Magnus had lived an exceptional life. He had met many people and creatures and been part of many grand adventures. He prided himself on his excellent sense of fashion, which he had refined over hundreds of year, even if Catarina decidedly disagreed with his view on the matter. He had been banned from Peru, had many an affair in London. Magnus had loved and had lost, he had despised and cared genuinely. Yes, Magnus could have sworn he had endured every emotion there was to through, yet all this had passed in a blur of grey, white and black.
Despite living for nearly four centuries, Magnus had never met his soulmate. When he had been young and foolish, he had believed in such fateful encounters - that everyone had their perfect other half. Some said two were connected by a string of fate, that they had been a supernova which split them apart, but with the help of destiny they would eventually meet one another. Even as his mark appeared, and he had been driven from his home Magnus had still held on to the hope of meeting his soulmate. He thought if they met, the world could truly be bright - could be whole. Yet after loving for a lifetime and a hundred more, without an inkling of what colour was, his belief began to wane. After Axel, Camille and what felt like a string of desperate flings, Magnus began to bear the knowledge that soulmates did not exist, or his had died years ago without so much as a fleeting touch.

(He knew Tessa, Will and Jem had shared a bond, and Tessa had whispered to Magnus on the cold nights after Will s death that she hated colour, because Will was dead and Jem was alive, but not truly living and how the colour blue made her heart ache and how silver was so close to what she had been before. Magnus had simply mused on what blue would have appeared like to him.)

Decades passed and Magnus could feel himself growing distant from the world, as the world grew and twisted and changed again. He found himself in New York, and threw himself into the loudest parts of the city, painting illusions for mundanes and Downworlders alike, convincing himself that he could be real and complete. He found friends like Raphael, who he almost wished he hadn t to make, and watched as Valentine nearly succeeded in burning what remained of what he loved. He stayed and fought, and then he was struck with his cat and a title and still felt so empty.

Jocelyn had changed part of that. Valentine s wife, with her young face and red hair and her desperation, and her young toddler, with the same face and curly hair had stirred something deep inside of Magnus. Clary, who waved at him with little chubby fists and Jocelyn who had held her daughter tightly, so fearful the monster that she had married and Magnus had cast the spell. He warned Jocelyn that she couldn t keep Clarissa oblvious as she grew up - there were some things not even a warlock could keep hidden. But years passed and Magnus watched as she grew and Jocelyn grew desperate, and whatever he had felt that first say grew. A fondness for this little girl, for the way she was kept from the world she deserved to know. He wouldn t admit it, but he had grown to care for Clary. But still, his world was monochrome and empty, and Magnus stomached the fear of being alone and gray to stay strong.

Clary had appeared at one of his parties a few years later. He had already been tipsy as his gaze had run over her and her companions. Clary, an exceedingly arrogant Shadowhunter and two siblings - he assumed from their faces and the way they held themselves. and admitted he didn t remember inviting them. He thought he would have, considering they were Shadowhunter, and the taller boy at the back was rather pretty. Clary had pleaded with him to help her - Jocelyn had been taken by Valentine and Clary had figured out what she truly was and Magnus revealed their past and removed the block on her, and drifted back into the crowd. He felt odd, slightly light headed and kept resisting the urge to face the band of gatecrashers again.
It was just Clary, and the alcohol. Magnus told himself. Running a hand through his flyaway hair, he startled slightly as a voice coughed behind him. Spinning on his heel, Magnus blinked in surprise as the dark-haired boy stood in front of him, hands shoved awkwardly in his back pockets.
Sorry, about that. He tilted his head towards Clary and the other boy - Jake? - who were murmuring to each other. She s desperate, and Jace.. Shaking his head, he glanced over Magnus, in the way Magnus had learnt people would do when they weren t trying to be caught out by whoever they were checking out. Smirking, Magnus stepped closer.
Alec, was it? the warlock noticed the way the boy seemed surprised. I do listen. And I am- Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn. Alec recited it with familiarity and Magnus smile grew more genuine.
I see I have have quite a reputation. The Downworlder held out his hand and the other hesitated before moving to take it.
I suppose you could say that. The Clave- Alec s voice cracked and he flinched back from Magnus, grabbing at his head.
The warlock stood, dizziness overcoming him as searing heat blazed in his head.
Magnus hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. Slowly, he raised his head and pried open his eyelids.

And he suddenly understood Tessa and the way her heart must ache when she sees the colour blue.

Alec stood with his pupils blown wide, his mouth slightly parted. Magnus stood, drinking in the symphony of not gray, his eyes trailing over the Shadowhunter. His hair was the same, his skin pale but pinker than before. (Magnus wasn't sure how he knew pink and blue, but the words just seemed to fit right in his mouth). But it was his eyes that caught Magnus, so blue he knew he could more easily drown himself in them than the ocean itself. Alec seemed completely stunned, so Magnus moved forward, sweeping up Alec s hand and pressing a kiss to it, flipping it over and doing the same to his open palm.
Alexander- I can see. Magnus felt his chest full with a happiness he never thought he d feel. Alec traced his fingers whisper soft over Magnus jaw, his breath held and eyes filled with wonder.
Your eyes are yellow. The boy murmured, and Magnus lifted his hands, carefully guiding Alec s hands down to his neck. What- what colour are mine? Magnus took a moment, breathing in deeply, until sure that all he could feel was Alec, and this miracle of colour.
Blue, Alexander. Blue.