Now.. back to.. this bitch who said her hiatus would be short.
MADELINE WHAT'S GOOD?!
two months later, and I'm back. BUT I HAVE AN EXCUSE
High school is a bitch. LIke seriously. I hate it. Ew.
Plus I've been struggling again with my mental health, and I've been stressed the fuck out because Rhys was strolling along and accidentally feLL DOWN 16 FLIGHTS OF STAIRS LIKE THE LITTLE SHIT SHE IS.
okay it was six. but she got a concussion nevertheless didn't she?! And on top of that she decides to go and get a stomach ulcer, so yes. I've been stressing out because my wife is currently more drugs than human. But luckily she is slowly getting better, and I knew I couldn't procrastinate this chapter anymore. So here you all go!
Ya'll ready?
LEGGO.
"Well this is simply not acceptable. You must not look better than me at my own wedding." I state, hands on my hips. The blush on Helen and Maia's faces are pinker than the paint on the sewing hall they all stand in. Agatha is standing to the side, her hearty face crinkled in a smile as she admires the work she has done. Helen is shifting in her dress, obviously surprised at how she looks. Staring at herself in the mirror, she lets her fingers ghost through the soft blue material enveloping her body. It was modest, fitted around her chest and falling in a simple A line. It was what I would consider barely fancy enough for an evening tea, yet a huge part of me knows it's the fanciest thing Helen has ever worn. And she looks radiant, her long blonde hair twisted back like always, her face bare and soft, but she glows with an excitement I've never seen on her face.
Maia is a different story. Constantly twirling around in her dress she seems to be on the verge of yelling from excitement. Her dress is black, cutting off at the knee with two more sheer black panels that part in the middle. The second Agatha had got it on her, she was off. Spinning until she's dizzy, she obviously is more excited about the garment than I am about my wedding dress. Helen eventually grabs her by her shoulders and plants her onto the next platform over so I can properly view their outfits.
Helen laughs a little at my statement. "I'd just like to thank you again, this has to be the most beautiful thing I shall ever wear." Maia nods along vigorously, eyes bright. I dismiss them with my hand.
"Oh nonsense, thank you for agreeing to come!" I say excitedly. Agatha starts to put in a couple of pins for the final adjustments, just as the door swings open timidly. Simon pokes his head in, brown eyes wide and uncertain.
"Excuse me Ma'am, you called for me to meet you here?" Came his uncertain voice. I immediately perk up, wildly gesturing him into the room. Though it had gotten to the point where we acted like best friends during our piano lessons and such, yet he was always careful to remember his place around anyone else. It breaks my heart.
"Yes Simon, it's time for you to get fitted for your suit!" I say with the excitement of a five year old being presented with a new toy. His unease is shown in the set of his shoulders as he walks further into the room.
"M'lady I know you insisted on my coming, but I highly doubt the others of the castle will like me being there-"
"Well then good thing it isn't there wedding." I retort, guiding his lanky figure to a podium. Agatha descends on him, a whirl of gray hair and measuring tapes. I almost cry from laughter at Simon's terrified look.
Sitting down, I listen to Agatha's babbling about her progress on her own dress and how my dress will be ready in a week for sure. I nod in affirmation, mind not really in the room. Mostly on the thousand other things to be planned for the wedding. With Jace gone, I had been busying my days with countless meetings with the team of planners, discussing everything from frosting to flowers. Tiring, yet rewarding. Between that and spending countless hours either teaching Simon the piano or dozing off on the floor of the library, I was constantly keeping my mind off Jace. But my body remembers. My nerves are on edge, countless hours of training not able to cleanse the feel of his lips from my mouth. Nine days. Nine, surprisingly long days. Sure there was only one day left, yet it feels impossible.
A bright blush spreads across my cheeks as embarrassment flows through me. Ten to one he hadn't even thought of me once, and here I am daydreaming on a chaise about him all wantonly.
Sitting up, I focus on the color of the material Agatha seems to be suffocating Simon with, a pinstriped black that will accent his eyes nicely. I give him a fond smile, hoping he can survive the brutality of a woman on a mission. He was getting better at piano, to the point of where he managed to hit almost all of the right notes. Well for the first half of it.
The door flies open and Isabelle's head pokes in, black hair swinging around. "Clary, you're needed for the final cake tasting." She calls into the room. I let out the most unladylike groan as I get up, fixing my skirts.
"I thought we finally agreed on red velvet." I sigh, motioning a 'be right back' to everyone before following Isabelle out of the room. She closes the door hard behind me. "Alright Isabelle, where do they want to meet me?"
She spins to face me, a mischievous smile painted onto her coral lips. "Where does who want to meet you?"
