A/N: So... yeah. I should probably explain a little bit. I was reading one of Cassandra Clare's short stories and it said that the day that Valentine married Jocelyn was the worst day of Luke's life... and I was just thinking, wow Luke really loved Jocelyn that much? Why? So then I started thinking about why, and I started thinking about their past. And at the same time, I was thinking about the whole Circle's past, especially Maryse's. I never hated her for some reason, even though she acts like a total butt in TMI... but then I read that her brother married a mundane and left the Clave, and I though, "huh. How interesting." So I decided to write a story about life before the Uprising and all that craziness! Yay.

Most chapters (there is probably going to be about 20) will be from Jocelyn or Maryse's POVs. They're the interesting ones. Sometimes I'll do one from Luke's, even less often Robert or Valentine, and sometimes someone totally random like Stephen. That's my plan right now, anyways.

Throw away all of your past and previous notions of Maryse because I decided to start with her! Please review and tell me if I should continue! I'd really appreciate it, I have big plans for this fic.

And you don't have to read all that stuff up there, it's pretty much just senseless blathering :) Just read the chapter okay? :3

And you might recognize the beginning dialogue if you follow Cassandra Clare's and/or Cassandra Jean's Tumblr blogs :) I'll link the post down below.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot:
DISCLAIMER: I don't own this stuff... so yeah, don't sue me.


"Robert, did you take my stele again?" Michael Wayland asked accusatorially. He was seated on the Trueblood's sofa, rifling through his pockets with one hand and holding the other, presumably injured, out in front of him.

Robert came in from the kitchen, holding two large plates, one filled toast and the other with cookies of various shapes, sizes, and varieties. There was a glass of milk in the crook of his arm.

"No way, this is my stele," he said around the stele that was in his mouth- probably because he was prepared for his precariously arranged load to slip from his hands at any moment and harm him in some way.

"That is mine!" Michael stood up and came at Robert, his eyes narrowed.

"They match," Robert replied. "We have the same one."

Michael took a cookie from the plate and chewed it, considering for a moment. "You're right. Mine looks a newer."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

Maryse rolled her eyes. Was this what it was like to have a parabatai? Or did all men fight over the most obnoxious things? "Take my stele, Michael," she snapped, sliding it from her boot and tossing it onto the counter in front of her. "For angel's sake." She'd already been with the pair all morning, and she was growing tired of watching Robert eat her out of house and home, constantly transporting food from the kitchen to the couch, and listening to them blathering senselessly on. She supposed she should be growing accustomed to it by now- this was how she spent most mornings since she and Robert had gotten engaged (which was around the time Michael had taken to the Trueblood residence as if it were his own). She was beginning to realize that this was something she would never get used to.

"What do you even need it for?" Robert asked his parabatai, setting everything down on the coffee table, sitting down on the sofa, and putting his legs up, overturning his glass of milk. He groaned. So did Maryse.

Michael came over with a towel and the carton of milk, as if he'd known this was going to happen. He then thrust his finger in Robert's face. "Hangnail," he said.

"Really?" Maryse frowned, annoyed. "You want to put a healing rune on a hangnail?"

"It hurts," Michael pouted.

"I can break your finger and make that rune worth the while," Robert said, mopping up the mess and refilling his glass. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and settled back into the couch. He bit into a piece of toast; crumbs flew everywhere, showering down into his lap and onto the couch and floor.

Maryse felt a vein pulse in her forehead as Michael laughed and mimed an explosion. She loved Robert, and Michael was like a second brother to her, but she couldn't stand them when they were together; they acted like two adult-sized toddlers.

"Watch where you get those crumbs," she snapped, fighting for her temper. "Mother will have a fit. And what is your obsession with toast anyway? I went for bread yesterday and there was none. And not to mention, there's a pound of butter in the fridge. At least use butter."

"I don't like butter, Maryse." Robert sounded petulant.

"I don't think Maryse can marry a man who hates butter," said Michael, picking up three cookies and cramming them in his mouth.

"Well, I don't hate butter," Robert amended. "I'd eat a whole stick of butter, if it made Maryse happy."

"That won't be necessary." In spite of herself, Maryse felt a smile pull at the corner of her mouth as the comment tugged pleasantly at her heartstrings. He was one of the very few who could elicit smiles from her, Robert was. Though she was more often than not irritated with his boyish hijinks, and the fact that he and Michael were a package deal, it seemed almost too good to be true that she was marrying him, broken as she had once been. He was her fairytale ending.

"I'd like to see him try," Michael challenged.

