Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments series. Everything recognisable belongs to Cassandra Clare.
Sorry for another long wait, but the chapter was really hard to write and I got stuck on places where I didn't know if I had done a good enough job. But I hope you like it, a lot of things happen here.
Thank you so much for all the reviews, we've passed 600 which is unbelievable. Thank you so much.
"I get why you wouldn't believe me Clary, I do, but please just listen us out?" Jace called out to her from the other side of the room.
"Listen to you accusing me of making up an abusive relationship in my head?" Clary asked coldly.
"No, Clary not-" "I don't want to hear it Herondale." Clary cut him off.
"Clary." Isabelle took two steps closer to the redhead and the colourful portal.
"We're only trying to help, if you could just listen-" Isabelle said.
"SHUT UP! I'm not going back!" Clary yelled, dragging her high-heeled feet across the floor, closer to the portal.
Jace sent her a confused look, "Fine, then we're not asking you to come back with us, but-" Jace's sentence was abruptly shortened by a cacophony of different sounds created behind them.
A portal appeared large and strong; at least fifteen dark-dressed Shadowhunters came storming through the open portal.
"Stand still Clarissa! We have the authority to kill if you do not surrender without difficulties." A male voice called out.
Clary met Jace's gaze with an acerbic fire in her green orbs. He clenched his jaw tightly, wanting to scream loudly that he had nothing to do with the Clave coming.
"Like you would need to have authority to do that." Clary stated angry, her voice ringing louder than any other voice.
Her portal was still lingering openly beside her, but she did not jump through. Jace wondered what could possibly be stopping her; they had literally threatened her life.
He saw Clary smirk, sending a stream of goosebumps down his arms.
xxxx
Coward. She wouldn't call herself that. She wasn't a coward. She was merely smart, and she did not have a death wish. So the first thing that crossed her mind was, of course, her father.
'Father, we have a little problem.' Clary touched the ring hanging from the chain around her neck, waiting impatiently for a reply.
'A problem? What do you mean?' Valentine's cold voice rang in her head like a thunderstorm.
'Well, okay it might be a bit more complicated than a "little problem", ehm, lets just say I need back-up, and I would be grateful if they could come sooner rather than later.'
'Clarissa, what did you do?' Valentine's judging voice called out.
'Don't scream, because it will hurt like hell inside my head, but I kind of lost the cup and I'm surrounded by around twenty Nephilim.'
'YOU WHAT?'
'I said don't scream.'
Her father didn't reply after that. Everything went still inside her head, no sounds, except her own quiet thoughts.
She saw the many Shadowhunters close in around her, drawing their swords, cross bows and other weapons they had stacked in belts and sheaths. "Now, lets not make a huge mess out of all this Morgenstern, we don't want to hurt you." Another broad shouldered Nephilim told her, his voice trembled slightly, breaking his flawless, controlled façade.
Clary laughed, the kind of laughter that sent chills down people's backs, giving them the feeling of cold metal cutting up their skin and tearing into the flesh. Then she met the now silent Shadowhunter's dark eyes, "I don't think that's an option anymore."
Clary's portal burst with colours, green, blue, yellow, orange, pink, every colour in the visible colour spectrum. And then her plan worked. She'd never actually done it before. And she'd had no idea if it would work this time, but it was her only course of action available at the time.
She'd seen the rune glimpse shortly in front of her eyes, like most of the new runes she made appeared. And when she drew it, she'd known instantly what it did.
The new rune connected to the last place the stele performing the rune had been used to make a portal, which this time happened to be in the middle of the training room at Morgenstern Manor.
Now a good thirty Nephilim, all malicious and ready to fight, stood in front of Clary, covering her like she was their precious little princess. Clary rolled her eyes, when she heard the Clave's Shadowhunters gasp. It was the first time they saw how large Valentine's circle really was. They'd all expected a small handful of loyal Shadowhunters, but never in their wildest dreams had they believed the number added up to over thirty.
Clary saw her father step out of the closing portal. No, no, no! He wasn't supposed to be here, it wasn't safe.
