Author's Note: Sorry to be posting again so quickly. This chapter is long, and I wanted everyone to have time to enjoy it before I post again. So, here you are. This is the painful chapter. This is the angst some of you so crave. I hope you enjoy it. Please review.

Major Author's Note: Trigger for self harm. I in no way condone self harm and if you feel this chapter might trigger you to harm yourself DO NOT READ IT. The hard part with writing is to have character do something the author does not agree with. This is a fictional story with fictional characters dealing with fictional scenarios. You wouldn't stab your significant other because your dreams told you to, therefore, you should not cut yourself because a fictional character did.

Chapter 16: Of Pain and Suffering

The next two weeks were whirlwind of events. Invitations for the wedding went out almost immediately. Celine went to Alicante and returned with a huge dress bag she forbid Stephen from looking inside. Stephen wrote to his parents but heard no reply, so a week before the wedding, he and Celine took a carriage to Herondale Manor so she could meet his parents.

The Herondale Manor house was in another valley, a half hour's journey from where the Fairchild, Wayland, and Lightwood Manors were located. Stephen and Celine set out in a misting rain beneath steel gray skies following a subdued breakfast. In the last few days, a chill had come into the valley. Without any sunlight all of the life seemed to have been sucked out of everything.

Stephen drew aside the curtain covering the window of the carriage and looked out. If the weather kept up like this, he would be marrying Celine in a windowless ballroom on the first floor of Fairchild Manor.

"You look nice today," Celine said. Stephen dropped the curtain back over the window and looked down at the leather coat and matching gloves he wore. They arrived in his closet sometime during the night, yet another gift from Valentine, who seemed bent on overhauling Stephen's wardrobe top to bottom. Not that Stephen minded. The jacket was well made and the gloves would be useful.

"Thank you," Stephen said. He looked over Celine's outfit, which consisted of a soft, loose fitting sweater and skin tight black pants. Any other time, he would have sat beside her just to run his hands up and down her thighs as they passionately kissed for the entire carriage ride. Today, Stephen had other things on his mind.

"Have you heard from your parents at all?" Celine asked.

"I have not," Stephen said. He moved the curtain aside once more and looked out into the dreary countryside.

"What should of reception should I expect from them?" Celine asked. Stephen glanced at Wayland Manor as they passed it by. He'd asked Michael to be his best man, and Michael accepted the request. "Stephen?"

"What?" Stephen asked.

"You've been so distracted lately," Celine said. She crossed the carriage and sat beside him. "You were so… enthusiastic… when you proposed. Now…"

"I have a lot on my mind," Stephen said, though that was the exact opposite. With Celine, Jocelyn, and Josie Wayland doing all of the planning, all Stephen had to be concerned with was showing up to the wedding and not forgetting how to draw the wedded union runes. He could hole up in his room and not come out until the day before the wedding, which was when he had an appointment to have his runes stripped.

"What, then?" Celine asked. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him on the lips. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm going to be your wife in six days."

"It's nothing."

"Stephen-"

"I feel like I barely know you," Stephen confessed. "I wanted to get married in the spring. I wanted to… get to know you better."

"That's what our honeymoon is for," Celine said. They would leave immediately after the wedding for a honeymoon. Celine had never been out of Idris and demanded they go to Paris, but Stephen stood firm. After all, he hadn't had his choice of wedding cake flavors, or food, or even what he was going to wear, but the honeymoon was a different matter. Stephen wanted to take his honeymoon in London, and so they would spend an entire month at the London Institute.

After the honeymoon, they would continue to live at Fairchild Manor. Children were supposed to come next, a thought which made Stephen sick to his stomach. He couldn't bear the idea of seeing another child of his born. Stephen hoped to postpone the conception of a child, at least until after the Accords the following November, but he doubted he would get his way on that either.

"What's your favorite color?" Celine asked.

"Green," Stephen replied.

"Well, mine is purple. Like, lilac purple," Celine said. Stephen nodded. "There, see, now you've gotten to know me a little better."

Stephen resisted rolling his eyes. Knowing one another's favorite colors just wasn't enough, not for Stephen. There were a hundred things Stephen wanted to know about Celine, important things, such as where she came from and where she wanted to go. He had always wanted to one day return to London; would Celine want to live there? If she didn't want to move to London, would they stay in Idris? Get their own house? For Celine to ask Stephen something as trivial as what his favorite color was, and count it as "getting to know" him caused Stephen to hate Celine, just a little bit.

