CHAPTER FIVE

In Between

"Honestly, Silly! I'm a grown man, I can-"

"Hush, Gwilym!" she said, mimicking her mother's tone, shoving a spoonful of lukewarm soup into her brother's mouth.

Some of it dribbled onto his chin as he threw his head back and yanked the spoon from his mouth. He swallowed with some difficulty and eyed his sister grudgingly. Her lips curled to a mischievous smirk as she batted her eyelashes excessively, holding the soup in her hands. He poked her side to which she jerked to the left with a loud "ha!" and he poked her there until she tried to block him; while in a giggling fit, the bowl filled with soup scattering onto the floor. He attacked his sister with merciless fingers, remembering all the spots he knew would send her doubling over with laughter.

The room was filled with her gleeful screams and their mixed laughter as never had a room shared a pair of Herondale siblings' laughing for many a year.

They were both still laughing, Will's arms around his sister and effectively trapping both her arms in his embrace.

"Oh, you're horrible," she said, in between laughs. He felt her lie against his chest, still trying to calm her giggling. He rested his chin atop her head and he laid them both back against the headboard of his bed, thinking on how he had even woken up.

He had woken to the smell of hot soup resting beside him, the soft tinkle of the silver spoon as it spun against the porcelain making him blink his eyes open. The scent of ginger and spinach greeted his senses as he saw his sister sipping from a bowl herself. The sight of her there, eating by his bedside, was such a familiar sight he believed himself to be dreaming or that the last five years had been a dream – some great and terrible dream – and he was twelve years old again.

"What's that?" he asked, his voice still slurred from sleepiness.

"I don't know, really. I saw the recipe in one of Uncle Axel's books and I thought I'd like to make it. How this Institute got a hold of green papaya, I'll never know!" she said, taking a small chunk of the chicken and then eating it. "Here," she added as she forced another spoonful of the soup into her brother's yawning mouth. "It's good."

"Whasinis?"

"Really oughtn't talk with your mouth full, Willy. Very unattractive. No wonder you're not married yet," she said, another spoonful to his mouth, truly waking him from his stupor.

The siblings lay there, trying to wait for their laughter to subside. The scent of the spilled soup filled the room. The soup had been quite good, the broth warmed him inside and it was sweet, had a certain zest to it, and the spice from the ginger still lingered in his mouth.

"Better?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Much," he replied, smiling. She smiled back and shook her arms free from his embrace. She poked him in the cheek and squeezed his nose lightly.

"Then maybe now you can stop being such a git and tell me the truth."

He sighed. He wanted to tell her but if she were to stay here, that would mean her knowing about Tessa, and he would not put that burden on his chwaer fach's shoulders. Not after every burden he had already tasked on her to bear when he left her – when he left them.

"Can it wait?"

"I've done my waiting, Will. Five years of it," she said and she was suddenly older. He remembered and realised that the sister he was holding was no longer nine years old, that she had many storms she had to brave in the dark, with no one to run to. "What happened?"

He looked at her for a long moment, deliberating on what to tell her – or just how much he should tell her. Her eyes were pleading; her big blue eyes seemed doll-like and near tears and he knew he could not deny her the whole truth. It would be lying to himself and therein lied his weakness, he could never escape the reality that he lived in and it would only be unfair to her to keep her from what took her insouciance away.

He started with the library when he was twelve. Cecily remembered that day to be one of the days when she and her mother had set out to the town to buy new ribbons for her hair and dresses. Ella opted to stay home. Cecily hated going to the town, teased by the run-of-the-mill hooligans who played around the streets, throwing all sorts of rubbish amongst them as though it were some sort of game of toss. Will told her of the horrors of Marbas, recalling the blueness of his skin and the tone of his voice – the sound of all his nightmares amplified in one being. Cecily kept silent for all of it and, when he thought about it, it was probably the longest she had ever gone without giving him a remark filled with her usual snark. He told her of Ella's bravery and the assurance she gave him, all until they found her dead the next morning.

Cecily said nothing as he told her of his decision to leave, in fear of the curse he believed to be true. He told her of how he had lived in the Institute for five years, he told her of how he had confronted the demon only – that less than a week ago, he found out that the past five years and all the people he had hurt were for naught. He told her of how he dreamed about her at night, of taking care of her again, of bringing her to the Institute to train under his tutelage, of growing up with her once more.

He told her everything – everything but Tessa.

