A/N: Hi guise :) I was pretty disappointed when I found out that no one bothered writing anything with the EmmaxJulian pairing :( So I decided to write it myself! Cassadra Clare has invented this brilliant story called the Dark Artifices, which she has given us minimal details about, but that's all the better for my writing because there are so few restrictions. If you don't know about the Dark Artifices, go look it up. It's awesome. Anyway, here's my plan for this story: I want to do one flashback chapter, then a chapter in the present, then flashback, then present. Eventually, flashback will probably catch up to the present, assuming I continue on with this. I plan to for about... Well until I figure out if anyone likes the story.

Sunlight sparked off the building behind the Institute as they drove up. Julian Blackthorn used to think that the reflections would somehow detach themselves from their structures and land somewhere on a busy Los Angeles boulevard, crackling and flaring like gigantic firecrackers.

"Home sweet home, right kiddo?" Helen turned around and flashed a smile at her half-brother from the driver's seat, and allowing him to catch a glimpse of her pointed ear. She swerved over the meridian while doing so, causing several nervous drivers to lean on their horns. "Oh!" Helen giggled.

Julian remained unamused, digging his nails into his seat and gritting his teeth, ignoring the question. His sister, for whatever reason, was under the impression that she was actually a good driver. She was nothing compared to Julian's mother, who could parallel park with one hand on the wheel while three kids and a new born were screaming in her ears.
He supposed a skill gained from growing up in LA, though Julian hoped it was genetic.

"Be careful, Helen." Mark, who was riding shotgun, was filling his regular role as backseat driver. Mark wasn't a much better at driving then Helen, but in Julian's opinion, he had some redeemable qualities, whereas Helen was nothing but an annoying, bossy airhead.

Mark turned his blue-green eyes on Julian as the car turned into the parking garage. The Institute was located somewhat in the city center, so the Blackthorns had the choice of leaving their cars out on the busy streets of LA, constantly at risk of fender benders, or parking their cars in a public garage, where the odds fender bender accidents were significantly decreased, but those of petty thievery were greatly increased.

"How was Aunt Grey's, kiddo?"

Jules shrugged. He hated bring called kiddo. Mark and Helen were the only ones who ever did, which served to Julian a reminder that they weren't really his siblings. Sure they shared the same eyes, name, and father, but their identically frizzy, curly, white-blonde revealed to the world that they were not full members of the family, which Julian hated. He loved Mark—and Helen, though he would never admit it out loud. But the faerie blood that that had inherited from their mother gave them some… quirks that were not fully accepted within the Clave.

"It was okay."

"Come on, Jules, it couldn't have been that bad," Helen said, piloting the car into its space and shutting off the motor. The engine sputtered out loudly. Julian cringed. The poor convertible had been in desperate need of a repair ever since Aline Penhallow had backed it into a curb a few months ago.

Helen climbed over the side of the car, not bothering with the door. Her long legs sailed through the air before her heels hit the pavement. She was graceful. He had to give her that.

Helen opened his door and slung her arm around his shoulders. "Tell us everything."

Julian heaved a deep, irritated sigh before saying, "Nothing happened. Just leave me alone, Helen."

"Guys." Mark was propped up against the side of the car, arms crossed, his expression solemn. "Mom wanted me to tell you something when we got here."

"Well, we're here," Helen pointed out, tapping her foot. The click-click of her heel on the concrete echoed through the empty garage.

"Well, obviously the war's just ended. There are a lot of displaced Shadowhunters—children. And they need a place to stay."

Helen frowned, her light eyebrows furrowing. Mark scratched the back of his head, waiting for an answer. Julian saw a long scratch running from the back of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. A battle scar. Julian hated how he hadn't been able to fight in the War. They'd locked him up in his aunt's Idris house while the battle raged just outside the window.

Finally, Helen spoke. "Doesn't the Clave think we have enough children?"

"I do," Julian mumbled in agreement.

Mark sighed. "You know how it goes. The Institute isn't our house. We just live there. Besides, it isn't all children, and they're not staying here forever. "

"It may not be our house, but it's our home," Helen argued. "I don't think the Clave should be allowed to force us to take in total strangers. They probably won't even like it here."

"I don't," Julian grunted.

"Is that all you can say?" Helen demanded. "I do. I don't. Me too. Me neither. Honestly, I don't understand you male adolescents sometimes."

Her brothers ignored her. "They're kids, Helen," Mark continued as if he'd never been interrupted. "Poor little defenseless children who lost their families in the War and have no place else to go."

"You could say the exact same thing about a baby tiger, you know. Sure, it's cute and cuddly, but it'll grow up to be a killer!"

"You're such a drama queen," Julian said, rolling his eyes again. "Why do you even care? You can just move out. You should move out," he added, looking pointedly at Helen.

"Why are you so sassy?" she asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder. It bounced as she made her way toward the elevator.

"Put the top down, stupid," Julian snapped.

Helen tossed the keys over her shoulder without looking back. They hit their mark dead on. Julian howled, holding his eye.

"And I'm not holding the elevator!" she called.

"I'll get it," Mark said, retrieving the keys from where they had fallen on the ground.

"Can't she just lay off?" Julian complained. His eye stung. A black eye was in his near future, no doubt.

"I don' think she can," his brother replied with a smile. "This is Hel we're talking about."

Julian smirked. "Hel" was definitely a fitting name for his older sister.

"Let's go inside," Mark suggested.