They arrived at Herondale Manor not long after. Stephen climbed out of the carriage first, then helped Celine down, and together, they ran up the front steps to the large house. Stephen rang the bell and the door opened a second later.

"Master Herondale," A woman said. She was a maid the Herondale's had brought from London, one of the several servants they employed.

"I've come to see my parents," Stephen said. He walked inside with Celine and followed the maid down a long hallway lined with the wedding portraits of many of the Herondales. The last picture in the hallway was of Stephen and Amatis. Stephen tried not to look at it, but there it was: he and Amatis's happiness and keen look to the future immortalized on canvas.

The maid knocked on a door, then opened it and walked inside.

"Mr. and Mrs. Herondale? Your son is here to see you," the maid said.

Stephen and Celine walked inside the sitting room to find Marcus on one couch and Imogen on the other. There was a fire in the fireplace, and books in both Marcus and Imogen's hands. The maid mentioned tea and left the room.

Marcus looked Stephen up and down. Not much had changed with Marcus since the last time Stephen saw him, at Isaiah's funeral. He looked a little older, a bit more weathered. Stephen removed his gloves and coat and cleared his throat.

"The prodigal returns," Marcus said. He closed the book in his hands and set it on a small coffee table.

"Father, you know why I'm here," Stephen said evenly.

"No, no, I'm not sure anymore," Marcus said. "It's always something with you. Please enlighten your mother and I." Stephen turned his eyes to Imogen, who looked away and folded her arms.

"I wanted you to meet Celine. She's become very… dear to me," Stephen said. He put an arm around Celine's waist and pulled her against him, wanting her to stand with him, and not just behind him. "As you must have heard, she's going to become my wife on Sunday."

"So are you or are you not still married to Amatis?" Marcus asked. He appeared confused.

"We annulled the marriage," Stephen said.

"On grounds of infidelity, so I heard," Marcus said. "And is this girl, Celine, the one you cheated on Amatis with?" Marcus looked Celine over, his cold blue eyes scrutinizing her. "My, she is pretty."

"Thank you," Celine said.

"It speaks!" Marcus said. He turned his eyes back to Stephen. "Rest assured, son, you aren't the first Herondale to think with your cock and not with your head. Our history is littered with stupid men and the stupider women they fucked. I thought I taught you better."

"She's not stupid!" Stephen exclaimed. "I'm in love with her, father!"

Marcus snorted. "Yes, but do you love her?" he asked.

"Of course I love her. I'm going to marry her," Stephen said. Marcus rolled his eyes.

"You don't love her, she's just someone you've fucked enough times to feel something for. It's lust, Stephen. It's like a soap bubble: sooner or later it will pop and you'll never know if it was ever there to begin with," Marcus said. Celine gasped and ran out of the room.

Marcus never did like Amatis, however, Amatis knew that and held her own against him anyway. She had always been the one person besides Imogen who could match wits with Marcus. Amatis wouldn't have run out of the room the moment Marcus insulted her relationship. She would have told Marcus he was wrong, and then proved him wrong as well. Celine only ran.

"I love her," Stephen said. "You owe Celine an apology. You owe me…"

"I owe you nothing," Marcus said. "You did this. You married Amatis and when that didn't work out you cheated on her and now you're marrying this other girl. You've brought shame to our family, what with this Circle business and your divorce and now this…lust driven rebound. I won't stand for it. I will not sit by and watch you destroy one life after another. You are dead to me, Stephen."

"I'm your son!" Stephen exclaimed. "I am your only son. You can't pick and choose the man I'm supposed to be. That's not for you to decide!"

"Darling, did you hear something?" Marcus asked. He lifted his book and turned to the page he had just been reading.

"Mama!" Stephen cried. "You can't let him do this!"

"I will always love you and you will always be my son," Imogen said. "However, I have to stand with your father on this. I can't in good conscience accept this marriage."

"Then you have lost me as a son," Stephen said. He grabbed his coat and gloves and hurried from the room.