Cecily remained quiet until he finished and Will had managed not to stop from recounting his tale, all with the absence of breaking down in tears or professing his love for Tessa to his baby sister. No, that was something she did not have to know.

She just stared at him, her eyes affixed to his and for once, he could not read them. He plunged into the colour of his little sister's eyes, entirely similar to his own, but found that he could not wade to the shores and part the clouds to see blue skies as he had before. He was not drowning in them – he was afloat, getting carried off into lands he did not know.

"So…" she started. "Basically…"

"What?" he pressed. She took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She then sighed and looked at him, her eyes filled with reproach.

"You're an idiot, then." He saw that she had some semblance of a small smile on her lips, her eyes softer – like glass turned seawater, and clearer than the light of day. "Honestly, Willy, you may not be the handsomest man in the world-"

"I beg to-" he started indignantly but her expression turned teasing.

"And your manners could send the Queen to her grave in scandal but did you honestly believe you could that be unloved by your own family, by me of all people, if you'd just run off? For five years?"

"I thought that by making you hate me, I could protect you, cariad."

"I never needed you to protect me, Gwilym," she murmured, hiding her face at her brother's chest. "I just needed you there."

He kissed the top of her head. "I know, cariad. I know now."

"How did you know that none of it was real, though?" she piped up again, after a short silence.

"Tracked down the demon with the help of a warlock friend."

"Ooh," she said, looking at him with a smirk and her eyebrows upturned. "A warlock friend" – her emphasis on friend, elongating the vowels, rather than warlock – "the scandal, good sir!"

"Shut it, wicked little witch." She giggled and shrugged her shoulders. He only held her tighter and started smoothing her hair with his hand.

"When did you find out, then? With the help of this warlock friend of yours, of course," she said, nudging him with her elbow. He guffawed and shook his head.

"But a few days ago but I've been searching for it for a few weeks."

"Why only then?"

"Circumstances had changed."

"Like what?" she pressed. He pressed his lips together and looked away from her. He could not lie to her – he never could. She knew how to read him for she helped write him down, despite not being with her for years, and he knew her. He had known her from the time she was but a cover of a book, filled with blank pages and spilled milk.

"You wanted someone to," she started. He turned to look at her, eyes wide. "You wanted someone to love you, after all that making-people-hate-you rubbish. You could stand believing your family hated you for you believed us safe; but you wanted-"

"Seissylt-"

"You wanted someone in. Something changed your heart. Or someone changed your heart. Oh, someone is your heart!"

"Silly-"

"Oh, God in Heaven – I was merely teasing with that warlock but-"

"Seissylt Gwyneth Herondale, I am not dallying with any warlock!"

"So you say. Maybe not lately-"

"Silly."

"Only teasing, Willy." Will rolled his eyes and thought on his words, momentarily remembering the last time he had said something similar to someone else. "But I am right? Right?"

He swallowed whatever moisture was in his mouth and swallowed. "In certain respects."

"Then who is it? Because it can't be me and so you say, it's not your supposed warlock friend."

He opened his mouth to blabber out an excuse that he couldn't tell her and that she didn't have to know; but the door opened suddenly and a dishevelled looking young man entered the door, accompanied by five other Shadowhunters in their gear.

"There she is," said the young man. "Arrest her."

X X X

Neither here nor there, Tess.

He had told her he was. She could still hear his strained voice over and over in her head. When Jem told her what Will had done – what he had almost done – his voice and his words kept bouncing to and fro from her head. Each corner she turned, she could not escape the angles of his face and how it dropped when she did what she did, rather what she had not done: told him the truth. And she couldn't – she could never.

Yet still, when Jem told her everything that had happened, she could not shake the image of Will so broken and defeated, she could only think on what he could have possibly thought to bring him to such lows. Had he left so unloved – so unworthy of light – that he would resort to such desperation?

Don't say that. I love you, Tessa. I love you.

She stifled a sob, biting her finger, wiping a tear that had fallen from her eyes at the memory of that day, of that moment.

For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything.

Here was where, Tessa Gray could not begin to fathom. She knew him to be in-between – happiness at finding his sister, sadness at finding her distaste for him. He may have already reclaimed her affections, she thought to herself. The way Cecily hovered over her brother – the way she would have done for Nate – proved that. But then, in gaining back his sister's love, he still lost hers. Still in-between, she knew he was. Could he ever be truly happy? And could she - knowing that he never could?

