Author's Note:

Hello and welcome to my brand new fanfiction! Thank you for checking it out. I absolutely love writing fanfiction regarding the Circle Era. This new story will focus on Michael Wayland, and the part he played in the Circle and Uprising.

First, a disclaimer:

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. This is a work of fiction based on the characters in Cassandra Clare's Mortal Instruments series. I own none of these characters. No money is being made on this work. This is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. This story will contain M-rated situations, as well as massive amounts of artistic license.AWFUL THINGS HAPPEN IN THIS STORY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.I will accept critiques but not flames. Reviews are most definitely encouraged and will motivate me to update faster. Please be gentle with your criticism, at least, in the beginning. I feel horribly out of practice with this.

Second: This story came out of how much I enjoyed writing Viva La Vida, which focused on Stephen Herondale. This story will NOT be Viva La Vida from Michael's point of view, but being that both stories deal with the Circle, there may be some parts of this story that were previously seen in Viva La Vida. This story can be considered a compliment to Viva La Vida. In reading one, the other, or both, you will get both sides of the story, between Michael and Stephen.

I'm sorry this chapter is so long. That won't always be the case. This is long merely because it's the first chapter. Please read, review, and most of all, enjoy!

Black, White, and Everything in Between

Chapter 1
May

When Michael woke up from the dream, his chest was covered in a thin layer of sweat and the dorm room was cold. The dream had seemed so real, the fear, so evident, for a moment, Michael could still feel the ice water on his chest, the waves crashing over him and pushing him under. Robert had been holding his hand, pulling him away from the water, trying to save him, yet the waves had ripped them apart. When they separated, it had been the pain in Michael's heart that tore him from his slumber and sent him sitting upright, wild eyes searching the room.

"Robert," Michael said, gasping for air.

The room was pitch black save for a circle of blue light across the room. Michael fell from his bed and crossed the room, one hand reaching out only to find that the bed across the room still had the covers pulled tight, the way the bed was made every morning. The bedroom window was open, a cool breeze coming in, so Michael shoved the window shut and sat down on the bed, shivering from the perspiration cooling across his shoulder blades. Several blonde curls were stuck to his forehead and he pushed them out of his eyes, taking a few more breathes before reaching over to grab a tattered flannel blanket from the end of the bed which he wrapped around his shoulders.

It had been just a dream. Only a dream.

Weak and exhausted, Michael lay down on his parabatai's bed, stretching out on the tightly pulled covers, turning his face to breathe in the soft, subtle scent of Robert's spiced aftershave as his heartbeat slowed.

Robert had never been what someone might consider a saint. Every minute of every day with Robert was a battle of wills, of Robert testing boundaries and flirting with consequences. Tonight was no different. Tonight Robert had left the dorm room, promising he would be back, though he had made that promise when the moon was low in the sky and now it was overheard, casting a single patch of light on the windowsill. Rules and laws and structure had never mattered much to Robert, who believed that it was possible to operate outside the rules and had been doing so for the last four years, since he and Michael had arrived in Idris, their parabatai runes freshly applied.

The Robert that Michael knew, loved, and endured stood half a head taller than Michael. He had grown from a boy with arms and legs that were too long for him into a man who was stocky, his arms thick with muscle, his hair raven black, his eyes both dark and probing, the sort of eyes that made people tell the truth no matter the cost. Robert was a Lightwood, a member of an upstanding family which had originated in London, though Robert had been raised in manor homes and Institutes all over the world.

Despite how particular and smart mouthed and downright difficult Robert had been in his youth spent in London, Michael found him to be perfect. Robert was strong and brave in the times when Michael was frightened, and Robert was always the one who was ready to take the first step while Michael was a step behind. They grew up together, with Robert bringing Michael out of his shell and teaching him to be bold. Michael gave Robert an outlet for his excessive energy, and gave him something else he hadn't had before: both a brother he got along with, and a best friend.

A creak of a floorboard caused Michael to roll over on Robert's bed and look at the door, his breath held as he waited for the doorknob to turn, though it never did. The noise must have come from upstairs. The Academy dorms were stacked four stories high (first years on the top floor, fourth years on the ground floor) and were laid out around a courtyard filled with dirt and grass, the boys on one side of that great expanse and the girls on the other. After lights out, when doors that were usually left open were locked, the only way to get from the boy's side of the dorms to the girl's side was to step into the courtyard and risk being seen.