Stephen spent the next few days in his bedroom, leaving only for meals. Otherwise, he lay in bed, trying to read, but none of his favorite books held much interest for him. Celine was a near constant presence. They would be living in his room together after their marriage, and every day, Celine moved something else of hers into his room, slowly filling the large space until it felt as cramped as the tiny canal house Stephen had left. When Stephen moved into the canal house with Amatis, he brought barely anything of his own, and when he left there, he brought even less to Fairchild Manor. All of his possessions fit into two trunks, one of which was filled with weapons.

Now, half of the bedroom contained his few things, and the other side of the room was filled with wedding gifts and Celine's possessions. Celine wasn't just moving her things in, she was changing the room bit by bit, making it less his and more hers. Stephen woke up three days before the wedding to find himself sweating beneath a sumptuous silk and velvet comforter that was nothing like the soft quilt he was used to.

Michael stopped by twice, always with an enthusiastic attitude regarding the wedding. Stephen didn't want to talk about the wedding, or how excited he was to be marrying Celine, because he didn't want to lie. Ever since Marcus cast doubt on Stephen's relationship and disowned him, Stephen found himself unable to be happy about he and Celine's upcoming nuptials. Everything suddenly felt wrong. Stephen, who never once had second thoughts about marrying Amatis, began to dread his marriage to Celine.

On the morning before the wedding, Stephen woke up alone. Today, he would be going to the Silent City to have his marriage runes stripped off, so that Celine would be able to draw new runes on him, Marking him as her own. Stephen understood why this was to happen: he had to physically lose something before he could gain something else.

Stephen climbed from the bed, went into the bathroom, and took a long, hot shower. When that was done, he wrapped in a towel and over to his dresser. He dressed in some pants, then looked up to see his silver Herondale box sitting on top of his dresser. Stephen slid the lid of the box aside and looked in to find a daisy, no larger than a button, lying in the bottom of the box. The daisy was dried and perfectly preserved. Stephen picked up the daisy, only to have it crumble in his fingers. He knew where the daisy had come from and knew he should have felt something as he watched the petals float to the floor, however, he only felt numbness, which was the case anymore.

Stephen felt like he was forcing himself to climb out of bed, to eat, to do anything to function as a human being. Even when he made love to Celine, he felt like he was pushing his body through the motions. The night before, it took him nearly twenty minutes to be ready for Celine, and then, he actually faked his orgasm by grabbing the head board of the bed and crying out loud enough for Valentine and Jocelyn to hear. After that, Stephen retreated into the bathroom and left Celine to her own devices. Stephen was certain that he could hurt himself now and not feel a thing.

Which begged the question, what was stopping him? Stephen reached into the silver box and withdrew his dagger. He ran his thumb along the sharp edge and saw a drop of blood well up, though he still felt nothing. He would have to cut deeper and bleed harder to feel anything. He was about to press the blade to his arm when he heard Valentine's voice in the hallway.

"I told you so," Valentine said smugly. Celine laughed and said something back. They must not have known he was awake.

The door knob began to turn, slowly. Stephen clenched his fist around the dagger's handle. As the door opened, he stabbed the dagger into the inside of his left bicep. Pain fought against numbness as his heart pounded. Blood stained the dagger's polished silver blade and ran down his arm, hard, fast, painful.

"STEPHEN!" Celine cried.

Stephen dropped the dagger and watched it bounce beneath his dresser. Celine laid her hand over the cut as Valentine drew a healing rune on Stephen's arm which sealed the cut closed in an instant.

"What were you thinking?" Celine demanded.

"Oh, darling, it's only you," Stephen gasped. "I had a dream there was a demon inside of me. There was only one way to get it out…" He gestured to the cut on his arm. "Do you think there is something awful in me?"

"Of course not," Valentine said. He wrapped his arms around Stephen and held him close.

"Would you say, then, that I'm perfect?" Stephen asked. "Celine, darling, would you dare say I'm… perfect? That you and I together are, perhaps, perfect?" Something changed in Valentine. Stephen felt his arms become wooden where they'd once been warm and welcoming. "Darling?"

"We're perfect," Celine said.

"Of course we are," Stephen said. "I love you and you love me and everything is PERFECT!"

"Michael is waiting for you downstairs. We're going to leave for Alicante as soon as you finish your breakfast," Valentine said. He released Stephen and walked out of the room. Stephen wiped the blood from his arm and went to the closet for a shirt.

"You weren't dreaming," Celine said. "I've watched you dream- you weren't." Celine walked over to the closet and stood beside him, hovering, as always. "Why don't you tell me what's really the matter? Is it what your father said? Is it…"

"Tell me you love me," Stephen said.

