Ers- Chapter 9, coming to AO3 on Monday the 17th fo August 2026.
Hi all, I'm planning and hoping to upload chapter 9 of my Shadowhunters EmmaxJulian fic on Monday the 17th of August 2026. If you'd like to read a snippet of the story as usual, you can keep reading below the cut :)
TW/CW
Death.
Murder.
Witnessing a murder.
Death of a family memeber.
Talk/mention of family seperation.
Survivors Guilt.
Grief/mourning.
Parentification.
Mentions of abelisim - specifically towards mentally ill folk and autistic folks.
Mention of the death of parents.
“I should’ve done more to protect Uncle Arthur, I should’ve known when he didn’t come through the portal after us…” Julian trails off, squeezing his eyes shut as he now starts to realise why his uncle pushed him through the portal, and thanked him just before he did. Arthur had been planning on sacrificing himself for his family from the minute Malcolm showed up at the L.A. Institute with his demon army.
“How could you have known?” Emma challenges. “It’s not like Arthur let his plans be known, and that’s because he knew if you knew, you would try and stop him.”
“Of course I would! He was family, even if I hated him sometimes for not being who I wanted him to be, I didn’t really hate him! I hated having to hide his illness, having to be the one doing everything! You know I love the kids more than anything, that I don’t blame them for the fact I had to be their father in every sense of the word but… I wanted to just be their brother. And I couldn’t, because of Arthur… “God, Em there were so many times where I wished he just wasn’t a problem I had to deal with, I never meant I wanted him to die but…” Julian again trails off, tears now freely flowing down his face, all his pent up emotions seeming to flow out of him at that moment.
“But nothing, Julian.” Emma puts an arm around his shoulders, and her free hand on his cheek, wiping at the tears that continue to fall. “You were put in an impossible situation, of course you resented not getting to be a kid, anyone would. It wasn’t your fault and it wasn't Arthur’s fault, it’s the Clave’s fault. For sending Helen away, for being so hostile towards ill people like Arthur, so much of this mess is their fault.
“You wishing that you didn’t have to take care of Arthur as well as the kids, doesn’t say or mean anything about you. Except for the fact that you were a kid who the Clave failed in so many ways over and over again. You and Arthur were both victims of the Clave’s inadequacy. They’re the real villains here Jules, them and Malcolm. Not you, not Arthur.”
Emma can now feel tears of her own forming in her eyes, tears of grief for the man she thought Malcolm was, for Arthur and his selfless sacrifice, and tears of pain for Julian who’s been through so much, too much. Who has also had to make selfless sacrifices for his family, and who feels like he’s being eaten alive by guilt for having entirely normal reactions to the horrible situations he’s been put in.
“What are we going to do now?” Julian asks in a tight tone. “Once the Clave finds out Arthur is dead… they’ll assign someone else to head up the Institute, and then they’ll split us all up. You and I will be sent on our travel year early, Mark will probably be sent back to the Wild Hunt, Dru will either be sent to the Academy or passed around foster family to foster family, Tavvy is still young enough for them to have him adopted… and Livvy and Ty… we’ll be lucky if Ty is sent to the Academy with Livvy.
“But he wouldn’t cope there Em, it’s too loud and bright and he’ll hate the food, not to mention that nobody there will understand him…” Julian truly sounds like he’s on the verge of panic right now, his words flowing with hardly a breath in between, his breath hitching and catching in his throat.
Emma really really hates the Clave at this moment. More than she ever has before. But she’ll be damned if they split up the family.
“No.” Emma shakes her head determinedly. “No they don’t get to just do that, to just rip this family apart. They’re not taking anyone. You and Mark and the kids have ties here to London, it’s where your dad lived and grew up, and Arthur. And it’s not uncommon for Institutes and their heads to take in kids as wards.
"When Jem’s parents were killed when he was a kid, he was sent here to the London Institutue as a ward, because London is where his dad grew up. There was another ward of the Institute that had no relations here but was sent here after her parents died too, Jessamine. Neither she nor Jem were related to the people who led the Institute at the time, Charlotte and Henry Fairchild, but the Clave still sent them here, let them stay here.