She remembered the explosion at the warehouse and how he risked his life to save hers. She would not be alive if he had not loved her and he almost died – killed himself – believing that Tessa never could. But she did – and still does. It was not a question on who she loved more for she loved Jem and she loved Will with the same heart but in different ways. She could not choose one without hurting another and whoever was hurt – she would be hurt in the process. Perhaps she should choose no one and hurt everyone and let no one be happy.

But she could not do that to Jem, nor to Will – she would not be the girl they both loved if she did.

The morning light was dim. The walls of her room looked darker than they usually did and even underneath her sheets, her toes were cold. Tessa had not left her quarters since she retired for bed the night before. She could not bear to return to the infirmary and see Will there, having every declaration of his shout in her head, feeling as though her heart was being repeatedly cut in half swiftly, as her life poured on the pavement.

Sophie knocked on her door to inform her of breakfast. Tessa declined, complaining of a headache and indeed, she was already pale and peaky. She was facing away from the door, looking to the window where little morning light shone through. Her bright grey eyes were wide open, staring at nothing as her mind lay scattered – just as the shredded pieces of herself floated like specks of dust, only to be visible by what rays of sunlight the London sky allowed.

A knock came from the door and she turned her head, squinting at the doorframe. It opened and the first thing she saw was the back of Jem's head, his shining silver hair practically gleaming. He turned and she saw him carrying a tray of food, his dragon-handled walking stick dangling on the crook of his elbow. He was smiling at her, his grin seeming to light up his bright silver eyes. Tessa put the back of her hand on her forehead and wiped off what sweat had gathered there. She sat up, her back against her headboard. Her messy brown hair cascaded to one side as strands came loose from the braid she had left it in before sleeping.

"Good morning," he said, practically bouncing to her side.

"Good morning."

He sat not in front of her but beside her, setting the tray's legs lightly on either side of her lap. He leaned over quickly and planted a quick kiss on her cheek, sending warmth to her toes. Jem chastely set his hands together and grinned at her. He had never looked so young.

"You're happy," she remarked.

"Why wouldn't I be? Will's got his family back and I've got mine" – he said, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand then setting it back – "I have nothing to complain about."

Tessa ducked her head and looked away, smiling despite herself. The tray was laden with freshly baked bread, a small serving of jam and butter, a small pot of tea with two cups, and a bowl of hot soup she was not familiar with.

"What is this?" she asked, swirling the contents with a silver spoon.

"I don't know, really," he admitted. "Cecily made it. She's quite the cook, so it seems. She made use of practically every exotic spice the kitchens had to make this one soup. She brought a serving of it to Will. There was quite a lot of it and I daresay, Henry seems to have passed on eggs for this dish."

Tessa looked at him in mock astonishment.

"I know," he said, grinning wider. "It smells rather good. I thought it might make you feel better."

Indeed, the scent was unfamiliar but more than welcome to her senses. It smelled of spices that did not feel intrusive or overpowering – it warmed her insides, in fact. She took a tentative sip and immediately, the taste of ginger and the essence of meat danced around her mouth. It was flavourful, warm, and just as good as Jem predicted.

"Quite good," she admitted.

"I would assume so, as your eyes lit up the moment the spoon touched your lips," he said, still grinning. She took another spoonful of soup and held it out for him. He raised his eyebrows and his smile turned crooked, reminding her a bit too much of Will. He bent and sipped the soup from the spoon. He made a sound of satisfaction, eyes closed and shoulders slumping.

"She's a wonderful cook, it seems," said Tessa, retracting the spoon and dipping it back into the bowl. "Will said she was peculiar with flavours."

"Did he?" he looked at her, eyes wide. "He'd never said a word to describe her that way to me."

"Oh," she replied. She looked down at the tray in front of her, swallowing what moisture had gathered there. "He just mentioned it in passing. I saw him near the kitchens the night she returned and he was asking Bridget to prepare tea in a certain way as he said Cecily was particular with her tea."

"She did seem quite methodical at breakfast the next morning," Jem concluded. "Perhaps food to her is what books are to Will."

"Perhaps."

They spent the rest of their time eating the small breakfast Jem had brought to her room. She spread jam on small bits of bread she nipped from bigger pieces, the way she saw Cecily do. Jem tried to feed her bits and pieces but she ended up laughing, almost tipping over the tray. He instead poured her tea from the pot and to her surprise, the taste of bergamot was not as welcome as it had been before but she took it in nonetheless. Something about it seemed off now.

"We really must- Er-" Jem started, his face turning pinkish.

"We must what?"

