Idris
Fifteen Years Earlier
X~X~X~X
"A son?" He asked, hesitating in the doorway.
"Yes." She replied, the pride clear in her tone. "He looks just like you."
The man grinned, stepping forward to lift the boy into the air. The infant giggled, his brown eyes, the very same shade of his father's, shining.
By the angel, she prayed her son would always know how precious he was.
He was their first child, their first son, their first everything.
She wanted him to know how much he was loved, how much he was wanted, and how much potential he had. She had loved him since the moment she first dreamed about what he would look, what he would be like as he grew inside of her for nine months.
She had loved him as he kicked, and stretched and did somersaults in her belly. She couldn't help but love him, though she hadn't realized the depth and breadth of that love until he arrived and made that sharp cry out in protest of being yanked into a cold and bright world.
She felt love for him from a place deep within that had never been tapped before, and it overwhelmed her, consumed her. When he was brought to her, she had been afraid to look away from him, because she feared it could have all been just a dream, and she didn't want it to end. The moment she first saw him, she knew she would fight for him, she would bleed for him, she would die for him. She loved him that much.
"What shall we name him?"
She thought for a moment. Only one name came to mind.
"George."
He paused. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." She said. "George Simon Lovelace."
"It's a fine name." A third voice agreed.
The man whirled around, clutching his new born son a little tighter.
"Valentine." He whispered.
X~X~X~X
Their deaths were quick, but not painless, like they would have been had they remained loyal. He wiped the blood from his seraph blade, and lifted the infant from his bassinet, cradling him awkwardly in his arms.
"Hello, George." Valentine muttered. "What a fine warrior you will be."
The two disappeared into the night.
X~X~X~X
Sometimes, she wondered how such a cold and calculated man could also be so foolish.
He didn't know just how often she followed him.
Tonight, she decided, she would finally be brave enough to uncover what her husband had worked so hard to hide from her.
The children were safe and sound, put to bed with a kiss against each of their temples. She had thrown on a cloak, keeping a firm arm across her growing middle as if she could protect the life inside of her.
This was not the life she had wanted for herself, or her children.
She had been so happy when she discovered she was pregnant with her first, she had truly believed that Valentine would see his son for the blessing that he was, but he paid Jonathan little mind, and by the time Sebastian was born, nearly a year later, feelings of warmth and had been replaced with tears of sorrow. She had never imagined that bringing a new life into the world would cause her to spiral into a great depression.
And now...
She couldn't continue living like this, pretending that everything was okay when it was not.
She looked at herself in an entirely different way; she was no longer strong, proud Shadowhunter, but a mother, struggling to find her self-worth, struggling to realize that the man she loved, the man she had chosen to marry, the father of her children, was a monster, and that despite everything he had done, all the devastation he had left in his path, she had stayed with him.
The moment she caught sight of his retreating figure, she moved from her hiding spot, her arm still drawn tightly across her middle, and slipped into the old cabin.
Upon the death of her father-in-law, the deed had been transferred to their name, but he had refused to spend so much as an afternoon there with his family. The first time she asked, he replied that the lake was not safe for the children to be around. The second time, he ignored her, and she did not question him again.
With a free hand, she pushed the door open.
Someone, or something let out a wail.
She would have known that sound anywhere. Any mother would.
You call yourself a mother? An all too familiar voice scolded. Look at the man you chose to father your own children! You can't protect them!
Her own mother had understood what a true gift motherhood could be, she hadn't had the chance to. With the sudden discovery, she was beginning to wonder if she ever would.
The first time she held Jonathan and Sebastian, she hadn't feel a connection.
She had sat there, staring at their chubby little cheeks. They felt chunky, and she couldn't quite believe they had come from her and her husband, but their eyes were bright green, like her own, and he had the same dark eyelashes.
They both had fair hair, like his, and some of their mannerisms, even at their young age, reminded her of him. She could never admit just how much that scared her.
The wailing grew louder. With a shaking hand, she yanked the torn curtain aside.
Two babies lay side by side in a bassinet.
One was still howling, his face red, and his eyes bloodshot, while the other remained silent, staring at her, as if trying to place her.
He looked so much like his father.
She had heard of Stephen's death from Valentine, and after Celine's suicide, everyone had simply assumed that her unborn child had died with her.
And yet, here he was, the last of the Herondale bloodline.
What had Valentine done to him?
Her heart had never felt so heavy and hard to hold
She had spent hours lost in depression, wondering how her life could her life could have possibly ended up the way it had, she had stopped trying to fight against her husband, she had stopped trying to uncover his master plan
She hadn't protected her own children, and she hadn't protected them.
Carefully, she unwound her arm from her middle.
She couldn't protect anyone.
X~X~X~X
Not a day went by that she did not think of either boy she had saved.