“So why should they split us up, when we have connections here too? Like I said, you and the kids and Mark have connections to London, and you and I can’t be separated because we’re parabatai.
“If the Clave tries to split us all up, we fight, Julian. We tell them we’re not going to be separated and there’s no reason we can’t stay in London, or hell why we can’t go back to L.A. even if the person in charge of the Institute isn’t a Blackthorn or related to any of us at all!”
Emma didn’t mean to give an impassioned, impromptu speech, but she is just so full of hatred and anger and frustration for and with the Clave, she can’t help herself. They should be prioritizing preserving families, keeping siblings together, not separating them out all over the globe, severing the youngest’s ties to their family forever.
Hell, if the London Institute took Tessa in all those years ago, even though she’s not a Shadowhunter so technically they didn’t have to (Though Emma is very glad they did, because she adores Tessa and is so glad to have her as part of the family), then there’s no reason why Emma, Jules and the rest of the Blackthorns can’t remain in London, together, or better yet go back home to L.A.
“And you think that’ll work? The Clave will listen to two teenagers?” Julian asks in a somewhat bitter and jaded tone, wishing he had Emma’s optimism and hope right now.
“They might, I mean, the Consul is literally Helen’s mother-in-law, and the Inquisitor is our friends’ dad. If they won’t listen to you and I, I’m sure they at the very least will listen to Jace and Clary, maybe even Helen and Aline. Hell, I could even ask Jem and Tessa to support us and speak to the Clave on our behalf. If they’re not gonna listen to a former Silent Brother and someone who raised some of the best Shadowhunters history has ever seen, then who are they gonna listen to?” Emma proposes, ideas flooding her mind all of a sudden, as she takes a second to think about all the people they actually have in their corner.
Not only do they have Helen and Aline, the daughter and daughter-in-law of the Consul, and Jace and Clary, the son and future-daughter-in-law of the Inquistor, they also have Magnus, the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the warlock representative of the Council, Alec who is also the Inquistor’s son, Hell, even Diego might speak up for them, there’s every reason to believe they have a Centurion in their corner too.
And of course – like Emma said – they have Jem and Tessa onside too. For all the loss Emma and Julian have been through in their short lives, they still have an incredible amount of support and people to back them up and support them.
“Tessa and Jem would do that? For us?” Julian asks with hesitancy, not knowing Jem and Tessa as well as Emma does, not knowing just how deeply and thoroughly the two of them adore and love Emma, and even the Blackthorns too. For while they may not know the Blackthorns as personally as they know Emma, both Tessa and Jem have been keeping an eye on the generations of Blackthorns, from a distance, for hundreds of years now.
“They would.” Emma nods. “Just like us, they’ll do anything for their family.”
“I don’t know, Em…” Julian trails off, still not entirely convinced that this is the way to go. It could end so badly, it could culminate in his biggest fear…
“It’s at least worth a try, isn’t it? Or at least worth talking about it with people who can help us.” Emma says, trying to cajole Julian into agreeing to this, because it’s about the only plan and solution out there.
“I guess.” Julian quietly agrees with a sniff, his eyes moving to Emma’s hand that is still cupping his cheek, wiping at his tears.
Ever so softly Julian reaches out and lifts Emma’s hand off his cheek, pressing a kiss to her palm and then the back of her hand, sending that warm, tingling sensation spreading all through Emma’s body, making her ache and yearn for Julian even more.
“Julian…” Emma quietly protests, wishing yet again that this could be as sweet and innocent as it would be between any other couple. A simple kiss to the palm shouldn’t leave her weak in the legs but terrified of what the parabatai curse will do if they let it advance, even with small gestures like these.
“I love you.” Julian whispers, his eyes locked on Emma, her hand still in his.
Those words make Emma’s heart sink, and an icy cold fist of dread grips her. After all she’s done to make him fall out of love with her… all she’s done to try and shield and protect him… the only things left that she can think of that would make him not love her anymore, are things that she fears would push Julian over the edge, and hurt him in an irreparable way, damage him forever.
“Julian…” Emma again tries to protest, her tone filled with remorse and sadness.
