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It has been centuries. How could so much time have passed?
He tried, and tries, so hard to keep his promise, but he is not sure he can keep it any longer. "Dear God, PLEASE take this life from me!" he prays bitterly, then laughs bitterly that a warlock, a half-demon, would pray to God. If only dear old dad could see him now! "Dear God, please, please hear me," he implores again in despair, "I kept my promise. I lived my life as best I could without the best thing that ever came into my life." Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, was once again mourning the loss of his Shadowhunter-- no, not again, still. There are no tears this time. He would cry them if he could, but he cannot. It isn't that he no longer cares. It is because he had cared so much, because he CARES so much, his body seems no longer able to react with mere tears.
He kept up his parties over the years, although his heart wasn't truly in them anymore. They were homages to Alec; his Alexander who hated parties and crowds, but would make an appearance at them for as long as he could just to make Magnus happy, to see Magnus beaming at him from across the room. These parties had become the price he paid to keep his promise to the love of his life, to live his life. Few people knew he no longer enjoyed these parties and those who had, had long since passed on as well.
He still looks twenty-five. He is healthy. His magic is as strong as ever. But, he is alone. There has never been anyone since Alec. There has been no desire for anyone since Alec, except for his Alexander.
Tonight is the five hundredth anniversary of Alec's death. How in heaven and hell did he survive for so long without his Shadowhunter, without his Alexander? His father had alternately, and repeatedly, tried to persuade Magnus with gifts to join him or tried to destroy all that Magnus loved in order to twist his son into a form that would do his bidding. Asmodeus thought the grief Magnus experienced when Alec died would drive his son over the edge and to him, but he was wrong. Despite being in his own living hell, Magnus was true to his promise to Alec. He lives his life as Alec wanted him to and exactly as his father does not.
Magnus' preparations for the party consume his attention for the rest of the day. He had ordered catering and a staffed bar. He needs to conserve his magical energy for the grand finale tonight. He hired helpers to move some of his furniture to the roof, where the party will be held. He has them bring up his fainting couch, the one Alec mocked him for buying. It was an impulse buy, mostly fueled by thoughts of what the look on Alec's face would be when he brought it home. Alec, being Alec, would never ever admit to his siblings that he liked the thing, especially when they mercilessly teased him about Magnus buying it specifically for the times Alec came home with injuries that required Magnus to heal him. Then one of them would fall back onto the fainting couch, one hand held dramatically over their eyes. However, Alec did like the fainting couch, though he did not say so with words. He loved to curl up on it with Magnus while watching the Hallmark and Aurora Teagarden movies Magnus had been addicted to or by himself while engrossed in whatever book he was reading at the time. Magnus chuckles quietly at the bittersweet memories. Then a tear slowly trickles down his cheek, almost going unnoticed. He had thought he could cry no more tears, yet here is proof he still could.
As Magnus heads to his bedroom to change for the party, he knows exactly what he will wear. He opens the chest at the bottom of his bed, something he hasn't opened since the day Alec died. On that day he placed some of Alec's clothes, ones that Alec wore the most, into the chest. There were times he had wanted to open that chest, to hold Alec's clothes, smell Alec's scent on the clothes, but he had somehow found the willpower to refrain from doing so. He knew he would need them one day. That day is today.
He reverently pulls out a pair of black jeans. When he puts them on, they are slightly loose. He slips on a black tee shirt. Head bowed, he wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to hug himself. He shakes uncontrollably. After a long moment he unwraps his arms. Finally, he pulls a faded black wool sweater from the chest. Before he puts it on, he bunches up the fabric and inhales deeply at the ancient material. It may be five hundred years since Alec wore the sweater, but careful (magical) preservation has kept Alec's scent and the material intact. A sob hitches in Magnus' throat as he presses the sweater to his face. His shoulders shudder for a moment, then shake more violently as he once again sobs uncontrollably, realizing there is no one to hold him, no one to calm him. When he finally regains a semblance of control, he wipes his eyes. He pulls his hands over his hair and all the product and glitter he had applied in the morning disappears. He knows he shouldn't waste even that small amount of magic, but any other effort is too much to clean his hair and he wants to look perfect for his Alexander. He carefully brushes his hair, leaving it down the way Alec liked it best. He applies a very small amount of eyeliner and just a little blue glitter eye shadow into each crease of his eyelids. The only ring he wears tonight is his wedding band. It is the only ring he has worn since their wedding day.
