It isn't Jocelyn.
The face I had imagined would be staring at me, the silent question I've been too afraid to ask myself, all of it vanishes.
It's Celine.
Her face is dirty and swallowed, but her eyes are wide as they slowly adjust to the blue witchlight, fingers clutching at the thin, gray shawl wrapped around her. There's no way this is Celine. She's dead.
But here she is.
"Jocelyn?" Her voice is barely a whisper, dry and and croaky but so loud in the silent cells.
It takes me a minute, but I finally manage to speak without my voice threatening to break. "Jocelyn is dead. I'm her daughter, Clarissa."
She keeps staring me down, narrowing her eyes. "You've never appeared to me before." She turns away now, nestling farther into her rags. "Maybe I'm finally dead. Thank the angel." She mutters.
At a lost for words, it's all I can do to just stare. She thinks she's hallucinating. "Angel, how long have you been down here?" I whisper, horrified. She doesn't answer. I snatch the witchlight off of the ground, willing it to shine brighter. It pools all throughout the cell, and Celine turns around and squints into the light, the shadows making her face appear even more thin. All I want is to run away and throw myself into a corner, crying about the lost of my mother ten years later and still fresh. I just press myself harder against the bars, willing her to realize she isn't dreaming.
"Celine, is it you? Is it really you?" I whisper, afraid of what the answer would mean. Afraid of what this confirms and the questions it raises. But I have to know.
Surrounded by pale skin and thin hair, her eyes seem bigger and brighter than reality. "You look just like your mother." Her voice is a bit stronger now, and her whole body turns towards me. "Nothing like the monster that now wears the face of your father." I barely notice as she starts to creep towards me, dragging against the slick stone. Her face still holds that breathtaking beauty I know she once had, once kind and opening. Yet now there's only desperation, only fear. "Yes child, I am Celine Herondale. But after spending years in this cell and rotting away not knowing what has happened to my kingdom or child, by the angel I wish I wasn't."
"I thought you were dead." My voice does break now. "We all thought you and Stephan were dead."
She's near the bars now, her face coming into even more detail. Still lovely, still holding a beauty nothing but death could take. Though she doesn't seem real, almost like a faded memory in my own dreams of childhood. "My husband is dead," comes her faint reply. "He was murdered by Valentine. He was murdered for your father's own selfish needs, and I've been here waiting for death ever since."
My tears have started to fall. I don't know what's going on. I don't why she's here. But, by the angel, nobody deserved this fate. Nobody deserved to want to die.
"How did you find me" Concern rings through Celine's tone, her eyes darting behind Clary to see if she had been followed. "Your father will find us-"
"Don't worry about that." I reassure her. "Jace and his men should be on their way-"
"Jace?" Celine's eyes are wide, her lips trembling at the sound of her son. "He's here?! My son is here?!"
I dread Jace's reaction to finding his mother. He would kill Valentine, even if that meant getting himself killed in the process. "Yes, we're both here for Jonathons funeral. I got a tip there's someone in the dungeons, we should be able to get you out."
Instead of the joy I had expected Celine to show, the strangest of shadows crosses her face. Something like confusion and pain twists her expression, lips trembling even harder now. "Jonathan. Your brother is dead?"
"Valentine killed him." A pang twists my heart at the words, and I struggle to contain myself. Now isn't the time to break down.
Celine's eyes fly wide at the words, a frail hand coming up to cover her mouth. Tears are shining in those beautiful eyes that remind me so dearly of her son's, the brightest thing in these dark cells. "Oh, angel." She murmurs to herself, and I sense the breakdown coming.
"Celine, with all due respect, did you know Jonathan well?" I can't stop myself from asking. She lowers her hand slowly, hesitation crossing her face.
"Clarissa, there's something-"
"Clarissa?!"
The sound of my name resonates throughout the dungeons, and I turn in shock to see Jace standing a few yards behind me with the most livid expression on his face. A few estranged men stand behind him, confusion written on their faces. And behind them all, the servant girl. "What in the angel were you thinking?!" He marches towards me, helping me to my face with urgency on his face. I open my mouth to tell him to look at the woman who still kneels on the floor, but his tirade isn't over. "Did you seriously march into a dungeon with absolutely no idea what you'd be facing?! What if Valentine had found you-"
"Jace!" I yell, shoving him in the chest for good measure. He finally cuts off, equal parts anger and fear on his face as he huffs indignantly. I point at the cell. "Look."