She could never blame them for the burden she carried, but their eyes, piercing, powerful, had haunted her from the moment she first discovered them, each nestled in a creaking bassinet, without so much as a blanket to keep them warm.
Only a few days old, they had already suffered far worse than any child should have, orphaned by the cruelty of her husband.
She had to save them.
She owed them that much, so she had taken both babies, stealing them, much like Valentine had, passing them off to the only person that could help..
Then, she watched with silent pride as her husband grieved, sobbing like he'd lost his own.
She only knew of what had happened to one of the children.
The last of the Herondale blood line had been sent to the home of a one-time friend, a family longing for a second child, while the other's fate remained unknown.
She could only hope it would be better than the life he could have lived.
Robert and Maryse had accepted a position to run the New York Institute. In her last letter, she had spoken of her children, One-year-old Alexander, five-month-old Jace, and Isabelle, born just weeks before. They had escaped the Circle with few scars.
Despite everything that had happened, they were the only ones she could trust.
She wished she could find peace with the decision she was making. She was far from ready to move forward with relief and joy, putting it all 'behind her.' She saw it as an escape of responsibility, not a selfless act that showed she was not like Valentine.
Soon, the three that she loved the most would become part of another family, perhaps not in name, or blood, but in heart, the things that mattered most.
George might never know that he had been a Lovelace.
Jace would learn the truth one day, and chose to do with it what he wanted.
Jonathan and Sebastian would know they were Morgenstern's, they would remember, and someday, they would have to tell their sister the truth.
Please. She thought, pressing a hand to her swollen middle. Forgive me.
New York
Six Months Later
X~X~X~X
There would never be a day, not a moment that went by where she would not think of what she was about to do, the choice she had already made, every single agonizing second.
"Mommy?" He questioned, lifting his head from her shoulder.
She brushed a hand across his hair, soft and blonde, just like his father's, in response.
His brother had not stirred.
Her love was never ending, her prayers never ceasing; she believed they had been brought into her life because of a greater plan, a greater power that she herself could not fully understand.
A blaring horn broke her from her thoughts.
She glared down at the noise, the warm summer air blowing strands of hair loose from the tight bun she had pulled it back into earlier.
Whoever had nicknamed it the City That Never Sleeps was correct, for New York was just as she remembered it; loud, and in constant motion.
The jolt to her stomach reminded her that she had to keep moving.
Keeping her arms around the both of them, she leaped from the building, landing expertly on her feet. She was grateful for the glamour keeping her hidden. They would have been sure to offer her aide had they noticed her condition.
Mundanes were nothing if not helpful, but despite the pain, she could not revel herself to them.
She saw the things others could not, runes drawn against the brick buildings, protecting the warriors hidden away inside, raveners parading amongst the humans, mixing in.
New York was crawling with demons.
Where she headed was the safest place, but a single thought plagued her mind.
This is not the life I wanted for you.
It really wasn't
It was the right decision, though that did little to take away the heart rendering realization of the choice she was making. She could only hope that the three of them would become strong, but kind people who strove to do right, that they would love, honor and respect.
A ruined life would soon become a redeemed one, an opportunity for them to start again and a chance at a better life.
"Magnus!" She called, her fist hitting the wood. "Please, open up! I need your help!"
X~X~X~X
Her heels clicking against the linoleum tiles were a dead giveaway to her arrival, but he still refused to glance up from the mountain of paperwork cluttering his desk. He never met her gaze anymore, not if he could help it, for looking meant acknowledging the constant overwhelming, suffocating guilt that clung to him like a second skin.
Often, he wondered if it would have been easier to feel nothing at all.
He gripped his pen so tightly, he could have split it in half. "Are they asleep?"
"Yes." She replied, her lips forming a thin line "Fast asleep."
She perched on the arm of the chair across from him, desperately looking for something to say to him. The bedtime ritual, which he seldom helped with, retreating to his office directly after dinner, claiming that there was too much work to be done, had gone out without a hitch for once.
Truly, she felt blessed to have been the lucky chosen one to be the mother to those three beautiful children, but her oldest was bossy, a natural leader, her middle a rule breaker, and her youngest colicky, as well as stubborn. It was a trait she recognized easily, and she could only imagine that Isabelle would grow to be headstrong with a good heart, doing whatever she had to do for those she loved.
In a life filled with monsters, sacrifices and misery, it was Alec, Jace and Isabelle who reminded her of her duty. Never would she stop protecting them.
"I suppose you'll be retiring as well?"
Not without you. She wanted to say, but she wouldn't have meant it.
When had those words stopped being true?
Heading for her, their bedroom on the fourth floor of the Institute hadn't even crossed her mind until he mentioned it, and yet, she was tired, which surprised her. She was an insomniac, not by choice, by duty.
Sleep was a rarity in their world, becoming even less so with her five-month-old daughter
She had grown used to going without, there was no logical reason for her to feel weak.
