A/N: Here it is! They're finally getting married! This is also the last chapter, though if I get some ideas for a follow-up story, I may be persuaded into writing one. . . hint hint!
Hope you enjoy :)
The life of a Shadowhunter is short, usually violent and filled with pain and struggle. Thus, any small moment of happiness is celebrated with great joy. A wedding is no different. Today, the halls of the New York Institute are filled with life. The ops centre has a select few on guard, and the bare minimum of people in the field. The rest of the Institute has a day off to join in the celebration.
Away from the noise, in her bedroom, Isabelle helps Clary get ready. She does her makeup and sweeps her hair away from her face in an elegant low bun. She helps zip Clary into her dress. It is simple; the colour of pale gold, with thin straps and delicate gold lace detailing on the V-necked bodice, the skirt gently flaring out to the floor. Izzy adjusts the opal pendant and steps back to admire her work with a satisfied smile. "Perfect."
"Thank you, Iz."
There's a gentle knock on the door before it opens. Maryse slips inside, wearing an elegant burgundy dress and holding a small wooden box. "Luke's almost ready, I just wanted to come see the bride."
"Well, here I am," Clary says.
"Oh, Clary, you look beautiful. How are you feeling? Nervous?"
She shakes her head. "Jace is it for me. This just makes it official."
A fond expression settles on Maryse's features. "You two were made for each other."
"Yeah, you were," Izzy agrees.
"I also came to give you something." She holds out the box for Clary to open, revealing a delicate hair comb inlaid with diamonds. "This has been worn by every woman in my family on her wedding day for over a hundred years. I wore it on mine, Isabelle will wear it on hers, and you will wear it today."
"Maryse, it's beautiful, but I can't accept this."
"Of course you can." She sets the box on the bed so she can grasp Clary's hands. "I know you don't have any biological family here today, but that doesn't mean you're alone. You do have a family, Clary. With us. No matter your last name, you and Jace are Lightwoods, too."
A tear rolls down Clary's cheek, and when she speaks, her voice is choked. "Thank you."
Maryse hugs her and turns her around so she can slot the comb at the top of her bun. "There. Now all we have to do is get you down the aisle."
Meanwhile, in his room, Jace wears a path in the floor as he paces back and forth. Alec watches this, somewhat amused.
"I'm an idiot," Jace is saying.
"Yeah, you are," Alec replies. "So?"
"No, Alec, I don't think you understand. I'm an idiot. I throw myself into danger without a second thought. I wore a leather jacket to Hell. Who in their right mind would marry me?"
"No one ever said Clary was in her right mind."
He stops pacing to point an accusing finger at his parabatai. "Don't you dare insult her."
Alec holds back a laugh. "Hey, pre-wedding jitters are normal."
"Have you met me? Nothing about my life is normal."
"This is. For a solid minute before I married Magnus, I genuinely considered climbing out the window and running away." Alec stands up and sets his hands on Jace's shoulders. "Look at me. Do you love Clary?"
"More than anything," he says reflexively.
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with her?"
"Without a doubt."
"There's your answer. You'll figure the rest out."
Jace nods. "Yeah. You're right. Yeah." A wide smile breaks out on his face, almost as if he can't help it. "I'm getting married today, Alec."
Alec's own smile widens. "Yeah, you are. But not like this, so get dressed."
Finally, the time has arrived. The guests are seated and the music is playing. Jace stands at the altar with Alec to his right and Brother Zachariah is to his left, ready to perform the ceremony.
Behind the doors, Clary stands, waiting for her cue.
"You know, it's not too late to back out," Luke says. "Say the word and I'll send everyone away, pretend this whole thing never happened."
She shakes her head, a smirk on her face. "I'm good, but thanks for the offer."
His voice shakes, not much, just enough for her to know that he's trying not to cry. "You're my daughter. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"I love you, Luke." She launches herself into his arms, bouquet and all. "Thank you for doing this."
"No place I'd rather be," he says.
Izzy makes a pointed gesture at him as she disappears behind the doors to walk down the aisle. He lets go of Clary and helps smooth down her dress. He offers his arm, which she takes. "You ready?" he asks.
Her voice is steady, and her stance is strong. "I have never been more ready for anything in my life."
He smiles. "I'm proud of you, kiddo." He pushes the door open, and then they're walking.
She doesn't see the flowers decorating the aisle, or the rows of friends and colleagues watching her, or the altar where she will soon be married.
All she sees is Jace.
A disbelieving look dawns on his face, like he can't hope to understand how he got here.
And in his eyes, she sees everything.
Their past, a past of pain and hurt and terror but also of love and light and joy.
