The drive home was silent. Andrew’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening.
It was late into the night; the only time they could have gotten away from the children long enough that they wouldn’t wreck havoc, as they were asleep. Raining was slamming onto the windshield, the cars wipers desperately trying to clear the glass. Eleanor had her fingers twisted in her lap, her mind racing. She tried to shut the thoughts out, tried to shut the faucet of emotions that threatened to pour over her. She focused on the road, looking out the window.
“Slow down, you’re going over the limit.” Eleanor said.
“I don’t care about the bloody limit.”
“Well I do! I want to get home alive!”
She looked over at her husband, his jaw clenched so tight, she was afraid it would break.
“Pull over, Andrew, you’re going to get us killed.”
Andrew started to protest, but Eleanor was not open to negotiate. “I SAID PULL OVER.”
Andrew pulled the car out of the highway and parked in a some mundane commercial center.
He turned off the ignition and immediately dug his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands.
Eleanor only looked straight ahead, soaking in the deafening silence.
“Ellie, please.” Andrew said.
“No, Andrew.”
“Consider it.”
“I have! Do you really think I haven’t thought this through?” She demanded turning to him. “Do you really think I want to die in three months? That I want to leave my children motherless?”
“You don’t have to die.” Andrew persisted. “Mundane medicine-“
“Is not foul proof, it doesn’t always work.”
“But it might.”
“And if it does?” Eleanor said, tears building up in her eyes. “If it works, I can’t be a part of the clave anymore, Andrew. I can’t be a shadowhunter. I’ll be punished for using mundane medicine, have my marks stripped. I can’t be married to you, I can’t see my children. I lose all of you either way. At least if I follow the law, I get you be with my family on my last days of life.”
Andrew stared at her. Eleanor could pin the exact moment he cracked, the way his shoulders collapsed inward, the way the tears burst out of him, in racking sobs. Eleanor threw herself into his arms, tried to summon the strength to hold him, when she could barely hold herself together. He pulled her into his lap and gripped her close to his chest in desperation, as if he was trying to memorize what it was like to hold her.
“It’ll be okay, Andrew.” She said, though her broke was breaking. Andrew was sobbing freely, his warm tears sliding down her back, down her shoulders and her chest, mixing with her own.
They’d gone to the brothers for something as simple as checking what Eleanor had thought were lasting postpartum symptoms. She hadn’t imagined the words “tumor”, “cancer”, “terminal”. She hadn’t expected to receive a death date, to be told there was no treatment they could provide.
Andrew had not understood them, he demanded that it wasn’t possible, that there had to be something they could do. Brother Enoch stepped forward and drew a simple iratze on Eleanor’s forearm and said, that is all we can do. It felt like a slap to the face.
Eleanor pulled away from Andrew. “Let me drive,” she said.
Andrew shook his head. “I can drive, now. I’m sorry for before, just… let me drive.”
Eleanor nodded, wiping her eyes and shifting back to the passenger seat. She felt the strong urge to see her children, to kiss them goodnight. She didn’t know how long she would have left with them, all she knew was that she wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. She took Andrew’s hand, the hand of which she had memorized every scar and callus, and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles.
“We’ll figure it out,” she reassured him. “We’ll be alright.”
I’ve been wanting to write this fic for such a long time, I felt compelled to try and capture Eleanor and Andrew’s characters in this moment. I feel like we don’t enough about their tragic story. I hope you enjoyed it!
Alexander shuffled into the breakfast parlor, sleep still in his eyes, his expression passive.
“Good morning,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes before bending down to press a kiss to Cecily’s cheek and slumping down into the chair adjacent to her.
“Good morning, Bach,” Cecily replied, pouring him a cup of coffee. “Did you sleep well?”
Alex nodded, pouring milk into his cup, while glancing at his father.
Gabriel had a furrowed expression on his face as he fidgeted with the knobs on his new radio. He had strange muffs covering his ears, from which soft crackling could be heard from.
“Is he still trying to work that thing?” Alex asked.
Cecily chuckled. “He’s like a dog with a bone.”
“He can still hear you.” Gabriel grumbled, not bothering to look up at them.
Alex and Cecily shared a grin, before the former reached over and began buttering a slice of toast.
Cecily sipped her coffee as she took in the scene, and willed herself to remember it exactly as it is now. She knew she would miss these days soon enough, when Alex was old enough to move away. For now, she was happy that he was still living with them. Anna had moved away the second she’d turned 18, though Alex was 19 now and hadn’t yet voiced any interest in living by himself.
The older she got, the more fickle moments seemed to become, slipping away from her before she could pin them down and enjoy them.
Now, she took a deep breath and let herself bask in this moment, let herself enjoy the youth of her youngest child and the still winter morning. Angel knew time went by fast.
Found this little Gabrily fic in my drafts and I thought it would be nice to share it, I hope you enjoy! -Annie
Gabriel rolled his neck and sighed as he walked back home after a long night of patrolling. Being a young shadowhunter, the clave usually assigned Gabriel ungodly patrol hours almost every night, because his body could supposedly handle it better than older shadowhunters. These hours were taking their toll on his body however, and he often woke with headaches and muscle strain.
Tonight, Gabriel was patrolling London streets without the usual company of his brother-in-law Will nor Tessa as they were away on Institute business at Idris. Cecily and Gabriel are temporary heads in their absence, as they have been in the past.
The institute was silent as he stepped in, though the entrance usually was. He walked up the long staircase, his steps heavy as he held on to the veranda. He had taken a nasty fall which was now making his bad ankle act up. As he reached the landing he could hear soft humming coming from his room. As he approached, he saw Cecily, sitting by the fire, knitting was seemed to be a small jumper. She was singing a Welsh song and had a soft smile on her lips.
Cecily had recently reached what Charlotte and Sophie call the “nesting” phase in her pregnancy, were she is preparing everything for the upcoming baby, from knitting clothes to setting up the nursery. Gabriel almost had a heart attack when he found her on the top step of a latter unsupervised trying to hang a painting on the wall.
“It’s for the baby, Gabriel.”
“I know, darling, but my concern is if you fall just so, there won’t be a baby to be had.”
Cecily had waved him off as if this were an impossibility.
Tonight, Gabriel was relieved to find that she hadn’t gotten herself into any predicaments.
Cecily must have sense his presence because she suddenly stopped singing and looked up, smiling wider when she saw his face.
“What are you doing up so late?” Gabriel asked, returning her smile and walking over, bending down to kiss the top of her head.
“I couldn’t sleep. The baby was kicking my organs, which made me want to vomit. So I decided I should get along with knitting some clothes for her.” She held up the jumper. “Do you like it?”
“It’s lovely, Cecy. Now, how about you lay down in bed and try to get some sleep? I’ll change out of my gear and join you.” Gabriel said, helping her out of the arm chair.
