Chapter Four

A/N: Thank you to Guest, rainbownarwhal, Jace5000 and for reviewing the last chapter.

When Jocelyn awoke from her fitful night's sleep, she found her wrists free of their manacles, just as Valentine had promised. However, there was no sign of the man himself and she found herself wondering whether he would truly obey her request and leave her be.

It came to nightfall and she deduced that Valentine, once again, had been faithful to his word, and aside from the platefuls of food which seemed to materialise outside her door at meal times, she had been left entirely undisturbed. Yet still, something did not feel right, and so Jocelyn resigned herself to the fact that, if only for the sake of her sanity, she would have to seek out her husband herself.

As she navigated her way through the twisting maze of corridors, Jocelyn was startled, her memories seeping through into her conscious thought and muddling the two. It was seemed it was not only her bedroom which was identical to Fairchild Manor. It was everything. Despite the happy memories her childhood home held for her, she could not help but find it slightly disturbing. Valentine had clearly gone to so much effort to try and replicate their former lives, down to the smaller details. It all seemed to fall too simply into place.

Having realised the house was laid out identically to her old one, it took no time at all for Jocelyn to locate Valentine, sat in the study reading a book. He never changed. When they were married, this was where she would always find him during the day, taking respite from the pressures of the Circle in books, just as she had always done in her paintings.

Taking advantage of Valentine's back being to the wall, Jocelyn looked around the room, studying each detail and comparing it back to her memories. The only thing that seemed different was the artwork adorning the walls. Beforehand, Valentine had displayed the best of her paintings, claiming no other artist could do the house justice than one who knew it so well. But of course, those paintings were gone, along with everything else in her home, reduced to demonic ash.

"I was wondering when you would surface." Valentine commented and though his tone was light-hearted, it still made her jump. There was something about her husband's voice which had always sent shivers down her spine. When she was younger, it was thrilling- now, she was far less certain.

"I'm not used to getting up early. I'm self-employed and there's less call to be up in arms now that I'm wielding a paintbrush instead of a Seraph blade." she explained, shrugging her shoulders. Her voice was not as harsh as she had expected it to be, although it was hardly warm and inviting, and Jocelyn was shocked to discover how difficult she was finding it to be hostile.

"There's no need for you to get up early here either, you know." Valentine told her, almost tripping over his words, something that Jocelyn had never heard him do in all her life. He quickly regained his composure, smirking at her. "I was only teasing."

"You always used to think teasing was childish." Jocelyn pointed out. Her feet seemed to be moving of their own accord, until she was perched on the edge of the chair opposite his. "You used to say that if everyone simply said what they meant, the Shadow World would not have been in the state it was."

Valentine let out a low chuckle, becoming more light-hearted when Jocelyn reciprocated. Suddenly, her smile fell, her mind clear once again. She had become lost in her memories, all those times she and Valentine had sat in the study together, discussing politics and training schedules and plans for the future… but so much had changed since then.

Jocelyn's mind then turned to her daughter, her darling Clary. What had happened to her? Had she been captured as well, used as leverage to ensure her cooperation in handing over the Cup? Had she been hurt? Had she been… Jocelyn could not even bare to complete the thought, the prospect being too awful to even contemplate.

She looked up to find Valentine staring straight at her, his eyes almost seeming to look through her, right into her very soul. He had always had the power to do that to her, even the first time they had met. It was an almost magnetic ability, that drew followers towards him like moths to the flame. 'They don't notice.' Jocelyn considered bitterly. 'Not until they get burned.'

"Your daughter's safe, you don't need to worry." Jocelyn jumped, her brow furrowing in confusion. He always knew what she was thinking, true, but she had never thought he would know that. A weight settled heavy in her stomach, even as he reassured her. 'I thought he didn't know.'

"Where is she?" Her mind flitted between a thousand options. She could be with Luke, or with Simon, or alone in the apartment. She could be out on the streets searching. She could be sat in a dungeon.

"I don't know." Valentine responded, and the redhead felt some small sense of relief. At least she had not been captured. "My men couldn't find her at the apartment, she'd vanished. I would hope she'd have the sense to be on the lookout for demon attacks, or for anyone who might want to hurt her. Though if she's anything like you, she's the type to rush headlong into danger."

It was true that Clary was more like Jocelyn than the woman would care to admit; her daughter thought differently, but she did not know about her mother's past. Nor would she want to.

'But it's not a past.' she realised, meeting Valentine's eye once again. 'Valentine was always a soldier, always a Shadowhunter above all else. And if I'm here with him, that's what he'll make me into. I thought I'd left all this behind me, but I was wrong.'

Valentine smiled, almost as if he could read Jocelyn's thoughts once again. But she was certain he could not see her intentions on this occasion, because if he had, he would have been far more guarded. If he wanted her to be a warrior, then she would be.

And warriors fight back.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, but school is done and Shadowhunters is inspiring me again. Please review!