That night, Cynthia spent it before the fire once more, curled up with pillows under her head and a book in her hands, using the light from the flames to read.

Cynthia had a love of mundane books, always had. Her newest find was a trio of books named The Hunger Games. And she loved them.

She snuggled more into her thick pillows, pulling the duvet around her. Valentine would probably have something to say about it if he saw her, but she always woke early and returned to her room before someone did see her.

It was just gone midnight when the footsteps on the stairs sounded and Cynthia was dozing lightly with the words upon the page blurring as tiredness washed over her. She felt like she hadn't eaten in days and her head hurt.

The footsteps stopped as they reached her form and she rolled onto her back, frowning up at the figure. She thought it was an angel for a start, for he seemed to be in all white, even his hair. Because of this, her sluggish and sleepy mind allowed herself to be picked up into strong but lean arms.

"It's warmer downstairs" Cynthia complained, burying her face into his chest and winding a hand into his shirt. He walked them upstairs and into a room that she recognized as her own.

"Tough." Was the only answer she got as she was dumped onto her bed. Cynthia gazed up at the angel, half recognizing him to be Jonathan. He wasn't an angel, he was a demon. He'd never be pure and good. Always dark and bad. Cynthia wondered now just why she was falling, no, fallen in love with him. She should have stayed with Jace, or been sent away to New York with him. That way, she could have fallen in love with the safe one, the choice that would have been so much better for her. But she'd always loved danger.

Maybe that was why she loved that demon boy.

She just gazed up at him as he returned with her duvet and pillows, shoving them under her head. Not roughly, but not gently either. Cynthia muttered out "Is your hand better?"

A pause and he replied with "its fine."

"Good." Cynthia sighed, wondering why he was being… kind? It wasn't like him. And not to her. Jonathan raised a hand to her forehead, going "hmm, you have a fever." She batted his hand away with a scowl "I am fine Jonathan."

"Says the girl burning up."

"Why do you care if I'm ill or not?" she muttered, burying her face into the pillow with a sigh. The bed went down a little as he sat down next to her, raising a hand to brush her hair back. Cynthia didn't push him away but was content to let him stroke her hair back repeatedly. The action was almost soothing.

Cynthia raised a hand to her head as the pain and pressure built up, gasping out with "I've not had this since I was maybe eleven."

"Had what?"

"Your father. He gave me demon blood for so many years and it made me sick."

Jonathan snorted "But he doesn't give it to you anymore. So why is this springing up now?"

"I don't know." She breathed out, a shiver wracking her body. She felt cold, but then so hot. "Can you… hold me Jon?" Cynthia found herself asking with a whimper that was so unlike her. But she'd never felt so… human before. It took her by surprise, and Jonathan too as he blinked in shock. There was a long pause and no other words were said as the demon boy climbed into the bed behind her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face into the back of her honey blonde hair without hesitation and closing his eyes.

-LightInYourNightmare-

Cynthia couldn't even get out of bed the next day she was that ill.

She lay in bed with her breathing ragged and wild.

And then the nightmares started. First it was of Valentine forcing her to drink more of that demon blood, telling her that she wasn't ready yet. She choked on the black blood that tasted as bitter as poison, swallowing it and her insides burned as if she had drunk acid.

And then were the ones about Jonathan.

He lay in bed with her, stroking her hair back like the night before. But then his lips traveled up the side of her neck, his hands skimming her sides. Then those same hands wrapped around her neck, choking the air and life from her. When she was almost dead, her last few gasping breaths, he leaned down and pressed the softest, most sweetest of kisses to her lips.

And then she'd died.

Valentine had visited a good few times, trying to figure out what was wrong with the young woman. He'd not given her any demonic ichor for years, but here she was, acting as if she'd just taken some.

Cynthia slipped in and out of consciousness for four days, noticing every single time that she did, Jonathan was either stood or sat watching over.

Valentine paused for a moment before pushing the needle into Cynthia's arm while Jonathan watched, asking a moment later "what's that?"

"Diluted demon blood." Was the reply.

