Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the Mortal Instruments nor any of the characters besides my own made up ones! All rights go to Cassandra Clare, her publishers, and the other rightful owners!

Chapter 2: Izzy's POV

I follow Clarissa through the winding halls of Morgenstern manor. I know we passed her room a while ago; it had a big "C" on it. It looked artistic, so it seemed like it was drawn by Clarissa herself or her mom.

We start slowing down as we reached the end of the hall. Clarissa pulls out a key and inserts it into the keyhole of the end room. She opens the door and lets me in. I gasp.

It looks like a greenhouse, with wide, glass windows letting in light from every corner of the room. But there are no plants, only easels and tables and charts of different colors. Storage bins and cabinets are pushed against the wall connected to the manor.

The easels have beautiful paintings on them. There's one of a seraph blade, then one of a shortsword with the Morgenstern emblem on its hilt. Three easels contain drawings of three manors. I recognized them all. The first was the manor I was in right now, the Morgenstern one. The second was Herondale manor, the gold stone captured perfectly. Last was the Lightwood manor. It was elegant and graceful, the gray stones eloquently aligned and the windows culturisticly designed.

I reached out to touch one but pulled my hand back abruptly. I glanced back at Clarissa, who was watching me.

She laughed. "I painted those a couple of months ago. You can touch them."

My fingertips started to graze the picture of the Lightwood manor. It was almost as if I was there, standing right in front of it.

I tried to think of something to say. "I-uh-oh-these-you…"

Clarissa, who had gone to lock the door, was looking over with amusement. "Are you trying to tell me that they are good?"

I nod vigorously. "These are incredible."

Clarissa walks back over and joins me. "Close your eyes, Isabelle."

I close my eyes and mutter, "You can call me Izzy."

Clarissa giggles. "Ok, Izzy, turn around." Clarissa's warm hands help me rotate. She guides me to some place that I can't see. Obviously. "Open them."

I open my eyes and gape. On a huge canvas, a canvas taller than me, was a picture of my entire family. It was enormous, almost as big as the double doors we just entered through.

Max was in front, his glasses askew, his hair mussed, gray eyes alight, and a book held in the crook of his elbow. Holding his shoulders was Dad, his broad shoulders prominent in his black suit. The dark clothing made his blue eyes pop. His black hair was flawlessly styled and his hands were strong. He had a dominant expression on his face.

On Dad's right was Alec. Looking as humble as always, his suit was slightly rumpled along with his hair. The dark blue eyes I had grown up with stared back at me with the wisdom of an eighty-year-old that I knew Alec possessed. He had his arm slung around Dad, the other hand holding one of Max's.

On Dad's left was Mom. She was wearing black as well, a cocktail dress that reached her knees. It was simple, clinging to her every curve. Her black hair was hung in an ornate yet tight bun and her eyes seemed to be piercing your soul.

Mom was hugging a girl, my age, close to her. This girl was dignified and beautiful yet dangerous at the same time. Her luscious black hair fell to her waist and her brown eyes were mysterious. A gold bracelet was on one of her wrists. It reminds me of my own whip. The girl had heels on, making her as tall as her mother. I wonder who this girl is.

I stare at Clarissa, who is watching my reaction. "Who is the girl?" I ask.

Clarissa looks confused. "That's you. Or, at least that's what I expect."

I shake my head. "I don't look like that."

Clarissa takes my arm and leads me to a nearby mirror. I cry out in horror.

"Look," Clarissa demands as she heads over to a sink. She grabs a rag and soaks it, coming back over. She starts to wipe my face with cool water, calming the red spots and fixing my red-rimmed eyes. Her hands are incredibly gentle.

When she's done, it looks as if I hadn't been crying at all. Of course, there's still some makeup left, but Clarissa says we can fix that later.

As I look in the mirror, my eyes flick between it and the picture. The girls look exactly the same.

"How did you do that?" I ask.

Clarissa shrugs. "An artist has an eye for beautiful and majestic things. When your father commissioned me to paint this, I was actually excited. Your family, Izzy, couldn't be any grander than they already are. I had a hard time trying to capture that. I had to use my resources."

"If you made my family look this good, I'd like to see a picture of the Herondale family."

Clarissa moves around and picks up a sketch. She looks over the page at me. "You know that picture when you first walk into the Herondale manor? The one to the left?"

My mouth falls. "You painted that?"

Clarissa nods. "I had to use gold flakes to get that family right."

Somebody bangs on the door. "Clary!"

"What?" Clarissa rolls her eyes and goes to stand right next to the door.

"You and Isabelle need to come to the study right now!" I can't discern who the voice comes from, but I'm guessing it's Jonathan.

"We'll be there in a minute!"

Footsteps stomp off. Clarissa shakes her head. "Brothers," she mutters.

She pulls a key out of her pocket and opens the door. I exit, with Clarissa right behind. She locks the door and we head back to the study.

I learn some interesting things about Clarissa, or "Clary", along the way.

We're laughing when we enter the study. Everybody looks at us quizzically. We stop, but a few stray giggles erupt from both of us.

Valentine looks at us both with cold, dark eyes. "To confirm your marriage, we must exchange family rings. Jonathan, you first."

I gasp. "Isn't it too soon?"

Valentine shakes his head. "We do not know how much longer our lives will be. This will be a faster courtship than most. Get on with it, Jonathan."

Purposely reluctant, all the while glaring at his father, Jonathan gets up. A band of dark silver glistens in his palm. It's stark against his pale skin.

He looms over me and takes my outstretched hand. He covertly mouths, "I'm sorry." Alec's glare burns into both of us. Sliding the ring onto my finger, he kisses my knuckles, almost sending a small shiver down my back. He then retreats to where Sebastian is.

A small hand is placed on my shoulder. I look down to see Clary smiling sadly at me.

"And now Jace."

The smile is wiped of Clary's face as Jace stands up. She's tense.

Jace is like Jonathan. He also is clearly not happy about this. His mouth is set into a thin line as he approaches her. The Herondale ring shines in the pale light. He takes her small hand and slides it on, surprisingly gentle. The ring, like all other family rings, molds itself to fit Clary's finger. He brushes his lips over Clary's hand and then retreats. Clary visibly relaxes.

Valentine seems to be the only one happy about this arrangement. He's smiling widely, his black eyes wondrously warm. "The newly engaged are dismissed," he announces.

All four of us bolt out of there. "Can we go back to the room we were just in?" I ask. I feel Jonathan and Jace listen in.

Clary shrugs. "Why not. Jace, Jon, you can come too."

Jonathan raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"The studio."

"Yours, right? Not Mom's?" His tone is wary.

Clary violently shakes her head. "No, no, a thousand times no. We are going to mine." Both Jonathan and Clary shudder.

"What's in Jocelyn's studio?" I ask.

"Pictures of things. Things the three of us shouldn't have ever seen," Jonathan responds as we start walking.

"What types of things?" Jace raises his eyes suggestively.

Clary shoots him a dirty look. "The exact things going through your mind right now."

Hey y'all,

I hope you like the story even though it's short and trashy.

-Agent Ladd