“Oh,” Cecily’s eyes softened as she looked up at him and put a hand to his face. “You look so tired, cariad. Surely the Clave can give you some time off of patrols?”
Gabriel kissed her palm. “There have been overworked shadowhunters before me, and there will be overworked shadowhunters after me. Some things will never change, darling. Besides, you looking exhausted yourself.”
Cecily hummed. “How is it that we are already tired and the child isn’t even born yet?”
…
By the time Gabriel finally got to bed, Cecily was tucked in, the sheets pulled up to her nose. He smiled, having looked forward to this moment all day. He laid down beside his wife with a relieved sigh, his fatigued muscles finally relaxing.
“Is your ankle giving you trouble again?” She asked quietly.
He nodded, “I slipped and landed on it funny.” Gabriel had broken his right ankle as a child and had never fully healed. It tended to hurt from time to time, but there was really no way of fixing it entirely.
“I could fetch you some ice—”
“No, I’ll survive.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’d much rather have you beside me.”
She smiled at him before wincing and putting a hand to her stomach.
“Is she still kicking?” Gabriel asked in wonder. He knew there was a developing baby inside his wife at the moment, and yet at times he’d forget. There was a living creature. Inside of his wife. He was equal parts awed as he was slightly disturbed.
Cecily nodded. “She’s a strong one, that’s for sure.” She said, her accent slipping and becoming incredibly Welsh, as she began nearing sleep, something Gabriel always found incredibly adorable.
He put a hand beside her’s and sure enough, he felt one of the baby’s limbs pushing against Cecily’s belly. Gabriel chuckled, “What is she doing in there? Practicing her waltz?”
“Seems like it,” Cecily giggled. “She’s been restless all day.”
Gabriel pressed a gentle kiss on her lips before putting his arms around her. Cecily turned on her side, fitting her back to his chest. Gabriel moved her raven black hair and kissed the spot just below her earlobe.
“Just think, in a couple weeks we will be parents.” Cecily said, happily.
oh sad you lost your wips, I love all your published fics so much specially how well you get Kit, Anna, Cecily and Gabriel personalities
Thank you for your kind words!! I’m posting this fic-let about them as a way of showing my gratitude 🤍 thank you for reading!!
Windy Willows
Characters: Cecily Herondale, Gabriel Lightwood, Anna Lightwood (little), Christopher Lightwood (also little)
…
The branches of the willows outside of Cecily’s former bedroom swayed in the light breeze. Towards the horizon, one could see the sprawling mountains in the distance.
Cecily had only lived in her parent’s house in Yorkshire for a short while before she had gone in pursuit of her missing brother, therefore she didn’t quite feel a strong attachment to it. She did remember her childhood home in Wales with a deep sense of longing. She would have loved to visit that house once before she died, though she wasn’t quite sure it would ever be possible.
That wasn’t to say Cecily didn’t like her parent’s house in Yorkshire. She found it quite cosy, and secluded (which was better for her father, who was one to succumb to bad habits easily). She also found that visiting with her husband and children made it less lonely. She got to make new memories in this house, plagued by past ones of her coming to this house with no companions nor any knowledge of the area. Cecily had always been a lonely child, even in Wales, but moving to a new country, with no familiarity, no fond memories of her (then gone) siblings; she only had half of her father and a worried mother who fussed over Cecily, cried on her shoulder, made her carry the emotional burdens of Linette’s marriage.
Now Cecily felt stronger, like she could face these things. She could finally be her mother’s and father’s daughter, and not their savior; she didn’t have to be the solution to all of their problems.
Ironic, that it took her having children for them to finally relieve her of that role.
She didn’t particularly want to think about her parents right now, though. She turned around on the bed she was laying on and smiled at Gabriel. Their little family of four had piled into Cecily’s room, the mountain air finally getting to their heads and making them all drowsy. Well, all of them except Christopher.
While Anna slept curled up against the crook of her fathers arm, Christopher was still fiddling with a clockwork toy of his that Cecily’s mother gifted him (it goes without saying that Cecily and Gabriel were not too pleased by this gift, for they didn’t have the best experiences with clockwork in the past, but for course they didn’t let it show, for that would be disrespectful to Cecily’s mother, who only had the best intentions).
Gabriel’s eyes were already drifting closed and Cecily felt herself do the same. Christopher also had a tired face to him, but he seemed to be fighting better than his family members.
“Kit, how about we put away the toy and go to sleep for a while?” Cecily said.
Kit didn’t reply, only continued to fiddle with the toy, as he usually did when he was very concentrated on something.
“Kit,” Cecily repeated.
The little boy looked up at her. “Would you like to put the toy away?”
“No thank you, Mam.”
Gabriel grunted in laughter. Cecily didn’t have it in her to get angry with Kit, or try to scold him, when he so clearly wasn’t trying to be rude. He did in fact answer very politely, only he didn’t understand the meaning behind Cecily’s words.
“Have you figured out how it works, son?” Gabriel asked.
Kit nodded with a yawn.
“How about you explain it to us?” Cecily said, curling up on her side and hugging her son close to her body.
Kit was very enthusiastic by this request, and began to explain what he had deduced about the mechanisms behind the contraption. Cecily was too tired to follow his string of thought, though she focused on his speech and how his words gradually became more slurred and spaced out. She couldn’t help but smile as he finally trailed off, words replaced by deep breathing. She saw that Gabriel too, had nodded off to sleep. She finally let her heavy lids shut and fell into a deep sleep, her smile remaining trained on her lips.
Really?? Yayy!! Although its going to crush me , have you already started writing it? Can you share a line?
I can do better than a line! I can post the entire thing, since I've finished it already! I'll warn you that it very long hahaa and i'm definitely gonna write more about this, with other characters, but I'm starting with the characters that I simply couldn't ignore writing about. I think this goes without saying THAT THERE ARE MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHOT IN THE POST SO IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED IT (or at least made it to the intermissionPLEASE DO NOT READ IT!!!!!
You Were Bigger Than The Whole Sky
(aka the first time I knew what I was going to name the fic before I started writing it. Also, thanks Taylor!)
...
They happened to have been in the middle of questioning when all of a sudden they heard numerous shouts coming from outside. Cecily, who was sitting with Gabriel in the front row of the pews (having left Alexander with Sophie and Gideon), exchanged a look with her husband. The shadowhunters from the back of the room began crowding around the windows to see what was the commotion.
“It’s the Enclave,” someone said, thoroughly surprised.
That got the attention of the entire room.
“This meeting is suspended, for the time being,” Charlotte said, “Until we see what the trouble is.”
The shadowhunters began filing out. Sure enough, there was a cluster of shadowhunters (who were, in fact, the London Enclave) making their way towards them. Charles was leaning them, his expression grim and... sad. When he looked at Cecily, she could have sworn he winced, though she sure it was because of the way he spoke of Tessa the other day. As familiar faces passed by, Cecily anxiously scanned the crowd, looking for Christopher and Anna. She was dimly aware that the shadowhunters were carrying their belongings, for some strange reason.
