This is my first attempt of a mortal instruments fanfic. SPOILERS for a majority of the books.
The amazing cover image was drawn by my friend Laura, (its Isabelle) So thanks Laura and her tumblr is: .dot
The cold November day didn't seem fitting. It wasn't pouring rain, to match his mood. Instead the clouds hung low over the city as if protecting it from the harsh world above and those who rule over it.
The chill wind ruffles the trees and scattered the once green and now golden autumn leaves, clearing the footpaths as a ruggedly handsome man prowled the streets of New York.
Hands deep in his pockets he looked like an ordinary teen. Maybe sixteen, eighteen years old, but his deep brown eyes held stories of a lifetime of pain, mingled with happiness and were far older than his supposed age.
He reached the iron wrought back gate of the graveyard. No one used it which was exactly why he did. He smiled slightly, tracing his fingers over the skull inscribed on the gate along with the words he was now familiar with:
"Facilis descensus Averno"
Making his way through the headstones with practiced ease he allowed himself to let go, his carefully stoic face slipped if only for a moment but that moment was enough for the pain to stab him.
This was the only day he let himself go. Tears were useless especially in this world. And besides she wouldn't want him to cry. She wouldn't cry. Not if their positions were reversed. No she was far stronger than him.
He finally reached her headstone. It was simple of course. Her remains, her ashes guarded the silent city from demons even death. The headstone was so he could visit. There was only some jewellery and other sentimental things buried here.
Simon's slender and pale fingers reached out and hovered over the inscription.
" Isabelle Lightwood
Loving mother, friend, sister and wife
Brave in life and death"
She had stubbornly refused to change her surname after he married her and strangely, he didn't mind.
He closed his eyes. He always felt dead today. He had felt dead since she died. He supposed he had been dead ever since that night in the grave yard so many years before, but she made him feel alive. Now, without her he was a crimson, gold leaf flying with the autumn winds, lost with no way to be found.
In a sense he should have seen it coming. She would kill him but she made him feel alive. He let himself fall, but was it not better to have once loved and enjoyed and cherished every damn second, then to have never let yourself love?
The grief was hard. It was like being constantly hit with a blow to the chest and trying to stand up, but being hit down again and again. They say the grief fades over time but whoever said that must not have lost someone that dear to them, or maybe it was just how much he loved Isabelle. They said to let her go, but he wasn't holding her, she was like a dandelion that had gone to seed and now she had broken into pieces, scattered to the winds and escaping his grasp.
The quote from the gate ran through his mind
"Facilis descensus Averno"
Easy is the descent to hell. Virgil had it right, the fall was the easy part and it was the climb afterwards that was hard. As far as he was concerned, it was the climb that showed how strong you were. Anyone could fall. But not everyone could climb the mountain in their bare feet, only the mountain was made of shards of glass.
A thousand images flashed before his eyes. Her laughing with him, that first night at the institute, he had thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. The battle in Alicante, when they had won but all he could think of was that Isabelle was not there. Her face when he had summoned Raziel , he really didn't think she had cared.
It had taken him awhile to get why she didn't give her heart away. Simon didn't exactly wear his heart on his sleeve but she was stoic.
She hadn't been brought up with people who showed that they cared for her. He had. He didn't feel like he couldn't tell anyone his feelings. Not Isabelle. She was taught to lock her feelings away in a bulletproof box and never reveal them.
It wasn't her fault her parents hadn't really been there for her. They loved her but they didn't show it very well. Such was the life of many shadow hunters.
In a way it was a good thing Simon was turned into a vampire, as a human he belonged in the bright, innocent world above not her dark world of shadows. They were a striking pair. He, very white from his mundane life, taught not to hurt, to follow the rules which were clear, and there were no exceptions to killing. She was dark and full of shadows. Eyes the colour of obsidian which reminded him of burning coals, comforting and warm rather than cold and cruel as others perceived and hair a vortex of indigo, violet and black, she was taught to be ruthless, to kill. Murder was not the same as killing and there were exceptions to every rule. In her world, nothing was black and white, straitlaced and simple. Everything could be reversed, right could be wrong and you controlled next to nothing.
He should remember the ruthless girl who toyed with many boys heart including his own, the girl who killed but all he remembers is her laughing and the snarky remarks that made her Isabelle.
The real Isabelle. No the one the Clave remembers, the one who helped save the shadowhunter world. Not Isabelle. Isabelle is the girl who acted like she couldn't care when she really could, the fierce wild girl who couldn't cook to save her life, which killed demons and was remarkably rude before you got to know her. Isabelle who could fight through hell and back again. The Isabelle he fell in love with. The Isabelle he danced with at their completely unorthodox wedding. It was a somewhat Jewish-Shadowhunter wedding, the marks preformed had to be allowed by the clave who were not exactly pleased about the prospect of a vampire and a Nephilim marrying. Simon had suggested just drawing the runes on using sharpies but Isabelle vetoed that idea with a death glare aimed at Simon.
The gravestone suddenly seemed to loom over Simon, mocking him as he fell to the ground, on his knees, sobbing. Today he would cry. He had held the mask for too long. Now was the time he unveiled himself like a masked figure in an old Venetian masquerade ball, the mask left and everyone could see him for who he was.
She died sixty years ago today. It had been quick and sudden and not all what he had expected. She had only been forty five.