"The wedding planners-" I broke off, studying the look on her face a bit more closely. "Isabelle, who's body do you need me to bury?" I ask with increasing panic. She rolls her eyes.
"First of all, if I ever committed a murder the body would be buried before it even broke the news. Second of all.." She bites her lip as she pulls out a large crystal bottle, filled with a deep red drink.
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. "Did you steal wine?!" I ask, exasperated.
"Noooo," Her voice trailed off. Then I remember.
"Is this that drink you were chugging at my engagement party?!" My voice rises an octave at the sight of it. Isabelle had told me the berries were grown in some far off part of Idris, and there is no doubt in my mind it's probably more expensive than 35 year old scotch. "You did not steal it." I hiss.
She brings a finger to her smiling lips. "First of all, go ahead and shout the world stealing down the halls a little bit louder love. Second of all, it's called roohafzah . And third of all, loosen up!" Izzy begins to walk at a fast pace down the hall, and I'm left stumbling after her. "You've been so strung up lately, and I know it's because Jace being gone is putting you on edge- don't deny it. So yes, you need a break from everything. Which is why you're joining me in the garden no questions asked."
A million protests to this run through my mind and find themselves on the edge of my tongue, but I save my breath. Nothing stops an Isabelle on a mission. She hums to herself while we walk through the large foyer or painted gold, passing several maids who all drop into curtsies so low that their knees hover above the ground. Isabelle waves them all off with an airy hand.
The garden is beautiful, even grander than the one Jocelyn used to tend to at home. A large white patio is sat in the middle of what seems to be a hundred rose bushes, all with different colored blooms that clash in colors more vibrant than the smell. Oh, the smell of a hundred rose bushes that don't bear a single dried petal was intoxicating to the point of no drinks being needed.
Isabelle bounds up the stairs covered in moss, somehow keeping her balance on her heels. I follow a little more carefully, making my way to the sets of delicate white chairs that seem like they will break under the weight of a faerie. Isabelle sits down lightly, crossing her long, slender legs and tossing her head up to gaze at the beautiful sky. Two maids descend, trays of glasses and sugars gently placed on the small decorative table. I roll my eyes, joining Isabelle grudgingly. She grins like a lazy cat who sees the mouse walk into her trap, swirling the crystalline bottle between her long fingertips. "Good Clarissa." She purrs. Resisting the urge to stick my tongue out, I pluck a glass from the tray, settling against the surprisingly comfortable chair. Okay, maybe the cool breeze isn't so painstakingly horrible. And the roohafzah looks sweet and tantalizing. Maybe a break isn't so bad.
Unscrewing the top, Izzy leans forward to pour some into my glass. I raise my brows as I realize it's syrupy, unlike how I first saw it. "It's actually a syrup that you usually add to water, or champagne if you're a real alcoholic. Also known as my aunt Tabitha at weddings- she'll be a hoot at yours I swear." She promises, picking up a porcelain pitcher. "But since it's 4 in the evening and I have a feeling we probably shouldn't get drunk, let's just use milk."
The end result is the prettiest shade of pink i've ever seen, so lovely part of me doesn't want to drink it. Isabelle wastes no time in downing a large gulp, before setting down her glass and eyeing me across the table.
"So, nine days." She starts off, and I brace myself for what's coming. A long and painful Isabelle talk.
"Yes Isabelle I know how to count."
She cocks an eyebrow at my tone. "Wow, even I didn't think you were this on edge. He really got under your skin hm?" She teases. A take a gulp of the drink to avoid answering at first- it was sweet with the milk, the taste of flowers if they had one.
"Okay, I'll admit it. It's been weird not having Jace here, but I'm not insatiable. It's one more day Isabelle." I sigh. She leans forward a little bit, eyes sparkling.
"Are you excited for his grand return?" Her voice takes on a dramatic tone, and I expect an opera to burst from her mouth any minute.
"His grand return? Isabelle he's coming back from a buisness trip. Not a twelve year war." I say with a groan.
She shrugs lightly. "Same difference love."
Setting down my glass, I allow myself to slump down. "Okay, if I'm being one hundred percent honest with you, maybe things aren't as easy without him around." I sigh, staring up at the beautiful gray walls that made up the castle. The admas that webs it's way in between pebbles glint in the strong rays of light, marking the spot where the Herondale castle lies upon the rolling green hills. One look with an artist's eye, and I know that it was built for beauty and strength and to be admired for years. And in a month or so, it will all be mine.
My stomach sinks at the thought of actually ascending to the role of a queen, the role that was promised to me but I couldn't stomach believing. Queen of the Herondale kingdom, married to Jace Herondale. The words seem unreal just bouncing around in my skull. Isabelle watches me over the rim of her glass, seeming to know every thought racing through my mind.
