Archive of Our Own

The thing about Stephen’s death is that Céline has been prepared for it. From the moment he sat her down and told her about Theresa Gray, from the moment they agreed to step away from the Circle, she’s lived each day with the knowledge that he may not come back. She got used to it; the idea that Stephen is more likely to die to their friends than their enemies.

But the thing about living in fear like that is that it’s all-consuming. Every action, every word, every glance has to be examined, mulled over and evaluated. And when the source of such fear are one’s closest friends and there is nowhere to turn, one starts to lose sight of what is in front of them. The possibility of Valentine finding out was slim, yet they couldn’t even imagine a reality where he wouldn’t.

Céline has, with no small dread, imagined it. Perhaps Valentine would come to them, pretending to be a friend until the last moment. Perhaps Stephen would be caught outside and Céline wouldn’t even know until she died. The possibilities were endless, each scenario more terrifying and gruesome than the last. Maybe it wouldn’t even be Valentine, maybe he’d send someone else to do the dirty work. Blackwell would be so willing, or Pangborn perhaps. Or maybe one of the others, Maryse or even Michael. Hodge.

In the end, it’s none of them. It blindsides Céline completely. She was so sure, so convinced that the Circle would be their undoing she’d not even considered anything else. When Stephen told her about the planned raid, one sanctioned and ordered by the Clave, she barely told him to be careful. It would be just him, Robert and some other Clave members with no ties to the Circle against maybe a dozen rogue vampires. It was nothing to worry about.

It’s not Imogen who tells her about Stephen’s death. She doesn’t send a messenger from Alicante the moment she finds out. She sends one to Marcus, Céline knows, but not a word to Céline. Not even a fire message.

It’s not Marcus who tells her either. Not a Clave official bearing the grim news or even whoever the leader of that raid was. Officially, Céline Herondale doesn’t learn of her husband’s death until the next day. Unofficially, Robert Lightwood turns up on her doorstep still in his fighting gear, his hands and face stained with blood and angelic power thrumming through every rune and muscle on his body. Between that, his body shaking like a leaf and his eyes wide and not fully comprehending yet, he doesn’t need to say anything. He does anyway.

Robert has always been such a strong man, it’s not natural for his voice to crack over the name of Céline’s husband. He explains, haltingly, between sips of cold water, that the Clave has been wrong. There weren’t a dozen vampires waiting for them. There were nearly fifty. Only three Shadowhunters made it out alive, Robert among them. Céline doesn’t care about the others.

“I’m sorry,” Robert tells her as he leaves and it unlocks something in Céline. Something she shoved in a box and tried to ignore for weeks, knowing she would have to give it up soon. But with Stephen gone in a way they haven’t foreseen it’s as if the weeks of fear fall away on their own.

Stephen, in an astounding lack of better judgement, had told Robert about Theresa Gray. By all accounts, it should’ve seen him dead. Yet Robert has done nothing with that information; kept it a secret from everyone who might hold it against Stephen and even those who might not. He has likely realized why Stephen and Céline began pulling away, avoiding him and the others, and still spoke to them as if nothing changed.

A few hours later, with still no word from Imogen, the Clave or anyone in the Clave who tried, oh so hard to pretend to be friends, Céline realizes that there will be no help for her sudden shift in alliances. None of those people were there for her, or even really for Stephen. They were there for the Herondale name; political vultures that they are. She might have been able to pull out with Stephen, might have made it work with Stephen beside her . 

With Stephen gone, if she pulls out – and she realizes with startling clarity that Valentine might let her – she’d be left completely alone.

Ironically, it falls to Céline to inform Amtais of Stephen’s death. She doesn’t particularly want to but there is no one else. Imogen and Marcus make it quite clear that they have no interest in Amatis and there is no longer any reason for the Clave to inform her. Amatis hasn’t been close to the Circle these past few years, only really keeping contact with Eliza and Jocelyn. But Eliza is dead now and Jocelyn has been far too busy with Angel-knows-what to visit her friend. And Michael, the only other person whom Céline would trust to deliver the news tactfully, is still grieving his wife and trying to figure out how to care for a small child on his own.

Céline might need his help in that department, eventually.