"Clarissa." He spoke coldly, clearly angry with her.
"Father." She replied.
"You got five minutes, we'll hold them off." Valentine replied, commanding her to go find the lost cup. She believed the party had been abruptly finished when they realised who they were dealing with, so she wouldn't have to worry about people getting in her way.
"Yes father." She gave him one last glance before she started running. He handed her one of her rapiers, giving her the ability to cover herself from the Shadowhunters ready to take her down.
She didn't see Jace nor Isabelle in the crowed of Nephilim fighting. She heard metal hit metal, but so far she couldn't see any fallen soldiers.
She noticed Jonathan fighting a large man from Valentine's outer circle. She'd never really seen Jon fight, except the first day she'd been captured, but she didn't count that, because she had been to focused on getting away to notice much of any of the four Shadowhunters fighting skills.
"Clary!" It was Jocelyn who screamed her daughter's name. But even before the woman had finished saying her name, Clary rushed through the door.
Clary ran. She used all her powers on moving her legs. Damn those heels. And the fucking dress. Why did she have to wear a dress?
She pulled out one of the knives she'd hidden inside the dress and tore up the side of it, giving her legs more space to move faster and take longer steps.
Clary ran. Two steps at the time, getting up the stairs as fast as humanly possible. She heard foot steps close in on her, and her instincts forced her legs to move even faster.
Up. Up. Up.
She had to get to that cup. If it really was one of the three Mortal Instruments, she needed to get that cup. She couldn't get out of the room until she had found that cup and brought it back safely.
Clary got to the room where the main parts of the dinner party had taken place. She looked around, there were no signs of her bag anywhere and she could hear the footsteps come closer.
She held out her rapier, readying herself for the fight that would be coming.
She saw the blond curls before she recognised the face of the boy.
Jace stood with a small bag in his hands. Her bag.
Clary let a sharp breath push up her nostrils. "What are you doing with that?" Clary asked.
Jace ignored her question, "You know, I really didn't recognise you. Blond doesn't fit you that well Clary. You should be glad you got your mother's colour." He sounded hostile as he spoke.
"Yeah, well the point was really that people wouldn't recognise me, so I guess I completed that task, huh?" Clary retorted angry.
"But still, your eyes never change? Am I right?" Jace asked.
"True." Clary snapped, "Why do you care?"
"I just find it interesting." He told her, "You can make a rune that changes your appearance, but you can't change your eyes. Why?"
Jace looked at her the way a person looking at a new weapon eyed the price. Like he tried to figure out how much she was worth.
"Can you stop that?" She asked, suddenly forgetting the whole fight happening under them.
"What?"
"Don't look at me like that. I don't know why I can't change the colour of my eyes, and it doesn't really matter. My cover is blown anyway so there's no need for it any longer." She wanted to run, get away as soon as possible, but she couldn't leave the bag Jace had clutched in his tight grip.
"You're looking for this, right?" he asked, holding up the bag, dangling it in front of her.
Clary rolled her eyes angrily.
"I'll take that as a yes." Jace laughed, his voice was colder than it had been last time they ad spoken. But it had been a few months, and a lot could happen in a few months.
Jace took a few steps closer to Clary, "Why would you risk your life for what's inside this?" Jace asked curiously opening the bag, but before he could take a peek inside, Clary snapped the bag out of his grip.
"That, got nothing to do with you." Clary said as a rush of wind passed her head. Jace pulled at Clary's arm, ripping hard, like he'd done it without thinking.
"What the-" Clary began when she saw the arrow stuck in the wooden wall behind them. Two arrows were shot within seconds between each other.
Clary heard a loud yelp from Jace. She turned around to see one of the arrows stuck in his shoulder.
"Oh God, are you okay?" Clary asked as he, through clenched teeth, pulled the bloodied arrow out of his dislocated shoulder.
"Do I look fine to you?" Jace muttered angry.
They heard a few yells from the door, and the crossbow-bearing Shadowhunters came running through the wide-open oak doors.
"Clary, you should run.." Jace sounded extremely out of breath as he spoke, perspiration formed on his pallid skin.
