"You tattled on me?"

Magnus had just barely shut the door. Morning light came into Alexander's room from the second floor window, making it look much brighter and vitalized than the night before.

"I--"

"My father was in here before the sun was even up, demanding that I treat you better!" Alexander shouted.

"I didn't intend--"

"Oh, I am sure you didn't intend for me to be yelled at as if I were a child. However, it happened," Alexander hissed.

"Mister Alexander--"

"I am willing to forgive if you promise not to complain about me," Alexander said. "Mr. Bane, do not test me."

"I understand," Magnus said.

Alexander stood up a little straighter.

He had dressed just fine on his own-- Magnus couldn't have done it better. It made him feel redundant in the worst possible ways.

........

"I need you to work dinner tonight," Mr. Davies said, stopping Magnus by the arm in the hallway.

"Of course," Magnus said. A pair of shiny leather shoes dangled from the tips of his fingers, freshly polished.

"I hope you won't feel offended by working second footman?"

It was a rapid demotion but Magnus was indifferent after Alexander's morning lecture.

"Of course not," Magnus said.

Mr. Davies hurried off and Magnus continued his morning routine.

........

Magnus stood at the entrance to the sitting room as the family and their dinner guests slowly entered. The second footman's uniform was a little tight on him so breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.

Listening to the bits of conversations was the best part of the evening. Learning who was being scandalous with who, who was ruining their family's name, and who was moving out of Parliament, and who was replacing them.

But the information was chopped and minced; he never heard an entire conversation.

There was a girl who seemed to be the center of attention tonight. She wore a pearl-colored dress, her blonde hair tied up loosely so curls cascaded as they pleased. She wore a constant smile in between her shiny peach lips. She was incredibly stunning, and obviously the object of an arranged marriage.

It was the first time Magnus had ever seen the entire family together, minus Alexander.

Robert Lightwood was just as imposing as the zeros in his bank account. He was tall and perfectly filled out, and cleanly shaven. Maryse kept with the women, her age showing on her less than on her husband. She was still effervescent though, glowing as she listened to the women around her.

Isabelle sat with the blonde girl, looking just as pretty in her own dark way. Her hair was poignantly black and her brown eyes matched. She wore a red dress, brighter than it should have been and definitely more stunning than it should have been.

Jace sat her side at a respectful distance, batting his eyes prettily at the girl. She was obviously trying to ignore it but Jace was just as attractive.

Keeping up a family image by surrounding themselves with pretty objects, expensive clothing, and delicious food was one thing but the Lightwoods had an inborn charm to them, part bitter, part awe-inspiring.

Alexander was still missing.

Mr. Davies left his post near the table of drinks, approaching Magnus.

"Would you please go find Mister Alexander?" Mr. Davies begged. Robert was watching them from the corner, the request coming from him. "Dinner is ready and we cannot begin without him."

Magnus gave a curt nod, and slipped out of the room.

He climbed the stairs quickly, heading straight for Alexander's room. He hadn't done any of his valet duties for the night because dinner had to be prepared. So he hadn't seen Alexander since that morning.

Magnus didn't bother knocking.

Something shattered as he entered though.

"I--" He was prepared to apologize but Alexander was standing over a vase that had once sat on the mantle.

Tears were running down Alexander's face as he stared at Magnus.

"Why didn't you knock?" Alexander shouted.

"They're-- they're waiting on you downstairs," Magnus stuttered.

"I am not going!" Alexander said.

Magnus was at a loss for words.

Alexander turned away from him, leaning on the mantle. Magnus could see the blood on his knuckles.

"Mister Alexander," Magnus said, cautiously stepping into the room more. "Please let me help you."

"I don't need help," Alexander said. "I don't need anything. I need to be alone."

Magnus' heart was racing. Alexander was volatile, a bomb waiting to go off. Magnus put a carefully hand on his shoulder, as slowly and gently as possible. Alexander flinched, a testament to the lack of warmth and sense of family in the house.

"You have to go to dinner. As soon as it is done, you can come back here and be alone. But they will send more people prying if you and I don't return downstairs soon," Magnus said.

Alexander took shaky breaths before straightening up and turning to face his valet.

"Firstly," Magnus said, handing Alexander a handkerchief, "wipe your tears away. Then put your coat on. I'll be back in a moment."

Magnus left the room, heading down the hall for Maryse's room. Catarina would surely be in there preparing her mistress' room for bed. And she was.

"I need her foundation," Magnus demanded, hand out.

"Excuse me?" Catarina said, flying around. She had been standing over a nightgown, flattening it out on the bed.

"The foundation. Please."

"Why--?"

"Trust me, Catarina."

"This is stealing--"

"It's for the good of the house. If I could tell you, I would," Magnus swore. Catarina flew to the dresser, holding a jar out to Magnus.

"Please return this," Catarina begged.

"Just a moment," Magnus said. He ran out of the room, back to Alexander's.

Alexander was sitting at the desk, staring at a letter, wistfully.

"Whatever that letter contains, sir, I don't believe it's going to help us here," Magnus said. There was a washbasin in the corner of the room and Magnus soaked a towel in the lukewarm water. He knelt in front of Alexander, whose attention was still on the piece of parchment, and started dabbing at the cracked knuckles as quickly and gently as possible. Alexander winced with every touch.

"I'm going to cover it with make up--"

"You're going to put make up on my knuckles?"

"Do you want people asking questions?" Magnus demanded.

Alexander turned away as Magnus coated his knuckles in the fine powder.

"Stand up," Magnus demanded. Alexander shot him a fierce look, dulled by red eyes. But he complied. Magnus looked him over. "You're going to have to act overly cheerful to draw away from your appearance. Go downstairs. Apologize for being late and tell them you were lost in a book."

Alexander nodded once and left the room in a zombie-like state.

Magnus took a moment for himself.

There was more to Alexander than he had thought.

And it was all in the letter on the desk in front of him, ready to be read by anyone who passed by.

Magnus turned away.

It wasn't his place.