Magnus has always been in that nebulous role of a lover, where the definition is fluid and dynamic, a romantic connection between souls and bodies. A husband is something entirely different. The idea of being one is – it’s frightening. The idea of being wanted as one is humbling. It’s something Magnus has never considered, seen as something that could be possible in his future. But Magnus had never expected Alec – had never expected what it would mean to be loved by a shadowhunter who is a good man and a traditional one. Who loves Magnus not just between the tangled sheets of their bed, a perfect and untouchable pocket of time and space, but also in the difficult, complicated reality of the world outside the two of them that must be navigated. Magnus doesn’t expect how much he wants it.

It’s strange, how Magnus hoards these quiet bursts of joy. As though they’ll be stolen, plucked out of Magnus if anyone but Alec knows of it. Everything still feels so – so elusive. Happy and hopeful, but also tentative. Something to nurture, to be considerate with.