Nothing good could come from sneaking to the girl's dorms, Michael knew. If caught, the punishment would be severe, at the very least a letter home to parents, at the very worst, expulsion. For Michael, the first child of his family to attend the Academy, this wasn't worth the risk, but Robert had always been stupid, lucky, or a mixture of both, and evaded detection time and time again.

Michael closed his eyes and took a breath, resting a hand over his chest. He imagined climbing out of bed, going to the door, opening it, and stepping into the dark hallway. When it was late at night the hallway was only lit by witch light torches that burned dimly in the walls. If Michael were to be so bold, he would follow these lights down the hallway, past the bathrooms, past more doors decorated with names and pictures, all closed and locked for the night. At the end of the hall, Michael would slip first into an atrium lined with stained glass windows, then through a door and out into the courtyard.

At this time of night the courtyard would be empty. If he heard no sounds, Michael would stay close to the building, skirting the edge of the courtyard, and walk to the far corner of the dorms, to a window with an aloe vera plant sitting on the sill. Here, Michael would knock softly on the window, and if luck were to be on his side, the window would open and a hand would slip out. This hand would be decidedly soft and feminine, marked by a turquoise bracelet the girl hadn't taken off since Michael had given it to her. If the world would stop turning for just a moment, Michael would take that hand with the turquoise bracelet on it and ever so gently press his lips to the pale skin of that exposed wrist, just over the blue veins that ran from her heart to her hand and back again. That one touch would be all Michael would ever need of Josephine.

Josephine.

She was so close yet a world away, not able to be seen until the next morning at breakfast. Josephine Lancaster was Josie long before she was Josephine. She was a childhood friend of Michael's, who chased him around the London Institute with a wooden sword and caused him to fear for his life until one day he found himself chasing her. Josie went from a little girl in blonde pigtails and gappy teeth to a woman who was tall and strong, beautiful, kind, and not the least bit threatening. They went from friendship to something more in the span of a year, their formal courtship lasted a summer. As summer drew to a close and the weather got cold, Michael gave Josephine a silver bracelet inlaid with turquoise and asked her to marry him. She accepted without hesitation. Just a few weeks after graduating from the Academy, Michael and Josie were to marry in a small ceremony held beneath a cypress tree at his parent's manor home.

Michael felt his heart beat a little faster and he rested his hand over it, taking a few breathes and beginning to discern, almost immediately, the source of the change in heartbeat. It wasn't Josephine this time, this felt different, deeper, somehow. In the way Michael knew when Robert was happy or sad, he knew when something spiked Robert's adrenaline. Maybe a teacher had caught him walking out of the girl's shower room with a towel slung around his hips. Maybe he was in a dark closet, sweaty hands on his own fiancees' thighs, his pants around his knees as he thrust silently and bit at the skin of her neck, leaving bruises and bites she wouldn't be able to explain the next morning. Michael made a fist and bit his lower lip, smiling. With Robert, the possibilities were endless.

When Michael opened his eyes again, the bedroom door was closing and a shadow was moving across the room. There was a sigh, and then Robert laid a hand on Michael's shoulder, then leaned over him to push the window open. He sat on the edge of the bed and Michael heard shoes hit the floor before Robert stretched out on the bed.

This bed had been bigger before, when they were younger. Michael could feel every bone of Robert's spine as he pressed close. He could feel the humid warmth of Robert's skin, the subtle scent of liquor, sweat, and spicy aftershave mixing with the crisp night air. Michael closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He didn't want to know where his parabatai had been on this night.

The next morning came with songbirds and sunshine beaming into Michael's eyes, and a persistent bugle player who woke up the Academy with the same obnoxious song played morning after morning. Michael opened his eyes and sat up, one hand reaching over to find the bed empty. The door opened and Robert walked in again, a towel around his hips, fresh from the showers.

"I waited up for you," Michael said softly. He climbed out of bed and went over to a clothesline, pulling a pair of pants down to put them on. Robert nodded and dropped his towel to the floor. Despite knowing every inch of Robert's body (every rune, every scar, and every imperfection) Michael still found his eyes widening at the sight of so much skin, already tan from being out in the sun.