“What is the meaning of this?” Will demanded.
“London is under attack,” explained Charles, pale faced.
Now Cecily was truly worried, searching more frantically for a glimpse of dark hair or lavender eyes. Suddenly her eyes zeroed in a plank a couple of shadowhunters seemed to be carrying. Charlotte was already making her way towards it, when she suddenly stopped, slapped a hand over mouth. Cecily suddenly began sweating, her breaths shallow. And when Charlotte turned to face her, tears in her eyes, Cecily broke into a run.
She pushed through the crowd when she saw the body. Someone screamed. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from her.
“No, no, no, my darling Kit.” She gasped through tears, stroking his soft, lovely hair, putting a hand on his face, only for it to feel so incredibly cold. She couldn't breathe as she put her hands over his, where they were folded over his chest. “Christopher bach, my angel child. My sweet, sweet boy. Please open your eyes. Open your beautiful lavender eyes.”
She felt arms around her, pulling her away. Away from her baby. She fought as those arms held her fast. “Cecy,” Gabriel whispered, his voice cracking and thick with tears of his own.
Cecily collapsed into his arms, her knees giving out as she cried out to her son, as she cried out to the Angel, and then she simply cried, gasping for air, her tears streaking down her entire face and neck, some pooling at her collarbones, while others managed to slip in between her bosoms and rest at her heart. She wrapped her arms around her belly unconsciously, doubling over at the pain in her heart. She felt Gabriel press his face to her shoulder and she could feel the tears coming out of his eyes, soaking her skin. She leaned her head to the side so that they were touching. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that. All she knew was that at some point she turned around in Gabriel’s arms and hid in them, pressing her face to his chest. Gabriel held her fast, and she clung onto him.
…
They’d managed to get to Lightwood manor, somehow with help from Charlotte, Will and Tessa. Sophie and Gideon already knew the news, as Eugenia had come home earlier and told them. The second Sophie saw Cecily, she lunged for her and wrapped her arms tightly around her sister-in-law who, over the years and after summers spent living together at Lightwood manor, had become more like a sister to her. Cecily cried in Sophie’s arms taking comfort in the fact that Sophie knew exactly how Cecily felt. They both cried together, Sophie whispering in her ear that everything would be okay, that Kit was safe and protected and that he would be alright. He will never truly die and that he will live in her heart forever. Cecily clung to Sophie. “My heart, Sophie, it hurts so much. To know that I’ll wake up every morning for the rest of my life and now that I’ll never see him again. Never see him running down the stairs, never see another one of his disastrous experiments.” Her voice cracked, “Angel, I’ll never see my sweet Christopher’s lavender eyes peering up at me ever again, for as long as I live.”
“I know, Cecily.” Sophie said, her voice thick with tears, as she rubbed a hand against Cecily’s back, “Oh, how I know.”
Cecily put her chin on Sophie’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of the room. She saw Gideon embracing Gabriel holding up his brother as if he might collapse if he let him go. Will with his arm around Tessa, looking up at the ceiling as tears streamed down his face. Tessa’s eyes were closed, her body shaking from tears. They became terribly blurry until Cecily blinked and could see again. She saw Charlotte, her left hand holding Eugenia’s tightly, the latter resting her head on her aunt’s shoulder as they cried together. Charlotte’s other hand was resting on Henry's shoulder. Cecily blinked once more, clearing her vision. She caught sight of Henry’s face; he was looking directly at her, crying profusely, his face etched with pain. Cecily felt even more tears swarm her vision, because she knew how much Henry had meant to Christopher. How Henry understood him in a way Cecily never could; Cecily knew that Kit never held it against Cecily and Gabriel, that for him, their love and support had always been enough. But she had been so thankful that Kit had someone in his life like Henry, who had helped him find a place in the world.
She knew that Henry shared her grief. Perhaps not as intensely as she did, for there was nothing like a mother’s love for her child, but he was hurting immensely as well. Cecily slowly pulled away from Sophie, squeezing her hand in thanks as she did so, and wobbled where Henry was, her vision clearing for a millisecond every once and a while. She knelt down beside his bath chair, and he reached out to smooth her hair in a fatherly gesture. Cecily could barely contain herself any longer as she threw her arms around him, a fresh wave of grief hitting her. She felt his arm go around her and she squeezed her eyes shut because Henry smelled a bit like how Christopher used to smell and though it pained her greatly, it also gave her a slight tremor of relief, to be able to have at least one part of Kit still in her life.
“He was such a brilliant child, Cecily.” Henry said, “He was truly marvelous. He did more in his sixteen years of life than most people do in seventy. You did such a fine job in raising him. He was never nothing but kind and eager to help those around him.” Henry pulled away and put two hands on her shoulders. “When you think of him, think of everything he did, instead of everything he could have done had he lived.” Cecily pressed her eyes shut tightly and nodded, biting her bottom lip.
“Oh, Cecily,” Charlotte said, catching her in an embrace. “He loved you so much. Both of you,” She said, with a tearful nod in Gabriel’s direction. Cecily let herself be embraced until she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face Will and her arms shot out to embrace him.
“Cecy, I’m so sorry for the pain you feel.” He said.
Before Cecily could answer she heard a little voice call out, “Mam?”
Everybody in the room froze and turned around slowly to find little Alexander standing by the doorway. Nobody had expected him to wake up, least of all get out of bed after the injury he’d suffered. And yet, he was standing there, his blue eyes darting from each face in the room.
Gabriel, who was being embraced by Charlotte straightened.
He walked towards his son slowly, and before Cecily mechanically followed him. Gabriel knelt down in front of Alex and Cecily followed suit. She felt Gabriel put a comforting arm on her back.
Alex looked from one parent to the other, confused.
“Alex,” Cecily said, placing a hand on Alex’s cheek.
“Mam, why are you crying?”
Gabriel and Cecily both exchanged a glance, and together they told Alex that his older brother, Christopher, was no longer with them.
“Where did he go?” Alex asked.
“To a better place,” Cecily said.
“When will he come back?” Alex asked, biting his lip.
Cecily couldn’t answer that question. She looked up at the ceiling as Gabriel told him, gently, that Kit wouldn’t come back. That they’ll see him again, eventually, in that better place.
Alex looked at Gabriel, and then Cecily, and then at Gabriel again. “Papa, is Kit dead?”
Gabriel lips quivered as he said. “Yes, Alex. He is.”
Alex’s eyes swarmed with tears. “But why?”
“Because his time had come, Alex.” Cecily said.
“But-but he didn’t even say goodbye.” Alex said.
Cecily pulled him into a hug. “Oh Alexander bach, he would’ve if he could’ve.”