At two in the afternoon, Amatis opens the door in her pyjamas. Her make-up from the last night is smudged on her face. Céline relates to the sentiment and wonders if someone has told her already. But no. When Céline asks to come in, Amatis lets her with visible confusion. And when Céline breaks the news to her, as gently as she possibly can, Amatis crumbles .

Céline hesitates between the door but in the end, Amatis probably doesn’t want her to witness her grieving right now. They are both more than aware of where each of them stands in regards to Stephen and Céline won’t be the one to break their tentative truce. She leaves before Amatis can ask her to.

Stephen is burned with everyone else from that accursed raid. It’s a disgrace and an insult to the Herondale family. Imogen quietly seethes as the families of the other sorry bastards crowd the room that should’ve been only for her and Marcus. And that French girl Stephen married.

She’s across the room, hovering over Stephen’s body as if it could bring him back. She’s wearing a loose white dress that completely covers her pregnancy and a white coat with black accents. Disgraceful.

Marcus is crying. Imogen purses her lips and pats his arm shortly. Even the girl is managing to hold herself together, how can Marcus not handle it? The silent brothers enter the room. One of them pauses beside the girl and she turns her head as if listening. Imogen pushes down a wave of annoyance. If there is anything to be said about Stephen, it should be to her, not the girl.

The ceremony is about to begin and Imogen catches the girl’s eye across the room. She gestures sharply for her to join them. For some reason, Stephen divorced his first wife – the Graymark – for her. The least she can do is do her duty and stand with the family she married. It’s not like she has anyone else to stand by her side, any maiden family to return to. The Montclaires were disgraced almost two years ago and now they’re dead. This one is the last of that name and even she doesn’t bear it any longer.

The girl was apparently raised in a fucking barn because she doesn’t join Imogen and Marcus. Imogen closes her eyes and counts to five. Surely she doesn’t think she’ll be allowed to hover among the dead while their bodies burn. Imogen opens her eyes and takes two resolute steps forward, intent on dragging the girl with her by her hair if she has to. She doesn’t make it to the dais where the bodies are before the girl is stepping off it, wandering off in a different direction.

Imogen takes a deep breath to calm herself and takes another step before Marcus’ fingers are closing firmly around her arm, holding her back. “Don’t start a scene,” he whispers to her and Imogen scoffs. As if the girl had enough spine to cause a scene. Imogen is convinced if someone tried to stab her in this very room she’d apologize for being in such a public place. She moves to free herself but inexplicably, Marcus stands his ground. She glovers but to no effect. Marcus’ wet eyes are fixed on the girl.

Imogen glances her way with a scowl. She’s come to a stop near the other end of the dais and seems to be speaking with someone—

Imogen sees red. Her vision tunnels, blood rushing in her ears and the only thing holding her back is Marcus’ hand on hers and the social repercussions of starting a scene during a funeral.

At the other end of the room, by the dais, the Montclaire girl has joined Amatis Graymark. Stephen’s first wife. Imogen doesn’t know how she even knows Stephen is dead, let alone when the funeral is, but she wants her gone . She doesn’t care if the girl still loves Stephen or if she grieves, it’s not appropriate for her to be there. It’s certainly not appropriate for Montclaire to stand with her!

Marcus’ grip on her arm falls slack and he draws in a sharp breath. It only takes a second for Imogen to notice and understand. She grinds her teeth so hard it must be audible.

Another group of people has appeared, seemingly out of thin air, by the two brats Imogen’s boy chose to throw his life away for. Imogen feels her lips curl with loathing at the sight of the so-called Circle. What Stephen ever saw in the self-righteous brats and their repellent cause she’ll never understand but they have no right showing up to his funeral!

She has no idea if it’s all of them or just some but she’s paid enough attention to the company Stephen kept to know who the ones with enough nerve to show up are. Wayland is there, with his brat, standing between Montclaire and Graymark. That Starkweather boy is right beside them. The two Morgensterns are there too, looking appropriately sombre. Valentine is holding their brat while his wife looks like she’s about to fall over and join the dead. Imogen kind of wishes she would.