At first, he doesn't see her. Then as he slowly looks down and takes in the crumpled form, his eyes go wide in shock. Crouching down, he peers through the darkness into the face hidden in the folds of fabric. And I know he sees his own eyes, that peculiar tawny shade of gold that nobody else really had, reflected back at him.
"This isn't real."
His whisper is like a gunshot, the pure terror on his face and childlike vulnerability in his tone breaking my heart over and over again. Celine's face is wide, mouth open as she takes in her child's face for the first time in years. "Jace?" She whispers, as if she doesn't dare to believe it. I hear the crash of Jace's knees hitting the ground, his hands gripping the bars with such intensity I'm surprised they don't bend underneath the white knuckled grip.
"Mom?" The heartbreak in that one word makes me squeeze my eyes shut for a minute, attempting to control my own sobs. Never have I seen Jace like this, never have I heard this much pain in his tone. He isn't a skillfully crafted leader, hardened and tempered like a blade i a fire to rule a country and rule his own life with no room for doubt. His layers of steel, that beautiful complexity it took me months to even begin to understand, fall away. Leaving just the boy who had lost both of his parents kneeling in front of Celine, the raw edge in his tone punching me in the chest with its intensity. I thought I would find my mother in that cell. I thought I was emotionally prepared to see her. But seeing what Celine had diminished Jace to, it hits me that I was so damn wrong.
"My son." Celine is silently crying now, her tears leaving paths on her dirt stained cheeks. "My beautiful, beautiful Jace. Oh, I thought I'd never see you again."
"I thought you were dead." Jace's tone is so choked, I swallow against the lump in my throat. I know I should be figuring out a way to unlock the cell and escape before Valentine could find us, but all I can do is watch Jace. The desperation on his face, the desperation for it all to be real, hurts more than anything else.
"I know you did, Jace. And oh god, you're not the boy I left behind anymore. You're a king." The fierce pride in her tone, the respect and love that simply flowed out of Celine made me smile despite it all. Because in the midst of all the terror in this castle, she had her son back.
"I'm so confused. What's going on-" Jace looks between celine and I in desperation, and it finally breaks me out of my stupor.
"Jace, we don't have time. We need to get Celine out." I urge him, pulling him to his feet. He snaps back into action, blinking back the tears filling his eyes. That's the first time I've seen him cry.
"How did you get into the dungeon? We found the doorway unlocked." His tone is brisk, that wavering gone.
"Simple unlocking rune. I don't think Valentine ever anticipated someone trying to break her out. You think it'll work on the-"
I don't even finish my sentence before Jace throws himself against the bars, stele carving an unlocking rune into the metal. I feel his anger, feel his heartbreak, and I know he pours every single ounce of it into the rune. The floor is shaking as the rune glows white, and starts to melt into the metal. The outline of the door glows that same brilliant white before swinging open so viciously it almost throws me back, clanging against the wall. Jace runs in, kneeling next to his mother. She throws back her shawl, looking up at her son with amazement as he picks her up gently, cradling her small form in his arms. Jace urges me forwards and we both hurry through the dungeons, the few men Jace had mustered, all advisors from the Herondale court, gasping upon realization of who Jace carries in his arms. They start to sink to their knees in a bow, but I urge them to to stand up. "We don't have time, we have to get Celine to safety!" I cry, tugging them along. All their faces are equally confused, by they follow without question.
One by one, Jace leads everybody up the set of steps and through the banister, the bright light burning all of our eyes. The same maid I had sent passes by me, and I stop her by grasping her frail sleeve. She turns and looks at me, something resembling fear in her eyes. I take a moment to breathe, and only whisper two words. "Thank you."
She smiles. It's small, hesitant, but it's there. I urge her on, and we all spill into the corridor. Jace pauses to catch a breath, turning to look at me franticly. "What do we do now?"
Celine can't take her eyes off of our surroundings, mesmerized. My heart clenches at the realization this is probably the first time she's seen anything besides her cell walls in years. Valentine will pay for what he did.
"Get your mother to the carriages. We have to make sure she's safe. I'll handle things."
"Clary, what are you going to do?" I see the tension in his muscles, wanting to spring and take his mother far away from this terrible, terrible place. But he can't go without knowing what I'll do.
