*PoV Maryse*

My withered fingers traced the soft, worn leather of an old picture album.

With a sigh, I looked over at the faded picture of Isabelle at her wedding with the downworlder, the vampire. What was his name? Ah, yes. Simon. Since he wasn't a shadow hunter, they couldn't have a proper wedding, so they had a mundane one. He was in a lovely black suit, with a dark red tie and a broach pinned to the front. His mother had given it to him. I think it was a star… Isabelle, of course, had to go all out with her dress. It was fitted to her body, with a slight layer of frill at the bottom. The dress didn't have sleeves and it started low on her chest. Her hair was freely flowing, and she was wearing an old family heirloom. A pair of earrings, diamonds cut into the shape of a fleur de lis.

I looked over at the picture of Jace and Clary, the day of their wedding. Jace looked stunning, his black suit contrasting nicely with his golden eyes and hair. Clary had on a beautiful dress. It was tight fitting around her chest and waist, with a shimmering pattern of extremely white silver. The skirt of the dress reached the ground, and it was so beautiful. It was frilly. I liked it. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a neat bun, with two locks of it hanging in front of her ears. They had also decided to have a mundane wedding, ad it was the best wedding I've ever been to. But that was years ago.

I looked, lastly, at a picture of Alec. He was smiling up at the camera, for he had been tying his shoe when I had taken the picture. His blue eyes shone, but his smile was sad. He had been talking to… the warlock... about the weddings, and how... they… could never have one. I told him that if he had chosen to be with a female, then he could have a wedding.

That was the last time I had ever spoken to him.

I stroked the spine of the leather book, then, flipping the cover over, began to look at the pictures. I sighed contently at the picture of Robert and me on our wedding day. Jocelyn was standing next to me, her hand threaded through Valentine's arm. He was smiling, but there was a dark look in his eyes. Jocelyn's barely covered baby bump showed that her baby boy was growing just fine.

I looked at the next picture. I was me, holding a small bundle in my arms. Alexander. My baby. My first born. I remember that day.

"Maryse, darling, are you alright?" Robert asked.

"Yes, dear," I said sarcastically. "I'm perfectly fine. You know, I go into labor all the time."

Jocelyn chucked. She had my left hand in hers, telling me that giving birth may hurt, but it's worth it. I breathed steadily, pushing when the doctors told me to. I was in pain. Lots of it, too.

(A/N: Sorry, I'm not good at scenes like these…)

I cried out in pain as the baby came out. It didn't cry. I looked at it, him, in the doctors arms. He sneezed, and looked up at the doctor. The doctor smiled, cleaned him off, and handed him to me. He looked up at me with big blue eyes. He made one of those funny baby noises and the dam broke. Tears flooded from my eyes and I hugged him tight to me.

"What's his name?" the nurse asked.

I wanted to call him James, but Robert wanted to call him Alexander. I guess I was in a good mood, because I said, "Alexander."

I looked at the picture next to him, and say him again. But he was older. He had two small teeth poking through his gums and he had a shock of black hair covering his head. He was smiling up at the camera, his blue eyes even shinier than the last picture.

The next photo was Alec when Isabelle was born. He had been two.

"What is it, mommy?" Alec asked.

"She's not an 'it'," I said, gently ruffling his hair, "she's a baby. Your sister."

"She gonna take my stuff?"

I laughed. "No, dear."

He put his hands on the hem of his pants. "She ain't gonna take this?"

"Your pants?" I laughed again. "No, she isn't going to take you pants."

"No!" he said. He put his hands over his crotch. "This. She don't got one. I sawed."

Robert, who had been sat next to me, burst out laughing. I couldn't help but laugh, too. "N-no, Alexander, she's not going to take that. She doesn't need one."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because she's a girl," Robert said, picking Alec up and putting him on his knee.

"Why?"

"… Uhhmm… Because the angels wanted her to be a girl."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure."

"Why?"

I laughed again, waking Isabelle. She looked over at Alec and held out a hand to touch him.

"Come here, Alexander," I said.

He walked over and crawled into the bed. His little hand took her even smaller hand and help it. "She's warm," he said. "She's a girl." He let go of her hand and crossed his arms over his chest, sticking out his baby fat stomach. I poked him. He giggled and looked down at Isabelle again. "What her name?"