It suddenly dawned on her that the exhaustion wasn't physical. It was emotional.
She could feel it easily, every time she was even within proximity to the man she called her husband. There was no love, only a life together, far from the one they had originally imagined, banished to the mundane world for crimes they would always regret, with children, and a duty to train, mentor, and protect future generations of Shadowhunters.
A gust of wind whipped her hair around her shoulders. She staggered backwards as a familiar gaping hole appeared where his bookshelf had once been. Someone tumbled into the room, toppling to the floor as the portal closed behind them. He moved to stand in front of her, unsure of whether to be concerned, or alarmed.
"Who are you?" He demanded, wishing he had a weapon handy. "Identify yourself. Now!"
"Robert." The voice was filled with agony. "Maryse. Please, I need your help."
"Who are you?" Maryse asked, echoing her husband. "How did you get in here?"
A sacred rune had been placed upon the institute to protect those inside, one only known by Shadowhunters.
A hesitant hand reached up to remove the hood covering the figure's face. They hadn't recognized the voice, but that auburn hair was unmistakable.
Unforgettable.
Jonathan and Sebastian were cradled in her arms.
Neither objected when she moved to lay the boys, both fast asleep, on the sofa.
"J-Jocelyn?" Robert chocked out.
She nodded, and might have tried to smile, but instead doubled over in pain.
"Jocelyn." Maryse said, taking a step forward. Robert caught her wrist.
"Don't." He warned, turning away from the woman. "She is no friend of ours."
She had once been, did that not count for anything?
"I'm not hurt." Jocelyn whispered.
Her abdomen was swollen, round, just as Faith had been only months before. Indeed, she was not hurt.
She was pregnant
X~X~X~X
There was no day on the calendar to celebrate the birth parents whose sacrifices allowed others to live happily ever after.
Because of the woman, whoever she was, she would get to witness the baby's first smile, his eager crawl, the stumbling walk, and his confident run. She had witnessed those things before, of course, with her elder children, Elliot and Rebecca, but there was something about Simon that just mae him so...
Special.
Perhaps it was the knowledge that he had grown inside her heart instead of underneath it.
Adoption wasn't all beauty; it was hard, and it was sad, and it started with a loss.
When he had first come into the Lewis home, neither she nor her husband knew what to expect. They had never known a baby to be so afraid, they had never seen a child so young fight not to be.
It was days before she knew he could smile, his teary eyes and tight-lipped half smile were all she could picture from his first days.
She wondered if he would like sports like his brother, or music like his sister.
Would he be a writer, or a doctor or a great statesman?
Would he laugh all the time, or make others laugh, or would he be serious and pensive, contemplating the deep things of life. Whatever he was, whoever he became, she wanted him to live to the fullest potential he had.
He had stolen their hearts.
At just two months old, he was funny, kind, smart, brave, and worthy of all the love in this world, and god, how they loved him.
Being his parents was a blessing, an answered prayer, more than they could have ever asked for. Sharing each day with him, and their family was what life was meant to be.
Their hope was to provide him with the courage and strength to embrace all of what made him the wonderful person he was.
She hoped he would remember that all of them, together, would always be his family.
X~X~X~X
She couldn't bring herself to look at him, instead busying herself with tending to Jocelyn, barking out orders every so often.
"Robert..."
"Don't." Robert warned, throwing a hand upwards to cut her off. "Do not defend her. She has no right to come here after everything she has done!"
It's not her fault. She wanted to say, but that wasn't the truth.
Jocelyn had once been a friend, a very good one that she had survived some of her most difficult years of training with at the academy, the one who had fought with her, side by side, protecting one another.
Always.
Jocelyn cried out in agony, clamping down on the hand of a seventeen-year-old Shadowhunter so tightly that the poor girl's knuckles turned white. Another contraction.
The baby would be here soon.
"Why did you come here?" Robert demanded.
Suddenly, there was a blade hovering only inches above her neck.
"If you came here to act as a spy for Valentine..."
He raised his arm, ready to strike.
"Valentine will no longer be a problem after tonight!"
The blade clattered against the tiled floor.
"W-What?" He stammered.
Maryse hesitantly perched at the edge of the bed.
"What?" She asked.
"Jocelyn." Robert hissed, when she didn't answer. "What are you going to do?"
Did he really believe that her loyalty still lay with her husband? Valentine was a cruel man, a Shadowhunter who had gone rouge, it went without saying that he could, and would hurt even those closest to him if it meant getting what he wanted.
They all had the scars to prove it.
"I'm going to make this world safe for our children again."
Robert knelt to retrieve his fallen sword, his moves cautionary, and strategic. The years apart had left him still so untrusting. "What about the children?"
There was still a part of him that was concerned for her safety.
The three shared a knowing look.