"I'll figure it out. Now go." He hesitates a moment longer, as if there's something else he wants to do, but finally Jace turns and sprints, running as fast as he possibly can while holding Celine. I keep watching them until they turn the corner, until Jace's footsteps slowly fade away. And I pray he's safe.
I swivel back to the group behind me. Barely a handful of people, most correspondents from the Herondale kingdom come to pay their respects, some assorted servants, and surprisingly enough, Magnus. I hadn't noticed him in the darkness of the dungeons, but he breaks away now, concern bright in those cat like eyes. "Sweetheart, I don't know what's going on, but I'm hoping you're planning on explaining."
A moment passes before I gain the composure to look at the group again. Concern, confusion, and fear all intermingle on their faces, even the usual arrogance of the older men wiped away by what they saw in those dungeons. They aren't much, but they're all I have.
"Valentine, yes my father, killed my brother. And he killed Stephan Herondale, and kept his wife imprisoned for god knows how long. He has terrorized us all for too long, and I've had enough." My voice slowly builds in strength, my angel, my hurt, my heartbreak slowly feeding into my tone. He's taken too much from me. Too much.
"Follow me. And I hope you're prepared to fight."
Magnus steps in front of me again, alarm in his face. "I love the new warrior princess attitude you're taking on darling, but what exactly are you planning to do?"
I survey the people once more, hoping they were strong enough for what's coming. Because that's all we have left. Strength.
"I'm not a princess Magnus. I am queen Clarissa Adele Morgenstern. My father has built his kingdom on lies. He has built my kingdom on lies. And I am taking it back."
And with that, I turn sharply on my heel and walk towards my battle.
The ballroom of the Morgenstern castle barely ever saw life.
Once a year, a grand birthday party for Jocelyn Morgenstern had been held, and laughter and music and the sound of joy had circled into the highest hollows of the beautifully arched roof. The floor was decorated with expensively clad bodies, twirling and dipping and mimicking the events that would happen deep into the night behind closed doors. The dizzying feeling of beautiful youth and delicately aged wisdom mingled together as a kingdom came and danced and laughed and drowned their delicate issues inside the fountains of champagne. But ever since Jocelyn Morgenstern had tragically died in a carriage accident ten years ago?
Oh, the ballroom of the Morgenstern castle barely ever saw life.
Until the death of Jonathan Morgenstern.
Yet now the beautiful costumes of wealth and extravagance are replaced by robes of white, runes of death and grief engraved in silver amongst cufflinks their owners valued more than the lives of the men and women serving them. And the glistening gold decorations that spiraled so high were instead draped white banisters, the heavy cloth adorned with even more symbols of death and peace and the afterlife. And the lovely sounds of laughter and hope and being beautiful hushed, instead only the crawling of whispers amongst the rows of people who didn't dare speak above a certain level left behind to coat the ballroom turned funeral hall. I plan to change that.
My entourage isn't big. Only a few people trail behind my confident path, the weapons we gathered from the weapons room meager but sharp. I don't falter, don't change paths or take a moment to reconsider. I have waited long enough.
So that's why as soon as the doors swing open silently, revealing Valentine standing above Jonathons' coffin resuming his fabricated speech for all of the hundreds of mindless people in the ballroom to cry into their embroidered tissues to, I don't hesitate in calling, "Are you going to have a funeral for Alice?"
My voice thunders around the room, silencing every last whisper and Valentine's own voice. He chokes off mid sentence, staring at me with a shock and anger that almost rivals my own. Almost.
"Or did you even bother learning her name?" I walk further into the ballroom now, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Every single person has turned to watch me now, hundreds of eyes boring into me. I don't waver. "Did you even bother learning the name of a maid who served you for over a decade before you killed her thirty minutes ago?"
A collective gasp runs through the crowd, my accusation turning shocked eyes back to Valentine. He's perfectly still, and I can see the gears whirring in his mind. "Who do you think you are," each word is quiet, carefully laid in order to keep his carefully orchestrated scheme adrift. But no more. "Coming here, interrupting my sons funeral with such horrible accusations-"
"Your son that you murdered."