"I love you," Celine said.

"No, tell me, you love me," Stephen said. He rested his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes. He didn't care about the individual words, but rather, what they meant. For Celine to love him, she had to be on his side. Whenever he had doubts, she had to love him enough to make him erase those doubts.

"I love you," Celine said. She kissed his lips and looked into his eyes, her conviction never wavering as she said the words once more. "I love you."

After breakfast, Stephen rode into Alicante with Valentine and Michael. Stephen had an odd sense of déjà vu when he left Nicias at a stable and went into the Accords Hall with Michael at his back. They walked downstairs and ended up in the Silent City. Once again, Michael stated their business to one of the Brothers, who showed them to the Ossuarium.

The Ossuarium was a place for the Shadowhunters who died mysterious deaths to receive autopsies. Stephen wasn't at all surprised to see a body lying on a table, covered with a sheet. There was a Brother in the corner of the room, meticulously cleaning several sharp looking instruments.

"Have you eaten?" The Brother asked. Stephen heard the voice in his mind, yet still jumped back, startled. He felt Michael's hand on his lower back, perhaps to keep him from running away.

"Yes," Stephen said.

"I wish that you had not," The Brother said mournfully. "As it is. Please remove your shirt and climb onto an empty table."

Stephen stared at the stone tables in the middle of the room as his palms became slick with sweat. There were reasons why Shadowhunters almost never had their permanent runes striped off. When Shadowhunters went bad and could not be fixed, their runes were burned off their skin by acid in an unspeakable, torturous process. Stephen had heard the stories of men dying in the midst of the process, their bodies unable to take the unrelenting agony.

"Stephen," Michael said. He stepped closer and touched Stephen on the wrist. Stephen lifted his hands and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, then tossed it to Michael. He climbed onto a table and laid down, trying to slow his breathing. The ceiling above was black and covered with an infinite amount of tiny pinpricks of light, like stars. A cold hand took Stephen's right arm, laid it on a platform, and manacled it down at the wrist.

"That's not necessary," Stephen said. "It's just the marriage runes that need taken away. I don't need…" Stephen looked up at the ceiling, trying to focus on the stars. His eyes saw a silver instrument hanging close by, a sharp looking blade curved like the grim reaper's sickle.

"It is necessary," The Brother said. He took Stephen's right arm and manacled it down as well, then did the same to Stephen's feet. "This will hurt some."

"How much?"

"Some."

Stephen looked down, past his feet, to see Valentine standing near the door. Valentine was smiling in the way he always did when something amused him. He probably viewed this as the ultimate test of Stephen's loyalty. After all, it was only right for Valentine's second in command to be family as well.

Stephen closed his eyes and tried to decide who he was doing this for. Yes, he was motivated to strip his runes in order to marry Celine. Celine was going to marry Stephen because she said she loved him. All Stephen wanted was a girl to love him and never leave him. Was Celine's devotion worth all of the pain and suffering Stephen had gone through, even before now?

Something cold dripped onto Stephen's arm, just over the marriage rune. Stephen's next breath burned his throat as he smelled bitter acid. The same coldness dripped onto his chest, and Stephen started to scream.

He jerked against the metal buckles that held his body down, so hard, metal sliced into his skin. Stephen began shaking uncontrollably as his muscles clenched and released. There was nothing but pain and more burning, cutting, awful pain. Stephen tried to stop screaming, and couldn't. Every noise that came out of him ripped the skin of his throat. He started to suffocate.

Memories began to appear in his mind. Stephen burst into tears as he saw Amatis walking through the front gates of the Academy the day they first met. Next, he saw her on their wedding day. That memory faded and was replaced by the memory of her on their wedding night. Amatis was lying on their bed, daisies falling out of her hair as they kissed passionately. That memory faded, and then Stephen saw Amatis beside him, her body bleeding as her heart broke.

Will any of that be worth it, in the end?

"Don't touch him!" Valentine yelled.

"He's in pain, can't you see that?" Michael cried. He grabbed Stephen's hand and held it. Stephen saw tears streaming down Michael's face.

There was heat against Stephen's skin then and the burning pain was diminished. The Brother wiped Stephen's arm and chest with a cloth, drew a healing rune, and released the manacles. Stephen sat up and spectacularly discovered why he should have skipped breakfast, then looked down to see his marriage runes gone and replaced with two smooth circles of skin, like he had never been married at all.

