Enjoy~*
She turned the page carefully. Making sure to keep her finger running along the words she's already read. The soft surface of the paper making the pad of her finger tickle. "I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul-" Clary stopped. Who was he talking about? Turning back a page made her realized that she knew none of what was happening. Starting back from the top, she continued to read. The words blurred together slightly, making her need to stop again. Hadn't she already read this?
Her frustration soared and she chucked the book across the room. Getting up from her chair on shaky legs, she wandered down the halls. The hard wood floors were cold and soothing against her bare feet, not to mention the soft, plush rugs that squished between her toes when she came across them. Clary stopped when she reached an especially beautiful floor runner. Crimson red with delicate golden swirls, all flowing together to make an ornate design, the fibers were short but still tickled between her toes and yielded beneath her weight.
Looking up to see what other beautiful things accompanied the rug in this room, a sense of dread set in. Where was she? These walls and floor seemed familiar but she just couldn't put a place to them. Panicking Clary wandered down the hall faster hoping to find someone, when she decided to just retrace her steps. Stumbling the opposite way down the hall, she stumbled into a room with a delicately carved wooden chair. Taking a step further she realized that there was a window across the room.
That's it! Her mind sighed with relief. If she could just look out that window, maybe it would tell her where she was. Striding towards it, her foot stubbed against something hard, and it made her balance waver. Looking down she saw a book lying on the floor. How did that get there? Clary picked it up and noticed that it seemed very old, and well loved. A Tale of Two City's. The spine was wrinkled, pages dog eared, and the cover slightly worn, but all the pages were intact with no risk of falling out. The book gave her a warm feeling. Wherever it had come from, she must have seen it before. Laying it gently on a little coffee table, she continued on her way to the window.
Clary looked through the cool glass, and saw fields of amazing lush grass, with brilliant silver clouds only letting beams of light through the cracks. Wind rustled the grass making it appear like waves of land, and in the distance was the glimmering of a tall, shining tower- She saw the same towers burning an angry red in the distance. Warm air smothered her and the smell of smoke and ichor clogged her throat. Sound of battle rang through the city like an evil anthem, piercing the ears of those even miles asway. Grotesque looking creatures crawled out from around every corner, grabbing at the desperate warriors who fought them so valiantly. A sluggish monster made its way towards her, when a giant wolf leaped from the shadow and tore it apart with a feral expression. The wolf turned and looked her straight in the eye, the demons blood dripping from its muzzle.
The scene changed.
A tall man with hair paler than his skin and malevolently dark eyes loomed towards her. His grin was dripping with a dark, knowing, amusement. Like he was playing a game he knew was already won. A predatory look came over his face, and it practically sang with the joy that she was his next victim.
"It was all his fault," was the sudden mantra that rang though her thoughts.
An unaccounted for anger raged through her veins like a hot blade through water. Clary hated him, yet behind all those dark clouds of rage was also a lingering ghost of pity. The man reached for her and pulled her close, when suddenly a sword appeared at her hip. She reached for it, and before he noticed, thrust it from behind into his chest. His smile drooped and filled with a mortifying look of horror as blood seeped from his chest. A terrible scream rang in the distance.
Clary shuddered with fear and tears dripped down her face. Her frail body was racked with sobs at these awful visions and coupled with the fear of not knowing where she was. Shaking hard, she slid down the wall and fell to the floor in a ball, when suddenly a door burst open. A tall man, leaning heavily against a cane, came rushed towards her.
He was tall, with very pale white hair, and a warm face that was marked with laugh lines and even a few scars. His haunting amber eyes and soft lips were the perfect image of pure concern, and even though he may look elderly, his presence was extremely comforting all the same.
"Clary, what's wrong?" The man pulled her into his embrace and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Who are you?" She whispered back. The man looked only slightly taken back, still a flash of a deep grief spluttered across his handsome face, which he smoothly covered.
"I am a very close friend of yours," he held her at arms-length and she noticed a beautiful silver ring, with an H and small little birds embellishing the face, resting on one of his long delicate fingers. Releasing her from his grasp carefully, a sense of homesickness rained over her.
"Where am I?" Clary pushed. The man ignored her, turning to the table where she had set the book and picked up a mug that hadn't been there the moment before. It was dark blue, with a little green hand print and the words "Best Mom Ever" written on the side. He pressed it into her hands and she found it very warm, with a dark brown liquid inside.
The man coughed heavily into his arm. "I'm sorry. It was getting very cold in this house and I thought you could use something to warm you up. Drink that and stay in here, I'll fetch you a blanket." Now that he mentioned it, it was very cold. Shivering, Clary brought the cup to her lips, and the taste of warm, smooth, chocolate filled her mouth. Not too hot, and not too cold, it was perfect.
Where was this place? Who was that man? It all seemed so familiar, but just too far away for her to grasp. In that moment she felt very pitiful, being so lost. Using the mug to warm her hands, she wrapped them around the cup tightly. Lost on her own train of thought, Clary only snapped out of it when a warm green blanket was rested on her shoulders.
"There you go," he said. Gently he took her fragile arm and started to guide her out of the room. "I've started a fire, and besides, I bet you've been getting bored in that old room. A change of scenery is long overdue."
She looked at him with wide eyes. "What's your name?"
This time he was less smooth with covering the sadness on his face, and she could swear that there was water building up in his eyes. Again, though, he made his face friendly and impassive. "My name is Jace." He gave her a tight smile, but as a more sincere gesture, took one of her hands. "We've known each other for a very long time."