…
~1917~
Alexander Lightwood would never forget the day his brother died. How his parents had kneeled before him and broken his tiny little heart. How they held him as they all cried together. He remembered sleeping in their bed, his mother holding him tight as he cried himself to sleep. He remembered moments spent with Anna, the remaining Lightwood-Herondale siblings grieving the loss of their beloved brother. Alexander knew Kit’s death had been extremely difficult for him; how do you say goodbye to someone you have shared moments with every since day of your life?
Sometimes, even at age seventeen, he’d lay in bed and rub the jagged scar on his chest that ran from the right side of his chest all the way to the lower part of the left side of his ribs, slicing straight through his heart. For some reason, it made him think and Christopher. He couldn’t remember much of his brother’s physical appearance; he knew he had had his father’s nose and bone structure and his mother’s dimples from photographs. But he never knew what his mother meant when she described his lavender eyes; he couldn’t quite imagine them.
Alex may not remember much about his older brother, but he remembered how much he loved him. How he made him laugh. He remembered, very distantly, a winter’s day, where they played in the snow together. He remembered him showing Alex a purple solution, only for it to turn transparent as Christopher mixed it. He remembers Christopher explaining why it happened, something along the lines of the oxygen molecules bonding with some other molecules, though he couldn’t remember Kit’s voice at all. And he remembered sleeping beside him when he was scared at night and instantly feeling safe again.
But the strangest thing was that, though Alex had very few memories of his brother, every time Alex thought about Kit, his eyes would fill with tears and he’d feel a dull and heavy pain weighing down on his chest. Now, Alex felt tears prickle his eyes. He tried to blink them dry as he reached out and opened the drawer from his bedside table. Without looking, he felt around for a while before he found what he was looking for. He sighed against his pillows as he lifted the pair of gold rimmed spectacles that had belonged to his brother, inspecting them silently.
It was strange for Alexander to think that Christopher was younger than he was now when he’d died. Christopher, who had saved dozens of shadowhunters by finding the cure to a poison that had infected many shadowhunters. Christopher had also created fire-messages with the help of Grace Blackthorn—though Grace always rejects any sort of credit anyone tries to give her for helping, saying that Christopher had done all of the work—which were becoming extremely popular these days. Alexander had every reason to feel overshadowed by his genius older brother and yet, he never had. He’d only felt admiration and love towards him. And regret that he’d never been able to know him properly.
“You are a mystery to me, Kit.” Alex said, to the glasses, watching as their gold rims flashed in the moonlight. “I wonder what you would’ve thought of me, if you had known me as I am now.”
Alex felt a strange connection to his brother, one forged with the same unconditional love he held for Kit when he was younger. It wasn’t lack of love that left Alex unsettled; he only wished to piece together the puzzle that was his brother Christopher.
January, 1904
It was still painful to see The Merry Thieves and not see Christopher among them. Sometimes, when she wasn’t thinking, Cecily would spot Thomas and begin walking towards him, as if to ask him where her silly son was, only to remember.
Pasting by his room was the hardest. She was always expecting him to be sitting there, mumbling to himself and she would go up to him and ruffle his hair, ask him what he was working on, even though she didn’t understand a word of it. She peaked into his room now, in the same disarray it had been before Gabriel and Cecily had gone to Idris. When Christopher was still alive, every once in a while she’d go to his room and tidy up his desk a little even though she knew it was fruitless. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to so much as touch anything in his room, much less tidy it up, as she knew that even if she did, Kit would never come back to make a mess of it again.
She walked around slowly. The room still smelled like him. She leaned over and saw a thick notebook, filled with his incredibly messy scrawl. She’d spent hours trying to fix his handwriting when he was young, showing him how to hold the pen, giving him exercises to do so that it was more legible, but his handwriting was more stubborn than his father. For the first time in a while, Cecily smiled just a little at his messy notes and for a second it even held, before it turned wobbly and she began crying. She could just imagine how he must have been, hunched over his desk as he desperately tried to write as fast as his mind was working.
She didn’t realize Gabriel had come into the room until she felt his arms around her. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, trying to keep her tears at bay.
“We created such an Angel, Gabriel.” She said, looking up at him. “I think about him and I can’t believe we raised him. All he ever wanted to do was help. To save shadowhunters for years to come.”
“And he did,” Gabriel said. His voice, though thick with emotion, was steady. “Twice. Doesn’t that count for something? That at the end of the day, he did exactly what he set out to do?”
Cecily felt her lips curl upwards, in spite of her tears.
“Of course it does. But it still hurts to know that he’s gone and he’s never coming back.”
Gabriel brushed his hand over the top of her hair, and Cecily, confused, looked up. Gabriel looked down at her with watery green eyes. “I wanted to kiss the top of your head, but I may have gotten tears all over your head.
Cecily laughed a little. “That’s alright.”
Gabriel leaned over and kissed her forehead from where he was standing behind her. “I think you should visit him,” he said. “I’ve done it a couple of times since his passing.” Gabriel’s voice cracked just the tiniest bit when he said that last part. “It doesn’t take away the pain, but…it helps.”
Cecily turned around in his arms and looked up at him in surprise. She hadn’t known he had been doing that. “I-I think I will.”
Gabriel smiled and put a hand to her cheek, wiping a tear away from her face.
…
Christopher had never really shown interest in flowers that weren’t poisonous or carnivorous. Cecily didn’t want to take poisonous plants to her late son’s grave stone. Especially since poison was what had taken her baby boy away from her in the first place. Instead, she brought lavender.
Her steps were heavy as she walked up the hill to his gravestone. When she finally got there catching sight of his name printed on the stone, she dropped to her knees.
Don’t cry, she told herself, not yet at least.
“Hello, darling,” she managed to get out. “It’s me, Mam. I know I haven’t come to visit you until now, but don’t you dare think that it’s because I don’t care for you. It’s only because I missed you so—” her voice cracked and she had to pause to swallow the lump growing in her throat.
“I-I brought you lavender, my sweet kitten. I know you probably would have preferred a venus flytrap, but I also think you would have preferred it stayed in its natural habitat. Anyway, I brought you lavender instead. I don’t know what sort of properties it may have that would interest you, but they smell lovely at least and they remind me of your beautiful eyes. You might remember my mother’s eyes, but then again, you didn’t really pay attention to such superficial things.” She smiled. “You paid attention to things truly mattered.” Cecily wiped a tear and quickly arranged the lavender.
“Kit bach, I think I just have to tell you everything I wish I could have told you when you were here. I know you don’t like sentimental things, and you can turn away if you want to, but you’re just going to have to bear with me, because I need to say it.” She took a shaky breath before continuing. “Kit, my darling Kit, you were bigger than the whole sky. You are everything to me and I am so blessed to have been your mother. You gave me the best sixteen years I could have asked for and I know that even if it meant you passed far too early, I still wouldn’t change the time we spent together for the world. Watching you grow up was the most beautiful experience The Lord could have given me. You were the most beautiful thing The Lord could have given me.