She found herself sitting on her knees in front of the coughing Jace. Looking at his face with great concern.
The Shadowhunters didn't dare shoot, not now that they saw the wounded boy sitting next to their number one most wanted criminal.
"Get up to your feet and step away." The woman with a crossbow, likely to be the one who shot Jace in the shoulder, said loudly.
"And what?" Clary yelled back, "You'll kill me?"
"No, our orders are not to kill you Morgenstern-" "Oh, but still you go ahead a fire, shooting your own people?" Clary wanted to laugh, but seeing Jace's bloodied torso stopped her.
"Herondale!" the man beside her shouted, "Are you okay?"
Jace grunted something undetectable, sitting up straighter, leaving a pained expression written on his pale face.
Clary closed her eyes and considered her possibilities, if she ran now, she would most likely get shot, but she would have the cup. If she stayed, they would definitely arrest her.
Clary did the only thing she saw possible, and it was not to stay.
Running away from the Shadowhunters caused chaos, yelling voices and thundering footsteps followed her. She saw three arrows fly past her as she ran.
Clutching the bag tight in her hands, she desperately started looking for the perfect spot to open a portal.
"Did you get it?" It was one of her father's men Clary noticed.
"Yes." She retorted slightly out of breath.
"Good. Inside that door." The man pointed at a door to the left. Clary nodded and ran inside.
Before she closed the door behind her, she saw the four Shadowhunters that had followed her fall to the floor. Dead. Or not. She didn't know who they were, but they all wore Clave symbols on their gear jackets.
Clary opened the portal, jumped through and landed in the manor.
xxxx
Jonathan blocked the oncoming sword with great ease, his reflexes faster than his opponent.
Jon leaped toward the Circle member, his sword outstretched. Jon's blood rose up, like fire through his veins as he saw whom he'd almost managed to cut with his sword.
There was nothing else in the world, only the heavy sword in his hand and the man standing still in front of him.
"Haven't you grown Jonathan." Valentine smiled manically.
Jonathan didn't reply, he just stared at his father with anger rising in him every time he breathed.
He'd never understood how Clary could hate their mother with such intensity, not before this very moment. He'd never though he would be able to hate anyone with every fibre of his being, but he was. He hated Valentine. Hated him for what he'd done to his mother, to Clary, to Luke, to Stephen, to Maryse and all the other circle members. He hated Valentine for what he'd done to the Shadow World.
"Not much of a talker?" Valentine laughed.
Jonathan met his father's dark eyes, black if he had to describe them as anything.
"Not when I'm facing a worthless bastard, I'm not." Jon replied.
"Watch your mouth son, who taught you to speak with such acerbity?"
Jonathan didn't reply, instead he swung his sword at his father, ready to fight him. .
xxxx
What met Clary in the Morgenstern manor was simply silence.
She began walking, still clutching the bag tightly in her hands. She'd risked her life to get the bag, she'd even risk the life of Jace. Of course she'd not done that on purpose, he'd just been in the way.
Clary walked up to her father's desk, placing the cup on top of it carefully.
It took almost twenty minutes for the remaining Circle members to get back.
She was told they'd lost four people in the fight. Four out of the thirty that fought, it put everything into a new light. They weren't invincible, and now, they'd definitely started a war they couldn't back out of.
Clary sat down, her eyes rested on the shining cup in front of her. When her father walked inside he had a large cut on his neck, still seeping with red liquid.
"Shouldn't you heal that?" Clary asked, the tone of her voice came off as irritated.
Valentine looked down at her, and she suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.
"No, I think a cut like this is worthy of healing in its own time."
"And why would you think that, have you lost your mind?" Clary accused.
"No, but I want my son's effort in a fight to be prized." Valentine replied, his voice was dull and toneless, like he couldn't care less about his wound.
"Jon did that?" Clary asked shocked.
"Jon? Since when did we call each other by sobriquets?" Valentine asked, suddenly a bit harsh.
"We don't, I meant.. I meant Jonathan." Clary felt her cheeks heat up, turning a deep shade of red embarrassment.
