A/N: Ok guys! This is the official last chapter of Rejuvenation. I cannot stretch these characters anymore.

Please enjoy!

1 month later

Clary ran a soft brush through Emma's hair, relieving her tendrils from the knots that formed. She wasn't fighting her mistress this time, which was a first. Clary was a little concerned for the girl. She had been watching Emma over the last month, and she had slowly began retreating into herself. The older woman couldn't figure out why. Emma was normally teeming with life, running around with the boys, but lately she's been locked away in her rooms.

"Is everything alright?" Clary asked after several minutes of silence.

"Julian's been acting strange since you brought up a possible engagement." She picked at her nails, heaving a heavy sigh.

"Oh." Clary's heart dropped, realizing that she never consulted Emma about her decision.

"He used to treat me like an equal, and now he treats me like a girl. He told me the other day that girls should really wear dresses. Since when did he care, oh wait, he started caring when you and Jace started to meddle in my life," she snipped, making Clary freeze.

"I was doing you a favor. You were supposed to get married a year ago, and Jace hasn't been doing his job. I understand that you don't want to get married, but you like Jules. You two are friends." She took a breath, wondering how she could convince the girl that it was truly better this way. "Have you heard anything about my late husband?" She asked cautiously.

"No, not much." Emma glanced up at her. Clary walked around the couch, crouching down in front of her.

"Well, he wasn't a good man. He was actually horrid. He pretended to be courteous to get my father to agree to the marriage, but he was truly awful to me. He- he forced himself on me on our wedding night. I yelled at him, and he smacked me, telling me to learn my place. He wanted me to grovel at his feet. We continued to fight, and he gave up. I was supposed to bear a son, but he refused to touch me. I didn't want him to touch me either. He wasted all of his money on gambling and whores. There were time he would come back to my bed, but he would always take me as if I was a dog. I thought every man would be like him, but Jace is so good to me," Clary paused, trying to form the rest in her mind before she spoke. "Julian would be good to you, and I was just trying to find someone who would treat you right." She assured the girl in front of her.

"I don't even want to get married. You shouldn't have done anything." Emma looked away from her, seeming very distraught.

"Does Isabelle look happy to you?" Clary got back to her feet, as she went to brush her hair again. She didn't respond. "Isabelle ruined herself because she didn't want to get married, and now she's shunned from her family, a servant to her parents ward, and completely alone. I love Isabelle, but she's hurting. If she could have a decent job or live in a larger community, she might be okay, but women aren't meant to live alone as she does. No one is made to live alone like she does. I know you like your freedom, but I will find someone who can treat you well." Clary began braiding her hair back, attempting to keep it out of her face. "Julian could be that person for you," she suggested quietly, treading the water very carefully.

OoOoO

Jace continued working in his studio until the sun was set. Clary had fallen asleep with her cheek on his lap, like she had most nights when he worked late. She was an angel. He couldn't work on this painting anymore. He wanted to work on a painting of her, and he felt like he could finally ask her. He stirred her awake. She sleepily looked up at him, ruffling her locks lightly.

"Clary?" he breathed faintly, as she got to her feet.

"Yes?" She murmured, gathering her long disregarded shoes.

"I was wondering if I could paint you," he asked, letting his eyes can over her clothed form.

"Ok, tomorr-"

"I meant now and, uh, in our bedroom, with you bare." He gripped the back of his neck, feeling like this was suddenly a bad idea.

"Oh." Her eyes widened slightly, as she froze in place. He shouldn't have asked. He could not read her face, which was making him feel uneasy.

"I mean you don't have to..." He stepped towards her, clearing his throat.

"No, no, I just was surprised. You never expressed wanting to paint me before, let alone unclothed." She stood right up against him, playing with the fabric of his shirt.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You were hesitant about your body, and I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me first before I asked." He held her cheek lightly, whispering his lips against hers.

"Alright, but whatever paintings or drawing we make of one another are personal." She bit her lip, walking around him. "Get your supplies." She was already untying her gown. He scrambled over his feet, almost falling onto the ground. She said yes! He hurried towards the pigment and oil, realizing that he was out of paint. He threw the coloring into a bowl, stirring it frivolously, as he made his ways down the hall.

He walked into his bedroom, seeing his wife sprawled across the daybed. He dropped his easel, gulping heavily at the image before him. She was still in her robe, but everything was on display before his eyes. Her arms were the only thing partly covered by the silk robe.

"You never agreed that these would be private." She stretched her legs a little, as she bit her lip.

"Oh, trust me, I don't want anyone other than me to see this," he said, pulling the nightstand into a closer position. He sat on the stool he brought in, setting up everything as quickly as possible. He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to hold out because she looked like a saint.

"You look flustered," she teased, sliding her hand across her stomach. "You don't get flustered," she smirked, playing with one of her curls.

"I'm just not used to you, being so..." he gestured to her body, inhaling a large breath.

"I'm feeling adventurous," she shrugged, as her husband continued to ogle her. "Now are you going to paint me or stare?"

"Is that the pose you're going with?" he raised his eyebrow, grabbing hold of his brush.

"Do you not like it?" she looked down at herself, sounding a bit self-conscious.

"No, no, it's perfect." He wanted to touch her creamy thighs, getting lost in her.

