Magnus first.
Magnus wrinkled his nose and took the tiniest sip possible, trying not to gag. Then it was the prince's turn, and he made a similar grimace of revulsion as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his stoic mask failing him for once. The crowd cheered and clapped, and even as his heart sank that he had now gained a husband that he hadn't bargained for, Magnus had to admit that he was relieved that the brief ceremony was over.
But his relief was short-lived; Asmodeus raised a hand for silence. "This is after all, a union between two different kingdoms - and so we should respect the customs of Idris as well as our own," Asmodeus announced. "In the custom of your people, there is a special rune that the happy couple mark each other with, is there not?" Asmodeus asked the prince pleasantly.
From the reactions from the prince's entourage, Magnus guessed that they had not expected Asmodeus to know this. There was anger on their faces, and sorrow for their prince; for whatever reason, this mark was sacred to their people, now twisted by Asmodeus as another way to humiliate the prince. Magnus pointedly refused to look at his father, so that Asmodeus wouldn't see how the thought of being subjected to some strange foreign tradition and having to burn a mark into his skin affected him.
"We do," the prince agreed, already steeling himself for the blow.
"Then we must honour your traditions as well!" Asmodeus declared with false heartiness. "I know there is a wand of adamas on your person. It is not our way to mark our skin in any way, but it is yours. So teach Magnus the mark that must be drawn for you, so that this union is recognised in the eyes of your people."
Magnus thought he understood then - perhaps the party from Idris had been hoping that without the marking ceremony, the marriage would not be binding by their own customs. But Asmodeus had not led Edom to victory by luck, and much as Magnus hated to admit it, his father was a master strategist.
There was a slight tremor in the prince's hand when he extracted the wand from his belt, a hidden weapon he must have hoped to smuggle into the court for some nefarious purpose. It glowed pale blue when he held it more firmly, and with an unsteady hand he drew a symbol in the air, where it remained suspended. Without meeting Magnus' eyes, he offered Magnus his left arm, palm up, and the wand.
Magnus took the wand gingerly; it was warm, and turned red at his touch, drawing sharp gasps of surprise from the prince's entourage. Magnus' fingertips grazed the back of the prince's hand to steady it - the first actual physical contact between the two of them, Magnus observed sadly - and he brought the glowing red wand down onto the tender skin of the prince's wrist.
It was exactly as horrific as Magnus had expected. The stench of burning hair and skin filled his nose, and the prince clenched his hand into a tight fist, fingernails biting into his palm as Magnus tried to replicate the symbol as quickly and accurately as he could. When it was over, they took a few steps away from each other on instinct, the prince keeping his head low to hide his face.
Asmodeus held out a hand to Magnus for the wand, and Magnus was only too glad to have it taken out of his hands. The prince looked up, eyes red but dry, just in time to see Asmodeus snapping the wand in two. The sharp crack of it seemed to echo throughout the grand hall, and one of the prince's guards couldn't hold in a cry of shock. But the only sign the prince gave that the breaking of his adamas wand had hurt him at all was how carefully expressionless his face remained.
"And now it is done," Asmodeus said in satisfaction, then raising his voice so all gathered could hear him, said, "Please, join me in a toast - for Prince Magnus and his new consort!"
The music, dancing, eating, and drinking went on and on, past the depths of the night and into the shallows of the morning, but for once Magnus retired to his room long before the festivities had ended. He had eaten very little after the ceremony, heart and head aching for both himself and his new husband. The poor man hadn't even been allowed any measure of privacy when bidding farewell to his brother and his guards, and had remained silent for the rest of the evening, only picking at his food at the gentle urging of the loyal guardsman who had volunteered to stay by his side.
The servants had opened the windows to let in the balmy night air, and given very different circumstances, Magnus would have been out tonight, enjoying the first warm days of summer and the company of beautiful people. Now, all he wanted is do was to throw himself onto the bed and sleep this nightmare away, but he didn't even have the luxury of that - because at that moment, someone knocked on the door.
Magnus sighed and waved the door open. His new husband had been escorted to his chambers by half a dozen guards, as if one unarmed man was going to be any threat to them. Magnus dismissed the lingering guards to find his husband standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, warily looking around at the chests that held Magnus' things, and beyond the doorway that led to the bedchamber. It suddenly occurred to him that the prince had come to Edom with nothing but the clothes on his back; he would probably have to see to getting clothes fitted for him.
He glanced at the prince's arm, which was still bleeding, and healed the cut with a wave of his hand, although there was little he could do for the terrible brand that he had been forced to place on his left wrist. The prince's hand dropped to his belt immediately for the blade that was no longer there, and Magnus tried not to roll his eyes. Their circumstances were both miserable, but Magnus could admit that at least he hadn't just been ripped away from everything and everyone he knew and loved.
"None of this was of my choosing either," Magnus pointed out, with as much patience as he could manage. "I think we both agree that this arrangement would suit us both best if we stayed out of each other's way."
The prince frowned. "You truly have no expectations of me?" he asked Magnus.
"What could we possibly have to offer each other? I have no lack of willing bedfellows," Magnus said with a shrug. "And as long as you are discreet, I will not begrudge you the company of your guardsman to fulfil whatever needs you may have."
The prince stiffened. "What do you mean by that?"
"Since we are wedded in name, it would not do for either of us to be seen with someone else - you more so than me, I expect. But here in Edom, nobody will judge you if you wish to take a man to your bed," Magnus told him with what he thought was kindness, but this seemed to incense the prince.
"Yes, I see that things are indeed done very differently in Edom. In Idris, we would not think to treat our faithful liegemen as whores, nor do wedded couples share their beds with any other than the person they are married to," he bit out. "Perhaps you feel that you do not have to honour a marriage that you were forced into, but I have more honour than that."
Magnus' mouth fell open in surprise at the venom in his voice, but anger caught up quickly enough. Who did he think he was, this barbarian prince from some vanquished kingdom, throwing accusations and lectures on morality at Magnus like this? In that moment, Magnus was sorely tempted to call for every single whore in the kingdom, man and woman, and avail himself of their services for the conceivable future, right in front of his husband, and in the bed they were supposed to share.
Looking upon the cold defiance he saw on his new husband's face, Magnus found that for once he was lost for words. He was now bound by duty and law to the enemy, someone who would probably slit his throat at the first opportunity he had, and it was all his father's fault. With one last furious glare at the prince, he stomped out of his room, slamming the door behind him and leaving his husband all alone in his chambers - a fitting mockery of a wedding night for a mockery of a wedding.