"No." Maryse begged. It couldn't be true. "Jocelyn, no, you can't!"
"I have to." Jocelyn released her grip on the girl's hand, reaching for her old friend's instead. "It's my only hope of saving them."
"But the baby." Robert began to pace again. "Jonathan... Sebastian. What about them? What about you, Jocelyn? You know what Valentine is capable of... We all do."
She didn't answer.
"Jocelyn?"
"Maryse." She said suddenly. "I need you to do something for me."
Maryse hesitated.
Somewhere deep down was her best friend, her old roommate, the girl she had stayed up half the night, telling all of her secrets to, the girl she had one day hoped would be the godmother of her children, their guardian if anything were to ever happen.
They had made a vow, to always be there for one another.
Even after everything that had transpired, she couldn't break that promise now.
"Anything."
"Raise them." Jocelyn begged. Another contraction hit, and an attendant announced from somewhere in the background that it was time for her to begin pushing.
"What?"
"Raise them." She said again, her tone filled with agony. "Jonathan, Sebastian and the baby. Please."
"What?"
The anger was back, and in full force.
"Raise your children?" Robert roared. "You want us to... No! Absolutely not! That is out of the question! We have already helped you more than you deserve! The last child you asked us to save-"
"Is now our son." Maryse finished, her protective instincts getting the better of her.
He paused, as if remembering that the only reason he had his second son in the first place was because of the woman lying before him.
"I love Jace." Robert muttered.
"As do I." She replied. "Along with every child who lives under this roof. It is our duty to mentor them, to protect them, and raise them to be the best Shadowhunters they can be."
"Of course, but-"
"Push Jocelyn."
Maryse tightened her grip on Jocelyn's hand. She screamed.
"Push."
"Maryse." Robert said. "We can't do this."
"You're almost there, Jocelyn."
"Please!" Jocelyn cried. "It's the only way they'll stand a chance!"
There was a moment of doubt. Who was she truly trying to save?
The unborn child? Jonathan? Sebastian?
Or herself?
Her children.
Not once had she ever claimed ownership of the life inside of her, or the two boys still sleeping soundly.
Maryse understood immediately.
Jocelyn loved the children, enough to let them grow up without her.
She loved the children enough to let them go.
"Yes." Maryse whispered.
Robert turned to stare at her, his jaw falling slightly. "What?"
"We must do this." She told him. "It is our duty."
"Our duty? Maryse-"
"We will raise the children." She said, determination clear in her tone. "We will love them with everything we have to give, they will be cherished members of our family."
Robert made no moves to argue.
"Thank you." Jocelyn whispered, her head falling back against the pillow.
"It's time." The attendant announced. "Push Jocelyn!"
Jocelyn closed her eyes, her head falling back against the pillow.
"Push!"
"One day, you will have to tell them the truth about me." She said. "That I wasn't strong enough, that I didn't put them first when I should have, but please... Also tell them how much I loved them, because no matter what, I did love them."
"I know you did."
A piercing cry echoed off the walls of the infirmary. Maryse felt a gentle hand squeeze her own.
When she looked down, Jocelyn was gone.
X~X~X~X
She was an angel.
"À la claire fontaine m'en allant promener." She sang. "J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle que je m'y suis baignée."
Maryse stood on the terrace, gently rocking the bundle in her arms as she stared up at the night sky. All around her, mundane moved freely, completely unaware of the possible danger surrounding them.
The baby cooed in her sleep, also at peace.
"A girl?"
She hadn't heard him enter. His arrival was unexpected; after Jocelyn's disappearance, he had stormed out of the infirmary before the attendant could even announce the gender.
"Yes." She replied, turning to face him.
He surprised her, holding his arms out. He stared at her, as if asking for permission. With a hesitant smile, she handed the baby off. Robert seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
"She's beautiful." He declared.
And in that moment, Maryse could not have loved her husband more.
The look in his eyes, she recognized it immediately, the flash of pure admiration as he stared down at the child in his arms, it was the same way he looked at Alec, Jace, and Isabelle. For the first time in so long, Robert and Maryse Lightwood had an understanding.
The infant was not Jocelyn's.
The children were no longer Jocelyn's. They had never been Valentine's, not really, not when he had ignored them, and treated them cruelly. Not when he had attempted to turn the eldest into a monster. He did not deserve them.
No. The children were not Morgenstern's.
Jonathan, Sebastian, and the baby were theirs, perhaps not in name, but always in heart.
They had loved the boys from the moment they were born, and now, they loved her.
"Clarissa." Maryse whispered, brushing a finger across infant's cheek.
"Clarissa." Robert echoed. "It suits her."
The name meant bright, and it was not for her flaming wisp of red hair, it was simply for the light that Maryse just knew the child would bring into their lives. She reached for Clarissa again, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, as she continued her song.
"I've loved you for so long, I will never forget you."