"Good, we wouldn't want you to slip up in front of the others Clarissa. That would put you in a bad light."
"Of course father. It won't happen again." She felt her breath become smoother when she listened to her father's calm voice.
"Now." Valentine exclaimed. "Is this the cup you've so bravely stolen?" Valentine had a hint of jeering in his voice as he spoke. Lifting the cup carefully, observing every inch of the golden surface.
He stopped moving after thoughtfully inspecting the large goblet in his hands. "It's not the right one."
His voice showed no emotions, like he wanted to scream at her for letting his men die for nothing. He behaved like he usually does when she's provoked anger in him. He would never take his rage out on Clary, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have a hard time keeping from exploding.
Clary braced herself, asking, "What do you mean it's not the right one? It looks just like the one in the pictures."
"Of course it looks like the Mortal Cup, it's design to look like it! I can't believe you fell for the Warlock's stupid tricks. They are called Lilith's Children for a reason." Valentine struggled to keep his voice collected, throwing the cup aside in a rapid motion.
"Clarissa, I hope you understand what trouble you have caused me today. Not only have we lost men, but the Clave will know our strengths and weaknesses, we do no longer have an advantage of overpowering them. They-" Clary looked up at him with angry eyes, "I KNOW FATHER!" Clary wanted to scream, but she held herself back.
"I know, and it won't happen again." Clary locked her eyes in his. It felt like her whole body was sucked into the black orbs staring down at her.
"Good." He was back to his normal, relaxed tone.
xxxx
More than one time in her life had Valentine sent her that disappointed, disapproving look. When she was younger and tried to skip training, not that that continued to be a problem, seeing as Clary spent her whole day inside the training room, rather than confront people nowadays.
But never had he avoided her for days, ignoring her at dinner and only making light and awkward small talk. One thing was perfectly clear. Valentine Morgenstern did not make small talks.
xxxx
"I think you're overreacting." Maggie told him while her orange eyes followed a pacing Valentine.
"Overreacting? I actually think I've been underestimating her for the last few months." Valentine replied hissing.
"She hasn't shown any signs of distrust, why are you suddenly doubting her?" The young-looking woman asked.
"Clarissa needs to sort out her priorities. Right now I have difficulties believing she wouldn't feel conflicted while fighting. Saving the Herondale boy, even when he was her opponent, that's not how my daughter is supposed to act. She knows better." Valentine's black eyes, -if one could even say it was possible-, darkened another shade as he spoke.
"I have to agree, she has taken a different fighting style lately, but can you really blame her?"
"What?" Valentine snapped back.
"She lived with them for quite a long time. Can you really blame her for growing emotionally attached to the people who never caused her any harm?" Maggie knew she was testing her leader's patience and tolerance, but she wanted to stick up for the young girl.
xxxx
Clary knew there was a meeting happening downstairs. The Circle members had to plan another way to get the Mortal Instruments, another way to fulfil the set.
Clary hated herself for not helping, rather causing the Circle more problems. Back, before she'd gotten captured, she'd been her father's main soldier. Always successful.
Clary felt her anger rise inside her. If it hadn't been for Fairchild, her life would've been perfect. She wouldn't have to worry about her father not trusting her, or her not trusting herself.
Clary kicked the back of a chair, pounding her fist hard down on the table in front of her. A few small weapons, including the silver knife she'd stole from the Institute while trying to escape all those months ago, and the Pyxis from the 'Magic Room' fell to the floor.
"Shit." Clary muttered.
Picking up the rattling Pyxis, she noticed the crack in the lock. The golden box with the ouroboros burned into the wood like black ink. She had totally forgotten about the small box she'd taken from Fairchild's room.
Clary slowly opened the misshaped lock, a small mist of black smoke escaped the box, but before Clary could change her mind and shut the box closed, it burst open. Spreading the black smoke all across her room. Blinding her from the moonlight outside.
She felt something oily close around her neck, shoving her against the wall. The thing, the demon, she was sure she'd had just accidently helped a demon escape its prison, did not care about the mirror it shoved her against. Breaking it into a million pieces that forced their way inside Clary's back.
