I've never written a fic for Mortal Instruments before, but…this one is about Jocelyn and told from her point of view, before the books, set after Valentine and Jocelyn marry but before Luke is turned into a werewolf. A typical Circle meeting of the old days.

AN: Sorry if the characters seem a little OOC, you have to remember valentine had them all in his thrall, also that they were very young and Jocelyn was a new wife in love and everything…still, sorry if you think It didn't work.

The Angel's Circle

We meet in the dining room of the Morgenstern manor these days. It makes me laugh to think of how we began-seventeen years old, that tiny bunch of misfits and firebrands crowding into empty classrooms or crouching in the duelling hall after dark, our clandestine genius illuminated only by candlelight. To think we've come so far…I'm twenty years old now, just, and I've been married to Val for about a year and a half. By the Angel, I still barely know how I could have been so lucky. I mean, I didn't even used to like him. I was scornful of Lucian's adoration of him, I thought whatever they did in their stupid little gang was just pompous and self-important, if not dangerous. When Valentine asked me out the first time I must have been about fifteen, and I turned him down with a kind of triumph. I don't think he'd ever been rejected before and the icy rage I saw in his eyes, those beautiful black eyes, was like nothing I'd ever seen before, demons or not, because Valentine Morgenstern was just a human boy, a teenager like me, and all I'd done was say no.

He must have been seventeen when he lost his entire family. I was sixteen, and right then, that day he came back to school, something had changed. I just saw him differently-this boy who looked just the same, tall and broad-shouldered, with the arrogant tilt to his chin, that amazing white-blond hair that fell into his dark, unfathomable eyes sometimes-it was only later he started keeping it cut short as a soldier's-seemed to shine with a new, brighter light. The red marks of mourning on his skin were like blood and his face seemed older, less carefree, less cocky-there was kind of defiant pride there, a refusal to be crushed, a strength born of surviving the loss of all he cared for. The first day he returned I caught his eye just for an instant and I was held, like a fly in a web, unable to look away. He stared back at me with a kind of wary anger-this is me, Jocelyn Fairchild, this is who I am and I will not be ashamed of it. Do you want me or not? That was what I imagined him saying. And I thought, in that moment, desperately-yes, oh yes. I do.

Their 'gang' as I'd called it, expanded, became more intense, gained a true name, the Circle of Raziel. An arrogant name for a teenager's organisation, but it had a sort of delirious thrill to it we couldn't resist. Val and I were going out by then and every day was a new joy, a new exhilaration. We were partnered to hunt a demon once, I remember, and tracked it through a forest somewhere in Spain, together, spending the nights of the hunt lying on the ground staring up at the stars, just the two of us, relating old childhood memories. When we finally found the thing we fought it together, a Ravener, vicious and nasty. I remember it almost got me once with that massive great stinger, and if Val hadn't pushed me out of the way in time I would not be here now. We jammed our seraph blades into its heart at the same moment and leaped free as it writhed and shrieked into oblivion, and then turned to look at each other, grinning, flushed with success. It was then that I noticed that he was bleeding-when he had saved me he had fallen hard against a tree and gashed a long cut right up his arm. He said nothing, of course; it had always been his way to ignore such mundane considerations as pain-but I made him sit down and bandaged it up, trying not to let him see how my fingers ached to linger on his skin, how I wanted to kiss the pain away, take it on myself-I was afraid to show him the depths of my obsession for him.

And now here we are, married. I'm sitting here at the long oak table below the dancing chandeliers, and he's making his way down the stairs, I can hear him, and very soon the rest of the Circle will be arriving for the meeting, and I'm delirious with happiness, because of what I suspect…I did not bleed this month yet, and this morning on waking I was sick. I hardly dare hope, but…to hold Val's child in my arms-I can only pray.

I go to the door to admit the first arrivals, and standing on the steps before me are Maryse Trueblood, an old friend, despite her haughty, cold manner, and with her Robert Lightwood, an enormous bear of a man, though handsome, who rarely speaks, though when he does it is always to say something vital. "Maryse!" I cry, kissing her on the cheek. "Come in, you're the first to arrive. How are you, Robert?" He nods briefly, but Maryse drags me aside just for a second and whispers swiftly, her cheeks flushed with an uncharacteristic girlish joy-"We're getting married!"

I'm amazed, overjoyed. I glance to Robert who gives me a small smile of confirmation, and I give a cry of pleasure. "Oh, Maryse! That's fantastic! When's the wedding?"

"A couple of months," she tells me, pressing a hand to her mouth. She must be happy-she never shows her emotions like this. "Robert's got some business to take care of at the Moscow Institute first, but after that…"

"What's this?" comes Val's voice from behind. "Cause for a celebration?" We both turn and there he is, my wonderful husband, elegant and powerful in his clinging black gear, his head cocked to one side almost mockingly, arms folded. I glance to Maryse and she lifts her head, all trace of frivolity suddenly gone at the sight of him-she is businesslike, professional, alert. "Myself and Robert here are getting married," she tells him, eyes glittering. His face lights up in a brilliant smile. "But that's wonderful! You and Jocelyn can swap stories!" He draws closer and shakes hands with Robert, then kisses Maryse on the cheek-I hear him whisper to her and my heart clenches with excitement: "It fills me with such joy, seeing two such close friends finding their happiness." I don't understand how anyone can be more perfect that my husband-my soul yearns for the day when I might tell him, bursting with joy and certainty, that I am pregnant with his child.

