So, this idea has been in my head for a while now and everytime I decided to shove it down it bobbed up again. So now I'm writing it. Hope you enjoy c:
She stood at the foot of her bed, covered with emerald sheets and black lace overlay. A black silk blanket covered it. She was dressed in her shadowhunter gear and strapped the basic weapons to herself. At her waist, her weapon belt held a small purse laden with warlock magic. The purse had infinite storage, anything of any size could fit inside. It was there where she stored all her other weapons, clothing, art supplies, photographs and other necessities. She slid an ordinary sky blue to white stele into her boot. Her special stele engraved with her initials -just like her other special weapons- went in her magical purse. The stele had an ever-flickering flame encased within ice taken from the seventh ring of hell. She was told the flame inside was heavenly fire, the ice brought by a demon her father had summoned and ordered to create the casing, the stele filled with fire by the angel who's blood ran through her veins. Just as she had finished, there was a knock on her door.
"Come in."
Her father stepped in. He was dressed in black royal garb, obsidian glittered in the candle black silk and velvet clothing rippled with him movements. His crown was carved from obsidian as well, a round mass of jagged, Spiked stones. Like tear drops who's spike resembled a broken glass.
He was the king of shadows, she was his princess, and Jonathan was the prince. Only her traitorous mother was missing.
"My beloved Clarissa, soon we will be able to leave this small kingdom and claim the entire shadowhunter world as ours, and you will be their queen. I will give you the throne if you succeed."
The girl - who's very hair resembled that of the flame in her stele- nodded, and made her way to the portal.
"With these hands I will claim what is mine, and with these hands I will carve my crown: The symbol of my accomplishments."
was her response to her father.
As she stepped through the portal, she hurriedly slid her tiara inside her purse. A small simple thing of a single row of 17 obsidian teardrops growing like a crescendo and decrescendo symbol who's edges touched. Each stone joined by the purest gold.
She brought it as a reminder of her goal.
She would not fail.
- - -Page break- page break-
She walked the darkened streets of Brooklyn to the institute, her clothes ripped and bloody, her breath ragged as pain wreaked her body; but she would walk around the world if her father asked her to. To see his proud expression and hear him say "good job Clarissa. You've done well." was all she lived for. She smiled, feeling the dried blood on her lips crack, already hearing her father's praise.
She spotted the institute and went up to the heavy oak door, raised the wrought iron knocker -a lion with its lips curled in an angry sneer- and knocked three times.
She maintained her gaze on the ground as the door opened and the woman spoke.
"How may i-"
pause
"By the angel, what happened to you child?"
Clarissa took this as her cue and willed her knees to buckle, to feign the perfect weakness her father and Jonathan had taught her.
but it wasn't all false, the weight of portal travel and miles of walking had taken a toll on her.
The last thing she heard was the woman's loud authoritative shouts for help, she felt strong arms pick her up. She allowed her body to become limp, concentrating of the voices around her, placing identities to the unknown voices.
'Maryse Lightwood
Robert Lightwood
Isabelle Lightwood
Alexander Lightwood
Jace Herondale.
'I will begin my web of lies, here.'
i thought before the darness claimed me.