“You and your siblings are and always will be the most treasured thing in my life and not a day will go by when I won’t think about you. About the joy you brought me, about the times you would drive me insane every time one of your experiments backfired,” Cecily managed to smile at this. “If you came back to me, I would let you explode the entire house, for all I care, for nothing I own will ever hold a candle to how much I love you. Because I really do love you so so much. More than anything in the world. I waited my whole life for you, my Christopher, and now I shall wait until the day we are rightfully reunited. And I’ll give you the biggest hug and smother you in a thousand and one kisses and there will be no escape from you, mister.” Cecily said, with a broken smile. “So you’ll have this time to prepare yourself, before you encounter my wrath. Brace yourself.”
Cecily stayed there for a while, talking to Christopher. Telling him about Thomas and James and Matthew, because he would have loved to hear about them. She told him about Henry, and how he missed his lab partner dearly. She told him about Anna and Alex, about Gabriel. She told him about his friend Grace, who had visited Cecily a while back and told her how much she owed to Kit, how good of a friend he’d been. It had made Cecily proud of her son, who was always so kind and selfless. Cecily had even brought a scientific newspaper and read to him the newest advancements in science these days.
These little talks would become routine for Cecily for years to come. In fact, she kept up with them every week, until her dying day.
“Oh, you’ll love this, Kit bach,” She would say, as she read out a report that would have sparked Christopher’s interest. And he would, because Kit, even in the afterlife, could hear every little thing his mother told him and he would listen attentively to her, every time she would stop by. When he could, he would send a little gust of wind, of a tiny bird to keep her company. Cecily would smile at these things, as if deep down, she knew it was Christopher who was sending them.
…
Cecily opened her eyes and immediately realized that she felt so incredibly light. Lighter than she had in all of her years being a Lightwood, she thought with a smile. She opened her eyes and looked around, staring at the marvelousness around her. Suddenly, she felt someone behind her. Turning around she saw Gabriel and her heart burst into a million pieces at seeing the love of her life once more. She wrapped her arms around him and held onto him tightly.
“I missed you,” she whispered, even though she had died only a couple years after he did. Drawing away, she looked into his eyes. He looked like he did when they were young; around 25 years old. And yet, he also looked like he did at 40; he looked like he did the last time Cecily saw him—on his deathbed—and at the same time, he looked like the first time she saw him, when he was a 19 year old boy with a broken heart that desperately needed mending. Only, Gabriel wasn’t in pain now. He looked exactly as she felt: light and free.
“I missed you more,” he said, bending to press his forehead against her own. They stayed like that for a while, only for Gabriel to slowly pull away and place his hands on her waist. Gently, he turned her around so that she could see…
Oh.
Cecily ran and threw her arms around Christopher. Kit hugged her tightly as they both fell to their knees
“My darling,” She muttered, pressing feather light kisses on his temple, on his cheek. She brushed her fingers through his impossibly soft hair, as she had once done, all those years ago and thought she would never do again. She wept tears of joy, her heart, feeling full for the first time in a long, long time. She pulled back, both of her hands on either side of his face, and looked into those lovely lavender eyes and, for the first time since 1903, her smile turned up the highest it could possibly go.
“My Kit, how I longed to see you again. I love you so much.”
Christopher smiled at her, and her heart melted, “I love you too, Mam.”
Hii would you ever consider writing a small piece of gabrily comforting Alex after one of the nightmares after what Tatiana did to him? Like them ushering him to bed with them and trying to make him feel better
Helloo! I wish I could write small pieces, but I always have too many ideas! I've been wanting to write this one for a while, but time is scarce these days lol
Anyway, I thankfully found a second in between study sessions to get this written! I don't have time to edit it well, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes:
Late nights
It was nights like these that hurt Cecily the most. The nights when she would suddenly open her eyes, wide awake. At first, the lively feeling that would course through her veins would invoke great confusion, because of how unused to it she was. Then, of course, she would be attacked by an overwhelming flood of memories. Memories that reminded her of why her daily disposition was a fusion between numbness and agony. Why her days were now painted gray; why her heart felt so heavy in her chest; why she was always on the brink of falling apart, as if her life was held up by a single string that was just waiting to become undone.
Tonight was one of those nights. Though, if Cecily was being perfectly honest, most nights were like these. She turned to steal a glance at Gabriel. He was fast asleep, laying on his stomach, his forearms curled under his pillow. Despite everything, Cecily smiled softly at him, the way it was impossible to not smile at someone who cast a light upon your darkest shadows. Cecily turned on her side, hugging her blankets to her chest.
“My Gabriel Lightwood,” she whispered quietly, “how long I had been waiting in the darkness for your light.”
That brought more tears to her eyes, because she didn’t know how to compensate for the darkness her darling Christopher’s absence had left. And neither did Gabriel. They were both so incredibly hollow, so filled with grief, it was difficult to imagine how they could possibly recover when there was nothing holding them together.
Cecily thought back to when her parents had died. The way she collapsed into Gabriel’s arms, the way he held her up and stroked her back gently, murmuring sweet words into her ear. Or when Jesse had died, and Gabriel looked to her for comfort. Only now, neither stood on solid enough ground to be able to hold the other up, and they suffered for it.
Cecily turned her gaze away from Gabriel and instantly felt cold all over once more. She fought the urge to look at him again, knowing that the more she looked, the more she’d want to inch towards him and bury herself in the comfort of his arms. Gabriel would hold her without complaint, but Cecily could never live with herself for being so selfish, disturbing Gabriel from his rare, peaceful slumber, because her heart felt like it was being stabbed with each breath she took.
So she directed her gaze in the opposite direction, to avoid temptation. That’s when she caught sight of two round, dark blue eyes peering at her from the edge of her bed. She gasped, holding a hand to her chest.
“Alexander,” she said, keeping her voice quiet. “Bach, I didn’t see you there.”
Alexander looked sheepishly at her. “I’m sorry, Mam. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Cecily shook her head, forcing her lips to curl up in what she hoped was a comforting smile as she sat up and reached for her baby.
She settled him on her lap. From here, she could see the pure terror in his eyes as they darted to and fro, his plaid parlor, the way he trembled in her arms.
“Alex bach,” she said softly, stroking his raven hair, “What is the matter? Did you have a bad dream?”
Alex blinked rapidly, his eyes filling with unshed tears. Cecily felt her already wounded heart break even further.
“Oh darling, don’t fret,” She said as she pulled him into a loving embrace, tucking his head under her chin. “I’ll always be here. I’ll always protect you.”
Alex only trembled in her arms. Cecily knew to hold him until the initial shock of his nightmare subsided and she did just that, rubbing his small back as he clung to her.