"That won't be necessary either," said Maryse with finality. "I don't know about you boys, but I'm tired of standing around. Let's get out of here. Finish that toast, Rob."

He stuffed another piece in his mouth and looked at her. "Help me with the cookies?"

"If you insist." She swung her legs over the counter and walked over to the couch, climbing into Robert's lap.

"What exactly do you have planned today, dearest?" he asked, swallowing his toast.

Maryse turned her blue eyes up to Robert's brown ones. Brown was so... normal, she thought. And yet, he made it look unbelievably beautiful. She remembered thinking so the first time they had met.

"Valentine and Jocelyn invited everyone to their Lake Lyn cabin for the afternoon." She took a swig from the untouched glass of milk on the coffee table. Sour. Maybe they needed to make shopping trip, too.

"Of course they did," Michael snorted, "they do every weekend. And you two are gross."

Robert made a face at his parabatai and pecked Maryse on the cheek. "Same time?" he asked.

"Same time," she replied. "But this is different. Valentine said that we had something important to discuss."

"He said this to you?" Robert asked. He had been playing with her hair, but he stopped at her words. Robert had always been the slightest bit jealous when it came to Maryse's relationship with Valentine. They were close friends- Maryse might even call them best friends- but then, Valentine had so many that she was sure someone else held that title for him. Still, she remembered him telling her countless times that she was one of his most trusted confidants; vice versa, Maryse took his advice and followed it almost implicitly.

"I'm just relaying what Jocelyn told me this time."

"Do we have to go?" Robert crossed his arm indignantly, like a child. Angel forbid any son they ever had act like his father.

"They're expecting us."

"Haven't you been missing our old buddies?" Michael asked. "Emil and Sam? How 'bout Hodge?" He gave Robert a knuckle sandwich.

He swatted back at him. "I can't get enough of them," he retorted sarcastically. He regularly referred to Emil Pangborn and Samuel Blackwell as "meatheads". Though she had grown up with both of them, Maryse couldn't help but agree. And Hodge was totally compliant to Valentine's will. He had been given the title "little groupie" by Robert.

"We're all friends," Maryse said, glaring up at Robert, "or, at least, we're supposed to be friends."

"Correction," Michael said, "we're all friends with Valentine. Any friendships beyond that are lucky coincidences."

"True enough," Robert agreed, and, having finished his last piece of toast, stood and spilled Maryse off his lap. "We'd better get going."

Maryse took a drink off the tea service that never actually held tea, like she did every at Saturday. She glanced at her watch. 11:17. Jocelyn came in with a platter of finger sandwiches. Right on schedule.

Valentine was sitting next to Lucian in the corner with Anson Pangborn, who looked like he was trying and failing to carry on a conversation. Valentine looked attentively patient. There weren't many people like him, Maryse thought, who were able to see the value in everyone they met, even when others couldn't. She knew that better than most. Valentine had rescued her, picked her up when she was down. She owed him.

She still remembered the first day she'd met him. She had been sitting in the library- alone- eating her lunch, studying for her next class. Maryse had never been much of a book person, but that had been before Max left. Now she didn't know quite what she liked or wanted.

The school library hadn't been a particularly bad place. It was a refuge from the pity that one garnered by looking lonely- and Maryse hated being pitied, even more than she hated being lonely.

She'd thought that things were going to be different once she started school in Idris, but it was almost two weeks into the term and things were looking grimmer every day. She didn't know how much longer she could bear being alone, feeling abandoned.

At that moment, three boys waltzed in through the big glass doors of the library. Maryse caught herself studying them. They were all striking, most notably by their difference in appearance. One boy had brown hair, tan skin, and long legs; the other two weren't much shorter, but they bore such a sharp contrast that Maryse couldn't help but stare. One of the boys was raven-haired- she couldn't see his face well, as his head was bent and he seemed to be whispering something to the brown-haired boy, who was, in turn, whispering to the last boy, who had white-blond hair that alerted everyone to his presence like a beacon. His eyes were almost as dark as the other boy's hair.

The blonde boy looked up as his friend finished speaking. His eyes roved the room until the landed on Maryse. She looked hastily down at her lunch, hoping it hadn't been evident that she'd been watching them. She recognized the boys now, or at least one of them. The blonde was one of the most popular in school, she had gathered. The other two were no doubt his cronies.

She ventured a glance up. They were coming toward her. Oh God, she thought. She was irrationally terrified. How much luckier could she get? The most popular boy in school had just noticed her, Maryse the Invisible. This could be her chance.

