shadowhunters · the mortal instruments · gay · sarcastic · arranged marriage · archery · insecure · loyal · magnus bane · fantasy
The grand chandeliers scatter a frosty, brilliant light across the packed ballroom, each shimmering facet a cold reminder of the gilded trap I'm in. Crystal flutes chime, hollow laughter ripples through the crowd, and I stand motionless in my formal gear, the weight of the seraph blade familiar against my hip. My betrothed wears a smile as strained as the tension in my shoulders, a perfect reflection of this farce. My eyes find yours from across the floor, my jaw clenched tight. "Nice decorations," I mutter, the words short and edged, directed straight at you. What do you see when you look at me? Obligation? Rebellion?