The day she died was forever imprinted in his mind, like one of Isabelle's permanent runes. He had been walking home from a coffee shop in which he had met Rebecca when he had gotten a frantic call from Clary telling him Isabelle had been attacked by a demon and she wasn't going to last much longer. Nothing, not an iratze nor a Silent Brother or even Magnus could help her now.
And so she had said goodbye to her children and family and friends as they waited outside while Simon held her hand as she left.
He remembered her worrying over how she looked like she was his mother and him saying he didn't care and he honestly didn't and neither should she. When had either of them cared what others thought? They had practically made history by going against the clave and getting Clary to mark them in a Jewish synagogue with Jewish readings and vows and Isabelle in gold. One of the reasons she went out with him in the first place was so she could annoy her parents and besides their friends and family knew the truth. Others didn't matter. As their teenage daughter had once quipped "Haters gonna Hate". Simon had just laughed at that but Isabelle had never understood mundane quotes.
He could remember every moment they had the years, the fights and the make ups yet they seemed to join together as if he was watching a movie about them.
Now he sits in the cemetery everyday once a year every year without fail.
She asked him to not give up. One day, everyone dies she had said. You might live longer than most and I might live shorter, but we all die. So he gone on but he wasn't really living. He was half here. The other half was caught up in memories of demons, angels, secrets and shadowhunters.
No one was left. Sixty years had gone and Simon was alone. Grief stricken after Alec, Magnus had left New York for London a city of his past. And although Simon and him sometimes it brought back memories to painful for either of them.
Simon couldn't even talk to his children, he knew it was selfish but he couldn't go through the pain of losing them too.
He was alone, cursed to walk this earth for eternity until the end of time when he was sure, the fiery pits of hell would claim him.
He never got over Isabelle. The sense of loss, the grief it didn't lessen over time but it lost its sting to fade to a throbbing, gaping wound.
The day had turned to night. It was cold. The kind of cold that shakes you to your bones. The cold that makes your breath swirl around you like smoke and reminds you how harsh winter truly is.
But today, today was the day the cursed creature was stopped.
Simon abruptly stood from the frozen, icy earth before the headstone.
He gracefully navigated the streets of New York. His feet knew where to carry him although he hadn't been here since that fateful night with Clary so many years before.
He ducked into the entrance of Pandemonium. The man was where Simon knew he would be at the bar with a drink in his hand and a mundane girl on his lap. And Simon knew not only was he avenging a murder, he was also stopping one.
Simon dragged him outside much to the chagrin of the bouncer. The demon had blue eyes-too blue. As soon as they were outside he changed. Tall, hulking with a gaunt, skull like face and hallowed black eyes nearly hidden under the crimson hair.
Simon told him of whom he killed and why Simon would kill him. The demon barely gave him time to finish before he lunged at Simon.
So they fought. It was a dance of death. The demon may have been better but Simon had a purpose and so with a flick of his wrist, Isabelle's long whip, the handle now incrusted with rust and rubies, flicked out and caught him.
Simon drove a knife into his chest, near his heart as scarlet blood painted his pale hands red.
Simon thought it was over and turned to leave but then, with a simple stab, the demons blade shattered through Simon, tearing him apart.
The demon let out a guttural scream and burst into ashes like those that guarded the Silent City.
Simon fell forward. This was it. He was going to die. He knew what would happen. He had made arrangements before he left his children, they were old enough they didn't need him. Not anymore. His body would be found and his son would be called and Simon would be buried beside Isabelle. This was a coffin he would remain in.
And as he lay there, Simon contemplated what would happen. Would he go to heaven or whatever was up there? He hoped so. He had fulfilled his promise to Isabelle. He hadn't given up. He never understood what people meant when they said my life flashed by my eyes but now he did. He saw himself and Clary and Jace and Alec and his mother and sister and he saw Isabelle and their children and their grandchildren that she never met and he only saw from afar.
He saw him and Clary as children bathed in the yellow, gold and white light of innocence and childhood, the institute, he saw Alec and his quiet stability, Jace and his humour and Clary totally transfixed on her art. He saw his sister and mother. But most of all he saw Isabelle. She was as dark, wild and fierce as she was the first time he ever met her.
It was bittersweet he supposed. The one thing that had tied them together had torn them apart because turning him into a vampire and in turn becoming immortal allowed them to be together, but even if Isabelle had live longer. The one enemy they could never beat would have torn them apart- time.
Death was a part of life and life was a part of death and it was a continuous cycle. He couldn't change that but death could not separate them forever.
He wondered how something like death could be so beautiful. He was dying but unhappy because how could he be unhappy when he was going to see Isabelle again?
Death wasn't dark it was white like Isabelle's skin, and gold like Jace's eyes. The sky was a dark blue like Alec's with stars spread out like Clary's freckles only they were silver.
And then he could see her and he was thankful that he had died because he couldn't live that life anymore.
The words of the wedding vow ran through his mind "Till death do us apart" death had separated them and now death had reunited them.
She stepped towards him as young as the first time he met her, dressed in her black shadowhunter gear, her hand outstretched towards him and he let go of his old life.
Yes it was bittersweet and not a fairytale ending but you don't get demons and angels in fairytales.
The ending might have been sad and bittersweet. But it was a beautiful and dangerous story.