Author's note: Until further notice, all characters in this fan fiction are products of Cassandra Clare's wonderful mind. This is mostly speculative as it is written in an era that is unwritten of in the presently available Shadowhunter series (TMI, TID, TDA, TLH) and the spin-offs (The Bane Chronicles, The Shadowhunter Academy). This story also predates the publication of the spin-offs so, if there's anything that is anomalous or inaccurate due to the appearance of the spin-offs, I apologize for I haven't read them.
Chapter 1: The Fire Princess
The faintest light of the Idris sunset slipped through the large glass-paned windows and cast the gentlest glow on the floor of the study.
Everything was still except for the steady whir and occassional creak of a lone ceiling fan. it was made of oak and gilded with translucent shell, making it match the regal stillness of the entire room. In the corner, at a single mahogany desk was a tall, imposing leather chair in which a small form sat. Clad in all black with thick ink-like markings crawling along her pale, milky skin, she could've easily been consumed by the soft black leather. What made her hard to miss, though, was a mess of fiery red hair.
She was a tiny form, made to look even smaller as she'd folded her legs beneath her on the seat. She had the posture of one who was threatened. She slouched badly so that she could lower her face and let her teeth sink into the tough leather collar of her jacket. Her constantly bitten nails dug into the soft material that lined the armrests.
"Jocelyn," a gentle voice echoed, breaking the silence of the room. It made her shudder, squeezing her eyes shut. But it wasn't the voice that scared her but simply the sound of it. She gad known that voice for years and managed a smile before she got out of her seat.
"Luke," her lips turned up a bit more in the tired, almost forced smile they were in. "What are you doing here?"
The tall figure smiled back at her. His blue eyes lit up as he shuffled awkwardly. His clumsy movement proved his age of nineteen,carefully hidden under his mature, handsome features.
"Valentine called us for a meeting. Stephen told me everyone was coming so, I guess it's pretty important."
"Pretty important?" Jocelyn answered, quirking an eyebrow. "I wonder why no one ever tells me anything anymore."
Luke chuckled. "Maybe it's because you can't even keep your dinner in."
She glared at him and quickly retracted it with a soft look and a light laugh. She shook her head as her hands made their way to her growing stomach. "I'm getting over that, you know."
"Sure you are, Jo," he replied, rumpling her hair up a little with a smile. "How's the baby anyway?"
The smile on her face disappeared slowly as her hands fell back to her sides. "Let's go take a walk, okay?" she murmured, linking her arm with his as she led him out of the study.
The Fairchild Manor was one of the grandest sights in Alicante: Imposing stone walls, tall imposing twin doors, wrought iron accents, stained glass telling Shadowhunter lore and tall castle-like turrets on the Northern, Southern, Eastern and Western wings of the mansion. All of it was guarded by tall metal alloy gates of the strongest kinds, meeting at the very center and twisted delicately into the family crest-a pair of wings.
Behind it though, was a small, uneventful patch of land. Trees and overgrown grass were everywhere and not a single soul stood there but Jocelyn Fairchild and Lucian Greymark.
"We're planning on naming him Jonathan if it's a boy," Jocelyn told Luke as she kicked at a stray stone with her combat boot-clad foot.
"Jonathan," he replied as a smile crept on his lips. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Very predictable of him?" She raised an eyebrow.
He shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Quite predictable. Jonathan Shadowhunter just has to be Valentine's son's namesake. It tries too hard to be subtly Valentine."
She nodded. "Seraphina if it's a girl..."
Luke couldn't hold back a scoff. "Seraphina? What era is that from?"
Jocelyn stopped in her tracks. Without looking at him, she murmured, "It's Valentine's mother."
Luke's chuckling quickly halted. "Uh, oh, right..." he said awkwardly.
All of a sudden, he was filled with a dark sort of hollow feeling in the pit ofhis stomach. It was cold and it made him feel prickly all over his arms. It was suddenly a lonely feeling, sickening to a point: The very same soul-consuming feeling he had when Seraphina died.
Feelings like these weren't borne out of his own volition. He barely knew the woman but his bonds with Valentine-grie-stricken and bereaved as he was-ran between them like a live wire. Every single time someone clad in white would approach Valention to offer condolences, a pang of agony would hit Luke. It made his skin feel clammy. It made him feel empty and achey inside. But all that, of course, was part of the whole parabatai deal.
For a moment there, Luke felt it all again. He could see people in white filing in to pay their last respects to Seraphina or her ashes in an ornately decorated urn. An awkward silence draped the two as they trudged through the woods.
Jocelyn walked at least ten paces ahead of Luke as he trailed behind in silence. But soon enough, he jogged towards her, standing a few feetbehind her. "Jo," he huffed. "I'm sorry... for what I said. I mean, I forgot that she was named Seraphina and that she passed away and I mean, there's no problem if you name her that it's a beautifu-"
He paused, seeing she hadn't responded. "Jo?"
Jocelyn didn't reply. Instead, she let her jaw drop for a moment, strangled in a silent scream. Luke held her shoulders. "Jocelyn!" he said, alarmed. She gasped for breath, grabbing at a tree to balance her on her feet. Her hand was on her stomach before she let out a shriek. It would've been fine for a woman who was having a baby but Jocelyn had been feeling this ever since she found out she was pregnant. It wasn't the usual pain of childbearing, but a fiery feeling from the inside of her, eating her other hand moved from the tree and dug into Luke's shoulder as she reduced to whimpering in pain.