"Isabelle."

A tear slid down my old, wrinkled face. This page was full of pictures of Alec. One, the worst, was him after he had gotten attacked by a demon. He was in the hospital, recovering. He had chocolate pudding smeared around his mouth, and his front two teeth were missing. He was smiling, but he was covered in bandages. He wasn't strong enough to with stand a healing rune yet, so he had to heal the mundane way. Painfully. The light in his eyes was still there, though. He still had life in him.

The next was a photograph of him after he had gotten his first rune. His teeth had grown in, but he was missing one of his canines. The rune had been drawn on his collar bone, and you could still see it through the white fabric of his t-shirt. The wind ruffled his hair, and the sun shinned down on his face, making him squint. He still had a bandage over his hand from the demon attack. I sighed, tracing his cheek in the picture.

I flipped the page and laughed. I was Isabelle with Alec, holding his hand as they walked down Broadway. The street was full of tourists and mundane, but they stuck out. Black haired, blue eyed, they were a pair.

The next picture was still of them, but they were in Central park. Isabelle was running in her high tops and red dress, eight years old. Alec was chasing her, in jeans, a gray/black sweater and converse sneakers, nine years old. He had grown quite a lot from age seven to nine, though it was only two years. He had gone through his growing spurt, and he was very lanky. My old fingers flipped the page to the Alec and Isabelle on the day that Max was born.

"What's it gonna be?" Isabelle asked excitedly.

"It's gonna be a boy, Izzy," Alec said. "Because boys rule and girls drool."

"When are you gonna see that girls are just as good as boys?"

"When someone gives me scientific proof that girls don't have cooties!"

"Will you both be quiet?" Robert asked. "By the angel, I thought that my sister and I were bad…"

I looked up at them, baby Maxwell wrapped up in my arms. I was shushing him, trying to make him stop crying. "Come over here, kids," I said. They walked over. "I want you to meet your baby brother, Maxwell."

"Maxwell?" Isabelle said. "A well made of Max's?"

"No, dummy," Alec said, rolling his eyes. "It's a name. "I'm going to call him Max."

"Me, too!" Isabelle said.

"Copy cat!"

I laughed at the memory.

The next few pages were of Alec, Isabelle and Max, but then Jace started to show up. My favourite picture of them is this.

Jace was stood in the middle, thirteen years old, his lips pursed and his arms crossed over his chest. He was leaning away from the camera, stood sideways. Alec, fourteen, had an arm draped over Jace's shoulders and he was flashing a backwards peace sign at the camera. He was leaning forward slightly, his lips also pursed. Isabelle, who had just turned thirteen, was standing next to Alec, standing in profile. She had one leg bent forward, he hands on her hips. The boys were wearing blue jeans, white tank tops, a jean jacket, Alec was wearing a backwards baseball cap and Jace was wearing a bandana. Isabelle was wearing a tight red dress and black high heels. It was a funny family picture, with just the teens.

I flipped through some more, the sneak picture I had taken surprisingly, and the more serious pictures that Robert took. The last picture was one that Isabelle must have taken. It was the celebration after the war with Valentine, and it must have been a slow song. I took the picture out of its sleeve. I looked at Alec, my son, dancing happily with his warlock. With Magnus. Alec had his arms wrapped around Magnus's neck, while the warlock had his arms wrapped around Alec's waist. I flipped the picture over.

Dear mother and father,

Well, you found the picture. I put it in here so you could see how happy Magnus makes Alec. You understand, don't you? How did you make each other feel in the beginning? Well, it's no different for him. My advice? Call him and tell him you love him.

Love,

Isabelle.

I put the photo back in its sleeve. I sighed, but I took Isabelle's advice. I picked up the phone and called Alec and Magnus's apartment.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Hello, Magnus," I said. "Is Alec in?"

"Ummhmm…" he mumbled.

"…May I speak to him?"

There wasn't an answer. Soft breathing came over the phone.

I heard a quiet voice come from the other end. "Magnus, who called? …. Magnus? Oh, he's asleep." I heard the phone being picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello, Alec," I said.

"M-mom?" he sounded shocked.

"Yes. I was just wondering if you'd like to come over for the New Year's celebration."

"Of course." He seemed to e debating on saying something.

"Alec?" I asked.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, honey."

"I… I love you, too, mom."