As she held her son, Cecily thought about how small he was in her arms, how delicate. Ever since Christopher, she couldn’t stop thinking about how fragile life is. How it can slip away from your grasp like water, before you have time to realize it. And here, she had a small, fragile and trembling life wrapped around her arms. So she held him tight, she kissed the top of his head and rocked him back and forth, because she will never know when it’ll be the last time. Because she never got to hold her other baby one last time before saying goodbye, and now she never will.
Alex’s fear seemed to reseed; Cecily pulled away and looked into his dark blue eyes; the same eyes her mother had had. She brushed a lock of his raven hair away from his face.
“All better?” She asked with a smile.
Alex nodded quickly, though he still seemed a bit skittish.
“Mam?” He said in a quiet voice.
“Yes, bach?”
“Can you come with me to my room?” he asked, sheepishly. “Only for a tiny bit?”
Cecily smiled at him, “Of course, cariad.”
…
Gabriel’s intuition told him that Cecily wasn’t asleep beside him before he opened his eyes. This, naturally, sent an initial shock of fear coursing through his veins, before he was able to rationalize that it was most likely because she was with Alexander.
Even so, Gabriel was quick to get out of the bed and make his way down the hall to his son’s room. Sure enough, he heard his wife’s soft voice lulling from their youngest son’s room. Just across from Alexander’s room was Christopher’s. Gabriel lingered by the shut door, pressing his palm against its wooden surface. He closed his eyes and sent a quick prayer for his oldest son before continuing to Alex’s room.
He saw Cecily and Alex laying beside each other, Alex pressed close to Cecy’s side. When they noticed Gabriel’s presence, they both startled and pressed closer to each other.
“Relax,” Gabriel said, holding his hands up in surrender, “It’s only me; I come in peace.”
Cecily snorted. “You can’t sneak up on us like that in the middle of the night. You scare us half to death.”
“You’re shadowhunters,” Gabriel protested, climbing onto the bed. “You should be prepared for these sorts of things.” he said, winking at Alex, who grinned at his father.
“You should be thankful I wasn’t prepared, Gabriel Lightwood, or you would have a knife lodged in your chest.”
Gabriel frowned at her. They tease each other, but in reality, Gabriel hated to think that neither Alex nor Cecily were able to feel entirely safe in their own home. It sent an unsettling feeling through him.
Alex interrupted Gabriel’s train of thought with a loud yawn. His blue-eyed gaze was lined with exhaustion from sleepless nights.
“I think it’s well past someone’s bedtime.” Cecily said, her voice falling into the lull of a pronounced Welsh accent, the same one that she’d had when Gabriel had first met her. After years of living in Idris and London, she’d lost most of it, but it did make its occasional reappearance when Cecy was especially tired or when she’d had one too many glasses of wine. “I’ll finish the story and we can…”
She trailed off as she caught sight of Alex who had fallen into a peaceful slumber at some point between that moment and his yawn.
“It seems he’s one step ahead of you.” Gabriel said pointedly.
Cecily nodded slowly.
They both watched Alex sleep before Gabriel broke the silence. “We should probably go back to bed.”
Cecily nodded, but made little effort to move, until Gabriel sat up. She slowly detangled Alex from her arm and arranged the blankets over him carefully. Gabriel watched as she went through the motions of a practiced mother tucking her child to sleep. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the top of his head and paused to look at her son a little longer before moving to join Gabriel.
He put his arm around her and hugged her tight to his chest as Cecily rested her head against his shoulder.
They both lingered by Alex’s doorway, not quite wanting to leave him alone.
“He’ll be alright,” Cecily said, firmly. She stepped into the hall, took a sharp intake of breath. “Bother, I forgot my slippers beside Alex’s bed.”
“I’ll get them.” Gabriel said.
Cecily seemed like she was about to protest, but was too tired to do so. Gabriel smiled to himself as he bent down to pick up the slippers. When he straightened, he lightly stroked Alex’s raven curls and whispered a goodnight to his son before going back to Cecily. Except, she wasn’t by the doorway anymore.
As Gabriel left the room, he saw her standing in her white nightgown with her dark, wavy hair tumbling down her back, curling at the tips in front of Christopher’s room.
She must have opened the door; it sent a pang through Gabriel’s chest to see everything exactly as Christopher had left it. As if the room defied time.
“I keep thinking he’ll come back.” Cecily said as Gabriel came to stand beside her. “That he’s at Charlotte and Henry’s house and he’ll come back at any moment and we’ll say ‘Christopher, where were you? We were worried sick!’ and he’ll say that he was only doing science, and that he wasn’t gone that long, and it’ll be one of those memories that are terrible in the moment, but later become something you recall on a whim and laugh at over dinner.”
Gabriel blinked, before suddenly feeling the urge to do something before he went crazy. He bent down in front of Cecy, lifting her foot gently to slip on her slipper. Cecily rested a hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t look up at her until he’d slipped on the other slipper.
When he did look up, he was faced with Cecily’s eyes, that always spoke louder than any words.
“Gabriel,” She said, gently. “You don’t have to be strong in front of me. Let yourself be vulnerable.” She put a delicate hand to his cheek. “You can let it all go. You’re safe with me.”
Gabriel took a deep breath and straightened. “I know, Cecy.” He pulled her close to him and kissed her temple. “I know.”
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you’re fics are my fav and im feeling absolutely empty after chot so im BEGGING for a charlotte and matthew fic…literally anything i would read about them sitting in silence at this point im desperate
Ahh thank you so much! I'm so honored that you enjoy my fics so much <3
I'm sorry it took me a while to finish the fic, I had a bunch of random ideas and I had to figure out how to thread them together, but I'm happy to finally present this fic to you and I hope it helps mend your heart, just a tiny bit :)
**Major CHOT spoilers; Don't read this if you haven't finished Chain of thorns!!***
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Open your heart
"What happens when people open their hearts? They get better."
-Haruki Murakami
...
It felt strange sleeping in his old house with his parents again, but Matthew couldn’t bring himself to sleep in his flat alone.
No. Matthew couldn’t sleep in his flat alone. He’d realized this at Kit’s funeral when the sudden realization of Christopher’s death had finally sunk. Before, with all of the trouble Belial had stirred up, there hadn’t been time to mourn. To truly process what had happened; Matthew and James were in literal Hell, trying to find a way to save their world. To save their loved ones.
But, on that cold winter’s day, dressed in all white, the sudden wave of pain threatened to suffocate him. Matthew realized that he would never see Christopher again. Kit, who had been a friend since before Matthew could remember. Matthew didn’t know how to live in a world where Kit wasn’t there, in constant need of supervision and protection. Memories flooded his brain, memories of Christopher collected by Matthew throughout the sixteen years they had known each other.
