Never Gonna Be Alone.
When you feel my heat, look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide.
-Imagine Dragons – Demons-
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And yes! A The Mortal Instruments fic! It's my first ever, and AU, so be nice? I'm quite nervous about uploading this for people to read. Some things from the story are the same, some are twisted. All will be explained in due time ^-^ hope you like and please review whether or not I should continue? Thank you! X
For Laura. My Parabatai.
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It was literally a dark night, the air heavy from an oncoming storm. Stuffy. A night in August and the summer had been a harsh one. Windows were thrown open wide in the hope a stray breeze wafted through. But it was calm as a doldrums upon the ocean, not a wisp of wind to catch the sails.
The Fairchild mansion was ablaze, the flames too high and wild to be normal. A window shattered now and the young girl, the sole survivor of the inferno was sobbing into the man who was holding hers arms, her body wracked with grief and shock. She glanced at the fireball with almost emerald eyes in the firelight, tears running down her cheeks, knowing full well her parents and elder brother had been inside. All gone now. If she hadn't been told to go into the garden and collect the strawberries from the basket around the back by her mother, she would have been inside as well.
The mere thought of that made her shiver in horror.
"Lucian, let her go."
In silence, the man holding the little girl glanced up at the reinforcements. They were silent as well, watching the flames rise ever higher with no way to quell them. But now the man, Lucian, glanced up with the little girl still in his arms and shook his head, muttering out a response of "I'll take care of her."
"You have to let her go. I'm sorry, but you have to. The Clave has made their decision, and we both know a Downworlder has no business in raising a Shadownhunter child." The woman pressed now. Her face was white, eyes wider than they usually were, but her expression was calm. As calm as she could make it. Underneath it all, she was troubled and disturbed.
A pause, then Lucian asked quietly. "Such a quick decision? You'll just give her to someone who will see her as a-"
"Warrior? Because that's what she is. What she can be. Hand her over. I'm taking her back with me."
He set his jaw at that, rising up onto his feet as he said through clenched teeth. "She isn't like her father. She never will be. You're judging a ten year old girl."
"Who will grow up fast, I assure you. We will keep her away from all of that."
"No. I'll…" he gulped, next to insisting. "I'll take her in. Raise her in the mun-"
"Even if you raise her as a mundane, she'll have the Sight. What if, one day, she finds out what you are? Hmm? The truth about her heritage? Don't you think she'll be interested even a little?"
He snarled quietly, and the womans eyes narrowed, knowing that in a flash, he could change and be ontop of her. Claws at her eyes, teeth snapping at her like the lupine beast he was.
"Where would you take her then?" He growled, and the woman shook her head a little "An Institute. Far from Idris. Imagine, the daughter of Valentine growing up in Alicante?"
Lucian didn't want to think about it. She'd be bullied, hated beyond everything… maybe to the point of her becoming an outcast, shoved aside to live as a mundane. By the Angel, that couldn't happen. He wouldn't, couldn't let it happen to Jocelyns daughter. There was only one thing left he could do…
"If this is what keeps her safe…" he swallowed hard. "Do it."
A silence, and the woman stepped over to the little girl and told her. "Come. You'll be fine now Clarissa." The little girl looked up at the big bad wolf, tears still burning in her eyes. She'd met him a few times. When her father was out and mother was left alone. A friend, she'd said. She wasn't allowed to tell her father about his rare visits.
Clary had always wondered why. Did her father hate this man? But she liked him, trusted him, so when he nodded and told her that it was okay to go with the woman, she walked to her in silence, not looking back once with her heart hammering so very hard against her chest. The heat of the flames was making her wonder if she was on fire.
All Lucian could do was watch as they both vanished into the darkness, wondering what the future held for the little girl.
They never returned to the Glass City, and Clary couldn't help but wonder just where they were going. Or who the woman beside her was. She wanted to ask, but held her tongue.
Apart from answering the womans short, but not probing questions and what she wanted to eat, Clary said nothing. Not a single word as they traveled. First by car, then plane, then car again.
They ended up in New York. She recognized it from the pictures her mother had shown her. Hunting trips from around the world. Such a beautiful place with the lights flashing, the buzz of life. It made Clarys eyes widen at the size of the buildings. Not as beautiful as the Glass City. She'd never been into the actual city, but she'd seen enough of it. But this place was amazing all the same. As they pulled up outside a cathedral with the polished plaque declaring it the New York Institute, Clary glanced to the woman who had escorted her the entire way. It was dark outside as they made their way through the shadows into the place, Clary not looking up once as she followed the feet before her, a cold shiver going down her spine at how cool the stone corridors of the Institute were. There was low chatter as they reached a room, a library, and still she remained silent. The woman, Maryse Lightwood she'd heard someone call her, told her to wait outside and she obeyed, closing the door behind her and leaving the little girl stood in the corridor with the only light coming from the witchlight glowing softly.