"You waited up for me?" Robert asked. He pulled a pair of pants on with a little sigh and gave Michael a curious smile.

"You said you would be right back," Michael said, looking away. He pulled his own pair of pants on and grabbed a shirt, noticing as soon as it hit his shoulders that it was a much finer grade of cotton, lighter and breathable, not to mention better made, than any of his own shirts. Robert smirked and nodded.

"I'm never right back," he said. "You should have gotten your rest. You know I go out sometimes."

"Sure, sometimes, but this is becoming a nightly occurrence. It was twice this week," Michael said, starting on the shirt buttons. "You're going to get caught."

"What are they going to do? Expel me? Hold me back a year? I'm 18. I'm older than you." Robert said. Robert turned away and opened his trunk, looking for a shirt. With his back to him, Michael could see runes running down either side of Robert's spine in a neat, orderly line. When he was much younger, Robert was afraid of taking runes. He had cried in the ballroom of the London Institute at the age of twelve when he got his first rune, embarrassing his father. Because of this, when it came time for the second rune, Michael drew it himself, in the privacy of a room, far away from anyone else. When Robert had cried, Michael promised not to tell.

Nearly all of the runes on Robert's body had been drawn with Michael's own stele. The bloody scratches across the top of Robert's back, however, were new.

"I don't know what excitement sneaking off holds for you," Michael said, stepping closer. He licked his finger tip before tracing the length of a scratch, watching as Robert's muscles contracted. Michael flattened his hand and ran it, gently, over Robert's back, over the scratches that had been put there in any way but lovingly.

"Give me one more month," Robert said. "One more month, and then I'll be married, and we will be away from here, and practically adults, and we'll be able to breathe." Robert pulled his shirt and boots on before stepping over to Michael, reaching down to button each of the buttons on the shirt. Michael moved his hands out of the way, knowing that sometimes, Robert sought control.

"One more month," Michael said. "One more month and then we will have graduated and you'll be married and you won't be sneaking out of our dorm room because you won't need to." Robert rolled his eyes and spun Michael around, shoving him towards the door. Michael only had a chance to reach back and grab Robert's arm, pulling him after him, as they stepped into the hallway at nearly the exact same moment the rest of the doors opened and students poured into the hall, the noise and the life signaling the start of another day.

The dining hall was just filling up when Robert and Michael collected their food and went to sit at a table in the corner of the room, beside a long line of windows that over looked the front lawn of the school. Robert had commandeered this table midway through their first year and it had been the place they sat with various friends for their entire school career. Robert sat down first with his back to the wall and Michael sat at his right side. Maryse Trueblood, Robert's fiancee, showed up next, crossing the dining hall and sitting beside Robert, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She dropped her school bag to the floor and gave Michael barely a nod of greeting as her left hand slipped beneath the table and ended up, more than likely, on Robert's upper thigh.

"Top of the morning," Michael said sarcastically.

"Nice shirt," Maryse replied. "I bet it doesn't have your initials embroidered in the collar."

"It doesn't," Michael said, without missing a beat, "Your fiancé gave it to me right after I climbed out of his bed." Maryse's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and Michael knew he had her beat.

"That's enough out of the both of you," Robert said. Maryse smirked and grabbed a strawberry from Robert's plate. She licked her lips, closed her eyes before taking a bite of it. Michael felt his confidence starting to slip, but then Maryse always had that affect on him.

Maryse did things just to torment boys. She wore her skirts a tad too short and her pants a tad too tight. Her breasts weren't ample and yet today they were threatening to spill out of the top of the v-neck shirt she wore along with her gear. Her hair was pulled back into a severe braid, and even without makeup, her eyes were wide and bright. The end of a rune on her chest curled beneath the seam of her shirt. Michael was aware he was staring; he just couldn't tear his eyes away from that rune, wanting to know where it ended up.

Robert sighed easily, then sat back in his seat and kicked Michael in the shin. Michael tore his eyes away from Maryse's bosom and kicked back. Robert picked up his butter knife and aimed for Michael's hand; Michael picked up Robert's coffee and drank half of it. Maryse sighed and looked across the dining hall, her eyes searching for someone, anyone.

"If you don't get yourself laid, I will," Robert said, leaning close to Michael.