Matthew felt his world crashing before him. His palms began to sweat, despite the cold, as he watched the fire rise high. Suddenly, he felt his mother’s hand find his own. She held it tightly as they both watched the pyre burn.
“Come stay with us for a while, Matthew.” She whispered. “Just until you’ve had time to grieve, if you’d like. But I’m worried for you, and I want to be able to help you.”
Matthew thought of James and Thomas. He knew that if he stayed by himself in his flat, his friends would want to help and stay with him so that he could slowly stop drinking. But he didn’t think that was fair to them, especially since they were greatly suffering as well.
So Matthew nodded, leaning towards his mother, ever so slightly, as if she might protect him from the pain he felt in his heart.
Since then, Matthew was slowly remembering what it was like to let himself be loved. After telling his parents his secret, he felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Of course, he still felt guilt over what he’d done to his unborn sister; he didn’t think there would ever be a day in which he didn’t feel that pressing guilt on his conscience. But knowing that his parents still loved him, even after he’d told them what he’d done, made it easier to start forgiving himself. Moreover, getting through every day was significantly easier: he’d train with James and Thomas, spend time watching Henry work in his crypt, help him mother with daily tasks, even though she kept insisting that just because she was pregnant, it didn’t mean she was incapable of doing something as simple as going down the stairs.
“Might I remind you that I fought in the Clockwork war while I was pregnant with Charles,” Charlotte said, throwing Matthew a fond look.
“And might I remind you how he turned out.” Matthew pointed out.
Charlotte scowled, “Don’t be cruel towards your brother.”
Matthew should have known that if his mother could still love Charles, despite all of his flaws, she would have loved him, even after she found out about his secret.
Tonight, however, Matthew was not all right. He’d been laying in his bed when all of a sudden he’d begun feeling as if he were suffocating. He’d thrown open the window, breathing in the icy winter air in between gasps. He stood there until he was shivering and covered in goosebumps. Even then, he still felt destabilized. He looked around his room, dread filling his lungs. It seemed his mind wouldn’t stop replaying every horrible memory he’d ever experienced. He was drowning in the past, each image coming sharper than the last. He wanted nothing more than to drink and numb the pain. To make it fuzzy and unrecognizable so that he could tolerate it. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw tightly as if he could shut the world out if he tried hard enough. He ground his teeth together so tightly he felt his jaw crack.
Suddenly, he felt a soft tuft of hair on his fingers. Matthew opened his eyes to find Oscar, who had been laying in Matthew’s bed, beside him. As he looked at Matthew with his big round eyes, he managed to calm the boy down, just enough for Matthew to slowly make his way to the parlor.
Matthew sunk down on the couch, Oscar laying down by his feet. Matthew already felt calmer at the change of scenery, no matter how small that wave of calm was. He leaned over, letting his head hang as he rested his elbows on his knees.
You don’t need to drink, he told himself. You’re all right. You do not need to drink.
Matthew clenched his fists, feeling the bite of his nails against the sensitive skin of his palm, hoping that the pain was enough to bring him back down to earth.
Matthew clenched his fists even harder, digging his nails deeper into his palms when he heard a thumping sound—Oscar tail wagging against the wooden floor—accompanied by light footsteps sounding from the hall. Matthew looked up to find Charlotte standing by the doorway, a hand resting lightly on her lower abdomen, her face worried.
“Matthew,” She said, making her way towards him. “Are you all right?”
He heard her gasp as she put her hands over his arms. “Matthew, Matthew darling, stop.” He could hear the desperation in her voice as she begged him to stop, to unclench his fists. Matthew looked down and saw that his hands were full of blood. Slowly, he opened his fists, looking at the blood caked under his nails and at the deep grooves they left behind on his palms.
He was vaguely aware of his mother taking his head on her arms, holding him tightly as she whispered words of endearment in his ear. He knew she was crying from the slight tremors in her voice and the occasional soft droplets weight that fell on his hair, which he knew were teardrops. Charlotte pulled away slightly, holding his face in both of her hands. It was strange to see his mother with tears in her eyes; she hated crying in front of others.
“Darling, why would you do that?” She asked, her voice cracking.
Matthew shrugged, even though his eyes were full of tears. He tried to turn his face away from her so that she wouldn’t see him crying, but Charlotte only sat beside him and put a hand on his back, knowing perfectly well that something was bothering him.
“What’s the matter, darling?”
A single tear slipped away from Matthew, which was a catalyst of sorts for an entire waterfall of tears to flow. Charlotte put her soothing arms around him and he clung to them as if he were a child again, his tears came in large waves that pulled at his heart. He didn’t want to get his blood on his mother’s nightgown, so he kept his hands in front of him, his wrists on his knees.
“It’s difficult, Mama,” he said finally, “It’s so incredibly difficult to stop. All these years I’d been running away from my pain by drinking and now I have to confront them and it’s harder than I could have possibly imagined. But I know I owe it to Christopher, to Jamie and Thomas, to you and Papa to stop and—”
Charlotte pulled away, grabbing hold of Matthew’s head in between both of her hands. “Matthew, you owe it to nobody but yourself. You deserve to be loved. You can do things because you want to be healthy, not because you want to please others.” She kissed his forehead. “I wish you thought yourself deserving of happiness.”
Matthew bit his lip. “Kit also deserved happiness. And instead, he’s gone.” Matthew wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s not fair, Mama,” He said in between tears, “He didn’t deserve to die. He had so much to live for.”
“I know, darling,” She said, rubbing circles into his back, “Nobody should die so young. And no mother should have to bury her child. But if there’s one thing I will never forget about Christopher is that he was always happy.” Charlotte said to a watery smile, “It was infectious really. He reminded me a lot of your father.”
Matthew nodded, putting his head on her shoulder.
“Christopher lived a full life, Matthew. He did everything he had set out to do and, unfortunately for us, the Angel decided that that was enough, that his life’s purpose was fulfilled and that now he could rest both his mind and spirit.”
Matthew huffed a laugh, “Kit is incapable of resting his mind.”
Charlotte smiled, “His form of resting is by learning. And he’s slowly discovering the secrets of the universe, I’m sure. We can only learn so much on Earth. Imagine all that he must be learning in the afterlife.”
Matthew managed a wobbly smile. “He’s probably jumping out of his skin at some rainbow fungi he found somewhere.”
Charlotte laughed. “And in between each of his discoveries, he’s probably watching over us.”
Matthew turned to look at his mother, and smiled at her. Charlotte’s eyes softened and she pressed a long, soft kiss on his forehead.
“Stay here, darling,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
…
Charlotte rushed to get a water basin, a clean rag and a stele. She relaxed when she saw that Matthew was still in the parlor, smiling softly at a sleeping Oscar. She quickly set everything down and wet the rag. She sat down beside Matthew once more and motioned for him to give her one of his hands.
