Chapter 1- Setting the Scene
Hi everybody. This is a new story that I came up with last night at 1 am and it sounded pretty good at the time so I decided to write it today. It's probably going to have 16 chapters if everything goes as planned but I might change my mind.
I'm also writing this while watching button poetry so it might be a little different than my usual writing style, let me know if you like this better.
Also, this is my first time writing in third person omniscient in a while so let me know how I'm doing with that too.
Also also, please check out my other stories.
Anyways enjoy!
Once upon a time, there was a fairy queen of the Unseelie Court and she was feared throughout the land. People told tales of her fierceness and mercilessness, but above all people told tales of her beauty. She possessed a beauty so great that any man who laid eyes on her fell in deep deep love with her. Waves upon waves of men pledged their lives and souls to her, leaving their lives, their wives and children behind in the mortal world. And in this way, the fairy queen was satisfied for thousands upon thousands of years with the love that she received. Until one day, she met a hipster in a place called New York City that didn't.
"Are you sure about this?" Simon whined, while being dragged behind his overly-excited red-haired friend. The arm which was not being yanked on by his friend tapped at his skinny jeans clad leg to ward off the cold while he stumbled to catch up to her.
"Come on, I'm 16, let's go have some fun," Clary pulled Simon to face her, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Simon sighed, letting his best friend pull him towards the Pandemonium club. He didn't like clubs, he never did. But Clary had an infatuation with them. Clary, being the late bloomer that she was, wanted nothing more than to fit in and be normal and popular, even though she never was, especially because she never was. But today on her sixteenth birthday, Clary was determined to have her rite of passage into being a normal teenager- sneaking into a club. And for Simon, it was so hard to say no to Clary.
The line into the club stretched half a block; and it was just like Clary to choose the hottest new club to go to for her first time. She chose a slinky black dress tonight that made Simon's overprotective side want to lock her up in her room until she changed but Clary turned those large puppy dog eyes on him and he relented.
Surprisingly, the line only took an hour to reach the front and the bouncer gave Clary a long once over that made Simon uneasy. But he nodded the both of them in anyways. After paying the cover and checking in their coats, the two made their way to the dance floor. You could feel the bass pounding in your chest the moment you walked into the 10-ish feet radius around the building so you can imagine the noise inside the club. The noise was amplified by the thunderous cheer of the crowd every once in a while when a popular song came on.
Clary wore a look of exhilaration, and Simon wore the opposite. He sighed wearily at the unabashed public porn that was unfolding in the dark room.
Clary breathed in the thick smell of cologne and weed and alcohol. Raising her hands to the air she let her hips swing to the music like how the girls in music videos do, attracting attention with her fiery red hair like streetlights attract moths. Simon awkwardly stood by, two-stepping off beat. It wasn't five minutes before a blue-haired guy approached Clary. "Douche-bag," Simon mumbled under his breath.
"Do you like to dance?" the boy asked. Clary nodded nervously before waving goodbye to Simon. The boy led Clary to the edge of the crowd, where they began grinding in sync to the music.
"Damn it," Simon sighs, being left alone in the sea of gyrating people. Suddenly, he was being pushed off to the side by a couple who was heavily making out. Shuffling out of their way uncomfortably, Simon found a safe place for Clary to come back by the bar.
That was when she came in.
There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere the minute she walked in. People turned as if in a coordinated wave to look and gape. Simon turned his head to see what everyone was looking at. There, he saw a tall, statuesque woman glide in gracefully. Her long black hair was slightly-curled and pinned back to frame her pale, dainty, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were dark milky pools of chocolate off set by long lashes, her full pink lips rested in a perfect little smirk. She wore a low cut, short gold dress that looked almost like Marilyn Monroe's gold lame dress but it ended mid-thigh, showing off her long legs and matching gold stilettos. She was gorgeous and everyone noticed. And Simon noticed that everyone noticed.
Simon knew her type of girl. She was probably rich, waspy, spoiled, and self-centered. Knowing all the attention she gets, she probably thinks everyone loves her. Simon dismissed her with a shake of his head and turned back, looking for Clary in the crowd. Girls like her bullied him from elementary school up till now, and as pretty as they were, their mean personalities made them more repulsive to him than a porta-potty after the Fourth of July.
Not like Clary. In Simon's mind, Clary was the sweetest and cutest girl he knew. She helped him stand up to his bullies and liked to play video games with him. She was his best friend, and he wanted to be so much more.
Isabelle Lightwood loved the Pandemonium club. It was upscale and attracted attractive people. And she loved to go to places like these to out-attractive all of them. Yes, it did sound self-centered. But was it the truth? Yes.
She always came to Pandemonium with an entourage. It was usually comprised of her cousin- Jace, the best fighter in her kingdom, who also enjoyed the loose women here-, her head of guard- Meliorn, and a few of her personal guard, as well as her favorite toy at the time. But today she didn't have a toy, so she came to Pandemonium to get one.
Sometimes, she thought it was a little boring at the predictable reaction she got from the humans. The hush that fell over the club despite the still pounding music, the blatant lustful stares from the guys and some girls (Isabelle remembered the time when girls were still shy about their stares, but this new century allowed experimentation on her part), and the sneering jealous glares from the rest. Still, everyone stopped to look.
Except today. Today, she caught the brown-haired head of a tall, wiry man turn away from her. Her eyes widened subtly in shock. Who was this who was uninterested in her? Even gay men nodded appreciatively and commented on her look. But this man actually turned away.
Isabelle snapped for Meliorn's attention. "Find out who that is," Isabelle commanded, pointing with her eyes.
And this is how the hipster boy from New York City captured the attention of the fairy queen.
Simon collects Clary whose blue-haired boy had disappeared soon after the appearance of her.
"Can we go home now?" Simon asks and Clary nods, her make-up semi-melting because of her lack of inexperience- the experience that would have taught her to use water-proof mascara and setting powder. But still, Clary's face glowed with the happiness of that brief moment when she was the object of someone's desire.
Clary's legs carry her to the subway station, to the 1 train, to the transfer to the 7 train to Queens.
"Stay here tonight, it's too late for you to walk home," Clary offered, oblivious to Simon's internal struggle, "We can watch Marvel movies on Netflix."
Simon agreed, "Okay, fine, I need your phone to call my mom though."
And there the two best friends sat in the dark, one oblivious, one waiting for the perfect moment to declare his long-harboured feelings. They shared popcorn and Mexican Coca-cola- the kind in the bottle because Clary thinks it's classier- and watched Captain America, Spiderman, and Thor until they decided to turn in at 4 am.
"Happy birthday," Simon whispered.
"Mmm," Clary replied before turning away and promptly falling asleep.
Simon laid there in the dark, on the bed they made out of a duvet on the carpet of the living room. His hand fished out the switchblade he kept on a chain around his neck. His father had given it to him before he died, saying that it helped his grandfather escape a concentration camp in Poland. So Simon accepted the gift graciously, keeping it wrapped in masking tape so his clumsiness wouldn't be an accidental suicide. And plus, it was always good to have in this city.
He fell asleep to the sound soft snoring of his friend.