She tried to scream, but the black smoke around her started choking her.
"Ahh, what a delightful way to be freed from a century inside my own prison. A Nephilim. Careless as always I see." The voice spoke in such disgust Clary wanted to kill it for just talking to her.
"I-" Clary tried to speak, but the pain in her back, and the blinding smoke stopped her.
"Oh, how rude of me." The demon said as he let go of Clary's body, making her fall visually impaired down towards the hard ground.
"Thank you for your carelessness, it will be a pleasure killing you as an expression of gratitude." The demon laughed before he made the smoke around Clary disappear. Clary gasped. She clutched her throat, trying to draw more air as she breathed.
"Come on, you're not going to be any fun?" the demon asked, his dark, angry voice mocked her.
Clary looked up, she recognised him instantly. "YOU." Clary gasped, she stood up despite the pain. "It's you!"
"I'm glad to see my lack of presence in the mortal world has not decreased my popularity." He said slyly.
"What do you mean lack of presence?" Clary asked confused. "You've been in that pyxis for over a hundred years?" Clary asked, her voice began to sound more panicked. She knew this demon. She'd seen it with her own two eyes when she was six. Her father had guided her down to the chamber where he was held. He'd told her this demon was the source of the demon blood running in Clary's veins. Moloch. Hell's most fearsome demon warrior.
"I have, but now that you've set me free-" Clary didn't wait to hear Moloch's threat, she didn't care. "Prove it!" Clary yelled at him.
"Prove what?" the demon replied, he seemed to become more interested in Clary as she spoke.
"That you've been inside that thing that long." Clary answered.
"You do know I can read your mind Clarissa Fairchild. And if you're wondering if I would ever give up my blood for an inferior little Nephilim like yourself. I think we both know the answer to that angel-girl." Moloch moved closer to Clary, the black smoke following him.
"When I see inside your mind, I realise you don't even know who you are. You're just another pathetic Shadowhunter; tricked and played like a marionette doll to do as she's told." Clary stared at the demon, her eyes suddenly feeling like they were burning under her eyelids.
"What do you mean? Tricked and played?!" Clary didn't know if her voice had reached a scream or if she was just whispering.
"Tell me what you know and I'll give you anything." Clary pleaded desperate. She had to know why her father had lied. Why he'd made her believe she was born to be evil.
"Anything? Ahh, I am at my weakest at the moment, you can't even imagine what a hundred years inside a box does to a greater demon like myself." Moloch bragged.
"Give me a memory, a powerful memory and I'll give back another." Moloch explained, a twisted smile rolled over his black lips.
"How do I even know what you will show we is real?" Clary asked.
"Because little Nephilim, what I am about to show you will destroy you more than any fake memory I could come up with would." He smiled another pleased smile, touching Clary's forehead before she could change her mind.
The room swirled around Clary. She felt like she was falling. Falling, but still standing completely still.
The demon was gone. Her black smoked room was gone. And she stood on a beautiful green meadow. For a long time she though this was just another beginning of her horrible nightmares. They always started like this. With this meadow.
But she knew she wasn't asleep. She was in reality standing in her room. This was a memory. And judging by the young boy running clumsily towards her, it was an early memory.
Jonathan ran towards her, he stumbled a few times, but his smile, his brilliant, white smile was kept in place the whole time.
"MOM, CAN I HOLD HER? CAN I?" Jon asked, his voice sounding childish and loud.
"Jon, inside voice." Jocelyn laughed as she clutched a redheaded baby tightly in her arms.
"Mom, we're outside." Jon replied, giving her his best what's-wrong-with-you- gaze.
"Okay, but if you scream, you won't get the ice cream I promised you earlier." Jocelyn told the boy, who developed a facial expression looking like a mix of concern and betrayal.
"Fine." Jon whispered, locking his lips with an imaginary key.
Clary walked closer, watching her brother as he talked quietly with his mother. She smiled; her brother must've been one hell of pain in the ass when he was younger.