“I always have.” Julian continues as if she never spoke. “And I always will, Emma. Nothing on this earth can make me stop loving you, nothing. You’re the mother of my child, we’re going to have a baby in a few months, Emma. If the parabatai bond didn’t bind us together forever, then this baby definitely does.” Julian lays his warm hand over Emma’s belly as he speaks, his lips twitching up into a smile when he feels a soft thud against his palm.
“She always gets so excited when she hears your voice.” Emma laughs lightly, rubbing her hand across her bump, unable to bring herself to push Julian’s hand away. She’s been so hesitant and reluctant to let him feel the baby kicking and moving, because she knows that every time they make physical contact, there is always a spark and surge of energy and power between them, reminding her of what’s at stake here.
Through all these months she’s only really ever let Cristina and the kids feel the baby kick and move. Tavvy has taken to embracing Emma and resting his head on her bump, talking quietly to the baby and promising to be the best uncle in the world, melting Emma’s heart every single time.
Cristina has already bought some of the most adorable baby clothes Emma has ever seen, helping Emma pick one out to designate as the baby’s first outfit, promising to be there with Emma during her labor and the birth like Emma asked, and already in fierce competition with Livvy, Dru and Helen and Aline over who the baby’s favorite and coolest and most fun aunty will be.
She’s let everyone else she loves and is close with be involved and a part of her pregnancy, to whatever degree they feel comfortable with. But she’s had to be more cautious and restrictive with Julian.
Only occasionally allowing him to feel the baby kick, only briefly able to discuss things like baby names with him, before the unfairness of their situation hits her hard, and she has to go cry in the bathroom, hating that she and Julian can’t be a regular, ordinary couple. Regular, ordinary, excited first time parents.
“She, huh?” Julian’s voice brings Emma back to the present moment, and her heart warms when she looks down to see him grinning at her, his hand still resting on her bump. “So you think we’re having a girl?”
“Definitley.” Emma grins, unable to hold back her own excitement, again feeling that warm, fuzzy feeling inside as she thinks about the first time she’ll get to hold her baby, get to see her, this little girl she’s been carrying and picturing for the last 7 months. The newest member of their family.
“Livvy will be thrilled if you’re right.” Julian laughs lightly, knowing how excited and eager his little sister is to be an aunty, to get to spoil this baby and dress them up in the cutest outfit available, to take her out for aunty-niece days when she’s older, do all the cool old sister/aunty things with her, that Emma has done with Livvy as she’s grown up.
“By the Angel, between Livvy, Cristina and Magnus this baby is gonna be a total fashionista before she can even walk or talk.” Emma remarks lightly, laughing at the mental image of a little girl with her dark, chocolate brown Blackthorn-colored-hair perfectly curled or tied up in one of those little sprout pointy tails that are adorable on babies, sunglasses shading her Blackthorn blue-green eyes, dressed to the nines in the most fashionable baby wear out there, held proudly on her aunty Livvy’s hip, twinning with her and smiling for the camera.
Julian doubtlessly will take countless photos of their little girl, both as cherished memories and references for him to paint from, since there’s no way this baby in particular is gonna sit still for any amount of time, not when she’s got Emma for a mom, the young woman who is pretty much constantly active and on the go.
“And when she does eventually learn to talk she’s gonna sound like she’s from the 1800s, because of Mark.” Julian adds in with a laugh, his heart swelling with love at the mental image of Mark holding his niece in front of him, talking to her in that formal and poetic Faerie way he sometimes still speaks in, ensuring that her first word will be something like ‘Forsooth’.
Emma laughs lightly, and leans her forehead against Julian’s for a moment, just basking in the love she feels for him and this baby, even if she knows she shouldn’t love him like this, even if she knows she can’t let him know she still does. Sometimes she just needs a minute to pretend everything is ok.
Then she feels Julian lean in, closing the small gap between them, reaching to kiss her. And though she hates to do it, Emma pushes herself away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to Jules.
“Emma?” Julian questions, the hurt evident in his tone.
“I better go check that Mark and Kieran aren’t letting the kids go nuts downstairs.” Emma quickly comes up with an excuse to leave. “See you later.”
Emma then hurries out of the room, heading not downstairs to the kitchen, but to the bathroom attached to her bedroom, where she proceeds to lock the door, and cry.