"I don't need laid," Michael replied, dropping the coffee cup back onto the saucer. Maryse arched an eyebrow and finished the strawberry. "I don't." Maryse took another strawberry and savored it, tilting her head back and letting out a sigh of satisfaction as her hand traced up the side of her neck. Michael saw the Lightwood ring on her right ring finger.

"Don't torment the poor boy. He's got principles, remember," Robert said. "He's saving himself for his wedding night."

"I am not," Michael said. Robert rolled his eyes. "I'm not!"

"My sweet boy," Robert said, "My sweet, incorruptible boy, when will you have some fun?" He drummed his finger tips on the back of Michael's hand.

"Not all of us can afford to sneak out," Michael mumbled.

"You snuck out?" Maryse asked. "Where did you go?" Robert sipped the rest of his coffee before trading his cup with Michael's. Michael stole a piece of Robert's bacon and chewed it noisily. "Robert."

"I went out for a drink. It's almost the weekend," Robert said. "It's Friday, right? What is so wrong with going out for a drink on Friday morning?"

"You're going to get kicked out," Maryse whispered. Robert shrugged and finished his coffee. "Never mind that. I found this beneath my door this morning." Maryse glanced around the room, glancing at the table full of faculty sitting at the head of the room before she pulled a rolled up sheet of paper from her school bag and slid it over to Robert.

"It's from Valentine Morgenstern," Robert said, "he's calling a meeting of the Circle at Goody's, and is inviting all those who want to join the Circle to attend the meeting."

Michael sat back in his seat, and reached over and grabbed the paper. Robert pulled it away. "Six months ago, Valentine Morgenstern was thrown off campus for trying to recruit students to a secret society. Now he's back, shoving notes beneath doors, inviting students to top secret meetings at the local cake and bake shop? The man has screws loose. Plural. Screws," Michael said.

"It's not a secret society," Maryse said. "It's a political organization. Valentine wants to bring about reform. Michael, you're interested in the laws, and Robert, you're always talking about what you want to see changed. Maybe this is a chance to change something. To give us all a brighter future." Robert rolled the note up and shoved it in his pocket.

"I don't see how a couple of shadowhunters meeting at a bakery could change anything," Robert said. "Were barely adults in the eyes of the Clave. We can't change anything. This is it, Maryse, we marry and make babies and kill demons and die doing it, and nothing is ever going to change that."

"Just go to the meeting for me," Maryse said. "Michael. Robert. Do it for…" She didn't need to say any more. Her eyes went to the faculty table at the head of the room, to the man sitting at the end of it who had dark hair and downcast eyes.

Maxwell Trueblood was an instructor at the school, and in a few weeks time, he would be Robert's brother in law. Michael hardly knew him, as Maxwell had been two grades above he and Robert when they had started school and was now a weapons instructor for the first and second year students. Robert had told Michael the story anyway, how Maxwell had met a girl when he was 16 and fell in love with her, dooming himself to a life of heartbreak. The girl was a mundane, someone of the human race, who wasn't to know about the Shadowhunters. Twice Maxwell had brought the case before the Clave and twice they rejected the girl as a prospect for Ascension. Now Maxwell faced a decision: choose the Shadowhunters and leave the girl behind, or strip his runes and leave the Shadowhunters, and his family, behind to become a mundane.

"We'll think about it," Robert said. He nudged Michael, who turned his head as Josie stepped into the dining hall and came over to the table. Like Maryse, Josie was already dressed in gear, as the female Shadowhunters trained in the morning, the males in the afternoon. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun and she wore no makeup, just a little gloss on her lips that made them look pinker.

"I missed you," Michael whispered as she sat beside him.

"I missed you more," Josie said, and took his hand beneath the table, hiding from the faculty's view. "I can't wait to marry you." Robert raised an eyebrow, causing Michael to blush. "So." She let go of Michael's hand and reached for her fork. "Stephen and Amatis are going to sit with us this morning."

"No," Robert said. "There is a whole dining hall full of tables. I don't want to be seen with either of them."

"They are friends," Josie said. "They asked to sit with us. Stephen did, anyway. He asked for you, Michael."

Robert glared at Michael, then softened his gaze. "I suppose this will count as an act of charitable goodwill," he said, "We were put on this earth to help the helpless, were we not?"

