The Morning Star.

Open your eyes.

When Jocelyn opened her eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever, the only thing she saw was a face. So close to her, that if her body hadn't been slowly releasing from a state of immobility, she would have driven herself to a heart attack. Slitted, green-golden eyes. Heavy mascara, a hint of eyeliner. Brown skin, Indonesian face.
Magnus Bane.

"Took you long enough, Joc," he said, as he moved away, a small, almost humorless smile on his face.

Her voice sounded breathless, "What are you doing here? Is Clar-"
"Clary is fine, quit your napwhapping. Well, fine since the last time I saw her," he interrupted, "Stop worrying. I always said you'd get creases on your forehead because of all the brooding you do. Looks like I was right."
She ignored him, trying to sit up; her body felt as if it were built of bricks, "What happened?"

"Do you before or after you decided to abandon us all by taking a, might I add, quite genius, potion to the donezo? Well, let's see. Your psychopathic husband came back from the dead, infact, as it turns out, he never died, but subsided to killing that Wayland guy and his son in his and Jonathan's place. Then he stole the Mortal Cup, murdered about 70% of your cherished Silent Brothers, then stole the Truth Sword; now I can only assume he wants the Mortal Glass, which, coincidentially, no one knows about so now, my best guess is, he's in Idris, hacking some brillian-"he

"And Clary? He's not after her?"
"Jocelyn, I told you before, I'm telling you again. Your daughter, she can take care of herself. You could, couldn't you? She's your daughter. She can handle him. No, he's not after her."

Jocelyn took in a shaky breath,"But she's in Idris? Did she sent you?"

He sighed, Jocelyn could feel him rolling his eyes at her,"Yes, she did. She found the cure in the Wayland manor."
"Why isn't she back here? Why isn't Ragnor Fell here? He was the one supposed to wake me."

"He's dead, Jocelyn," Magnus' voice was a cheery facade; Jocelyn looked into his cat slit eyes, and found the lace of an eternal sadness there. 
She felt her throat closing up, "Oh my God, no. He-" 

She couldn't speak, wetness brimming around her eyes, "No, Valentine couldn't.."
Her voice fell, a silence remorse for the warlock. "It's all because of me," she whispered, to herself; her chest felt like it would close up any second, and suffocate her to death.

"No.."

"It's okay," Magnus' voice sounded strangled to her ears. 
Everything stromed past her in that moment; all the people he had killed, all the atrocities he'd committed, and she felt a rush of hatred for herself. How could she have thought anything good, anything loving towards him, towards Valentine? He had killed everyone she'd ever come to love, save her daughter; how could she even stand him? And yet she knew why. She knew why, because she knew him, and she knew why he did what he did. 

How could she hate him, when everything he did was in the name of what he believed was right? She remembered the sleepless nights he'd spent, trying to do good, only his definition of good wasn't what everyone else's was. He believed in what he believed, his thoughts, his actions were pure, his intentions were pure; just misdirected. But that one, loneful misdirection had lost so many people their lives, had cost the world so many happy endings. 

"I'm sorry," her voice sounded broken, even to her own ears.
"I have to get you to Alicante soon, unless you want to stay here?" his voice assumed a stronger demeanor, fake strength covering the real hidden pain.
"I want to go." She hopped off the bed, a new kind of feeling blossoming in her heart against all the pain. Idris. Alicante. Her homeland.

He winked at her, a small, sad smile again playing at his lips, "I'll tell you the rest on our way."