'Men may be stronger, but it is women who endure' -Tessa Gray.
Disclaimer: As much as I want to own William Herondale, sadly all of these characters belong to the wonderful Cassandra Clare.
Clary looked up from her drawing as she heard the heavy oak door groan. She leapt from the bed immediately when she saw the figure in the doorway.
Tessa's dark hair was escaping its braid - which had obviously been slept in - and her pale face was flushed and streaked with tears. She kept an almost perfectly straight face, but her quivering lip and upturned brows betrayed her.
At first, Clary was shocked. Then, she ran through the last few days in her head. Ah, that was it. Today was June 15th.
Will Herondale's 75th anniversary.
She flew to the weeping girl at the door - but she wasn't a girl, not really. Tessa, despite her looks, was over 150 years old and had endured terrible things, yet she remained remarkably strong. But one could only be strong for so long, and on days like these it could be too hard to even begin to try.
Tessa returned Clary's loving embrace, and after a few sad seconds the redheaded girl lead the dark-haired one to the bed. Clary wondered why Tessa hadn't just gone to Jem, her husband, who was surely just as upset as she. But perhaps that was the reason. Maybe Tessa needes someone strong to comfort her, maybe she was afraid that her agony would cause Jem even more pain- or perhaps both. Then Clary remembered that she was in the Herondale's London townhouse for the week with Jace. Tessa, Will and their children must have spent a lot of happy times here together.
Because although Tessa had gone through difficult times, she had also experienced wonderful ones. Nobody who had lived a century and a half of misery could be as strong as Tessa Gray.
Sitting side by side on the four-poster bed that had once been Tessa's and Will's, Clary tenderly took Tessa's small, soft hand and looked understandingly into her tear-glazed grey eyes.
"If you don't want to talk, don't. But if you do, I'm listening."
Tessa seemed to consider this for a moment and opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead just burst into tears and sobbed into her hand. Clary put her hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly.
An hour of tears, stories and nostalgic laughter later, Clary Fairchild stepped out of her bedroom and into the hallway, where Jace was standing with his arms crossed, looking onto the scene with sorrow and love. Clary closed the door, smiling sadly at Tessa Gray, who has gently wept herself to sleep in the bed she had once shared with her husband, clutching at the silk sheets on his side of the bed.