For Magnus, it seemed that every moment with Alec was an exciting one. While a night of poetry at a teahouse wasn't as exhilarating as something like bungee jumping, Magnus supposed that was part of what marriage entailed: quiet nights together that still meant the world to both of them. Magnus had memories of much of the world—at times an impossible amount of them, considering his age—but there was no place he'd rather be than by Alec's side.

He watched as Alec fidgeted, fingers tracing over the wedding band. Giving him an encouraging wink, Magnus smiled up at him where he stood and seemed to mentally prepare himself. As Alec began, Magnus focused on the words as much as the man speaking them. He understood, partially to his surprise as he didn't remember ever studying the language. Images of arrows and fire danced in his mind, memories conjured up by the words. It was perplexing to be reminded by words he doubted he had heard before, but the memories flowed much the same way the poem itself did. And Magnus loved Alec's voice enough to have enjoyed him reading the phone book, so he found it easy to be lost to the experience.