"Clary, are you okay?" She asks quietly, seriously. I shrug lightly, a small smile on my lips that I'm not sure I mean.
"I don't know Isabelle. It's weird to think about missing Jace, and it's even more strange to know part of me wants him here." Putting my glass down delicately, I sit back and frown lightly. "And the fact that the wedding is so close isn't helping. Especially when I can't focus on anything besides how Jace is doing or if I'm in his thoughts." I say, surprised how small my voice sounds. Isabelle sighs lightly, kicking a leg over the other while giving me a critical look.
"Okay Clary, honesty time." She leans forward, cool, sweet smelling breath close to me. "I've known Jace a long time. And when I say a long time, I mean I remember before he his ego was bigger than this castle. And never before have I seen him this.." She trails off for a moment, struggling to find a word and building up my apprehension at the same time. "Intense about someone." She says finally. "For a long time, training and running a kingdom has been all that Jace has. I'm not saying there hasn't been women, but none that matter. It's like all his life he's been staring straight ahead, and you got him to look around. And when he looked- he saw you." She bites her lip for a moment, hesitating before speaking more. "I'm not sure Clary. But what I do know is that ever since Stephan and Celine died, he's been withdrawn. Mostly because he knows he's on top of everyone, and there's no challenge to his life. Even demons have become mundane to him. And now, you just walk in and give him the one thing he's needed to give him a thrill again- a challenge. And part of him admires you for that. So don't worry you're more invested, or you care more. You'd be surprised at what goes on in Jace's mind."
I'm silent, mulling over Isabelle's surprisingly serious words that a tiny part of my soul used to think.
"I believe you Isabelle. Thank you for what you said. I just need a distraction from all of this." I murmur, propping my head in my hand in a manner my etiquette tutor would smack me across the face for.
Isabelle watches me quietly, right before leaning forward a bit to pour even more syrup into my glass. "Well, your distraction is right here love."
~.o.O.o.~
The deep orange light streams through the high windows, playing patterns against the mellow colored carpet that I lay on. Stacks of old books that send up puffs of dust motes every time I open the covers surround me, the delightful smell of knowledge circulating the grand library. My siesta of sorts with Isabelle had left me feeling a little too light to go back to dress fittings, so I stuck my head into the room, mumbled a quick excuse, and escaped to the library to barricade myself in books. The sun has long since started its descent, but I don't move. I lazily skim through an old leather bound novel, not bothering to process any of the complicated words written in a language I'm not entirely sure is my own. Yet it sated me, bring my mind to a state of peace as I wasted away hours underneath the domed ceiling. My eyes are heavier than the book in my hands, but I try to keep them open. Just one more page.
My painted nails scratch nervously against the stem of the dozen white roses in my cold hands. Oh Angel, had my heels always been this high? Has this dress always been so abnormally tight?
The light chatter of hundreds of people combined thunder in my ears as I stand stock still behind the doors, the doors that lead to my wedding ceremony. I shut my eyes tight against the fear and the apprehension, slowly prying my fingers off the bouquet enough to reach one back hand and grasp the air. Isabelle answers my silent plea, her slender hand grasping mine in an unspoken agreement. It calms me the slightest bit, knowing I chose the right maid of honor. Yes it was only a custom practiced in the religion of Christianity, but apparently I have one.
The light call of a wedding planner I've never seen before tells us to arrange ourselves. I numbly move myself into the place I've practiced dozens of times. Isabelle steps in front of me, her tall figure trumping mine even in heels.
Music starts up, the sound of piano and violins swelling beautifully and dramatically as Isabelle slips through the pale gold silk curtains before me, and I am left with air between my face and the curtains. Two maids are braced on either side of me, fingers grasping the edges and ready to pull them apart for my grand reveal. Grand reveal my ass, I'd probably trip on my first step down the aisle.
"It's time." The young maid on the left whispers. She smiles widely, right before they both on cue pull the curtains wide and reveal me." The gasp ripples throughout the massive audience, hundreds of eyes fixated on me. Yet I don't falter, swearing to myself to keep walking, to keep putting a foot in front of the other. Because at the end, underneath an arch of interwoven green vines and roses, is Jace.
He stands tall, his shadowhunter gear new and pristine and giving off a glow. He glows. But the knot in my stomach doesn't unfurl, not when I reach the altar, not when Jace lightly grasps my hand, not when I finally stand across from his tall figure. The silent brother's head is bowed for a moment, his hands still on the deep purple velvet pillow which two steles rested on. Like like helped the anxiety skyrocketing inside me right now.
The hooded head rises slowly, and a deep voice resonates throughout the huge crowd gathered to watch me marry Jace. It fills my head, like mist creeping through a morning field.