The worst offence, however, is Robert Lightwood leaving his wife and child with the others to lay flowers among the other bouquets scattered around the dais as if he has any right to be there, let alone pretend to mourn. It should’ve been him. He’s the one who should’ve died, not Stephen. No one wants Robert Lightwood around; there’s always been something wrong with him, even as a child. His parents should’ve just cut the Rune when he rejected it and get rid of him. Maybe if they had, Stephen would still be alive.

“Get out,” Imogen hisses, not even realizing she’s made it across the room until she’s standing face to face with the Circle. They are all looking at her with a mixture of distaste and pity, fuelling the hatred burning in the pit of her stomach. “All of you get out .”

Valentine Morgenstern scowls at her and takes a step forward. “Stephen was one of us. We’re staying.”

“He’s my son and I want you gone .”

“He’s my cousin and I’m not going anywhere,” Robert Lightwood retorts in the same tone. Imogen’s hand spasms but Marcus holds her back before she can punch a teenager in the face. Some part of her brain reminds her that Robert’s probably out of his teenage years but a larger part wants to see him laid out in Stephen’s place and Stephen back at home, alive and not caring about his piece of shit cousin.

“I am his mother,” Imogen says, aware that their spat is attracting too much attention. She can feel the judgemental eyes on her and feels rage raise up in her chest. They’re judging her when it’s these brats who are encroaching!

“I am his mother,” she repeats, “and I don’t want you here.”

Morgenstern and Lightwood both glower and open their mouth at once but the Montclaire girl beats them to it. “Well, I am Stephen’s wife,” she says in a much more even voice than Imogen is managing, “and I invited them. This is not a private affair, Imogen.”

She’s correct, unfortunately. Imogen has pushed for Stephen to be burned separately, as he deserves, but she’s been shot down and opposed at every turn. Now she sees why. These… people would never be able to force their way into a private funeral so they pulled at enough strings to block it.

“Let’s go,” Marcus whispers to her and tugs on her arm. “The brothers are about to begin.”

Imogen sends one last hate-filled glare at the Circle, especially Robert Lightwood and the Morgensterns before she allows herself to be taken away, back to their original place. If that Montclaire girl ever asks for anything, Imogen’s going to deny it. She’s sealed her fate. And the moment that child of hers is born, Imogen’s going to see her assigned somewhere very far away from Idris. Without the child, of course.

The next few days are hell. Everyone wants to give their condolences to Céline, everyone wants to ask how she’s doing, how the pregnancy is going, if she’s okay, whether the child is going to be okay,... She’s going to punch the next person who asks if there’s anything they can do. There isn’t. Short of necromancy to bring Stephen back or murder to get rid of his mother, there’s nothing anyone can do.

 By the time Imogen and Marcus finally leave the house for the weekend, Céline is contemplating moving in with Amatis. Valentine would probably have opinions on that but even he has been remarkably subdued since Robert told him what happened. And Amatis had offered, after the funeral. She probably saw Imogen’s behaviour coming. Céline should’ve too.

Still, Imogen and Marcus are gone and finally, Céline can breathe in her own house. Except it’s not. There is nothing in Idris that is hers. Everything belonged to Stephen and she has no illusions that Imogen will give it up. Not for Céline. She might for the child. A child Céline hopes will be a boy, for their own sake. She doesn’t think Imogen would take a girl well. A girl can’t carry on the Herondale name.

If Imogen knew what Céline plans for the weekend, that she’s invited the highest ranking Circle members into her home, she’d be a dead girl walking. But Céline is done being afraid. She’s not entirely sure she’s safe and she has no idea which way to look for threats anymore but if something is to happen to her, she’s going to make sure her child has people who will look out for them. And if those people have to be murderers who happened to have taken a liking to her and Stephen, then so be it.

Hodge, of all people, is the first to arrive, fifteen minutes early. He brings a bottle of her favourite wine – hers, not Stephen’s – and asks if she wants him to poison Imogen’s preferred drinks. It takes way too much self-restraint to refuse because Hodge would. Then he asks if she’d like to at least hear about what the poisonous plant would do to Imogen. Céline agrees to that because imagining things never hurt anyone.

