Hi Everyone!

Well it's been awhile since I wrote anything on here! I've always kind of been drawn to these "What if Clary was raised by Valentine" type fics so I decided to try my hand at. I really hope that you guys enjoy this story!

Also, just so everyone is up to speed, Clary is about 6 years old in this chapter.

The street was abnormally silent as he walked carefully through the shadows. It seemed as though everyone had felt the need to stay in on the clear New York night, a rarity in the big city. He pulled his coat collar up around his face, trying to blend into the darkness as much as possible. He had been in hiding for years now, it would be a shame if someone were to see him before he was ready to be seen.

His shoes clicked quietly on the wet pavement, echoing down the street as he continued into the eerie silence. People passed by him occasionally, but none of them paid attention to the silver haired figure. They all assumed the man was just on a late-night walk or was on his way home after a hard day at work. To be honest, they weren't exactly wrong. She used to be his home. She used to be his everything. And even after everything that happened, he still loved her and still wanted her. But that was all put aside for the night.

Tonight, he wanted to hurt her like she hurt him years ago.

He stopped in front of the brownstone, sensing her presence all the way down on the street. Her scent filled his nostrils – the smell of oil paints and sunflowers overtaking his senses. With a quick flick of his wrist and a carefully placed rune, the lock on the front door clicked open and he walked into the foyer. The room was dark, almost pitch black once the door was shut again. His feet led the way, taking him towards the stairs and up to the top floor.

Standing outside of her apartment, he felt whole again. He could feel the comfort he had been craving ever since she left him. His fingers faltered for a moment before he shook his head and drew another unlocking rune, silently letting himself into the apartment.

The moment he entered, he knew she had been hiding here for years. Her artwork was hung on the walls and pictures were scattered all over the place. Most of them were of a small little girl, her red hair glowing in the moonlight as she was finger painting or riding a small pony in the countryside. The living room was full of mismatched furniture and art supplies, paints scattered all over the table. He skimmed his fingers over one of the chairs in the room before turning around and heading down the hall.

He followed the sound of heavy breathing before turning into one of the bedrooms. There she was, right in front of his eyes. Her hair still fell around her in soft, red waves as she slept. The covers were pulled all the way up to her chin and the windows were opened to let the fresh air in, just how she liked them. Her lips were curved upwards in a small smile as she dreamed and he wished that she was dreaming of him. That she was dreaming of the times before she left, when they were happy together.

But he knew she wasn't.

He knew she was dreaming of her new life. Of her life without him. Of her life away from her family and duty. And with that in mind, he didn't feel an ounce of guilt for what he was about to do next.

He quietly left the room and went to the next bedroom over. There, he found what he had come for. Resting in bed was the little girl from the pictures, a spitting image of his former love. Taking a small note from his pocket, he placed it on the bedside table so it was in plain sight. He then drew a small rune on the girls arm to keep her from waking before picking her up from her bed. On quiet feet, he took one last look at the woman in the other room, the woman he used to love more than the angels themselves, before making his way out of the apartment and down the stairs. Once out on the street again, the man began walking back down the street and into the silent night.

All of New York could have been woken up by Jocelyn's screams the next morning. Her body shook as she fell to the floor and sobbed for hours on end. In her hand, she held a note that she continued to read over and over again until her vision was too blurry to read it anymore. Jocelyn repeated the words over and over in her mind like a mantra.

I have finally taken what is rightfully mine – Valentine

So that's the first chapter! Please let me know what you guys think!

Also in regards to my other fic Endarkened, as you can see I have not updated since 2016. I just really lost inspiration for that storyline and along with school and everything, I didn't really have the time or inspiration to keep writing. I'm hoping that I might be able to start it up again soon if I can find it in me to continue writing it and can think of where I want the storyline to go.

Anyways, that's all I have to say than you guys so much for reading!

XOXO, Madison