"How is that going to help her? She's on the verge of delirious." Jonathan frowned, folding his arms and watching intently. Valentine said nothing as he took the girls pulse, finding it a little faster than before. That was a good sign.

"I have a theory…" Valentine muttered, raising a hand and stroking the girls' damp honey blonde hair back. Jonathan waited for him to say what it was, elaborate, but he never did. The demon boy didn't press, but he watched Cynthia's breathing return to normal and Valentine straightened up, simply saying "Stay here until she wakes up. The moment she does, I want to know."

Jonathan nodded, sitting down on the chair next to her without a word of complaint.

It was only half an hour later that Cynthia came around, her eyes fluttering open and Jonathan looked up from his seat, going "back with us?"

"I think so." She muttered, sitting up and raising a hand to her forehead, letting out a long breath before asking "that was horrible. What… what happened?"

"I've no idea." Jonathan just went, getting to his feet and gazing down at her. Cynthia lowered her hand slowly and frowned "How long was I out?"

"Four, almost five days."

"You didn't have to stay with me the entire time."

Jonathan rolled his eyes "I was ordered to stay. And now I have to tell Father you're awake." He went to leave but Cynthia caught his hand, frowning a little as she tightened her grip "Don't be like this Jon."

The demon boy chuckled at that, pulling his hand from her own with a comment of "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Cynthia stared. Truly stared. Her mind was still a little fuzzy, but it was clearer than it had been in ages. "I love you Jonathan" she blurted out before she could stop herself, feeling her heart skip a beat. She watched for a reaction from him. Maybe anger, because this was Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern after all. Saying those four words so suddenly, declaring her love that she wasn't sure of… it was dangerous.

"The fever's still talking." Jonathan just said and Cynthia noticed his tone was hardened, like he didn't know how to take her words. She shook her head "My mind is clear."

Jonathan took a seat on the bed next to her and just went "You were calling my name a good few times, rolling over and over. Do you remember?"

Cynthia was taken aback by that, shaking her head. "I don't."

"Well you did. Gave me a headache most of the time. You really know how to-"

"Jonathan."

"-annoy me. But then I stayed. Something you don't deserve. Oh, and missed-

"Jonathan."

"-training for you. Have you any idea-" Jonathan carried on, causing Cynthia to scoff quietly and lean forwards before her newfound confidence deserted her, pressing her lips to his own to silence him. It only lasted maybe five seconds, but it was enough as Cynthia pulled away, gazing up into his eyes.

It made her feel numb, what she saw; Cynthia knew that if he'd been Jace, there would have been emotion of some sort. Maybe he'd have kissed her back. But in Jonathan's eyes… there was nothing. His eyes were still the same midnight color and his face was blank. It was like staring at some priceless chiaroscuro painting with the way his face seemed all shadows with splashes of light.

She raised a hand as if to set it to his cheek, but let it drop at the last moment. At long last, he seemed to come back to life as he got to his feet, simply saying "Father wanted to know when you were awake." And without another word or glance, the demon boy walked out of her bedroom.

Cynthia sighed and closed her eyes, lying back down with the pillow under her head. Great. Just great. She pulled herself up and walked to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open and groaning a little as she set her hands on the porcelain sink where a silver framed mirror hung over it. Cynthia stared at her reflection- golden hair an utter birds nest from where she'd tangled it, cheeks flushed with color from her kiss with Jonathan and from the fever. But then she saw her eyes… and felt them widen in shock.

The emerald green that had darkened as she had gotten older was gone. Not a trace of green left as she stared into her now charcoal eyes with a feeling of amazement, horror and confusement springing up. You look like a Morgenstern was the first thing that came into mind as she blinked, wondering why Jonathan hadn't mentioned them when they were talking.

But then a new thought entered Cynthia's mind. One that worried her. One that scared her.

Maybe… I'm turning into Jonathan?

A cold shiver went down her spine at that thought, letting her new midnight eyes stare at the reflection of the man stood in the doorway behind her with his face impassable, staring at her eyes in the mirror. Valentine. Cynthia wasn't an idiot; she knew that look. It was rare on his face, but she'd seen it a good few times. It was one of shock, surprise.

Maybe his presumed failed experiment had worked after all.