After her talk with Magnus, Margaret retreated to her room still clutching the book so dear to her and fell asleep.

The past couple of days had been quiet, and awkward. No one knew what to say to her-that is apart from Magnus-not being able to blame her for the accusations Jocelyn was throwing her way, and yet not understanding why the accusations would be false. Too scared about bumping into people, Margaret had visited very few places within the Institute, mainly travelling to and from the library. Last night, however, had been an especially late one, eyes fluttering open and closed Margaret gave up her 13th book of the day and trecked back to her room.

The next thing she remembered was the sound of someone rapping swiftly at her door.

"Training starts in five." she placed the voice as Alec's. Embarrassed that he had to wake her up she rolled out of bed and threw on one of her many pieces of black training gear, that had been left for her in her closet. She leaned over and began pulling on her black converse, stumbling out of her room and nearly falling flat on her face as she busted through the door.

As she regained composure, Margaret glanced up only to see five people looking back. Simon's eyes darted away, feeling bad about seeing her trip. Izzy was beside him, fingers interlinked with his, and using her free hand she waved sympathetically over her shoulder. Alec smiled at her almost knowingly, filling her with what felt like a little more dignity. Jace and Clary, however, were the hardest to look at. Jace, not even trying to stifle a laugh, stood beside Clary who, meanwhile, was fidgeting uncomfortably. Margaret noticed that her cousin always seemed to be on edge around her, especially when they were with other people. She just hoped she could get her alone for a minute, maybe explain that she had never even met her father. Surely Clary of all people would understand.

"Morning," she muttered awkwardly, trying desperately to break the silence that seemed to eat away at any confidence she had left.

"Actually, afternoon," Jace smirked, his golden eyes shining with amusement. "You've slept away most of the day and none of us wanted the pleasure of going in to wake you up." He nodded towards her room just as Clary elbowed him, with what looked like some great effort, in the ribs. Forcing Jace to instinctually grab at his side, "Fine, fine," he continued, his smug smile never wavering. "The Clave sent us a second fire message a couple of hours ago since then we've been debating on how best to train you."

"We've decided," Alec continued for him, his strong eyes locked steadily on her small form. "To ask you to do some basic training exercises, just to give us a sense of where you're at and what we need to teach you. Honestly, none of us has much experience with any of this so it'll be new to us all."

The walk to the training hall had been long and tedious. Other than the introduction they had given Margaret, which had seemed fairly scripted, none of the older Shadowhunters seemed to have a word to say to her.

Trying not to look any more nervous than she already did, Margaret chose to focus on her surroundings instead: The NY Institute was much smaller than the one in Idris but had a much more homey feeling. Wallpaper, faded by the passing of time, lay glued to the walls. It might have held a pattern at one point, but by now anything that had been printed on it -apart from its light brown colour- was almost completely worn and gone.

A few photos and family trees were nailed across the innards of the hall; some of much older Shadowhunter families, who must have run the Institute centuries ago, however, others were much more recent. Before Margaret could see many more though, the group as a whole rounded yet another sharp corner, bringing them down a large, cement staircase and into a new hall. This one, though, was much less welcoming. Scratch and skid marks adorned the walls which were coloured a cold grey. The floor wasn't carpeted as the others had been, this one was hard and wooden. Black footprints and streaks were freckled randomly across it, we must be quite close to the training room, Margaret thought, her fingers subconsciously picking at one another.

A grey pair of double doors lay at the far end of the hallway. The right one has propped open a crack, letting an elongated sliver of gold light into the otherwise dark, dreary corridor. Margaret's heart began to pump anxiously as her eyes settled on a rack of weapons that could barely be seen through the gap, she had never been in a proper training room before. Of course, there had been one at the Idris Institute, but that one had been made to hold hundreds of orphaned shadowhunters so they had never had anything nice or new.

Alec, who was at the head of the group, pushed the right door the rest of the way open. Holding it for the rest of them to pass through. He nodded as Margaret, the first to enter, walked past him and into the grand room.

Her gaze filled with the sight of the multitude of weapons and pieces of gear that the training room held. There were more than she could have ever imagined; shelves and trays completely covered two of the four huge walls that surrounded her. A large array of weapons, shields and other various tools occupied them, their metals reflecting the cool glow of the overhead lights glouriously. Hard, blue mats were strewn over parts of the floor, some were even propped up against the walls. Must be for one-on-one combat training, she guessed, her long, slender fingers gliding lightly over the few nearest to her.

A flash of gold in the corner of Margaret's eye caught her attention, she turned her head towards where Jace, and a few of the others, were gathering. There were backs all to her as she walked mindfully towards them, they were opening up a weapons case it seemed. Isabelle held a very rusted, yet still ornate, key. She turned it in its lock as her eyes settled on Margaret, an odd twinkle was evident in her gaze as she thrust open the cabinet doors revealing even more weapons.

"Now Margaret," she smiled, "it's time for you to choose your weapon." Isabelle's strong, marked arm gestured towards the inside of the cabinet, her silver whip curled elegantly around her wrist.

The cabinet held rows upon rows of daggers, short-swords, whips and seraph blades. But as Margaret's eyes combed through the selection, she failed to find what she sought.

Smiling nervously, she met Isabelle's eyes. "Actually, it's not in here." Confusion swept over the rest of the group as Izzie's excited expression turned puzzled. "I use a crossbow," Margaret clarified, "and most of these seem to be short-range weapons."

"Crossbow?" Jace repeated, "You, you use a crossbow? I can't wait to see that."

Margaret looked up at him accusingly, "What, you didn't think my choice of weapon would be a crossbow? Too heavy for a poor, weak girl like me? What did you think it would be instead, a stuffed animal, a handbag, or nothing but my intelligence and award-winning smile?" she flashed him a smirk for good measure at that and saw Clary, Simon, Alec and Izzy all try to suppress a grin. Jace looked bewildered.

"Looks like you've met your match here Jace." Alec put his hand on his parabatai's shoulders steering him away from the centre of the room and passed Margaret a crossbow. "Do excuse his confusion, it's just we don't get many 15-year-old girls that show up out of the blue around here, and when they do, they don't come requesting crossbows. In fact, usually, they are pretty useless at using all weapons."

"Hey!" Clary punched Alec on the shoulder jokingly. An inside joke Margaret figured, only making her feel more out of place in the room of friends.

"But please, show us what you can do."

Margaret strode towards the centre of the room in line of sight with a large, circular target, the crossbow already loaded she lifted it to her shoulder. Calculatingly, she moved a centimetre to the left and took her stance. The pressure of everyone looking at her was overwhelming, shaking she pulled in a deep breath. Listening to the thrum of her heart beating she began to calm and exhaling softly, she pulled the trigger.