She was still processing that her mother, father and elder brother were dead. Burnt… gone. Clary swallowed back tears now, forbidding herself from crying in this new, strange place. Her father had taught her that it was a sign of weakness. And she wasn't weak. Far from it.
Footsteps behind made her spin around, eyes widening once more as a small figure emerged from the shadows, her eyes wide and curious as they fixed themselves upon Clarys almost bedraggled form. They stared at each other in silence and Clary knew for sure that this was Maryse's daughter. They looked so alike each other, even if the girl was about her own age.
"Hello?" The girl with the dark eyes and matching hair asked, intrigued. Clary paused, not knowing how to reply. Thankfully, the girl spoke first by tilting her head a little at the sound of voices in the other room, trying to hide a smile at the thought her mother was back at last. "Did you come from Idris?"
"Uh, yes." Clary muttered, nodding a little. The girl beamed, completely oblivious to the situation as she asked. "Are your parents here?"
"They're dead., okay?"
Clary didn't realize she'd yelled it out, tears burning in her eyes until the doors behind her were opened and Maryse poked her head out to see what the fuss was about. She spied the pair, the look upon her daughters face- one of regret and she guessed she'd said something to upset Clary. Probably not on purpose.
"Isabelle, could you show Clarissa to the kitchen and get her something to eat?"
At that, Clary wrinkled her nose a little- she detested that name. But all the same, she followed the black haired girl down seemingly endless corridors in silence. She could tell that the girl, Isabelle, was unsure what to say incase she offended her further. As they walked into the kitchen, Clary saw even before Isabelle switched the light on that the fridge door was wide open, bare feet underneath indicating someone was raiding it.
As the light was switched on, the feet froze and a figure cautiously look around the silver door with a slice of something in his mouth Clary saw. At first she thought it was a lion, the boys hair was golden, wild from lying down upon a pillow. She wasn't usually this jumpy. But then… she had just lost her parents. That was enough to shake up anyone.
"Jace-! Is that my sandwich?!" Isabelle hissed, stalking forwards and shoving the boy from the fridge before he could snag the other one too, but too late. Clary watched him take the other one out, the boy named Jace ducking as Isabelle picked up the wooden spoon from the side and threw it at him.
Clary said nothing as the scene unfolded, the black haired girls hair next to sticking up on end. He was wearing a way too big black t-shirt with his knees and legs bare. So were his feet. But her efforts were wasted as he shoved it into his mouth and chewed. Isabelle hissed indignantly, slapping the elder boys arm as he laughed. But after a moment, his eyes, wide and almost golden were turned onto Clary and she watched them turn curious as he swallowed and asked in not a rude tone, but enough. "Who are you?"
"This is Clarissa." Isabelle spoke up with and Clary hastily muttered out. "Clary. It's Clary."
He just stared at her for a moment before starting "Where's your par-?" but Isabelle none too discreetly stomped her barefoot upon his own, making him scowl at her and forget the rest of the sentence.
Clary felt awkward. So very awkward. Another silence, then the boy named Jace shrugged and pushed the fridge closed behind him with a foot, saying as he walked past her. "See you in the morning Izzy, Clarissa."
She scowled.
Isabelle sighed gently and apologized to Clary, for that was what she would have eaten. The redheaded girl shrugged a little and stared at her feet, muttering out. "I'm not hungry." She just wanted to go to bed. To curl up under the covers and silently grieve for her family. Then get over it and move on. Her father would have told her that.
She wasn't some little girl. Not anymore.
Clary was led down another series of corridors, endless doors until Isabelle stopped before one and told her that was her room for the night. With a small smile, she bade the girl goodnight and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. If she was going to cry, this was the perfect time. But no tears came. Not a single one. In the end, Clary gave up and walked over to the bookcase that held a few books, snagging one at random; John Milton – Paradise Lost. She ran a finger over the golden name, remembering that her father used to read it to her in bed. There was a quote he was particularly fond of "Better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven"
Clary never understood the quote. And now he was gone, she doubted she ever would. Maybe one day.
She curled up under the covers now, kicking off her boots just before and closed her eyes while taking in the scent of unfamiliar sheets. Clary didn't like it. She was too used to home in Idris. The mansion.
How was she going to survive in a world away from her comfort zone?
The tears finally made an appearance as she tugged the covers over her head.
-Thank you for reading and drop a review? ^-^ -