I don't speak for a moment as the ripples of whispers start to run through the crowd, confusion and terror on all of their faces. I take another step forward, bolder each moment. "Some of you may not know who I am. In fact, most of you probably don't even know if the myth of a second Morgenstern child is true. But I am real. I had sat in this castle for ten years after my mother's death, never seeing anything beyond our stables." I survery everybody, every eye on me as my words sink in. "I am Clarissa Adele Morgenstern. And Jonathan was my brother." My voice breaks every so slightly on the word, and I look down for a split second to blink back tears. But when I look up, I look back up at Valentine. "And he died in my arms. He came on his horse to the Herondale castle where I now reside with King Herondale, an arrow wound in his chest and he died in my arms." Valentine's face is stricken, not at the recount of his son's death, but at the realization that I must know. I must know everything.
My voice is quiet now, but still carries to the farthest corners of the ballroom. "He whispered to me, two words. Two words that guided me back to this home turned Hell. And while you all sat here listening to my brothers funeral speeches, he murdered a servant, a woman who had become a second mother to me." I hear the gasps of the servants lining the wall, and my eyes flick to their stricken expressions. One woman is openly crying, a hand clapped over her anguished face. My heart breaks for her.
"You murdered both of them." My voice sinks dangerously low as I advance, my few men creeping forward as well. The look on Valentine's face is more terrifying than any other time I had ever seen him, and the twelve year old bruised girl in me who fliched every time he twitched a finger wanted to cower in a corner. But I refuse. It's too late to take this back. "You murdered both of them because they found out the truth."
I look back at the restless audience, terror and confusion staring back. "My father murdered Jonathan because he found out that he has been keeping Celine Herondale prisoner for years in the castle dungeons."
Silence.
I expect it. I expect the disbelief on the faces staring back, the glances waiting for someone to pop out and explain I was insane and had escaped from the asylum. I expect it all.
"I'm guessing you all think I'm mad?" A dark humor colors my tone, a twisted, sick smile on my smile. Because for once in my life, I had thought something through.
And from beneath the folds of my cloak, I pull out Valentines' sword.
The blood has barely dried, the sickly red sheen to it giving away its young age. A few gasps run through the crowd, and Valentine's eyes are so livid I'm surprised he hasn't marched down here and snapped my neck yet. Though I just hoist the heavy sword higher, the crimson colored blade catching the light. "We all know silent brothers have a gift. They can tell who blood belongs to, as long as it's fresh enough." I move my eyes to the impassive silent brother standing behind Valentine, surveying the entire ordeal. "Brother Enoch, if you would be so kind?"
I know it's a terrible risk, that the silent brother could stick by the belief of his brothers that the affairs of shadowhunters are not one to get entangled in, but I risk it anyways. I don't have anything else left.
It's a very long moment as all eyes are fixed on brother Enoch, nobody daring to move an inch as the seemingly ghostly figure stays still. Until, very slowly, he starts to move forward.
We all still stay silent, but I can't help letting out a whoosh of breath. I had been hoping for pure luck to cash in on this one moment, and it had. Thank the Angel, it had.
The presence of a silent brother even from afar is heavy and always noticeable, but as he finally glides to a stop just a few feet before me, it feels as if a heavy blanket of deafening lead had been put over all my senses. He outstretches one hand quietly, shockingly thin and bony wrist poking out from his wide cuff. Slowly, almost as if through water, I raise the blade and hand it to him, hilt first. He accepts it, and it's almost as if the entire world takes a breath as his hand hovers over the sword, travelling the length of the stained blade. Everybody is frozen and doesn't dare to move, not even the angered Valentine. I stare, mesmerized at the pure power pulsing through the air around Brother Enoch. As if staring through the air of a fire, the blade wavers, blood sizzling.
Even as Brother Enoch slowly lowers the blade, the blanket of lead doesn't lift. And when he speaks, i know it's only in my mind.
Revealing the truth to these people means chaos. Lives will be lost, and you will lose much. It is your responsibility to rule this kingdom if you choose to make your father fall. Are you sure you're prepared for what this means?
I think back to my mom. To the loving woman who raised me to be sweet and kind and remember that the world is a scary place but I'd never be facing it alone. I think back to what she would want for her kingdom and the ruins of a husband left. And I know, no matter how difficult it is to deal with, it's my responsibility to to deal with what comes next. And I must decide for everybody, as a queen does.
