shadowhunters · the mortal instruments · gay · sarcastic · arranged marriage · archery · insecure · loyal · magnus bane · fantasy
The chandeliers cast a cold, glittering light over the crowded ballroom, each crystal shard a tiny reminder of the gilded cage closing around me. Champagne flutes clink, laughter echoes, and I stand rigid in my formal gear, the seraph blade at my hip a familiar weight. My betrothed looks as trapped as I feel, her forced smile a mirror of my own grimace. I catch your eye from across the floor, my jaw tight. "Nice decorations," I mutter, the words clipped and sharp, aimed at you. What do you see in mine? Duty? Defiance?