Brown Hair sat down in the chair beside her. "Hey," he said with a smile. Of the three, he looked the least threatening.

"Hi," Maryse said slowly, avoiding his eyes. They searched for hers, trying to capture her in a gaze. She ended up looking down at her lap.

"She's pretty," she heard Black Hair whisper to the blonde. Blonde made a noise of assent. Maryse fought off a smile. She hasn't heard anything like that in a long time.

"I'm Michael Wayland," he said extending his hand out over Maryse's book. She shook it and looked up coyly from under her lashes at the two others, who were taking seats at the round table.

"Valentine Morgenstern," said blonde, smiling. Black hair said nothing, taking the seat across the table from her, his head ducked. Had she imagined what he'd said a minute earlier?

"That's Robert," Valentine said for the other boy, "Lightwood."

"Nice to meet you all," Maryse said, surprised she still had it in her to exchange pleasantries. "I'm Maryse. Trueblood."

The boys exchanged a look. She knew what they were thinking. Surprisingly, none of them said anything along those lines.

"You know," said Michael, "you're awfully pretty to be sitting alone."

"Thank you," she said, not, at that moment, able to come up with a self-deprecating comment. She looked up finally, and across the table, she met the eyes of the boy who was sitting there. She could see him clearly now. He had such beautiful brown eyes...

He smiled at her. She smiled back.

"How is everything going, Maryse?" said a bubbly voice at her elbow. Startled out of her reverie, Maryse looked over at the seat next to her and saw Jocelyn Morgenstern grinning from ear to ear, as she so often was.

This was different. She'd been waiting on Céline Bellefleur, who was always about twenty minutes late to these functions.

Maryse didn't know what to say for a moment. She'd been holding her place in the conversation that she'd been having with Céline for the past four weeks, keeping a question that she'd been meaning to ask fresh in her mind. She and Jocelyn were friends, but they barely spoke nowadays. What could she want?

"Everything is fine, Jocelyn, thanks for asking. How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks."

"How are things with-?"

"I know I wasn't supposed to know, but congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" She grabbed Maryse's hand, nearly spilling her drink, and gaped delightedly at what she saw there. Maryse cursed herself for not thinking of removing it before. The Lightwood family ring gleamed on her finger, the flame pattern catching the light. She and Robert had only been engaged for a short time, and they had wanted to keep it quiet for at least a little while longer.

Valentine, apparently catching his wife's movements, stood and said to the whole room, smiling, "Everyone, Robert has an announcement to make."

Robert, who was, as usual, sitting at a small coffee table playing poker with Hodge Starkweather and Stephen Herondale, looking slightly peeved (he had told Maryse once that that was his poker face), looked up in surprise. His eyes went first to Valentine, then to Maryse, whose hand was now being held up by Jocelyn, and finally to his parabatai, whom he gave a dirty look. Then he stood.

"Alright. As apparently some of us already know, Valentine... Well, we- that is, Maryse and I- are engaged. We're getting married."

The entire room erupted with cheers and from the coffee table, Robert smiled at Maryse. She felt her stomach do a flip and she smiled crookedly back at him.

"A toast!" Valentine proposed, rising from his chair and going toward the kitchen, dragging Lucian behind him.

"How did you know?" she asked, directing her attention back to Jocelyn.

"Michael," she admitted. Of course. Jocelyn, Michael, and Lucian had grown up together, and none of them could keep their mouths shut. And Robert had obviously consulted his parabatai before asking his girlfriend to marry him. She figured she should have known that it was only a matter of time before word got out.

Céline Bellefleur strolled and plucked a sandwich from the tray Jocelyn had set down. "What did I miss?" she asked.

"Nothing," Jocelyn replied. "I already told your sister about the engagement and I'm assuming she told you. Oh, I'm sorry Maryse! I shouldn't have said anything."

"It's alright." Maryse sighed and flashed the ring at Céline.

"Oh, that's so nice! I couldn't believe it when I heard. Congratulations, darling!"

"Have you made any plans?" Jocelyn demanded, "For the wedding?"

"Not yet," said Maryse, feeling weary already, "but I have a feeling I'll be making a lot of them this afternoon."

Jocelyn immediately started chatting about dresses and cakes. She and Céline seemed far more interested in the details than Maryse thought she would ever be.

Valentine and Lucian reappeared momentarily with glasses and a bottle of champagne.

"Robert, if you'll do the honors." Valentine held the bottle out for Robert.

"I'll have to decline, thanks."