A whisper of thought drones in into my head, yet I feel as if it's muted. A dead buzz fills my thoughts for a few minutes, eyes locked with Jace's eyes. Yet his eyes are flat, yellow and uninterested. That's normal.
Jace grabs for the stele in haste, and I scramble to do the same. We wait until the cue from the brother, and then Jace reaches forward, and his stele touched right above my heart. I wait for the slight sting, but it doesn't come. What does come is fire.
My lips let loose a choked scream at the feel a thousand hot needles pricking my skin, all targeted at the point where the instrument touched my skin. My knees buckle and I fall to them, staring up at Jace, at his cold face that doesn't move at the sight of my pain, at the realization of my torture underneath his hand. Fire replaces my blood and fries my veins, but I can move, can't force my hands to uncurl from tight fists and knock the stele out of his hand. Everybody else is silent, deathly silent to provide no backdrop to my wails. The pain so excruciating I just wanted to die, I wanted to end it. The blood pours like a gruesome fountain, painting the front of my dress in crimson. I look down in horror, my last scream cutting off into a choked sob. The blood is the same color as my hair.
~o.O.o~
I wake up screaming, arms flying and sending books sprawling across the dusty floor in my panic. A cold sweat runs across my back and face, mingling with my tears. The library is dark, except for the single torch lit next to the doorway. And in front of me is Simon. His eyes are wide and filled with fright as he puts his hands out in front of me, Whether to shake me back to life or to protect himself I don't know. A rattled gasp escapes my chest as I heave, running my hands through my hair and clothes to make sure no blood matts them. It takes a few minutes and a couple of stammered words from Simon that I don't understand to get me consolable. Oh Angel. It wasn't real. It was a dream. It wasn't real.
"Clary, are- are you okay?" Simon stammers. I shiver in the cold library, shivering in the cold library.
"I'm-I'm okay. It was a dream. A bad one." Knowing it isn't real, that the burning had been imagined, I attempt to calm my pulse. Yet I feel chilled, knowing that it had somehow creeped in from the corners of my mind.
"May I help you to your room? I think you need to go to sleep in a proper room." His voice is soft, comforting. I let my head droop as I nod, fatigue deeply engraved into my bones. My body aches all over, and all I want is my bed again.
Simon reaches out a hand and helps me to my feet, nudging some books away so I don't stumble over them. Releasing me to clean up the books, I barely manage to keep on my feet until Simon straightens up and begins to steer me from the library, concealing his small laugh at how tired I must seem. Luckily it's not too far away from my room, so our walk is short. The sounds of our footsteps resonate back to us, the only noise in the silent corridor. Until I speak.
"Do you know of any seers in the kingdom?" His steps falter for a moment, back seizes up, before he resumes his normal awkward pace.
"A seer?" He asks quietly, trying to hide his surprise. He doesn't do it well.
My mind works quickly, trying to explain this to Simon. Seers are rare, at least real ones. They could see into your soul if they wanted to, so powerful they could challenge a silent brother. Yet so rare, so sought out, they were all in hiding. And they could tell you the meaning of your dreams.
Because bad dreams aren't just bad dream. Not when you're a royal, not when you're a shadowhunter. It meant something, and I can't wait until the wedding to figure it out.
"Seers are very rare, if they're even real. I mean I've heard some stories about one that may or may not be fake, but I highly doubt you should put your faith in-"
I stop walking, turning to face Simon with determination set into my face. "Simon, if you know anything, I need to hear it. I know you don't understand, but I need you to trust me."
A beat of silence, a beat of dead silence passes as we stare at eachother, doubt written in the lines of Simon's forehead. But he concedes. I see his defeat the second his shoulders sink slightly and the sigh escapes his lips. He leans in hesitantly, and whispers a few words into my ear. Leaning back, I give him a smile.
"Thank you Simon. Seriously, for everything tonight. You've been invaluable." I say softly. He gives me a little lopsided grin, right before saying his goodnight and walking down the corridor. I quietly push open the door to the room and step in, breathing out a sigh of relief at my bed. Sleep now, seers later.
Okay. It is 1 am, I am dead tired and wrote half of this in one sitting, and I have to be up early tomorrow. I swear ya'll better be loving me right now.
Yes I knows it's 4k only compared to 5k, but then again I am back from hiatus and I've been filled with a lot these days. So please, give me a break loves?
Jace will be back next chapter. I swear on ice cream. I'm sorry if this chapter was boring, it's a filler before all the shit goes down. So enjoy the lightness for now, because it's about to get crazy. Ya'll better be excited.
Okay, I'm so tired so im going to bed. Night loves !
Madeline