"Clary." Jocelyn said, sending chills running up Clary's arms. She looked at Fairchild, but the woman was not looking at her, she was talking to the little baby tucked sleepily in her mother's arms.
"I can't believe it, you're so much nicer than your brother here," she pointed at Jon with a mocking smile across her thin lips. "He wouldn't even sleep for more than one hour at a time."
"Hey, I wasn't a bad kid." Jon said with a pretend-hurt voice.
"Are. You're still a child Jonathan." Jocelyn ruffled the young boy's blond hair.
The world around her began spinning again, she landed inside a house. The Morgenstern Manor. But she wasn't back, this was another memory. She saw Valentine stand over Clary. A five-year-old version of herself.
"Go wash it off. You'll do better next time." He said with a smile on his mouth.
Clary remembered this. This was the first time she'd tried to kill a real demon. A Raum demon.
"THIS ISN'T A HIDDEN MEMORY!" Clary yelled, she didn't know if the Greater Demon could hear her or not, but she grew more and more irritated as she watch her younger self walk out the door.
As she door shut behind the five year old Clary felt herself being pushed though the shut door like it was nothing more than air.
The younger Clary turned around, looking at the door. Clary saw that the young girl had forgotten her jacket, and followed as Clary ran down the hall to get it.
As both Clarys reached the door they heard Valentine's angry voice, "YOU TOLD ME THE BLOOD WOULD GIVE HER IMMENSE POWERS." Clary listened closely, this part of the momory, Clary could not remember.
"It will. But she is five. Give her time." Clary didn't recognise the voice.
"I don't have time. You told me angel blood would increase strength and mind, she's nothing better than any other young Shadowhunter."
"I've told you so many times Mr Morgenstern. Time. It will show, just wait."
"I DON'T HAVE TIME!" Valentine replied.
Clary didn't hear more than that, she was too confused by his earlier statement. 'You told me the angel blood would increase strength and mind.' Angel blood, he had said 'ANGEL BLOOD.' Clary looked down at her younger self who seemed to be freaking out just as much as she was.
Young-Clary pushed her ear closer to the door. Something she should've never done. The door burst open and Clary's small body fell to the floor. As the girl got up, Clary saw her knees bled.
"What are you doing?" Valentine asked, faking his calm.
"You- I.. You said… Father what are you talking about." Young-Clary stuttered.
"Have you been listening?" The other man in the room, a pink skinned man, asked. He was obviously a Warlock.
"Yes, I am so sorry father, but you were talking about me, and I got curious." Clary said.
"What did you hear?" Valentine asked.
Being young, Clary blurted out, "Do I have angel blood inside me?"
"Well of course you Clarissa." Valentine laughed, "You're a Shadowhunter, we all do."
"I mean, do I have more than others?" Clary asked.
Valentine laughed, it was a false laughter. Angry even. "You really have the worst timing Clary, choosing to be smart now."
"What do you mean?" Young-Clary asked scared.
Clary had to admit; she'd never seen Valentine as he acted now.
"We'll fix everything Clarissa, my friend here, Frederick will make sure you're okay." His voice was again the normal stern, but careful voice Clary knew so well.
The warlock, Frederick, walked towards Clary. "No!" Clary said loudly, "What are you doing?"
"Wiping your memory of the last twenty minutes." The warlock replied calmly, like it was something he did all the time.
"NO!" Clary screamed. "FATHER, DON'T! PLEASE!" The young girl had tears streaming down her cheeks. Clary didn't know if it was because of what happened around her or if it was because of what happened inside her head.
The scene changed again and Clary saw an older version of baby-Clary lying on the floor with a boy pulling at her small red bushy curls.
Jocelyn sat with a woman Clary recognized as Celine Herondale.
She was still in shock, looking around the room. She still heard the younger version of herself scream for her father.
"Jace has grown so much since the last time I saw him." Jocelyn smiled, looking over at the two younger children playing on the carpet.
"I know, he's been growing like a lion, I can't believe he has already started talking." Celine laughed.
Lion. That was one way to describe Jace. Clary wanted to laugh when she saw the two children fighting over a purple teddy bear.