As delicately as she could, Charlotte began cleaning away the dried blood caked on his hands. Matthew winced as she dabbed as lightly as possible over his wounds from where the blood had come from.
Once she finished with his left hand, she rinsed the rag in the basin before starting on the other.
Matthew watched her placidly as she cleaned, his expression blank.
“All done,” Charlotte said, setting the rag in the basin and reaching for her stele. She drew up Matthew’s sleeve, trying not to despair over how thin he’d gone these past few weeks due to his alcohol withdrawal.
She was about to draw an iratze rune when she suddenly froze. Across Matthew’s arm there were thousands of tiny scars, many of them overlapping. She glanced up at her son in surprise. Matthew, confused, looked down at his arm, catching sight of what caused Charlotte’s reaction.
“Oh,” he said, as Charlotte ran the tips of her fingers over the new scars that trailed up Matthew’s arms. “Those are new.”
“When did this happen?” She asked, her voice coming out soft. The unasked question hung in the air between them: did you do this to yourself?
Matthew shook his head, even though Charlotte didn’t ask a yes of no question.
“I got them in Edom,” he said. “James was trying to heal me.”
Charlotte put a hand on his cheek. “From what?”
Matthew told her, each word piercing Charlotte’s heart like a million little needles.
Matthew seemed to notice this. “You don’t have to worry, Mama,” He said, “I’m getting better.”
Charlotte looked down and drew two quick but careful iratzes on his forearm. “I know, darling. But I’ll always worry, for I love you.” She finished off the iratzes and kissed Matthew’s cheek. “And because that is simply what mothers do.”
She stood and straightened her nightgown. “Now then, I think it’s high time we go to bed.” She held her hand out to Matthew and smiled at him when he took it.
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A little bit of Sophideon, because the Lightwoods have a chokehold over me <3 (NO Chot Spoilers!!)
...
“That’s quite the storm that’s brewing.” Gideon said, from where he was, under the tree.
Sophie looked up and squinted her eyes towards the horizon. Sure enough, the clouds that had been puffy white just seconds before had turned a dark, somber gray. Farther away, she could see that the sky was already misty and that the downpour was coming their way.
“We should start bringing everything inside.” She scooped up little Thomas, ignoring how she could barely feel the weight of him and brought him safely indoors. He was completely tuckered out from a day spent with his siblings and cousins and seemed perfectly content to sleep until the next morning. He rested his small head on Sophie’s shoulder in exhaustion, Sophie watching his sweet little eyelids shudder close with such delicacy that her heart expanded. Sophie would have placed him on his bed, if it weren’t for the wind rattling the windows. Instead, she gently laid him on the sofa—Making sure to surround him in cushions so that should he move, he wouldn’t fall off said sofa—and called the girls inside, shutting the door behind her once they were all safely in Lightwood manor.
“Gideon!” She called out. She began picking up blankets and toys the children had left on the grass and placing them under the extended roof for the time being, where they wouldn’t get wet.
“I’m here,” he called out to her.
She walked over to him and saw that he was looking in the distance. Once he saw her approach, he held out his hand and she went to it with a smile, wrapping her arms around one of his.
“What happened?” Sophie asked.
Gideon nodded his head towards the landscape before them. The trees were bending back, their leaves flying off, due to the strong winds. The water from one of Idris’ lakes (that could be seen from Lightwood manor) was lifting and rising in waves that crashed into one another, exploding in watery sprays.
Sophie felt the first raindrops as they gently fell on her clothes and hair. She looked up and felt them splatter on her face like freckles. Sophie liked the smell of thunderstorms the best; how you could practically smell the rain and the ozone crackling in the air.
There was something about rain that Sophie had always found lovely. Perhaps it’s cleansing factor, the way it revived the earth. How it was vital to the survival of all living things.
Sophie thought about the day she had been thrown out of her old employer's house, with an old handkerchief pressed to her slashed cheek and nothing more. How it had been raining. And even then, she didn’t resent the rain. In fact, as she sat on the filthy London streets in a water soaked dress, taking shelter under an abandoned storefront, her cheek screaming in excruciating pain as blood continued to stream heavily down her face, she looked at the rain in wonder. She watched a couple run across the streets hand-in-hand, laughing as they raced to find shelter and faerie children splashing in the puddles. And for that small moment, soaking wet from the rain, she let herself enjoy these moments—which she was sure would be her last— seeing the wonders of the world before she would fall into an eternal and uninterrupted sleep.
Only, Sophie hadn’t died that day. Instead, she was standing before the most beautiful landscape, gifted from Raziel to his warriors, alongside her husband, with their beloved child in their home behind them. Sophie wrapped her arms around Gideon’s waist and stared into the distance. Gideon pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her tight until the rain began to fall a little heavier.
Sophie pulled away, “We should probably get inside—”
Gideon kissed her, his hand softly lifting her chin up. When he pulled away, Sophie laughed a little and lifted a hand to his face. “You’re soaked, Gideon.”
“As are you,” he said, wiping raindrops from her cheek bones with his thumb.
They shared another kiss, this one significantly longer, until light flashed through their closed eyes. They sprang apart, just in time to hear thunder clapping loudly. Gideon seized hold of her hand.
“Quick Sophie, before we get struck by lightning!”
Sophie laughed, trying to lift her—now thoroughly soaked and incredibly heavy—skirts as they ran to take shelter. Gideon looked back and upon seeing Sophie struggle, swooped her up in his arms as if she were a young bride and started running again.
Sophie giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh please save me, Mr. Lightwood! I’m so very afraid of thunderstorms.”
Gideon laughed and slowed for a moment. He pressed a desperate kiss against her lips and Sophie returned it happily, threading her fingers through his soaked hair, smiling against his lips. Sophie tasted the clean Idris rainwater as droplets rolled down their faces towards where their lips met. Sophie’s hands lowered to his sharp jawline, tracing the elegant shape of it. It had grown a bit rougher since their younger days, something Sophie didn’t realize was incredibly attractive until she started to notice it on Gideon. Though, she never knew if these things were truly something she found attractive, or if she only adored it because it was a part of Gideon.
Another flash of lightning drew them apart once more which had Gideon sprinting the final distance to the roof that extended from the manor, providing them with enough protection to shield them from the rain. Gideon gently lowered Sophie to her feet, spinning her towards him as they were face to face.
There were water droplets rolling down his face and Sophie giggled, wiping at some of them, even though she was just as soaked as her husband.
Gideon took hold of her hands and brought them to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on her knuckles.
“My Sophie,” he said. “I love you more than I love anything in the entire world.”
Sophie, despite herself, blushed. Even so, she managed to ask, “Even more than scones?”
Gideon chuckled and drew her in his arms. “Yes, though I will say, it was a very close call.”
Sophie shook her head, knowing very well that Gideon wasn’t very fond of scones at all.
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