Michael could never explain Robert's dislike of Stephen. They had all trained together, the three of them, when they were younger, but if Michael left Robert and Stephen alone things always dissolved into a disagreement. Stephen thought Robert was stuck up and judgmental, Robert thought Stephen was the spoiled son of the head of the London Enclave. Michael was a friend to them both, or at least he tried to be, and constantly tried to keep the peace with them.

Michael and Stephen had grown up together in London. They were similar in age and build and were occasionally mistaken for one another by the older council members, but that was where the similarities ended. Stephen had been Institute raised, giving him access to the best tutors, trainers, and weapons. His father had retired from running the Enclave to bring Stephen to Idris to study at the Academy.

The feud between Robert and Stephen had only gotten worse with the introduction of Amatis Graymark. Michael could see Stephen crossing the dining hall now, his blond hair and blue eyes inclined towards a girl with dark hair and round cheeks spotted with freckles. Stephen was head over heels for Amatis and had been since the day he met her at school over a year before. Amatis was quiet and kind, Stephen was studious and shy, yet they brought out the best in one another to anyone they came in contact with.

Stephen's smile faded as he came closer to the table. Amatis said something to him quietly and he glanced at Michael before sitting beside Josie. Amatis sat at the end of the table and busied herself with opening a milk carton and pouring some into two cups of tea sitting on their breakfast tray. A bloodstone ring sat on her left ring finger, her engagement ring from Stephen. Robert picked up his knife and buttered a piece of toast, the scrape, scrape, scrape of metal on bread the only noise heard at the table.

There were rumors about Amatis and her family, rumors she never put to rest. Stephen once told Michael that Amatis's father had died constructing an Institute in some far off land, and that her mother had never been the same after hearing news of his death. Michael had heard other things, that Amatis's mother had abandoned her and Lucian, her older brother, when they had been 16 and 12, and that Lucien had raised his sister until they were finally taken in by a family in Alicante.

"Michael. I got this last night," Stephen said, sliding a rolled up piece of paper over to Michael, who picked it up.

"Why would the Circle want you?" Robert asked, giving Stephen a once over. He reached across Michael and took the paper from Stephen. "They want real Shadowhunters, not… Herondales."

"What's the supposed to mean?" Michael asked. Robert shrugged.

"I have no idea. I woke up and the note was there," Stephen said, ignoring Robert. "My parents would kill me if I took up with an organization that questioned the Clave." He picked up his teacup and had a sip, meeting Michael's eyes.

"And do you always do what your parents tell you to do, Herondale?" Robert asked. He took a bite of toast and chewed, waited patiently for a reply. Stephen fidgeted. "Do you?"

"Leave him alone," Michael mumbled.

"If you say so," Robert said, still looking at Stephen.

"I can't go to the meeting even if I wanted to. Amatis and I have to go home this weekend, and we are leaving right after school. Amatis has a dress fitting and there are a few things we have to do for the wedding," Stephen said. He rested a hand on Amatis's upper back and gave her a smile she returned.

"Convenient," Robert said.

"We should go visit your parents this weekend," Josie mumbled. She ran her fingertips up Michael's arm, causing him to relax at her touch. "We are going to be busy for the next few weekends, and then we have the wedding…"

"I would only want to go for the day," Michael said. "Leave in the morning and return that night. It's too hard to pack things to stay the weekend. Besides…" Michael didn't want to admit that sometimes he felt like a stranger in his parent's home. Maybe it would be easier when he had Josie with him, acting as a buffer between he and his parents.

"Of course," Josie replied, "anything you want."

"I'll go to the meeting," Robert said. "Michael. Are you coming with me?" Robert turned his attention to Michael, as did everyone else at the table.

"If you say so," Michael said.

It wasn't until they had gotten to class and sat down that Michael spoke again. Stephen was at the front of the room, sitting at a desk by himself, and Michael had half a mind to go sit with him instead of Robert, who would no doubt fall asleep halfway through class, then wake up at the end of it assuming that Michael had taken notes for the both of them.

"I thought you were with Maryse last night," Michael mumbled. "If you were with her, how did you not know about the meeting?"

"I knew about it," Robert said, staring straight ahead at the blackboard, "I just didn't tell you."

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review and sign up for updates! The second chapter is complete!