"Talk about the wedding," he whispered, tucking in his lips. Tessa smiled at his bashfulness and put a hand lightly to his cheek.

"Perhaps another day," she said. "I'm not feeling particularly wel-"

"Of course, of course," he uttered, his tone apologetic. He started coughing then, each one strong and each one making her heart constrict in her chest. He was on borrowed time, she knew. She knew exactly why he was anxious to marry her – he didn't have much time to be married to her. They both knew that.

And through his coughing fits, they heard glass break and the shrill scream of a young girl only a short distance away.

"WILL!"

X X X

Two Shadowhunters were holding down Will Herondale while two other dragged little Cecily away by the arms.

"Come now, little girl," one of them whispered to her. "It's not going to hurt."

Cecily struggled in their grasp, even aiming to kick one of them from the side. She almost succeeded but they were too quick, already Marked. Tears started streaming down her eyes in anger, in fear. Will, she could see, looked murderous – his eyes were the colour of raging blue fire, she could see the faint outline of the veins on his forearms as he struggled from his captor's hold.

"Gabriel Lightwood, I am going to cut your throat out with a teaspoon," he threatened and nothing in his features hinted that he was at all joking.

Gabriel said nothing but returned his glare with equal hate and ferocity. He started walking away, the other Shadowhunters dragging Cecily with them, when Charlotte, Henry, and Gideon burst through the doors.

The infirmary was in a state of chaos – beds were scattered, some of them battered and broken. There were ripped sheets and rumpled feathers everywhere. Even against five – now four, as the last one had gone through the hole that was once a glass window – Marked Shadowhunters, the Herondale siblings would never go without a fight.

"What is the meaning of this?" Charlotte cried out.

"The Clave has been informed that a spy for The Magister is being housed at the London Institute – the sister of a most beloved" – he spat the term out at Will as though it was acid – "Shadowhunter. I have a warrant for her questioning under the Mortal Sword."

"What?" the Herondale siblings exclaimed in unison.

"Lest you believe you are above the commands of the High Inquisitor, mum?" spat Gabriel.

"Did father set you up for this?" demanded Gideon from behind.

"Father is dead!" he snapped. "Not that you'd care." Gabriel turned to the men. "Take her."

Cecily pulled her arms from the grasp of her captors but found their grasp too tight, getting tighter the more she struggled. She kicked at a nearby bed and jumped, kicking both of her captors, all while pushing her arms at them as if punching. She moved swiftly and practically leapt to her brother, holding him by the waist and burying her face in his chest.

"Don't let them take me," she begged. "Please don't let them take me. Don't let them, Will. Don't let them."

The Shadowhunters holding Will had let go the moment she hugged him to her. Gabriel looked just about ready to rip her limb from limb with his teeth.

"Will, we can't deny an order from the Clave," said Henry kindly.

"I won't let you take her," he said quietly as he brushed her hair. She was still in hysterics and he could feel her crying.

"Where is the Mortal Sword?" asked Charlotte.

"It is in the Libr'ry with Bro'er Enoch," said one of the Shadowhunters at the side of Will.

"Goodness grief, Matthew. You could have just questioned the girl in here instead of frightening her half to death," said Henry.

"We thought 'ere was gon' be a fight," he replied.

"You are not taking her," said Will, his voice still deadly quiet.

At that, Jem and Tessa came into the infirmary, Tessa in Jem's coat as she was still in her nightdress. Gideon started whispering to them with haste, relaying to them the events that had just occurred.

"By the Angel's sake, just take the girl and be done with it!" commanded Gabriel.

"Touch her again and you'll go the same way as your father!" Will spat.

"Mention my father again and you'll go the same way as yours," he replied.

"Will, the Clave just needs to be sure-" Charlotte started but Will shot her a deadly look.

"Damn the Clave! You're not taking my sister!"

"Will," said Tessa. "It's just to be safe. They'll leave her alone the moment they lose evidence against her."

"Tess-"

"Will, please," she said. For a moment, it was alone the three of them – Will, Cecily, and Tessa – and he could care less about the rest of them all. They stared at each other for a second that contained an eternity and he sighed. He pulled Cecily away from him gently and he looked into her tear-stained eyes and for a moment, he was reminded of thunderstorms that seemed light-years away.

"Cariad," he whispered to her, his tone gentle. "You'll be alright."

"But I-"

Would you believe I would let them do anything to you that would hurt you? He murmured to her in swift Welsh, his native tongue rolling off his tongue like an old forgotten sweet he'd liked as a child. He wiped her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her atop her head.