They are deep in the discussion on which plant would cause Imogen the most painful death while also being hard to trace when someone knocks on the door. It’s Michael, right on time. Little Jonathan is with him, something Michael tries to apologise for before Céline can shush him. She doesn’t mind. Jonathan is adorable and still a baby and she isn’t going to make Michael leave him home alone.

Somehow, despite there being three children in the Circle now, Hodge still has no idea how to handle them. Michael takes great pleasure in teasing him while Céline rushes to open the door again.

Maryse’s and Robert’s hands are full of takeout meals. Maryse winks at her and sets about making space on the table for them. Alexander hides behind Robert’s legs until the sound of a baby draws him out. Céline holds Robert back before he can join the others in the drawing room.

“Thank you,” she tells him very quietly. His forehead creases in confusion and he glances at the food they’ve brought.

“Trust me, no one feels like cooking these days.”

“Not the food.” Céline snorts despite the gravity of the can of worms she’s about to open. Robert’s eyebrows furrow. “Stephen,” Céline says simply. “He said he told you.”

Robert’s expression lights up with realization before dawning with something akin to fear. He glances around, validating Céline’s paranoia.

“Never speak of that again,” he whispers glancing down at her growing belly pointedly. Céline grimaces and nods. Robert moves past her but pauses when he draws level with her. “...but…it’s no problem.”

He leaves her standing in the hall, giving her space to wonder how that can possibly be true. How it can be so simple to Robert – to simply not speak of it; keep a secret seemingly without a second thought.

The next to arrive is Jocelyn with Valentine. And Jonathan. Jocelyn is too pale and drawn to be alright and Céline doesn’t think it’s only Stephen’s death that did it. Lucian, more than likely. Valentine, too, looks like he’s been chewed and spat out by a demon. Jonathan squirms in his arms, trying to take after Alexander the moment he lays his eyes on him. Valentine lets him. They exchange a few words; a brief hug with Jocelyn before she goes after Michael. Jocelyn never particularly liked her but that’s alright. Céline prefers Maryse anyway. Amatis and Eliza too, when that was still an option.

“I brought you something,” Valentine says quietly, producing a paper box from somewhere. A sharp smell of Nutella crêpes hits Céline’s nose the moment she peers inside. She knows the box and the crêpes and most importantly, she knows the little paper ad tucked into the box.

“You went to Paris?” she asks, taking the box from him to make sure she’s seeing right. He doesn’t say anything; it’s rather clear that he did anyhow.

It’s such a strange thing to hold a box of crêpes made in the Paris Shadow Market. Valentine must have portaled there to get them for her. She didn’t even think he remembered she likes them. She certainly didn’t think he cared enough to portal to Paris to get crêpes prepared by werewolves. They’re not exactly cheap either and there have got to be at least two dozen of them in the box.

“They won’t go cold,” he says, uncharacteristically awkward. He shrugs a shoulder when she gapes at him. Did he… get them spelled? “Well, they’re not supposed to, at any rate.”

Céline places the box on the nearest available flat surface and wraps her arms around Valentine. He hesitates for a split second before returning the hug. Céline whispers a thank you into his shoulder and tries hard not to cry.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway and Céline feels Valentine stiffen. She pulls away to look at the visitor, already knowing who she’d see. There’s only one other person she invited.

“Amatis, welcome,” she says. Amatis smiles at her briefly before going back to staring at Valentine, her face unreadable. Valentine twitches and scratches his neck, glancing over his shoulder. There’s no one to rescue him from the situation.

“Yes, Amatis, hello,” he tries and shoots a look that seems a little like panic to Céline. It’d be funny if she wasn’t so worried they’ll start fighting. 

“I’m…” Valentine starts before abandoning wherever that line of thinking was going. He sighs and for the briefest of moments, Céline sees something like regret flutter over his face. “Do come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Amatis hums at that and finally enters, the door swinging shut after her with a final slam. For a second, the awkwardness is overwhelming and Céline asks herself what she was thinking when she invited Amatis. Then Valentine takes over, clearly as desperate to get out of there as Céline.

“We should join the others, hm? They should be in the...”

“The drawing room,” Céline finishes. She grabs the box of crêpes because she may as well share them. She’s sure Alexander will love them – and his parents will hate her for introducing something so messy to a toddler. “This way.”