The next to arrive is Lucian, tapping in his old self-conscious way against the already-open door to alert us to his presence. He's tall and skinny as ever, with untidy brown hair and shy blue eyes-we grew up best friends and my heart lifts with joy now to see him, when I am already so happy. He will always be like family to me.

"Good evening," he says, smiling at me. "I'm not late, am I?"

"You're the third to arrive," I say, and Val interrupts; "And since the first two came together we can count them out, can't we? How are you, Lucian?"

"I'm fine," he says. "I hardly need to ask you, do I? You all look…delighted about something."

He's so sweet, so shy, so polite. He's always been like that. I know I'll always love him like a brother-he's the person second most dearest in the world to me, and the most trustworthy I know.

…

Only minutes later we're all present, seated around the big oak dining table. Val is at the head, of course, with me, honoured, at his right hand. Lucian, since they are parabatai, is on his left, beside the smiling Stephen Herondale, who is holding hands with his lovely wife Amatis, Lucian's sister. I'm placed next to Maryse, herself beside Robert, and on his other side is Hodge Starkweather, fingers stained with ink, eyes small and nervous, darting around as if he's afraid. Michael Wayland, a cheerful, intense, clever boy, is on Hodge's right, eyes lit up with his customary bright spirit. Beyond that are ranged the other members of the Circle, eyes all turned to Val. We all know that we're no longer playing, that we're a powerful party in the Clave now, that this is serious. Val is no longer smiling, but looks professional, beautiful, intent.

"Friends," he says, his deep, powerful voice echoing around the dimly lit chamber, penetrating every nook and cranny, hypnotic in its conviction, even with one word. "We have much to discuss, but I have called you all here today to decide what to do about the problem of the vampire clan in north Idris. Three mundanes disappeared near their lair over the past months and I think it's fairly obvious what happened to them."

"Did you contact the Clave?" Stephen asks, his rich voice beautiful, but less moving, less persuasive that my husband's. Val sighs theatrically.

"They're worse than ever. Sitting tight, terrified to risk breaking the Accords, refusing to listen. They say there's no proof the vampires are behind this. But we all know what their attitude on these matters is. Once again, friends, we must take this into our own hands."

"The Clave's being ridiculous," Maryse says in her clipped, soldierly voice. "I understand their position on banishing the Downworlders from Idris, though I don't like it, but even they must see that this is a real breach of the Accords."

"That's what we thought when we brought the problem before them," I interject, remembering with scorn the pale, smug, frightened faces of the Clave when my husband and myself went before them three days ago. "But they won't listen or see sense."

Val speaks up again and at once there is silence. "I propose to lead a hunt up there and take them down before anyone else gets hurt. If the Clave isn't prepared to do anything about this then I am." He looks around the table, eyes glittering, head uplifted, powerful and beautiful as a god. It takes my breath away. "Who's with me?"

I don't hesitate-I am the first to speak. "I am." He awards me a smile that makes my heart soar up to the skies.

"I am," Lucian says swiftly, echoing me. And then everyone at the table is volunteering, even Celine, who's the youngest there and so shy and eager and speechless at every meeting, and I know we won't all be able to go but I'm just so exhilarated by this amazing show of support, of love. Who can help loving Val, really? So wonderful, so strong, so charismatic, with such genius-I'm just lucky that I'm the one he chose to love in return.

It's as everyone is leaving and preparing to await Val's final decision on the exact identity of the raiding party that I notice Lucian looking downcast, uncertain. I touch his shoulder, concerned. "Are you all right?" I ask him, my oldest friend. He raises his head and his blue eyes are troubled, almost guarded.

"Jocelyn," he says softly. "Why are we doing this?"

I'm amazed. Lucian voicing these doubts? It makes no sense-he's the last person I'd expect. "The vampires are killing mundanes," I tell him intently. "Didn't you listen?"

"But are they?" he says unhappily. "I'm sorry, I know he's your husband but the only proof of that is Valentine's word. And why would they break the Accords now? It makes no sense…"

I'm shocked, afraid, angry. "Lucian. Are you suggesting that he's lying?"

"No," he says uncertainly. "Just that maybe he's mistaken…"

I've heard enough. "You know what, Lucian? If you're getting cold feet now there's no-one forcing you to come along. You don't have to act like you've found some kind of moral high ground just to get out of fighting."

He looks horrified. "Jocelyn, you don't really think-I just mean-what if they're innocent?"

I turn away in disgust. "What more d'you want, Lucian? Mangled bodies?"

"Better that than killing innocents," he mutters almost too quietly to hear. I pretend not to have-I hold my head high and stride away.

It's purely coincidental. But that's the first night the nightmares come. I'm lying there in the dark and I hear a kind of inhuman, horrific screaming bouncing off the walls around me, and I think I wake, shaking. Val's gone, I can't find him, and I'm alone in the dark with that screaming-I've never heard anything like it. But after what seems like a long, long time it fades and I slip uneasily back into sleep-

Just a nightmare, though. Sure, like nothing I've dreamed before and definitely more terrifying, but what else could it be? The next morning when I wake Val is lying there asleep and looking like a beautiful, innocent angel on the pillow beside me, the faint white scar on his left cheek gleaming like a medal of honour in the faint light and the sun is streaming through the windows of the manor and I feel nothing but joy and anticipation. It was just a nightmare, and there's a precious secret inside me-I can feel it-that needs nothing to do with the horrors of a Shadowhunter's imagination.

I turn and shake my husband awake. "Hey. Hey, Val-I've got amazing news."

I can continue this if anyone's interested but it also works as a oneshot, so…

I hope you liked it and I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave me a review and let me know what you thought, honestly, even if your opinion is negative!