Their future, one that she will fight for as long as she lives.
At last, she reaches him. She takes his hands as Luke kisses her cheek, an I love you murmured into her hair.
As it always has, his grip steadies her.
Brother Zachariah begins the ceremony. She barely registers what he's saying, too busy taking in the feel of her small hands in Jace's warm, calloused ones.
Alec and Izzy offer Jace and Clary the rings. Both have the signature silvery sheen of pure adamas. Jace slides hers on her finger with a nervous smile, and squeezes her hand after she's done the same to him.
"Now," Brother Zachariah says, "Jace Herondale and Clarissa Fairchild will Mark each other with the wedded union rune. A rune on the hand, a rune on the heart. A union is born."
Jace goes first. He takes his stele from Alec's outstretched hand and Marks the first rune, the one on her wrist. The other, the one on her heart, will be Marked later tonight, away from prying eyes. She tries to commit every second of the icy burn of the stele, and the words that Jace repeats after Brother Zachariah, to memory: "Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is as strong as death."
Once he is done, he quirks an eyebrow at her, not obvious enough for anyone but her to notice. "No backing out now," he murmurs.
She smiles, and takes the stele - her mother's - that Isabelle offers her. "Never," she murmurs back. She takes his hand to steady it as she Marks him, and repeats the vow herself.
Brother Zachariah smiles. "Jace Herondale, Clarissa Adele Fairchild, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Without waiting for his cue, Jace kisses her, his wife, one hand on her waist and the other behind her neck as he dips her. She laughs into his mouth.
They're one now.
Today and forever.
The music is soft and slow. Jace's hands are at Clary's waist and hers are at his neck as they sway gently.
"So, Mrs. Herondale, how are you enjoying the party?" Jace says.
"Oh, I'm having a grand old time, and you, Mr. Herondale?"
"I have never been happier."
Her smile widens. "Same here."
"You know, I didn't think we'd make it this far."
"Me neither. But we did, so screw you, Raziel."
"Clary," he hisses.
"What? I have the Mark of Ithuriel, remember? I could yell obscenities and set fire to an effigy of him and he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it."
"Just 'cause you can doesn't mean you should." He smirks. "Although I would like to see that."
"After everything he put us through, he deserves it."
He tilts his forehead against hers, so they are sharing one another's air. "I love you. Angel-bashing and all."
"I love you, too." She kisses him softly; only their second as husband and wife. She barely hears the applause as it starts slowly, until she pulls away from Jace to see every one of their guests staring at them.
Luke holds up his glass, beaming at them. "To the bride and groom," he says. The sentiment is echoed throughout the room.
Eventually, Clary and Jace must leave the bubble of the dance floor. And when they do, two of their favourite people are waiting for them.
"So you guys are really married," Simon says by way of greeting.
Izzy, making one of those squeaky girl noises of excitement, not-so-gently nudges him out of the way to hug the happy couple. First her parabatai, then her brother. She has hugged them both at least twice already in the past few hours: once right after the ceremony, and again after they officially wrote their names in the book of marriages that the Institute keeps. "I'm so happy for you!" she says.
Simon shoos her out of the way so he can hug Clary himself. "Congrats, Fray."
"That's Herondale to you," Jace says.
Simon grins. "Clary Herondale. Has a nice ring to it."
"I think so," Clary replies, a bright smile on her face. She's pretty sure her cheeks will be sore tomorrow, because she has never smiled this much in her life.
"Biscuit!" Magnus proclaims, throwing his arms around her from behind and giving her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Without letting go of her, he gives an approving nod to Jace. "Mr. Biscuit. Congratulations on your nuptials."
"Oh, I am gonna call you Mr. Biscuit for the rest of your life," Simon laughs.
"Why do you hate me?" Jace asks plaintively. "Magnus is who he is, but you don't have to make fun of me."
"Get used to it, Jace, he's practically your brother-in-law," Alec says, clapping him on the shoulder.
Simon makes an odd choked noise in the back of his throat.
Alec rolls his eyes. "I meant that you're practically Clary's brother, bloodsucker. Stay away from my sister."
Just to annoy her brother, Isabelle drapes herself over Simon's side, leaning her head on his shoulder.
Rolling his eyes again, Alec turns his attention to Clary. "Hey, can we talk for a second?"
Clary lets him lead her away to a more secluded spot in the Hall. "I wanted to thank you," he says.
"For what?"
"You didn't see it, but before you came along, Jace just threw himself headlong into whatever battle he could find. He was so cavalier about death, almost like he was living for the fight no matter which way it ended. And then he met you, and he had something to fight for. Someone he had to stay alive for. It made him actually think before he leapt. So thank you for that."