OoOoO

Clary chewed on the inside of her lip, feeling her heart pound heavily in her chest. She couldn't believe she was doing this. She felt like he was memorizing her entire body, which made her squirm a little. It was the most erotic thing she had done in her life, and she felt so worked up. She wanted to paint him. He looked like Apollo with the sun for hair.

"You need a break?" Jace asked, setting his paintbrush down.

"Are you almost done?" she questioned, trying to remain still.

"I am." He grinned at her, continuing to dab the brush against the canvas.

"Then I can wait." She took a deep breath, feeling a pit at the bottom of her stomach burn.

"I'm done." He set the brush down, as she climbed to her feet. She gathered her robe closed, sitting on one of his legs. He slid his hand along her back hand, while she looked at his work. She blushed heavily, seeing her body on display like that. She squeezed her robe tighter, picking up the paintbrush. "What are you doing?" He furrowed his brow at her, as she dabbed it in some black.

"Just one thing." She pursed her lips, carefully trailing the thin brush along the curve of her body. It made her stand out just a little bit more against the light day bed.

"That is much better." He kissed just under her jaw, pulling her closer to his body. "What do you think?" He questioned, resting a hand on her thigh.

"It's very beautiful," she breathed, still surprised about how scandalous she looked. She knew that it seemed like a wanton position, but now that she could actually see it, it seemed even more naughty then she intended. Even though she thought she appeared promiscuous, she knew she looked like a woman. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a little girl, but Jace saw a lady. "When do I get to do you?" She bopped her nose against his cheek, smiling faintly.

"You want to paint me?" He chuckled, turning her gaze to his. She nodded silently, running her fingers through her hair. "Tomorrow. I need you right now." He growled, throwing her over his shoulder. She giggled violently, putting her head to his back. He threw her onto the mattress, making her bounce, as he climbed over her. "What was that pose you were doing again?" he smirked, kissing his wife heavily.

OoOoO

Jace leaned back against the headrest, as his wife crawled out of the bed. The morning sun illuminated the room, sending warm beams of light across the bed. His eyes wandered to his painting, which was sitting in front of the bed. He had forgotten it was there. That was his new favorite piece of art. She was stunning. He was genuinely surprised to hear that she wanted to paint him. That was going to be the last practice painting for her. She had been working very hard these past few months, and she has excelled very quickly. He wanted her working on commissioned pieces as soon as possible.

"I'm moving us back to Florence," he stated, looking back over at her.

"What?" She exclaimed, quickly pivoting around to face him. "You must be joking." She seemed deflated at his words, dropping her shoulders in disappointment.

"No, we need more commissions. You need commissions." He climbed out of bed, holding her hips. "This is what you've been waiting for." He pushed the hair away from her face, seeing the apprehension in her green eyes. She faced so much pain in Florence, but Florence was her future.

"I don't know if I can go back there," she whispered, looking down at his chest.

"You can. Those whispers of your past life faded when you wed and laid with me," he assured her, kissing her lightly.

"Then new ones will have arisen." She turned her face away from him, as she stepped into her slip.

"So what if they talk. It doesn't matter what they say because you will be greater than all of them. You are a lady and a gifted artisan. Anyone who speaks of you will only be jealous." He held her cheek lightly in her hand, and she grinned faintly at him.

"You always know what to say." Clary shook her head, looking up at him. His heart swelled in his chest, seeing the way that she was looking at him. She looked at him with pure admiration and respect. He couldn't believe that the timid girl he had met all those months ago was the woman in front of him.

"I love you," Jace breathed after a long stretched of silence. He heard her take a sharp intake of breath, but he couldn't tell if it was a bad sign or not. "I have for a couple of months now, but I was scared to tell you." He circled his thumb across her cheek, as she nuzzled into it.

"Scared?" Her eyes were soft as they locked with his. "I am the only one that is allowed to be scared, not you." Her lips curled upwards, while her fingers trailed down his chest.

"What do you mean?" His brow furrowed slightly, wondering if the she meant what he thought.

"I love you, too." Clary curled her fingers into the locks at the base of his neck. His lips connected with hers softly, timidly moving against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing away from him slightly.

"You are my angel," he murmured, resting their foreheads together. "Forever."

2015

"This is Clarissa Herondale's first commissioned piece. Before we knew that she was an artist, this was her husband's most famous work, meaning that the work he was most well-known for was actually his wife's." The people in the crowd ooh and aww at that remark. "Jace Herondale and his wife had an extensive personal collection of each other's works. The Herondale family didn't even know that they existed until the Victorian era about 100 years after their deaths. Almost every single one of them depicts Jace or his wife. Most of them were fairly small, which made it very easy to keep the paintings hidden. In each painting you can see their love for one another. Most of the paintings that they had of one another were very different from their time because they illustrated everyday things, setting them apart from other artist of their time."

A/N: I just want to point out that I don't think women need to get married to be happy. In this day in age women were used to make babies, and as I explained, Isabelle was pretty much shunned from society.

Thank you so much for all of your reviews, favorites, and follows! I love seeing those kinds of things pop up in my inbox.

Also as I said, this is the last chapter! I'm so sorry I didn't give you a whole lot of warning, but I think this was a beautiful ending for them.

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