Summary: He came every day with a bouquet of flowers in hand.
The man in white came every day, a bouquet of red roses in hand. He always walked with a purpose and he'd stay around for an hour at the least and several at most, he did not come at the same time every day, some days he arrived late in the evening, others early in the morning.
His hair was black with white streaks in it and his yellow-green eyes were lined with black, the only thing he wore that was not white in color. His pants, whether they were leather, jeans, or slacks were always white, the same as his shirt, never a spot of color on the t-shirts or buttons downs, his coats were either white or a light cream, the closest he got to not wearig white.
He'd enter the gated area and walk across the green grass to a gravestone where he would sit or kneel to place the roses down and then he would talk for however long he stayed, or just lovingly pet the long faded name.
Always when he stood to leave he'd press a kiss to the stone and brush his hand along the top as he walked away.
Where he went, what he did, who he was they never knew, never asked, didn't dare, they were merely meant to guard the gaves of those that fell during the war with Valentine Morganstern, they were not permitted to ask questions but that did not mean they had none.
Everyday they watched the man, explained to their superior as making sure he did not vandalise anything but mostly they were curious young Shadowhunters whose first Shadow World assignment was keeping watch over the dead.
They wondered if the man meant what he unspokenly declaired with his white clothing, they wondered why he came everyday, they wondered who he was and who he brought roses to, they wondered what he was, and how old he was, how long he had been coming to the graveyard.
They never meant to be found out, certainly not by the man they had been watching but one day they got too close and his gaze fond them and his hand beconed them closer.
Caught and not willing to back down the two young people stepped forward.
"What can I help you two with?" The man in white asked as he crouched down to eye level with the two twelve year olds.
"Nothing." The older one, by all of two minutes, said sullenly.
"Is that so?" The man asked, "I know for a fact that children such as you must be curious."
"We are not!" The boy shouted.
"I think we're caught, Simon." The younger one said.
"Shut up, Belle." The boy, Simon growled.
"None of that now." The man said, sternly, "All children are curious, it is merely a fact of life."
"We're Shadowhunters." The girl said as though that mattered.
"Yes, well, I've had both the pleasure and displeasure of knowing curious Shadowhunters, child."
"How old are you?" Simon blurted and then blushed.
"I am very old, I'm a Warlock you see, and therefore immortal, if I'm careful." The man answered.
"Who do you come here to see?" Belle asked.
"My husband." The man said as he twisted a ring on his finger.
"That's a Lightwood ring." Simon said, surprised.
The man smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, "Yes, my husband was a Lightwood."
"You're Magnus Bane." Belle said, awed, "The first Downworlder to marry a Shadowhunter after the Clave allowed it."
"Nerd." Simon muttered.
"At least I won't get killed because I don't know a Shax demon from a shapshifter." Belle snarled.
"Still a nerd, little sister."
"That's enough, now." Magnus said as Belle opened her mouth to retort, "I think your parents would be very displeased to know that you are fighting like this."
The two looked down in shame, knowing that it was true.
"How much longer are you two assigned here?" Magnus asked.
"Oh, we have months left of guarding the Fallen." Simon said.
Magnus smiled sadly, "The Fallen." He repeated softly.
"What is it?" Belle asked.
"Nothing just strange to hear that word used to describe Shadowhunters."
"Who was your husband?" Simon asked.
"Don't you pay attention to our teachers?" Belle asked, "Magnus Bane married Alexander Lightwood the day before the last battle with Valentine, the battle where Alexander Lightwood-Bane died along with Isabelle Lightwood, Simon Lewis, Clary Fairchild, and Jace Wayland-Herondale. They were just too close to the rift Valentine had opened to the Demon realms when Valentine lost control of it and the Demons he brought here, they died first and then You closed the rift." Belle said as she bounced excitedly.
"Yes, I closed the rift." Magnus said quietly, "And lost the people I counted as family, my husband and his family."
Belle's excitment dimmed as she realized that Magnus was sadened by the reminder of what he'd lost back then.
"And you come here to see your husband." Simon said softly, "Wearing the color of mourning."
"Yes." Magnus said, "Come, I should re-introduce myself to your parents, I had not realized that Andy had had children already."
"You know our mother? How?" Belle asked.
Magnus looked at the child, "I knew you great-great-grandfather, he was my Alexander's youngest brother, the one that survived the war. I made a promise in my vows to keep an eye on the Lightwood line, and I will keep that promise."
"So, you're the Uncle Magic that Mom always mentions." Belle realized.
"She picked that up from your great-grandfather." Magnus told her.
"Can we call you that?" Simon asked.
"Of course, I'll always be Uncle Magic to the Lightwood line." Magnus smiled.
The twins grinned at one another and each took one of Magnus' hands as they walked out of the Graveyard towards the New York Institute.
Author's Note: So, at the beginning I was so sure I was going to kill Magnus off as well and then the kids dicided that nope, they were going to keep him.
So, I have this head-canon that Magnus would wear White in mourning instead of Black as a sign of respect for Alexander's Culture.