Alec woke with the sun directly in his face, his head pounding and his stomach churning. He groaned and rolled over, clutching his stomach.
"I hate hangovers," he grumbled under his breath. Something small jumped up on the bed and he reached out to pet Chairman.
He was greeted with teeth sinking into his palm.
He let out a yell and flailed away, sliding off the back edge of the bed and landing on the floor in a tangle of blankets and legs. Church settled down onto the recently vacated bed, purring softly.
"You dick," Alec groaned. "I've been nothing but nice to you, and here you go and bite me." He sat up, feeling his hand throb in time to his head. "God, I knew I was going to regret that potion this morning."
He managed to make it to the bathroom and only dry-heaved once before his shower. He stood there under the hot water, letting it pour over his sore muscles and run through his messy hair. He tipped his face up into it, and the thrumming of the water drowned out other thoughts in his head.
Heat flushed his body as he recalled the night before. He smiled into the water and bit his thumbnail, playing it over until the shower felt too hot against his skin.
Sometime after that, Magnus, who Alec had felt had been restless and coiled the whole time, had risen from bed and left the room. His smile faded. He should have gotten up with him.
Alec finished his shower and redressed in his clothes from the night before, which had been abandoned on the floor. He hastily towel-dried his hair and ducked from the room.
The hallways of the Institute were quiet. After the events of the night before, it was far too quiet. He recalled from years before when guests would arrive, the Institute would always be bustling with activity—children playing and shrieking, the clatter and clash of weapons in the training room, laughter and chatter from the library and kitchens. Every lamp would be lit and the Institute would be warm.
Today, however, the lamps were all dim. The only light that entered was from the tall windows, piled high with snow, letting the weak winter sun in. There was no laughter now, no children's shouting, no smells of breakfast being cooked and no sparring cries from the weapons room.
Alec shivered and crossed his arms over his chest, heading for the library. If they were anywhere, it would be there.
He put a hand on the handle of the heavy oak doors and heard muted voices from inside. Pausing, he leaned in to listen, more to make sure he wasn't interrupting a private conversation.
Robert's voice drifted out first.
"...extreme, Maryse."
"Extreme?" Her voice was thick with derision. "Since when have our doors been open to every stray Downworlder that happens to turn up?"
Of course they're talking about me. Alec closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the door.
"With all due respect, Maryse, he isn't a 'stray'," came a new voice. "Alexander holds a position on the High Warlock Council. In all fairness, he is more of a dignitary."
"His name is Alec, darling." Sara Branwell sounded tired.
"Really? Magnus calls him Alexander."
"He does do that," Alec muttered to himself, smiling. He now assumed that the unfamiliar man was David Branwell, Declan's father.
"I agree," Robert said firmly. "And he brings the support of the Council. Have you even thought about what would happen to our shaky truce with the warlocks if we disrespected Alec by throwing him out? The Council would revoke their support in an instant."
YOU ARE READING
Outcast
Fanfiction"My name is Magnus," he introduced himself, gold eyes shining. "Magnus Lightwood." "I didn't know Maryse and Robert had another kid," Alec said, much more sharply than intended. "Adopted," he amended, shrugging one shoulder. "My parents-died. Year...
