Author's note:

The inspiration for the title comes from the saying "I found Rome a city of brick and left it a city of marble". The story occurs after City of Heavenly Fire but before The Shadowhunter Academy. The first story will be all in New York, which I have never visited. Geographic inaccuracies are therfor inevitable. I am going to attempt a small tie-in between the two actual stories mine will take place between, and it's intentional that the next one will be called Marble City.

Copyright disclaimer:

I don't own a thing written. If you notice any plagiarism, please point it out to me, because it will be edited.

Clary ran through the streets of Alicante, chasing the small girl with flyaway red hair who was clutching Heosphoros to her chest. She was laughing, panting, as Val was extremely fast for a five-year-old. They were almost at Angel's Square, where Clary assumed Val would take advantage of the crowds. She sped up.

It was futile, anyway. Jonathan appeared at the end of the alley, and grabbed Val, tossing Heosphoros to the ground. Clary picked up the fallen blade and sheathed it, regaining her breath.

"Valentina," Jonathan scolded the smaller redhead. "You know you don't steal things from your sister."

"It wasn't stealing," Val protested cheekily. "It was borrowing."

"Without my permission?" Clary pointed out. "I don't even let Jace touch Heosphoros."

"And that is an excellent point, little sister," Jonathan continued, his green eyes looking down fondly at the struggling girl in his firm (but not harmful) grip. "You're not old enough to use proper blades yet, Val. You could hurt yourself badly, using a heavy sword like that. You need to stick with the hawthorn swords and throwing daggers."

"When will I be old enough?" Val complained, going limp in Jonathan's arms. "They're so easy."

"Valentina Graymark," Jonathan said sternly. "We all agreed that you would only begin using proper swords once you've been Marked."

"I have been Marked," Val protested, showing Jonathan the pale scars. "Look!"

Clary sighed. "Those are iratzes, Val, and they were really weak, too. You know the Silent Brothers will be giving you your first runes, not me."

"Fine," Val groaned.

"Good girl," Jonathan said, loosening his grip on his little sister and crouching to her height. "Tell you what-why don't we go and buy you a witchlight? If you want to go down into the cellar again and "explore", I want to make sure you have a proper source of light, not some silly candle."

Val perked up. "Can it be pretty?"

Jonathan smiled. "It can be pretty, if you like. There's a shop in Angel's Square. Coming, Clary?"

It's just a dream, Clary told herself. She all too well remembered black eyes and two thrones, and those green eyes on her as he had died. But she didn't want to wake up yet. She smiled. "Sure."

Jonathan smiled even further and took Clary's hand in his own, and Val's in the other. Together, they stepped into the light.

It wasn't a particularly busy day, yet the people still stopped to watch the siblings, hand-in-hand, walk over to the shop. Valentine's beautiful children, they whispered reverently to one another. Jonathan, Clarissa and Valentina.

"They still won't stop talking about us," Clary complained, entering the store. "I can't even go shopping with my brother and sister without being identified."

"It is rather tedious," Jonathan admitted. "But there's nothing we can do about it, so don't bother."

"You just like the attention."

He shrugged, nonchalant. "There's nothing wrong with people noticing my innate attractiveness."

"I like it," Val said, inspecting some butterfly-shaped witchlights. "At least they aren't calling me ugly." She held up a blue-tinged witchlight. "Can I have this one?"

Clary smiled adoringly at the sweet child before her. She could've been the loveliest sister, she thought sadly, and woke.

Don't you dare cry, Clarissa Adele Fairchild, she ordered herself. She blinked back the salty liquid that blurred her eyes, and stared at the light that was making its way through the window. Don't. You. Dare.

With a sigh, she clambered out of bed and faced the day.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Magnus said affectionately as a blearily blue-eyed Alec stumbled towards the coffee machine.

Alec mumbled something in return. His pyjamas, Magnus noticed, were the white silk ones Magnus had given him for Christmas. They set off his dark hair and black Marks spectacularly, and his skin appeared more translucent than ever, and his eyes, when not blinking back sleep, were the deepest aquamarine. He looks, Magnus realised, almost like Will, only with Gideon's build and Gabriel's face. Now, why doesn't he just wear that on a daily basis?

Chairman Meow leaped onto Magnus's crossed knees. Magnus petted him affectionately. "Did he sleep on your head last night?" he asked Alec.

"Yeah," Alec confirmed, his voice grittier than usual. "And I'd only just washed my hair when he did, too."

Magnus grinned, then sobered up. "I noticed you wake up in the middle of the night. What was that about?"

"I got a call from the Clave," Alec replied, now rather serious.

"What about?" Magnus inquired, alert. The Clave tended to avoid Alec, Magnus knew. If they called him in the middle of the night, Alec might have actually meant "my father" instead of "the Clave", or something had happened to someone close to him. There was also the possibility that it had been Magnus who they required, only the New York Institute needed warlocks less and less these days, with Clary around, and Alec would've woken him anyway.

Alec hesitated. "They found a warlock's body in a warehouse close to Central Park. And there was the stench of dark magic in the air."