The Prince of Hell

After

Chapter 6

"Fuck!" Magnus growled as he stepped out of the portal and into his apartment, Ragnor hot on his heels. He had never been one for the use of profanities, as he had never had a problem expressing himself, however, in that moment as he began pacing his living room, his hands pulling at his hair, he was at a lost for words.

"Magnus!" Ragnor called, grabbing his friend's arm, halting him. "Calm down. You're going to wear a hole in the carpet."

Magnus pulled his hand free of Ragnor's grasp, turning to look him over. "Are you serious right now?" He asked disbelievingly. "Did you not see what just happened?"

"I did," said Ragnor as he moved to the couch, plopping down then scrubbing a hand down his face as he released a heavy breath. He had never experienced anything like this before, and he had been alive for a very long time, even longer than Magnus.

There was a long pregnant pause, the air thick with tension, both men obviously thinking deeply over the events of the evening as the implications of everything that had happened weighed heavily in the room.

Magnus had never felt so utterly powerless before, so not in control of himself. Just when he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, when he thought he'd seen and done it all, something like this happens and throws him completely off balance. One minute he was in a meeting, doing everything possible to not be bored out of his mind, and the next, he was being set ablaze by what could only be described as the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. And then there was the young shadowhunter's scent. It was like nothing he had ever experinced before. It had left him feeling drained, yet simultaneously engergized. Like he was powerful enough to take on the world, yet wanting nothing more than to just lay down, relax, and be comforted.

The whole situation had been confusing. His actions, or rather lack there of, had been confusing. Magnus was a man of certainty, a man of action, and tonight... he had more or less been some what rescued by his friend. Never in his whole entire long life had he ever been so... torpid. Looking back on the situation now, he obviously was never in any real danger, the whole thing being nothing but one big misunderstanding, but still... He needed to have taken action, taken control, rectify the situation. Instead he had done nothing, nothing but get dragged away like some young inexperienced warlock.

Talk about making a lousy first impression. He could just smack himself for how he had acted, especially with regards to the beautiful blue eye'd shadowhunter. Even if the interaction had lasted but a minute, a lot can happen in minute.

"I need a drink," Magnus sighed, moving towards the bar. He poured himself a shot of whiskey, bringing the glass up to his lips and downing it in one go, then pouring himself another. His head was full; from thoughts of blue eyes, to his bruised ego. Not to mention what the incident could mean for shadowhunter/downworlder relations. He needed to get a grip on his emotions, give voice to his thoughts.

Finally, he made his way to the plush blue sofa, joining Ragnor, two drinks in hand. He handed one to his friend, then leaned his head back against the couch, sighing as he stared up at the beautifully designed brocade ceiling, his thoughts still all over the place. Almost afraid to say the words, "Was he?" He asked, getting the main question out of the way.

"I think so," Ragnor replied immediately, seemingly to have been on the same train of thought. "Had to be."

"But how?" Magnus reasoned.

"I have no idea," said Ragnor. "I mean, they have been rumors... but that's all they were... rumors. Nothing had ever been confirmed."

There was another pause, then Magnus leaned forward and placed his now empty glass next to Ragnor's on the glass coffee table that sat in front of them. "So," he started. "There's an actual omega in existence, after all this time... and, he's a shadowhunter."