"Yes," I breathe, so quiet I know that even though it is outloud, only Enoch hears it. I can't see his face underneath the shadow of the hood, but I almost feel his nod as he hands me back the blade.
Then your father shall fall.
He turns back to face all the breathless, anxious faces staring up at him. And when he speaks now, I know it is to everybody in the room. The blood staining this blade belongs to Alison Montrose. The girl's story is true- all of it.
It all starts with a scream.
The same girl who had cried at the news of Alice, who had clapped her hands over her mouth as she realized the truth, screams. A loud, heartbreaking scream as she falls to her knees. Then a yell in the hundreds of people crowded into the ballroom.
"She's telling the truth!"
Another yell. "Valentine has been lying all along!"
"He killed King Herondale!"
"He's a liar!"
That's when the guards come.
When Valentine had called them in, I have no idea. But the black clothed guards march in, and one grabs the nearest maid. She screams in protest, fighting against his iron grip. But she's no match for him, and sooner than I can blink, she's on her knees. Even from this distance we all see the terror in her face, here her begs for him to stop, but it all doesn't matter. Because he still slits her neck.
And that's when all hell breaks loose.
All the guests are up and moving, screams filling the ballroom as the ceremonial blades carried to events become weapons, some fighting for Valentine and others against. The hall explodes into battle, Magnus screaming orders at the men I had walked in with, flinging balls of crackling blue energy faster than the eye can track. The maids and men I had recruited aren't afraid anymore. Instead they fling themselves into the fray, a new found hate for the same who spit on them and made them work their fingers to the bone and had murdered their friend filling their eyes. But in my heart I know despite the macabre beauty of rebellion, it's futile. Valentine would slaughter every single person in this ballroom to keep the truth from getting out.
In all the fray, I seem to be at the center of it. I helplessly scan the crowd, some fighting for their lives against guards, some wrestling with each other and wielding their own blades, and some just attempting to escape the battle. And through it all, I see my father.
Valentine is still standing at the altar, watching it all with a sickly fascination. The detachment in his eyes makes my stomach sink even lower. Oh angel, he's not even human. Nobody this cruel can be human. Nobody can watch a war waged by them and not die at the thought.
I forge through the onslaught of weapons and limbs, letting the fray drag my cloak off of my shoulders and rip and tear at my dress as I'm finally through it all. Until I'm next to Valentine.
"Father!" I scream, barely being heard over the fray. He spins towards me, his expression livid.
"You caused this!" He yells, throwing a hand at the hellish mess a few steps below them. "You marched in here and you caused people to believe in you, and congratulations Clarissa, you got them slaughtered for believing in what? A stupid little girl who thinks she knows what's going on? You know nothing." His enraged screams pierces me, but I just shake my head furiously. Tears are streaming now, tears for how this is ending. Tears for the ending I know has to happen if anyone if to survive this.
"Mom would be so ashamed to see you now." Is all I whisper before raising the blade, my mind already made on what I have to do next. But I never get the chance.
Because in all of his terror, in all of his fright and all the madness that made up Valentine Morgenstern, part of me managed to forget how skilled of a shadowhunter he is.
Valentine has me before I can even point the blade. He grabs my wrist so roughly no part of me doubts the break in my bone, pulling me towards him and turning me so my back is flush with his chest. Locking his arms around me in a deathly grip and raising the still stained blade to my neck, leaving us both standing in the middle of the dais and facing the bloody brawl beneath us. "Guards, stop."
His yell is so loud, so deafening, that every single one of this black clothed warriors immediately cease, heads swiveling to look at the two of us. Slowly all other brawls cease, some men still holding other with weapons poised to kill. But they all stop.
"How dare any of you question my rule. Question my authority." I feel his struggle to keep his voice contained, but the dangerous waver shows how close he is to losing his thinly veiled control. "Now pay attention, because this is what happens when someone dares question Valentine Morgenstern."
As he pushes me away, shoving me to my knees in front of everybody and raises the blade, he leans in close and whispers harshly into my ear, "I should have fucking killed you when you were a child."
My eyes are closed as I clench my teeth, knowing part of him reveled this. Reveled shoving down the person who dared defied him and slitting their throat for everybody to see. There's nothing I can do. No speech to save me now. "I'd rather die than call you my father."
I expect the fire. The fire of a wound so great no healing could fix, a wound that spills so much blood you forget anything but the color red. I expect the fire. But it doesn't come.