"You will not take her," he said. "But we will go with you."

Gabriel turned his head and walked out of the infirmary, not even looking at Gideon as he passed him at the door. Will and Cecily followed soon after, the other Shadowhunters right behind them. Charlotte, Henry, Gideon, Tessa, and Jem followed soon after. As they walked, Will was distantly humming a faint lullaby only they knew as he held her close by the shoulders.

X X X

Gabriel led them to the library where one of the Silent Brothers had a handsome looking sword in his hands. He looked grim – as most Brothers did – with his stitched mouth and severe stare. Gabriel turned to Cecily and pulled her then pushed her forcefully in front of Brother Enoch, who was holding the blade with its hilt having the appearance of outstretched wings of an Angel. Will stepped forward to strike him but his sister turned about to Gabriel, any and all traces of fear had gone from her face.

"Handle me thusly in the same manner ever again, sir, and I will promise you that I will make your innards into a quiche and make you eat it." Will, despite it all, found that he was smiling at her, believing he had taught her well.

Charlotte and the others took seats near the doorframe. The other Shadowhunters looked purposeful at Gabriel's side as if bodyguards. But that couldn't be so – he was but a young man, he couldn't possibly have some sort of position on the Clave.

Cecily turned to Enoch, more frightened at the prospect of the blade than of the man carrying it. "Who are you? Why do you look like that? Are we going to duel – like the witch burnings, that if I win then I'm a spy and if I lose and die, I'd be innocent; because honestly, I don't mean to be rude sir, but I don't think those robes were meant for swor-"

Hush, girl, they all heard in her head. The tone was not hard of reprimand but was softer than was expected of him. Still, Cecily went silent. Enoch held out the blade to her. Take the blade and answer all questions asked with honesty.

"Not that you'd have a choice in the matter," muttered Gabriel. Cecily took the blade in her hands.

State your name and your position, girl, said Enoch.

She swallowed and looked at the wall behind Enoch, avoiding his eyes. The blade seemed rooted to her skin, like little hooks fishing out the truth from her veins. Little pinpricks seemed to root her feet to the pavement at the question and her jaw clenched as she spoke. "I am Seissylt Gwyneth Herondale. Also, Cecily Herondale. I was born and raised in Wales. I am the youngest sister to Gwilym Owain – rather, William Herondale, Shadowhunter from the London Institute; and daughter to Edmund Herondale, steward of Ravenscar Manor."

What is your relation to The Magister?

Her head turned to the side, her eyebrows scrunched together. "The Magister? I know not of whom you speak." The pinpricks laid still.

The Magister is Axel Mortmain.

"Uncle Axel?" she uttered, a tone too loud. "He's my father's sponsor – a rich benefactor with one too many estates and plots to run and not enough friends and staff to house in them!"

"SHE LIES!" screamed Gabriel, attempting to jump at her, but one of the Shadowhunters held his arm back.

Where is The Magister? Questioned Enoch, not phased by the young Lightwood's outburst.

"I don't know," she stated.

How did your father become steward of an old Shadowhunter's home?

"My father gambled away the family fortune and when that was gone, he sold away the deeds to the family estate in Wales that my mother inherited and then gambled that money away. He met Uncle Axel at one of their gambling clubs – Pandemonium or rather – and took a liking to him, offered for him to become the steward of the place while still sponsoring his gambling habits." The words flowed out Cecily unceasingly. She spoke without stopping and much quicker than her usual speed of speech.

Your mother?

"My mother is dead – lost her sanity 5 years prior in grief at losing my brother and sister within days of each other. She knew nothing – was but a doll that was fed, washed, and moved around from house to house before we settled in Ravenscar and she passed there."

"Why do you call Mortmain your uncle, then?!" Gabriel demanded, stepping towards her threateningly.

"He insisted! He presented me with books and cookery to keep myself occupied, telling me not to disturb my father in his study. And I didn't. Father fled the manor a few days after mother died and I don't know where my father or Axel Mortmain are."

A long silence filled the hall as Cecily held on to the blade of the Mortal Sword, looking straight on to Brother Enoch. Will was barely breathing, his last hitch of air still lingering in his lungs. It was a moment before the chilly sound of Enoch's voice filled their heads again.

She speaks what she believes to be the truth. Her mind has not been tampered with.

"NO!" Gabriel shook off the grasp that held him to the spot and lunged for her. He took her by the shoulders and she let go of the blade in shock. He shook her violently, screaming "SPY! SHE'S A SPY!"