"Jace, be nice!" Celine called out to her son.
The golden boy ignored his mother. "Wow, he's a real charmer that one." Jocelyn laughed as Jace pulled again, winning the bear.
"Oh, don't say that. I don't want him to grow up following his father's footsteps." Celine laughed, "Thinking he owns the world, charming everyone with his good looks, his razor sharp wit and irresistible attraction to the wrong women." Celine shivered as Jocelyn laughed.
"Wrong women? You mean you?" Jocelyn asked just as Baby-Clary, or Jace, Clary wasn't completely sure, spilled a glass of water over both of the laughing children.
Another memory began forming before Clary's eyes. Valentine stood in front of the dinning table, his dark eyes watching a young Clary trying to pick the right lesser demon, name it and give him the right description of it.
Clary couldn't recall any of this, but that might just have been because she was young when the memory happened.
"Father, why can't you talk about her?" Young-Clary asked.
"Talk about whom?" Valentine asked.
"Mom. What happened? I heard you and Maggie speak of her yesterday."
"Go back to your studies Clarissa."
"But Father, I just want to know-" "NO!"
The memory reformed, but when Clary saw her younger self, she was wearing the same black jacket and jeans as she'd been wearing in the training session.
"Why are we going down here Maggie?" Clary asked, as she followed the woman down to a room in the basement.
"We're meeting your father for a special training session." Maggie answered. Clary could hear in Maggie's voice she was speaking untruthfully. It was a slight shaking in her voice that usually wasn't present when the ageless woman spoke.
They reached the room, and Clary felt a heavy lump form in her stomach. She knew what this room was, and a special training session in her father's prisoner interrogation room didn't sound like a pleasant session.
"Clarissa." Valentine spoke as he saw his young daughter.
"Father." Clary smiled happily. It surprised Clary how happy she seemed, the young girl looked so unhurt. Like she'd never been betrayed nor hurt by anyone.
"If you could come with me, Maggie and I would like to show you something."
"Valen-" Maggie began, but Valentine's gaze stopped her.
Clary followed her father inside the room. Watching as he picked up a glowing metal pole.
"No." Clary whispered, she understood what was going to happen, and she couldn't watch. "NO. DON'T!" Clary scream at her father as he made Maggie hold the confused child still.
"FATHER PLEASE, NO!" Clary yelled desperately, she recognised her own pleadings being almost the same as the younger Clary in the last memory.
"No, no, don't!" Clary whispered as she heard the young girl scream.
Hearing other people scream was nothing like hearing yourself scream like you had nothing more to live for. She watched as Valentine pushed the glowing metal down on his daughter's face. Her cheek was almost completely covered by the metal.
The young Clary screamed. She screamed so loud it echoed off the walls around them. Her voice sounded hoarse, and the screams shook.
Clary ran over to where the young-Clary cried out for Valentine to stop.
She wanted to hit him, get him off the young girl. But she knew it wouldn't help. This had already happened. Clary was the proof. She touched her cheek; the thin scar running diagonally from her ear to her lip had faded with the years. It was almost not visible anymore, but Clary knew it was there. Reminding her of what had happened all those years ago.
"I was so wrong." Clary said, she spoke in the direction of her own father. "You lied. Always. Everything you've ever told me, you always lied!" Clary felt tears fall from her eyes.
The girl stopped screaming. But her whimpering cries were still ringing in the room.
Clary sat down next to her younger self as Valentine and Maggie left the room. She knew she couldn't follow them, seeing as the memory belonged to her and not any of them.
The girl's cheek was standing out in bright pink colours. Tears falling from her eyes as well, the tears streaming down her cheeks only made the young Clary cry even harder.
She tried to hold her tiny hand over the mark, keeping it cooled down.
"I'm so sorry." Clary told her younger self. She knew Clary couldn't hear her, but she hated herself for forgetting.
The end. For now.
Leave a review telling me how awful I am for letting Clary go through all this horrible stuff. But seriously I would really love hearing what you guys think of this one, because it was so difficult to write and I don't know if I failed horribly or not. I hope I didn't.