Author's notes: I know that this is really short, but it felt right that way. I tried to write something more, but it seemed forced to me, so I left it in its original state. By the way, it was inspired by a fan art I saw somewhere, but now I can't find it to save my life, so if anybody recognizes the last phrase and has the link, please let me know so I can give credit.

Anyway, I put my heart and soul in this story, but it's my first one involving Magnus and Alec and I'm really nervous about it in general. I'm not sure if it turned out well, so reviews would be really appreciated.

Magnus wasn't sure how many years had passed since his last visit in Idris. It hadn't changed at all – but then again, Idris never changed.

He could recall almost everything from that last visit, though, even if it had been about a decade ago. He could still see a young girl with fiery red hair coming to him, desperate for his assistance; a boy with golden eyes and that insufferable smirk always on his face, no matter what he went through; he could see a dark-haired woman smiling at him while shaking his hand, her bright blue eyes still piercing through him, scanning his face, even though she was currently saying that she approved of him.

Magnus flinched, as if something had hit him. It was those exact bright blue eyes that haunted him in his sleep, only placed on another face. A face that he was desperately trying to forget from almost ten years.

But that was why the Warlock had came here – for once, he did not want to forget.

He was still a few miles away from Alicante when he reached the graveyard – he was almost certain that he had never came here, simply because there had been no reason for it. This was probably his first and last visit anyway.

He approached it cautiously – he wanted to make sure that he was alone – and almost immediately saw the tomb with the name Lightwood on it. His eyes sought through the names, until he spotted it.

Alexander Lightwood

1989 – 2008

AVE ATQUE VALE

The words were simple and typical for the Shadowhunters and Magnus could guess that it had been Isabelle and Jace who had written it here. The people in Alec's life who had liked talking the most had said almost nothing now; they had been the only ones who knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't want anything more.

The Warlock was mildly surprised when he felt a tear running down his cheek. He hadn't cried for so long that he hadn't been sure if he was still capable of it. he touched the tomb as if hoping to feel something, but the only thing that he could realise was that it was ice cold. Alec had always hated being cold…

Mostly without being aware of it, Magnus let his thoughts wander to things that had happened years ago; like that night in Alaska when he had been on his trip around the world with Alec. Their hotel room had been incredibly cold and, despite his efforts to act like nothing was wrong, the Shadowhunter was shivering uncontrollably. Magnus had offered – about a hundred times – to put some warming spell over the place, but Alec had declined the offer and had curled into the Warlock's embrace under the blankets. Magnus had watched him until he had stopped trembling and his calm, even breathing showed that he was already asleep.

Magnus could recall Alec's face when he was asleep; all the worries that passed over his face when he was awake disappeared, his lips even curled into a small smile sometimes.

Magnus's whole body trembled slightly when a few more tears got out of his control, until he could see them falling down on the frozen winter ground.

It was entirely his fault. Had he not told Alec that he doesn't want to see him ever again, the boy would have asked for his help, and Magnus would have been there in the battle against Sebastian. He would have been there, ready to react, to help his Shadowhunter, ready to give Alec everything he had, just like he had done for the Warlock so many times. Had he been there…

…Alec would have been alive now. The thought was tearing Magnus apart for the last ten years, and no matter how hard he was trying to forget, to go on, he couldn't. For the first time in his life, he couldn't just let go of his past.

He had seen many people die. Men and women, Shadowhunters, vampires and warlocks that had lived for hundreds of years, had died in his arms. Loved ones, friends, people that had been close to him... And yet, even though he had grew accustomed – almost numb – to the thought that everything dies at some point, when he met Alec, all of the walls that he had built around himself – walls that stopped him from truly loving anyone – had fallen. When he fell in love with him, all of that didn't matter anymore.

The Warlock had hoped that he would have decades to spend with Alec. He had refused to think about the moment when he would have to say goodbye; he had foolishly hoped and waited for a miracle to happen.

And then he had lost him. The boy that had made him feel alive – truly alive – again was gone and Magnus had felt like the life had drained away from him. And he still felt like that. For so many years, he had thought that eventually, the pain would go away. That he would forget and move on.

He hadn't.

And now, just as Alec's sister and Parabatai, Magnus didn't have anything left to say. The loss – that was a thousand times more real and overwhelming now, that he had seen his name written on the cold, indifferent stone.

"Ave atque vale." He whispered; his voice broke as he closed his eyes and the tears burned their way down his cheeks and fell on the tomb before him. "Hail and farewell, my sweet Alexander."