"He's it for me, too, you know. My something to fight for."
"I know." Suddenly, he is nervous, which is always an odd thing to see on Alec Lightwood-Bane, the solid, stoic Inquisitor.
"Was there something else?" Clary asks.
He fidgets with his hands, looks down at them before darting his eyes back up to hers. "I need to apologise."
She furrows her eyebrows, tilting her head slightly.
"I didn't treat you the best when you first got here. I made you feel unwelcome in a place that should've felt like your home from the start, and I never apologised for that."
Her expression softens. "It's okay, Alec. I know you. You're fiercely protective of your family. You were only mean to me because you saw me as a threat to them."
"Well, you're my family now, so get ready to feel protected." He envelops her in a bear hug. He's much taller than her, so her head leans against the middle of his sternum. And she does feel protected; safe, like Lucifer himself could enter the room and she wouldn't be afraid.
"I've never had a brother, not really," she mumbles into his dress shirt. She thinks of Jonathan; the boy who was her brother biologically but not in any way that counted.
Alec's arms tighten around her. "Now you do," he replies.
Jace is still talking to Simon, Izzy and Magnus when Maryse pulls him away, dragging him towards the dance floor. "Let me dance with my son on his wedding day," she says. It's clear that he has no choice in the matter, so he leads them gently, swaying to the soft music.
Maryse sets a hand on his cheek. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "My beautiful boy," she says. "I may not have given you life, but it has been a privilege to watch you grow up."
Jace's hand covers hers. "Thank you, Mom."
His gaze shifts slightly to her left. She follows it to see Clary, now talking to Helen and Aline. "I see how happy she makes you," she says. "She makes you a better person."
"She really does."
A single tear falls, but she doesn't push it away. "That is everything a mother could want for her son."
Jace leans down to hug her tight. "I love you," he says.
"I love you, too."
Maryse watches as he floats off the dance floor - she never imagined that her brash, strong son would ever float - and kisses his bride's cheek, his entire face lighting up when she turns her attention to him.
Luke appears behind Maryse, winding his strong arms around her.
"They look so happy, don't they?" she says softly.
"They're not the only ones," he replies, pressing a kiss to her hair.
She wishes she could freeze this moment and live in it forever.
But that's not how the world works, especially in their line of work. Less than five minutes later, Jace watches as Raj, one of the people monitoring the ops centre, runs up to Isabelle. Though he can't hear what he's saying, he can see his wild gestures and his frantic expression, pupils blown wide.
Something's wrong.
Izzy immediately snaps into boss mode, marching swiftly up to the DJ and taking over the microphone. "There is a horde of Raum demons wreaking havoc in Queens. I need every able-bodied Shadowhunter and trained Downworlder to get their gear and weapons and meet in the ops centre."
Shadowhunters are good at celebrating, but they are even better at responding to a call to arms. Without preamble or panic, people march out of the hall, with those who can't fight gathering to see how else they can help. Clary watches Simon follow Izzy; though he can't yet join the hunt himself, she knows he will stay by her side helping her direct people until she leaves the Institute.
Jace squeezes her hand. "Any chance I can convince you to stay here?"
"We're Shadowhunters. This is what we do."
A puff of air escapes his lips. "I was hoping it wouldn't be what we do today, but I guess I should be grateful that we actually got to get married first."
She chuckles, holds up their linked hands to show the new rune on his wrist. "We did."
"Meet you in the hallway after you get ready, Mrs. Herondale?"
"Of course, Mr. Herondale."
Jace gets ready quickly, exchanging his tuxedo for his much more protective gear, and slotting two seraph blades and his stele into his holster.
He laughs to himself, almost sarcastically.
Of course.
Of course the first thing they do as husband and wife is fend off a demon attack.
He really shouldn't be surprised at this point.
He waits in the hallway for Clary, and senses, more than sees, that she's coming.
She marches purposefully towards him. She has changed from her wedding dress into her gear, a kindjal in each hand and her stele and seraph blade tucked into her holster. But there are still fragments of the woman who walked down the aisle less than four hours ago; her hair and makeup are still in place, the ring he put on her finger remains, and the wedded union rune sits on her wrist, jet-black and permanent. His mouth quirks up in a half-smile.
"What?" she asks.
"I just realised I like you as much in gear as I do in that gold dress."
She rolls her eyes. "Just know that you're not allowed to divorce me when you see me in sweatpants."
He laughs, and it feels good, warm and alive in his chest. "I love you so much."
Her smile is worth everything.