What comes instead is the sound of something whistling through the air, and a sickening thump as something buries itself into the air just a few feet above my head.
Not until I hear the collective sharp gasp the entire world seems to take, do I open my eyes. Looking up at Valentine, I don't see the same fury and sick satisfaction twisting those black eyes. Instead only confusion as he looks down at his chest and the dark red rune unfurling from the arrow wound in his heart.
The blade comes crashing down as I crawl backwards, watching in shock as Valentine falls to his knees in front of the entire ballroom, grotesquely similar to the way I kneeled there just a few moments ago. The blood has already drained from his face, and he looks much older as he looks up at the mess of a ballroom once more, before his body finally slumps forward and sends him tumbling to the ground.
Everything is silent for a moment. I just stare at his broken body on the ground below me, so surreal. Then I look up, through the clear lane everybody had slowly parted, at the man standing there with his bow still aimed directly where Valentine's heart had been.
Jace.
He had come back. He had made sure his mother had been sent home in a carriage and he had come back. As he lowers the bow now, I can tell every single eye is locked on him, but all he looks at is me.
Jace is breathing hard, looking disheveled and covered in blood. A quick survey of his body shows that he's barely injured, only superficial in his eyes shine a strange light, one that I have no hopes to figure out. He's here.
For a long moment, we both only stare. Until he slowly lowers himself onto one knee, bowing his head full of golden curls. His voice is the only sound in the hushed room, strong and loud and not wavering or lacking confidence for even a moment. "All hail Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, queen of the Morgenstern Kingdom of Idris."
It takes a moment, but everybody finally looks at me. Every single servant, guard, guest, man, and woman look up at me, their new queen. So I quietly rise to my feet, standing in front of my people in my blood stained, ripped gown and disheveled hair and eyes filled with tears at the tragedies of today. And I don't lower my chin. I am so tired of ducking my head in these hallways, so tired of being a ghost. I'm not my mother. I am here, and it is about time I take back this kingdom.
So they all slowly follow Jace's lead, bowing low. Some eyes hold respect, some eyes hold hatred, and other are unsure. But all tip their heads and chorus after Jace, the unanimous sound spiraling up into the high ceilings of the Morgenstern ballroom.
"All hail Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, queen of the Morgenstern Kingdom of Idris."
Hello Lovelies!
********* IMPORTANT PLOT NOTE - In my AU, Silent Brothers can identify whos blood it is ik it's weird just go with it dudes
Okay so, I hope you all loved this chapter. I know a lot happened and it was very long and very filled with different events, but I didn't want to split it into two chapters. Mostly because I've been writing it nonstrop for several hours.
I honestly loved this chapter. I loved that fact Clary got to show her badass side. It's imperative you all understand that Clary was fed up with all the lies, and the death of her brother and Alice had finally encouraged her to step up and take the responsibility of a queen.
ALSOOOOOOOO Just a quick note, I know Celine had blue eyes in TMI. But this isn't TMI. I made the decision to give her gold eyes because I wanted her to look as much as she possibly can like Jace to make it more eerie. It was a plot decision, not a detail I messed up.
Now, I know this chapter was complicate and you all have a million questions, but I promise all of your questions about everything will be answered in the next chapter!
I'm planning on writing two more chapters of this, so this is the third to last. I really hope you all loved it because I honestly freaking LOVED writing it. So so much, I love this chapter. And all loose ends will be cleared up soon!
Also quick note, after I finish this and LIO, that's gonna be the end of my stories for a while. I do however have a joint account with LilithRisen (AKA my absolutely favorite person in the world and the most badass author on here) called QueensOfBullshit and we have two very amazing stories we will start updating as soon as I get these final chapters posted! :) So if you miss my writing, go check us out on there and follow our account so you'll know when we finally start updating!
Okay, I love you all! I'll save my emotional note for the last chapter.
Shitty Life Advice Of The Day- WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS, HARRY POTTER PICKUP LINES ARE HOW TO GET A BOY. EXAMPLE - Hey Draco, let me give you something you won't want your father to heard about ;) (see also 'my head so good Nearly Headless Nick is jealous OR you don't need a spell bby, you've already got me stupefied)
I know, I'm a horny nerd. Let me live guys.
Love you all. I'm so sad this is coming to an end so soon.
Love Always, Em xx