Jace seemed honest enough, so she let him guide her though the labyrinth like hallways. It was slow progress, as Clary had not an idea of where they were going and Jace relied heavily on his cane for support. They hobbled into a beautiful room, with arched glass windows that looked out into a green valley. It smelled strongly of cinnamon, and a warm fire burned below a stone mantle, feeding her heat deprived limbs. In front of the windows was an antique-ish looking brown, leather sofa, and in the center was a piano.
Sweetly he helped her sit on the couch, where she tucked her legs up and wrapped the soft green blanket around herself. "It's been a while since I have played this old thing, but I'm sure the talent is still there." Jace sat heavily on the bench, but with movements so graceful, his hands danced across the keys in a quick tune. "Ah, still there. See?" He choked on his own words and had to hunch over to cough harshly into his elbow.
Clary was about to stand up and help him, but before she could he straightened up again. "You just relax deer." His fingers played at the keys again, this time forming the beginnings of a much more elaborate melody.
Each note was like medicine to her fractured mind. Memories, happy ones, sifted through her thoughts like a healing river.
Clary danced with Jace, wearing a golden dress that swept around her feet, and a freshly burned rune above her heart. "I believe we get better every time we dance?" He said with a laugh.
"Well, we're much better than Simon and Izzy anyways," he lifted her into the air and twirled her.
"A monkey with tap shoes would dance better than Simon. Besides, it's our wedding! We should look better than any of the couples here tonight, and you Mrs. Herondale look like a star fallen to earth." They spun as the music reached a new high.
"Your being awfully sweet. If the wedding makes you this sentimental I'd say we should get married every day, but have a feeling that just being with you will feel like it anyway." They smiled and lost themselves into the dance again.
The vision faded and this time she with Simon.
Clary couldn't stop looking at the rune branded to her shoulder. Simon bumped his similarly marked arm into her and smiled. "Well… We always said that we would be best friends forever and now there's no going back. It's a shame, I think I'm getting a little bored with you. Wouldn't mind if a cool vampire-rockstar man wanted to take your place."
She slapped his arm, and he flinched as her hand scraped the raw skin. "Watch it Fairchild, this rune hurts more than normal."
"Boo you baby, your bonded to me for life now, get over it." Simon scoffed and they just sat and talked for a while. Two newly bonded parabatai planning their futures together.
The piano rose to a crescendo- Clary hugged the baby to her trying to soothe its cries. The baby girl, only hours old, already had a strong grip and her little fingers were wrapped tightly around Clary's finger. A soft round face, a silky tuft of red hair, Jace's nose, she was an angel.
Jace leaned in and peeked over her shoulder. "What should we name her? If you haven't decided anything, I thought of something to toy around with."
She looked at her husband curiously. "What?"
"Edwige." Clary blinked, once, twice, three times. He said it so seriously she almost couldn't tell he was joking. She burst out laughing, and even accidently snorted a couple of times.
Jace looked offended. "You think I'm kidding? Edwige was one of the best female shadowhunters of her time! She was an iron sister in the seventeenth-century that completely revolutionized the process of forging stele."
Clary stopped laughing. "You weren't joking." He continued staring at her. "No matter how heroic the lineage, no daughter of mine will be named Edwige! I couldn't condemn a poor baby with a name like that."
He rolled his eyes at her, "fine. If you don't like Edwige what do you suggest?"
Two little boys with flaming red hair ran into the room and threw themselves on the bed. Two sets of golden eyes looking on in adoration at their new baby sister. Giving her brothers a show, the baby decided at that moment to let out a little belch.
"Mom!" Johnathon looked them dead in the eyes. "She makes the same burp face as Aunt Izzy!"
And that was how Isadora Jocelyn Edwige Herondale got her name…
The music began to slow- If you can just get me a little higher.
"Clary! Your basically sitting on my head, what do you want me to do? Throw you?" Alec griped beneath her. She was trying to hang the last few strings of Christmas lights, and they didn't have a latter. So she used Alec as her human step stool. It was all fine and dandy, until Alec was officially too short for her to reach the top window in the library. It was just inches away… If she could just- Alec stumbled and launched Clary over the railing of the second floor. Quickly she grabbed for the rod iron bars, and managed to catch herself, which left her dangling roughly two and a half stories above the ground.
Alec hunched over the rails and grabbed her wrist to hike her up. Though as luck would have it, as soon as he put his wait on the bars, they broke. They both went tumbling to the ground, Clary not prepared to land gracefully, braced herself for impact. Yet she never hit the ground. Instead she found herself sitting on the couch next to Alec, with a condescending Magnus Bane standing in front of them.
"I don't know what was going on, but please do try and keep yourselves alive even when I'm not here. I can't watch you twenty-four seven." Her and Alec just sat there like embarrassed children.
The music stopped, and Clary was almost asleep. All of the memories had left her in a happy haze, even if they were already fleeing from her mind. The man at the piano stood with urgency, even ignoring the cane beside him in favor of rushing to the couch. He reached her side leaning over her, his face looked tired and pale.
"Clary, I know you're going to forget me, and I just want to let you know that it's alright. It's not your fault. I love you. I love you now, I loved you then, and when I get to the life after, I'll love you then, and you'll remember that you loved me too." Her eyes were drooping and she was almost in sleeps sweet embrace.
The man gave her a small kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight Clary. Sweet dreams."
Quickly he turned around, hard coughs wracking his body, and he left the room closing the door behind him. Just as she drifted off to sleep, she heard his coughs stop and something heavy fall against the floor. Dreams of bright colors and nameless places filled her sleep.
Clary didn't even remember the mans name.
Hello, Dear Readers! This was my try at something sad. I may make it a series of one-shots or short stories, but this particular one is going to be a stand alone. Please tell me what you think! It made me sad writing it, but I'm not sure if a captured the emotion right. Thanks for reading!
Sincerely.
FanOfTheWrittenArt~*