"That's the last of them?" Julian asked. He and his sister were looking down on the streets of Los Angeles through an open library window on the sixth floor of the Institute. A charter but was headed toward the east end of town, full of Shadowhunters eager to go home to their respective homes.

"I think so," Olivia said. "I hope so. It seems like they've been here forever."

Julian nodded in agreement. Three months had felt like an eternity. "Some kid went into my room yesterday with a seraph blade and cut a hole in the floor. I mean, seriously? I can see straight into the bathroom. It stinks."

Livvy laughed and closed the window. "Literally and figuaratively?"Of all of four of his sisters, she was Julian's favorite. Of course, one was a baby and the other spent most of her time downstairs in the playroom. Nonetheless, Livvy was much cooler than Helen. She was smart, and knew what to say way more often than Julian did. "That might have been Tiberius."

Julian rolled his eyes. If it had been Livvy's twin, Tiberius had probably been trying to build something, like a laundry chute that ran from the attic all the way down the basement, so he would never have to take his clothes downstairs again. Tibs was always trying to construct things to make his life easier. He was strange that. Though they were twins, Livvy and Tibs looked nothing alike. Livvy and Julian were more often mistaken for twin because of their identical height. Tibs was almost two inches shorter than his brother and sister with black hair and grey eyes, opposed to the Blackthorn blue-green eyes and brown hair. He often said that he was glad that he looked like the outcast in the family—it would make it easier to disassociate from them once he was a famous Shadowhunter inventor, like Henry Branwell. Julian doubted that Tibs would ever invent something as useful as the Sensor.

Mark came into the library at that moment. He sighed. It was a mess, like every other place in the Institute. Certain Shadowhunters had decided to take respite here much longer than others. Unfortunately, they were messy. Many of the picture windows were smudged with fingerprints, and one of the skylights had gum stuck to it. The carpet had shoeprints and the furniture was torn and looked like it could have been possibly been chewed in some places. The large fireplace on the opposite side of the room, which was never used, due to the LA heat, had been lit a few times, and soot and ash were scattered on the hearth. "There you guys are. Come downstairs, Mom and Dad have something an announcement to make."

Julian blanched. "Not another baby?" That was definitely the last thing they needed.

Mark smiled. "Not exactly, kiddo."

Julian slid into his seat at the dining room table. Everyone else had already been seated. His mother's lips were moving soundlessly, her fingers ticking off each child. A mother of eight had to have some kind of roll call, and this was Penelope Blackthorn's. The dining room was the common place of the house, even more so than the living room or the den. All of the corridors and stairways in the house eventually led here, which Julian particularly liked, for it meant easy access at mealtimes.

Everyone else was chattering, but Julian's eyes fell on his father, who was coming in from the weapons room. Arthur Blackthorn was holding a seraph blade in one hand, and baby in his arms, Julian's younger sister Ari, as he often was. But that was not what caught his attention.

There was a girl trailing behind him. She looked to be about Julian's age. She wore a white shirt, pair of expensive-looking skinny jeans, and a frown on her face. She had blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders and pale, freckled skin. She obviously hadn't been in Los Angeles long enough to get a tan.

"Kids!" Penelope said. She was, as usual, completely ignored. Arthur came to a halt beside his wife and handed the baby off. The girl behind him yawned, her eyes carefully scanning the scene before her. Julian caught her gaze and held it for an awkward moment. Her eyes were blue, like the ocean. He got the strange feeling that he had seen them before.

Helen stood up. "Shut up!" she shouted. Her voice echoed, reverberating off the vaulted ceiling of the room. Everyone was silent. Helen sat back down, looking satisfied. She was finally putting her big mouth to good use, Julian thought. He kept his eyes on the girl. The rest of his family seemed just to have noticed her. She wriggled under their blue-green gazes.

"Kids," Penelope began again, "as you have probably noticed, the Institute is empty again. Thank the Angel. We were hoping that, once everything was put back in order in Idris, everyone here would be able to go home." His mother continued blabbing on about the casualties of the War, the warlocks and Valentine and the Circle and many other things that far surpassed many of her childrens' understanding. He saw that only Mark, Helen, and Olivia were actually listening. The rest of her speech was falling on deaf ears.

"Unfortunately," Penelope said, what felt like a half an hour later, "not every child is fortunate enough to have a family like ours. Had your father and I died in the War, Mark would have been able to take care of you kids. This is Emma Calliope Carstairs." Julian saw the girl stiffen at the mention of her middle name. He smiled a little. He would murder his mother if she told a complete stranger his middle name. "She has no family to take care of her. Emma these are my children, your family. Mark and Helen, my stepson and daughter; Julian Horatio, my oldest son."

"Mom!" Julian sank into his chair, his cheeks flaming.

Penelope shook her head. "It's a lovely name dear," she said, continuing the introductions. "This is Livia, my oldest daughter—"

"Uh, I go by Olivia or Livvy," Livvy quickly corrected.

"Tiberius is Livia's twin brother; and Drusilla, Octavian, and baby Ariadne are the youngest. Tell Emma how old you are, kids."

"Twelve," Julian muttered, among choruses of voices proclaiming ages up to twenty. He cursed his mother for picking the name "Horatio".

"This is your new family!" Penelope said, beaming a luminous grin in Emma's direction. She managed a tight smile. "I expect you all to be nice to Emma and treat her just as you treat each other. You can go now."

Eight children jumped up at once. The little ones went straight to the basement where the playroom was located. The others cautiously approached the girl.

The next chapter is going to be in the present, which Emma and Julian at the age of 17. PLEASE review! I will love you for like EVER!

-seastar