The evening goes as well as possible, given that Stephen is dead. And that they’ve not yet stopped grieving Lucian. Céline, for all that she’s invited them and it’s her home, takes a backseat after the first two rounds of wine and observes.

It’s a little funny how Valentine’s Jonathan and Alexander have yet to move away from Michael’s boy. Only Jocelyn keeps looking like she wants to drag her son away despite getting along quite well with Michael. Céline has no idea what to think but neither does Michael when she brings it up. Valentine doesn’t look confused when Jocelyn twitches every time Jonathan approaches either of the other boys. He just looks sad.

Between the two of them, it’s always him who interacts with Jonathan; who helps him eat the crêpe and clean up afterwards. Almost as if Jocelyn doesn’t much care for her son. Céline doesn’t have much experience in the maternal love department but she’s been watching Maryse. Maryse doesn’t shy away from Alexander and neither does Robert.

Whom Robert does shy away from is his parabatai. Michael has made it quite clear that he won’t speak of what happened and Céline’s not quite brave enough to ask Robert but it’s clear that whatever is between them, it’s bad. She thinks, as she watches them be in the same room for the first time in months , that it must be Robert who’s… angry, perhaps? Or hurt? Whatever it is, he’s the one pulling away and whatever Michael has done, he doesn’t seem like he knows how to fix it.

Valentine, perhaps, also knows what’s going on. In meetings, he always looks between them with this odd tilt of his lips that Céline can never place. Now though, he’s only looking at them with a pinched mixture of discomfort and unease.

Amatis just cries. They alternate who sits with her, even Hodge tries though all he does is sit next to her in silence and pat her arm awkwardly. It’s still better than Céline because all she does on her turn is join Amatis in crying. Valentine is the only one who doesn’t take a turn but that’s probably for the best. Céline does not need to see him dead and the way Amatis is clutching a butter knife and refusing to let go, she might stab him on reflex.

They put the boys in one of the beds upstairs later. The Morgensterns, of all people, resolve not to drink anymore, in case something happens. It leaves the rest of the Circle free to drink and cry. Hodge is the only one who manages not to shed any tears at all. It’s not because he didn’t like Stephen. Céline thinks he simply might not know how to cry. Or perhaps he simply has no tears left. The stories of his childhood are as horrific as hers, maybe even more so.

Céline wishes it would always be like this. Just them, together, happy or sad, always having each other. But it’s not. In fact, it’s almost never like this anymore. Robert and Michael only speak to each other because they’re drunk and grieving, Amatis never talks to them anymore and Céline has been too scared to spend any time with anyone. Something is going on with Jocelyn and Hodge has always been a loner. Maryse, at least, shares Céline’s sentiment.

It almost feels like Lucian and Stephen were the glue that held them together and now that they’re gone, the others are drifting. It should be Valentine, and to a degree it is , but Valentine has been acting stranger than all of them put together. These few weeks after Stephen’s death, this very night, is the most normal he’s been in months . It’s like Stephen’s death flipped some kind of switch and Céline dreads the day it will switch back.

The thing is, Céline is good at reading people and right now, Valentine reads the same as when she first met him. A little distant and exhausted but ultimately kind . He reads like he cares: about Stephen, about the boys, about Céline. About all of them. And while Valentine’s hands may be bathed in more blood than nearly anyone else’s in the Circle, she knows that right now, Valentine cares as he did at the start.

Right now, if she were to tell him about Stephen, he might accept it. Not be happy about it, certainly, but he’d not throw a fit. Not kill her or her child.

She doesn’t tell him. They’re all raw and at least a little drunk and grieving and it just isn’t safe. It will never be safe because while Valentine might care now , she’s also seen him not care. He might think he’s subtle but she can read people and in many ways, Valentine is not much different from her parents. She’s seen the utter lack of concern when Michael came back injured or when Maryse had troubles during her pregnancy. She’s seen the hate he was capable of directing at Lucian; his own parabatai. He didn’t care when he forced Stephen to divorce Amatis – not about how much it hurt either of them.

Céline has no idea what is wrong with Valentine Morgenstern, where that kindness and care goes, but sometimes it’s just not there. And ‘sometimes’ is becoming more and more often. It terrifies her that one day it might go and not come back.