The time of the party finally arrives. He had placed signs outside his door directing his guests to go directly to the roof. Shadowhunters, werewolves, fairies, and after the sun sets, vampires crowd the rooftop. Despite having died half a millennium prior, his Alexander is remembered by Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike for the tireless work he had done to bring peace and equality to their peoples. Magnus mingles with his guests, talking to each of them in turn, listening to their stories of how his beloved had made their lives better. Even though at least half of them had never met the Nephilim, the results of Alec's actions still have a tremendous effect on their lives centuries later. Tears glisten in Magnus' gold cat eyes. He is so proud. His Alec, who strove to remain in the shadows, allowing Jace and Izzy to vie for all the attention, was the one their peoples remembered centuries later. His Alexander could no longer hide in the shadows. And isn't that a kind of immortality, Magnus thinks. His Alec, remembered centuries after his death and will be remembered for many more centuries yet. The quiet work Alec had done speaks volumes, resonating through the ages. Yes, his Alexander is immortal. Magnus turns momentarily from his guests to wipe another tear that wells in his eye and trickles, not so slowly this time, down his cheek.
It is time.
Magnus stands near the fainting couch. Blue sparks twinkle between his fingers as he begins to weave his magic. Suddenly fireworks light up the sky. They are every color of the rainbow exploding in intricate patterns. Despite the show in the sky, Magnus barely moves his hands or arms. He doesn't have to, and he doesn't want to draw attention to himself, not this time. He wants his guests to enjoy the fireworks in honor of his beloved, his Alexander. He does not want their attention on himself. There is the briefest pause in the fireworks display as Magnus realizes, not for the first time, what a profound effect Alexander has upon him still. Then the fireworks start to appear faster and faster, overlapping explosions of rainbow colors. Slowly, ever so slowly the riot of colors become less rainbow-hued and more blue. After ten more minutes the fireworks are all shades of blue. After another five minutes the blues have become a single blue, the color of his Alexander's eyes.
Magnus has been wielding magic for at least a half hour. The effort to maintain the magical fireworks is taking its toll, though no one notices the sweat as it begins to trickle down Magnus' face, his hair and back damp with his effort. They stare at the sky in wonder. As it should be, Magnus thinks. For Alec had lived in Magnus' shadow as well. It was not something he had ever wanted for his Alexander, but Alec felt most comfortable there. He did his best to bring Alec out of the shadows. If he'd had his way, he would have displayed Alec for all the world to see, not that he wanted to embarrass Alec...overly much. The flush that would inevitably spread from his neck to his cheeks at such attention was one of Alec's most endearing qualities and something Magnus misses more than almost anything else. This time his hands are too busy to wipe away the tears that stream down his face, but it doesn't matter; no one is watching him.
As his energy is sapped he collapses toward the fainting couch, wishing with all his heart that Alec was there to catch him.
And he is.
His Alexander is stretched out on the couch, encompassing Magnus in his embrace, gently lowering Magnus against himself. He wraps his arms more firmly around Magnus and like all those centuries ago, he willingly gives his power to the warlock. The fireworks burst more rapidly, explosions of blue in patterns that overlap so much the night sky simply becomes the blue of Alec's eyes. Magnus leans into Alec, his magic utterly spent.
As all his guests begin to clap for the lightshow in the sky, a much smaller light display is visible on the fainting couch. Magnus and Alec slowly disappear in a shimmer of blue sparkles. It would have been seen if anyone had thought to look at the fainting couch at that moment. However, everyone continues to gaze at the sky, at the last vestiges of the demonstration of Magnus' love for his Alexander. Exactly as Magnus intended.