Less than ten minutes later, they are in the middle of the fight. It's a strange place for a battlefield, Jace thinks, an empty street in the industrial district of Queens, beneath an overpass. All mundanes have been ushered away thanks to glamours showing a construction barricade. He swings at one of the Raum demons, severing a tentacle while Alec shoots an arrow into the head, killing it instantly. Out of the corner of his eye, Jace can see Clary battling a demon of her own. Izzy slashes at its body with her whip, distracting it enough for Clary to draw the sunlight rune on her hand and kill it. Almost as if she can feel him staring at her, she turns to him, just for a moment.
She is beautiful, his bride, standing in a warrior's stance with blood on her face and ichor on her clothes.
He loses sight of her at some point during the fight; it's impossible to tell when. The streets are a cacophony of demons and Shadowhunters and the Downworlders fighting beside them. He catches a glimpse of Maia in wolf form, leaping for a demon who has cornered a Shadowhunter whose name he doesn't know. In the midst of the fray, he can see the blue sparks of Catarina's magic, indicating that she is holding her own.
And then it's over, almost as abruptly as it started. The amount of Raum demons gets smaller and smaller, until the few that are left are easily dispatched by a few well-aimed stabs of a seraph blade. Jace scans what remains of the battlefield for Clary, but he doesn't see her. Shadowhunters draw iratzes on themselves and each other, werewolves and vampires remain still as their injuries slowly knit back together, and warlocks help anyone that cannot do so themselves. Healed wounds leave their mark in the form of bloodstains: on T-shirts, on skin, on hair.
He still can't see her.
"Jace!"
He turns around, and all the blood returns to his body, making him lightheaded with relief. She is running towards him, daggers in hand, and she is bruised and bloody and alive. She shoves her daggers into her holster and throws herself into his arms. He lifts her up for a second before returning her to the ground.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her hands moving from his arms to his neck to his face, checking for injuries.
He is doing the same to her. "I'm fine. Are you?"
"I-" Her breath is coming out in sharp pants. "I couldn't see you. I was terrified something happened to you."
Despite everything, despite the blood and the dirt and the ichor, he kisses her, a short, firm kiss that says I'm here. "I felt the same way about you."
She collapses into his chest, clings to his forearms, lets her breathing even out. "Can we go somewhere without demons for our honeymoon?"
"Wherever you want," he promises.
Clary helps Magnus and the other warlocks Portal everyone to either their homes or the Institute, before taking Jace's hand and stepping through herself. All senior operatives of the Institute must meet at the ops centre to debrief and take stock of any missing or damaged weapons. It is a laborious process, but necessary, especially after a hunt as big as this one.
Izzy smirks at the way Clary and Jace remain pressed against one another, even while reviewing separate documents. "Okay, lovebirds, I can take it from here. You are free to go."
"Thank you," Jace sighs, immediately taking Clary's hand and leading her away.
Jace and Clary go into his room - their room, now - where they help one another wash the blood and ichor off. Clary undoes her hair, which by now is little more than a messy, low bun, and washes her face while Jace leaves the bathroom, presumably to remove his gear. When she emerges from it herself, she can't help but laugh.
Jace is sitting on the edge of the bed, having only managed to remove his shirt, looking completely and utterly exhausted. He runs his hands over his face and groans. "I know people say your wedding day is tiring but this is ridiculous."
She kicks off her shoes and joins him. "Well, most people don't fight a horde of demons on their wedding night. Where I grew up, anyway. Is it a common occurrence for Shadowhunters?"
"Not as common as you'd think. The universe just hates us."
"It has to like us at least a little bit. I mean, we're here now, right?"
"True." He leans in and kisses her, slow and sweet. He pulls back. "I'm sorry, just- do you mind, if we don't- you know, tonight? I'm so tired."
She laughs again, kisses his cheek. "Not at all. Right now, I would love nothing more than to go to sleep with my husband."
He smiles softly. "There's something we have to do first." He stands up and pulls her with him, so they're facing each other. He gets his stele from his holster, and she remembers.
Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is as strong as death.
Her eyes don't leave his as he draws the rune carefully. She doesn't flinch, even though it burns. Permanent runes hurt more than temporary ones, maybe because they mean more. This one means everything.
"This," he says, "is a promise. That you are mine, and I am yours. Forever."
She takes the stele from him so she can Mark him, too. "Until the day I die, and after that," she murmurs.
They shed their layers of gear, put on their pyjamas, and crawl into bed, her head on his chest and his arm encircling her waist. He kisses her temple.
Clary's own words echo in her head.
Until the day I die, and after that.
She likes the sound of that.