"Suit yourself, Mr. Groom," Lucian said, prying the cork out of the bottle with a pop.

Maryse went over and stood by her fiancé. He put his arm around her and hissed in her ear.

"Was it Michael?"

"Of course it was." Maryse hissed back, passing a glass down to Robert and taking one herself. "He told Jocelyn. After that, it was all over."

"That woman can put her-"

"To many happy years!" Valentine declared, cutting Robert off. He raised his glass. Maryse joined in half-heartedly, then drained her flute.

"Mazel tov," Robert muttered, downing his drink. Maryse pulled him closer to her.

"Now, I have another announcement to make. I'll keep it short, as not to overshadow Robert and Maryse." Valentine's expression had turned stern. "Some of you may know that this day marks the first anniversary of the death of my father. Regretfully, ruefully, I have to tell you all that my family has been denied recompense. The werewolf who killed my father is still, and will remain at large, for he refuses still to be held responsible to the Accords. The Clave is doing nothing about it due to his influence over the Alicante pack. I will be taking matters into my own hands, for this injustice shall not stand.

We are Shadowhunters, men of the angel- we will not be wronged by demon spawn. I only want to enlist your aid in delivering justice. Will anyone join me?"

There was a silence. Then noises of assent could be heard. Maryse felt for Valentine. She had seen his grief in this past year over his father. She harbored the same feelings as he did: Who was the Clave to let him suffer, to let a criminal roam free, to tear a brother from a sister, and piece from a family? They had no right to their power, and as far as Maryse was concerned, they abused it.

"Good. I have spoken before about the Clave's ways; I see this as an act of protest," Valentine said, his dark eyes glinting. "We'll discuss further when next we meet."

The quiet lapsed quickly into chatter about the situation at hand. Maryse looked to Robert. Before she could say anything, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Congratulations, the two of you," said Valentine.

"Thank you," Maryse said, playing with the stem of her glass.

"I remember the day you first clapped eyes on each other." One side of his mouth quirked up. "I thought I saw something there, but I confess, I never thought it would come this far."

"Neither did I," Robert said, squeezing Maryse. "I'm sorry about your father."

"It is sad," Valentine said, frowning. "Will you be coming on the hunt?"

Maryse looked to Robert again. She hasn't realized what Valentine had meant by "taking matters into his own hands".

"Hunt?" Robert narrowed his eyes.

"Yes," answered Valentine. His steady black eyes were on Maryse as he spoke the word.

She bit her lip. "We'll back you Valentine, whatever it is you want to do- but are you sure you aren't jumping the gun a little?"

Valentine considered. "What do you mean, Maryse?"

"I mean a hunt might be too drastic a measure to take at this point. Maybe a march on the Clave-"

"Maryse-"

"Has your mind already been made?" she demanded. That was the only reason Valentine ever interrupted her suggestions.

"It has."

Maryse felt her lips thin. "Alright. I won't fight you. I don't particularly like this idea, though."

"I disagree, but neither will I fight you. Congratulations again." Valentine nodded and stalked off toward where Lucian, Jocelyn, and Michael were standing.

"You," said Robert, "have some kind of power over that man."

"What?" Maryse furrowed her brow. "No I don't. What makes you say that?"

"Never, in all my years of knowing him, have I ever seen Valentine back out of a fight. You're a miracle worker." He took her face in one of his hands and pecked her lips. "You know, I'm actually kind of glad that word of our engagement got out," Robert said.

"Really?" Maryse asked. "Why is that?"

"Because if you weren't my fiancé, I couldn't do this." And he swept her off her feet, kidding her sweetly, though not, as he'd hoped, without exciting comment.


Aw, Robert and Maryse :) Hopefully you like it! I tried to cram a bunch of relationships between the Circle members in there. I never knew that Robert had a parabatai, actually. And Jace's fake-father no less! Anyways, what do you want to see more of? I plan to continue all the way up until Maryse finds that angel's body at the end of CoFA. So... yeah I guess that's all! The next chapter is probably going to be Jocelyn's POV, but I might continue with Maryse's. It gets more interesting, I promise! We get to see the workings of the Uprising, Valentine's betrayal of Luke, Isabelle and Alec and Jace being born (well, not in that much detail), Stephen leaving Amatis, and all that good stuff! Everything you ever wondered about the Circle will be answered!

PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE?!

And here's that link I promised: post/50039714564/the-young-circle-part-3-of-3-taad aa-their
Sorry it's not letting me hyperlink it :/

Thanks for reading and, again, please review! :D

-seastar