"Congratulations, by the way," The Brother said.

Stephen spent most of the rest of the day in a dreamlike half sleep in a guest bedroom at the Wayland Manor. After dinner, Michael brought in two glasses of brandy. Tomorrow was the wedding, but Stephen was in no mood to discuss it, and Michael never brought it up.

"So we'll have French toast for breakfast," Michael finally said. "Then we'll go to Fairchild Manor and you'll marry a beautiful girl." Stephen nodded and poured the rest of his brandy down his throat. "Do you need anything else?" Stephen shook his head. "Best get to bed then." Michael stood up.

"Don't leave me," Stephen said. "Stay." Michael dropped the empty brandy glasses onto the bedside table. Stephen smiled, reached up, grabbed Michael by the waistband of his pants, and jerked him onto the bed.

"Oh, no, you fucking did not just…" Michael dug his fingers into Stephen's sides. Stephen gasped and started to laugh. He shoved Michael away. Michael rolled off the bed, pulling Stephen onto the floor after him. One second, Stephen was on top, holding Michael down by the arms, and then Michael threw Stephen onto his back and leaned down to bite Stephen hard on the collarbone. Stephen screamed and punched Michael in the head; Michael grabbed Stephen by the hair and pulled hard. Then they were rolling around the room, slamming into things, drawing blood, and screaming the most immature words they could think of.

It was like this before, between Stephen and Michael, back at the Academy. Every once in a while, things got to serious, and sooner than later, one would have the other in a head lock. Neither were able to admit defeat. They would just fight until someone got hurt or they tired themselves out.

Somehow, Michael managed to pin Stephen onto the floor so that they were facing opposite directions. Stephen sat up and bit Michael on the inside of the thigh.

"By the Angel!" Michael cried. He jumped up but Stephen was on his feet a second later, dragging Michael back down to the floor. Michael scratched his nails down Stephen's sides before they were rolling across the floor once again. Stephen ended up on his back, nearly pushed beneath the bed, with Michael's arms locked around him.

"Mercy," Stephen whispered. He felt Michael's breath against his lips and could only see blue eyes looking into his.

"Do you concede defeat?" Michael asked.

"Do you really want to beat the groom up the night before the wedding?" Stephen asked.

"You deserve it, Herondale," Michael said. He released Stephen and sat up, straddling Stephen's hips. Michael ran a hand through his hair, still breathing hard but smiling his usual eager smile. Stephen lifted his hands and placed them on Michael's hips, causing him to giggle softly. Michael was so ticklish, especially there.

"I wouldn't mind," Stephen said. "You could beat me black and blue. I wouldn't mind."

"I wouldn't hurt you," Michael whispered. "You know, before…back in the Silent City… I couldn't bear to see you hurt. Maybe you're my parabatai after all, if what hurts you hurts me."

"I won't tell," Stephen said. He ran his fingers along the waist band of Michael's pants, stopping at a polished silver button. Stephen grabbed the button and pulled it open. "I'll never tell."

"What the fuck are you doing!" Michael exclaimed. He slapped Stephen's hands away, stood up, and buttoned his pants. "Stephen. What the fuck?" Michael glared at Stephen in a way he never had before.

"I don't want you. I just…" Stephen said. Michael groaned loudly and covered his eyes. "Did you ever feel like you were falling and you wanted to reach out and grab something to stop your fall?"

"Yeah. Sure. Plenty of times," Michael said. "Who hasn't?" Michael averted his eyes, no longer able to make eye contact.

"You hate me," Stephen said.

"No, Angel, no," Michael insisted. "It's not that. It's… there was a time, before, back at the Academy, with you… I thought, sure, perhaps, why not, everyone else is doing it. But now… I'm married, and you're going to be married, tomorrow, and so it never will happen between us. Never."

Michael started for the door, leaving Stephen still down on the floor.

"Stay with me," Stephen whispered. "I don't want to be alone, not tonight. Please, Michael, stay."

"Just until you fall asleep," Michael said. He sat down on the side of the bed. Stephen crawled beneath the covers and laid his head on a pillow. They were asleep within seconds.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please review. You want the next chapter soon, right? Reviews will provoke me to update faster! Thanks for reading!