Angsty and fluffy Will and Cecily sibling fic taking place in the two months between CP and CP2. No spoilers. Italics are flashback.
Cecily misses home one night and sneaks into her brother's room to find comfort.
Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the Infernal Devices. I just dream about her characters and wish to meet them in real life...somehow.
On nights when Cecily couldn't sleep among the sounds of London, she sometimes snuck into Will's room, like she did when they were children. At the Institute, however, there was no guarantee that her brother would be there, his arms open to protect her from perilous thunder and haunting nightmares. She had tried previous nights, only to be greeted by a room empty of its occupant. Foiled, she would trod back to her room, scowling. What would Will be doing out of bed at midnight?
That particular night, when Cecily couldn't ignore the aching pain of homesickness clogging her breathing, she cracked open Will's bedroom door. She breathed a sigh of relief to find him curled on his bed; he was facing the window. He jolted awake as she overturned the covers and lay beside him. He could feel her trembling slightly, and his arms instinctively wrapped snugly around her. It wasn't like fearless Cecily to suddenly become afraid.
"Are you alright, Cecy?" Will's sharp eyes tried to read his sister's face, but couldn't figure out what she was hiding from him behind thinned lips and a steady bottle blue gaze.
"Do you miss her, Gwilym?" Cecily whispered half to herself, half to her brother.
Will's arms tightened. He hated when people answered a question with another question. Her eyes were puffy and red from lack of sleep, but her bottle blue irises glimmered. She looked nine years old again, demanding an answer to an impossible question before going to bed.
Will kept his voice low. "Mam? Yes, I missed her."
A small frustrated sigh escaped Cecily's lips; Will frowned. That wasn't the answer she wanted? His sister shifted to face him. Their eyes locked.
"No, I meant, do you miss Ella?"
Will couldn't stifle his sharp intake of breath quick enough. Cecily's gaze never left his face, even as he tried to break eye contact without her noticing. His eyes fixated on her hair, glossy even in the darkened room. Looking at his sister's loose black hair didn't help the lump in his throat loosen or defer the wave of nostalgia approaching to engulf him. In fact, it made it worse: Ella's beautiful hair was always braided, even when she went to bed. Will blinked twice, and the faded edges of a memory turned crisp and vivid.
It was late at night. Ten year old Cecily had been tucked into bed by their mother an hour ago. Fourteen year old Ella and twelve-year old Will had stayed up in the library finishing the last few pages of their books before their mother whisked them off to bed.
Will had reluctantly changed into his night clothes. His fumbling hands and gaping yawn betrayed the sleepiness wanting to claim him for the night. A moving shadow in the hallway and the padding of bare feet caught his attention as he rearranged the pillows on his bed. Assuming it to be little Cecily demanding company after waking up, Will instinctively opened his door. No Cecily anywhere in the hallway – just Ella with a brush in hand, humming softly to herself as she walked back to her room across the hall. He recognized the tune; it was one of the many Welsh lullabies their mother taught them.
Will followed his elder sister to her room, not wanting to go to bed just yet. She turned around and smiled.
"You should be in bed, cariad."
"So should you."
Ella's smile widened. She looked like their mother just then, wearing the look of warmth and understanding that Will couldn't help but grin back.
"I will soon. I still have to braid my hair." The brush was set down on her bedside table as Ella sat on the edge of her bed. Will, sitting next to her, watched patiently as she sectioned her hair and began weaving the sections into a thick coil down her back. The candlelight illuminated the black strands and Will reached up to touch the finished braid.
"It looks much better than Cecy's braids."
"Cecy is too impatient to learn. All she needs is practice."
"Or less clumsy fingers." Ella chuckled.
"I can teach you how to braid hair. I know Cecy would like it if you did it for her."
Will made a face. Wasn't braiding something only a girl should learn how to do? Still, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. If Cecily had tamer locks, he wouldn't have to endure her pierced wailing whenever Ella pulled a brush through their younger sister's wind-blown tangles.
"Alright."
"Good. We start lessons tomorrow after breakfast."
Will was about to protest that he could learn now when a yawn interrupted him. He rubbed at his eyes, his eyelids beginning to droop.
"You can sleep here, cariad."
Will didn't need to be reminded twice. Ella wasn't as affectionate as Cecily was. Her love was always through actions, like this one, and he would accept it as graciously as it was given. He climbed under the covers, comfortably resting his head on Ella's pillows. The last thing he felt was his sister's arm draping over his thin shoulders and her perfectly done braid brushing against his temple.
The memory retreated as Cecily shifted in his arms. She reached up to touch Will's face and gasped. Damp trails ran down his angular face.
"Turn around, Cecy," Will whispered. He refused to meet her eyes. They would be filled with concern, he knew. It would be the same look Ella would have if she were...
"I will not, Gwilym. There is nothing to be ashamed about for - ."
Will sighed heavily and sat up, taking Cecily with him. He turned her to face the window. His fingers combed through her hair, after which he sectioned into three. And he began the pattern: left over middle, right over middle and repeat. When the braid was finished, he draped it over Cecily's right shoulder, and she grasped the end to keep the braid from unraveling.
"... Ella was my older sister...taught me everything. How to braid hair, and she - she saved me from a demon..." Will's broken voice trailed off.
Cecily turned to face her brother, tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight was more than Will could bear, and he pulled her close to him. The siblings sobbed quietly in each other's arms, both of them replaying different snippets of Ella moments in their minds. They were Herondales: strong, stubborn, and sarcastic to the outside world. To each other, they were William and Cecily, two souls mourning the loss of a dear elder sister.
By morning, Sophie would find them fast asleep on Will's bed, still embracing. Their tears would have dried, the aching memories tucked away for now. Cecily's hair would still be in a braid.
A/N: I love these two to death, so I feel awful making them cry like this. I'm sorry, babies! Was that too much angst? Too much fluff? Leave a review, even if you are a guest. :)