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Long before Magnus Bane took that name he was a little boy from Indonesia. He had eyes that changed color strangely sometimes, a loving mother and a stepfather who didn’t love him but also didn’t resent him. Their lives were by no means luxurious but his stepfather made enough money to ensure that they didn’t live in poverty. He was happy.
Until his mother found out what his eyes meant and everything fell apart.
His mother took her own life and it was all his fault. His stepfather blamed him, too, and tried to drown him. Which was when it came out just how much of a monster and abomination he was. He lost control over powers he hadn’t known he had and the world exploded to a fiery inferno.
His stepfather... His mother’s body... His home... His whole life as he knew it... Suddenly it was all gone.
Down on his knees next to a pile of ashes, drenched from where he’d been held under water and in a state of shock the little boy sobbed hysterically. Suddenly his eyes landed on the blade his mother used to take her own life, which survived the flames her body didn’t. He ached to use it on himself. What did he have left to live for? What right did he have to live when he just killed two people? What purpose did he have? He was a demon, something that belonged to the pits of hell.
He picked up the blade and held it in his small, shaking hands for a very long time. Until the first rays of sunrise shone their light on the ruins of what was once a home and a family. Instead of ridding the world of himself the child rose to his unsteady feet and began to stumble forward. He had the knife tightly in his hold as a physical reminder of what he was and had no idea where to go.
He walked for a very, very long time. Until he couldn’t go on anymore and just collapsed to a dusty alley. People stared at him but by then his golden eyes were visible and no one dared to approach him. Especially after seeing the bloodied blade he refused to let go of.
He was all alone in a terrifying, hostile world. Always looking over his shoulder and on a run from one village to another. With no one to tell him what he was and where his powers came from but that hardly mattered. His stepfather already made clear exactly what he was. He learned to disguise his strange eyes because his life depended on it but stayed as far away from people as he could. He already killed two, he didn’t want to harm anyone else.
For a long time, he had no idea how long, that worked. He was starving, barely survived with the little food he managed to steal and find. And he was desperately lonely, which he deserved. Most of the time no one cared about his existence enough to try to hurt him. Then the wrong people saw him use his powers to steal a fruit for another street child, a little girl of his age. He was chased until he collapsed and couldn’t run anymore. They said that he’d be burned like the monster he was deserved. Instead the whole forest burned around him while his powers got out of control.
The loss of control took what little strength the boy, half-dead from starvation, had. He sat there in the scorched forest, by the bodies, silent tears running down his cheeks and staring at his shaking hands that only seemed to make bad things happen. He waited for death. Waited for more people to come after him.
Instead only one man came. Such with eyes just like his. And for the first time since finding his mother’s body he felt hope.
“My boy”, the man greeted him.
/
Centuries later Alexander Gideon Lightwood was born to a highly respected family. Every Shadowhunter and Downworlder alike seemed to recognize his surname. He was the firstborn of Robert and Maryse Lightwood, destined for great things. His parents pushed him accordingly.
From a very early age Alec did everything he could to meet his parents’ expectations. He studied harder than anyone at the Institute, sucked every little bit of information taught to him like a sponge. As soon as he was allowed to start, he trained as hard as his body allowed. Not letting any amount of cuts and bruises slow him down.
Yet his efforts never seemed to be enough. His parents were quick to point out those vital bits of information he’d failed to learn. He trained as hard as he could but whenever he stumbled or lost a sparring session his father seemed to be there, watching with quiet disapproval. Jace’s arrival didn’t exactly make any of it easier. While hot-headed and impulsive, the golden boy was also incredibly skilled. Quickly praised as the best of his generation. What hope did Alec have to shine and please his parents from the shadow of someone like that? He couldn’t be upset, though. Jace’s charm captivated him as well. Alec had another person he vowed to protect with his life.
Things improved a little when he discovered archery. From pretty much the beginning he hardly ever missed a mark and even his parents seemed satisfied with his skills. On occasion. Often he trained until his fingers bled. By the time he was ten years old his hands were hard and calloused. Alec didn’t care about discomfort. At last he was good enough at something.
Life got far more complicated when years helped him understand certain things about himself. He and Jace became parabatai. And Alec realized that some of his... urges were sick and inappropriate. No amount of training sessions was enough to beat them out of his system. So Alec hid them instead. So deep into his heart that he ended up locking away his feelings, to a point where he earned a... reputation. He didn’t mind being labeled a cold-hearted prick. Keeping himself emotionally detached and icily clinical helped him do his duty. His parents also seemed to consider it appropriate for a soldier of the Clave. Only Izzy and Jace caught selected few glimpses of his true self. Alec followed rules and orders meticulously because they kept his small, isolated and too often violent world together. On field he dedicated himself to protecting his siblings and completing his missions with the dedication of someone who didn’t hold himself in high or any regard.
Alec and his skills grew. He wasn’t exactly happy but content enough. So what if he felt like he lived in a lie by hiding parts of himself?
For the longest time it seemed to Alec that no one cared enough to see past his cold, rude and joyless exterior and he was perfectly fine with it. As long as they didn’t see him, they didn’t realize how flawed he was, didn’t know that there was something deeply wrong with him. What would he have needed friends or lovers for, especially when he wasn't even able to want the gender he was supposed to? Being invisible and lonely was better than being despised.
And yet... A small, stubborn piece of him the Institute’s education and his own insecurities didn’t manage to silence kept hoping. For someone to see him. For someone to accept and love him, just the way he was. For someone to decide that he was enough, even with all his imperfections.
One day a young woman with fiery hair entered his life like a hurricane. Suddenly he was helping her track down a very powerful warlock and killed a Circle member without batting an eye to save the Downworlder’s life. That was when heard the words that’d change his life forever.
“Who are you?”
By the time Alec turned Magnus Bane was already gone. But the impact of those words remained. Alec felt a new, strange tingle of being alive and excitement, even if he couldn’t quite understand why.