It wasn't until he'd finished reciting the words of love that he realized that it wasn't the type of selection the other patrons probably wouldn't have made. The poem wasn't in English. Latin, he realized, not understanding how he knew the language or why the images of arrows and flame were so important to him.

Maybe the connection to fire was because of Magnus' magic and the arrows... he'd been an archer but he'd assumed that it was a hobby. Instead it felt like it was as an integral part of him as the spells that Magnus was still trying to control.

As his audience clapped politely, most of them looking confused, Alec almost recited the verse again in English when suddenly he could almost feel a bow in his hand. The sounds of battle echoed in his head as disorientating blur of motion - fighting - almost made him forget where he was. Forcing a smile, he walked back to the table, not realizing that his hand was pressed against his side.

The strange thoughts faded as he sat down beside Magnus, nearly forgotten when he saw how his husband smiling shyly before reaching for his tea. It took another few seconds to realize that his other hand was still resting against one of the runes that marked his skin. "Was it okay? I'm sorry it was in Latin. It was the first thing I thought of."