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Magnus slid the photo album from tissue paper that protected it's cover before sitting down in the armchair and opening the it to the first page, his fingers brushing softly over the photographs it contained with a sad smile on his face.
Memories of the best day of his life, the day he married Alexander Gideon Lightwood. That man he had loved more than anyone else that had come before him in his very long life, the man's who's soul called out to him and unlocked his heart.
So many photo's of the day they promised their lives to each other, turning the pages slowly and stopping when he came to the one he was looking for where they were both smiling so broadly at the congregation after sealing their union with a kiss.
“I will always love you Alexander,” Magnus said quietly, a tears dripping off his cheeks and landing on the photo like soft summer rain. “you will be forever in my heart.”
“Magnus, are you ready?” A voice came gently across the room to him.
Looking up he gave the young woman a watery smile, she looked so like her great great grandmother, with the fiery mane of hair she was named after that they could have been mistaken as sisters had she still been around to meet her.
Magnus wiped the tears away with the back of his hands and leaving the album open on the coffee table he got to his feet as she closed the short distance between them and hugged him tightly.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked him.
“I need to Clary,” Magnus told her, “I have been avoiding it for one hundred years, it's time.”
Clary pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes, then pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and dabbed at his eyes where his eyeliner had run from his tears and then handed it to him, telling him to keep it and he slid it in the pocket of his trousers.
“Then we should go,” Clary told him, “the sun will be rising shortly.”
Nodding, Magnus reluctantly pulled himself from the comfort of her arms and made a portal for their journey and when Clary slid her arm through his they stepped into the blue ring of magic, stepping out again beside the New York Institute where Alec's memorial stone had been laid just as the sun began to rise, the marble glistening in the beams of light that hit it.
Feeling overwhelmed with emotion Magnus collapsed into Clary's arms, holding her tightly as the tears returned once again at the sight of the stone, driving home the memories of all that he had lost when his Alexander had died and reading the epitaph etched into it.
“Love Is Like A Butterfly,
A Rare And Gentle Thing.”
There were no dates, Magnus had insisted.
“We should go,” Magnus whispered, his voice hitching with emotion but as he turned to leave the a large butterfly settled on the stone, above the words.
“It's beautiful,” Clary smiled, “and so fitting.”
Magnus crouched down and looked closely at it, it was indeed beautiful, like no other butterfly he had ever seen. It's wings were pale cream, streaked with gold and on each of the larger of the wings there were spots the colour of hazel, reaching out with his fingers the butterfly fluttered onto them and remained as Magnus straightened up again.
“It's a sign Clary,” he told his great, great niece, a feeling of warmth coursing through his body and settling in his heart. “Alexander is coming back to me, I don't know when but I will be waiting when the time is right for us to find each other again, even if it's not for another hundred years I will be waiting.”
“I do believe that you will,” Clary replied, her eyes welling at the smile of hope playing on his lips and they both watched the butterfly take to the air again until it flew out of sight.
“Lets get you back home,” Clary suggested, “I'm sure there are still so many stories you have to tell me about you and Alec and I want to hear them.”
“Only if you have breakfast with me and keep me supplied with tissues, biscuit,” he smiled and when she agreed, he took her back to the apartment he and Alec had made so many memories in, in the sixty eight years they had been blessed with having each other in their loves.
The End