She stepped back after a second and flung her arms, slapping him hard with the back of her hand. As his face turned at the strength of the slap, Will met it with a punch straight on the nose – a punch so forceful that the sound of his nose breaking resonated across the whole library. Gabriel Lightwood met the carpeted floor at the attack from the Herondales as Will held his little sister to him.

Brother Enoch remained stoic, the blade already in his hands. He made to move out from the Library without a word to Charlotte and the others, the other Shadowhunters following suit. Matthew stayed behind and bent down to Gabriel, carrying him with his shoulders.

"I'll just leave 'im in the infirm'ry 'til 'e comes 'round," he said.

"I'll go with you," said Gideon.

The trio left the Library, as followed by Charlotte and Henry who had excused themselves in a hurry as to inquire with the Clave the reason for the sudden trespass on the Institute. Only Jem and Tessa stayed, drawing near to the brother and sister who were whispering to each other in soft voice in a native tongue neither of them were familiar with.

"Are you alright?" asked Tessa, her voice small.

The two Herondales turned to her and she found that she did not know to whom she was referring to.

"I'd like to lie down," whispered Cecily. Will nodded, holding her by the shoulder. Jem laid a hand on Will's shoulder and for a long second, the brothers looked at each other with ghost smiles dancing on their lips. He nodded swiftly at the couple and looking away just as quickly. He left the room and escorted his little sister to her bedroom, leaving the couple alone.

X X X

Cecily barely spoke for the rest of the day. They were just there, in her bedroom, laid down on the bed. The siblings barely moved an inch from when they had first settled on her mattress, Will constantly looking over at her as if she were in mortal peril every half second that passed. He seemed even catlike with the way he turned from Cecily to the door and to just about every inch of the room.

Soon enough, like all little girls do after a long day, little Cecily Herondale began to fall asleep. Her brother held her as her head slowly bobbed and bobbed to a still against his chest. Her muscles relaxed minute by minute and soon enough, her breathing slowed and he knew she was fast asleep. He watched her breathing for a long time before he found his head resting at the top of her head, his eyes slowly fluttering to a close.

In fact, Will was halfway asleep when the door opened and in came Tessa Gray with a cup of tea in her hands.

His eyes grew wide at the sight of her and she hesitantly walked into the room, forcing a smile.

"I remembered what you said," she started. "About Cecily needing tea before bed. I thought that- Since- With the whole-"

"Thank you," was all Will Herondale could say in response. She remembered, she listened, she cared, and for that – Will could barely look at either of them.

"It's the way you said she liked it," Tessa added. She laid the tea at the bedside table nearest Will. Will could not look at her, took to brushing his little sister's hair as she slept on his chest and held him tight. Tessa stood watching over them for a long while, thinking that while Cecily had aged decades after being questioned, Will looked younger when caring for his sister. It was as if they were twins – two halves of the same whole.

"Good night, Will," she muttered finally, leaving them.

"Where's Jem?" he asked again when her back was turned to him.

"Resting," she replied, turning her head.

"Is he alright?"

"Yes. Just tired." A long pause transpired between them, their eyes locked.

"Are you alright?" he asked finally.

Tessa smiled the smallest of smiles and said faintly:

"Neither here nor there, Will."

X X X

"You know," Cecily whispered. "You really didn't have to throw that man through the window."

She stirred against him, her thick lashes batting up at him as her eyes fluttered open. Her nose upturned as he swirled the tea with a silver spoon, the scent of blueberries jolted her senses.

Will laughed, despite it all, and brought the cup of tea to her. She sat up though still in her brother's embrace. The tea smelled warm and rich, something like the home she could not place as memory or a dream. "What is that?" she asked.

"Tea, cariad. Just the way you like it. Tessa brought it over."

Cecily breathed in the scent of her tea and sighed contentedly. "She seems lovely. I like her."

Will breathed in and smiled, his teeth gritted behind his lips. "I do too."

X X X

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, it took me forever to update this! I'm so sorry about that! Things have been super crazy with university and all that. I have more time to write this now, since my thesis topic proposal got disapproved and I'm moved to next term (please pray for me!) and I have the time to work on this again.

The TMI trailer? Can you say PERFECT? Jamie Campbell Bower is amazing. As is everyone else but I have a special place in my heart for JCB. Also, Clockwork Princess is in a few months – can you believe it!? Hope you liked how I incorporated that Clockwork Princess snippet on here. I'll be doing that quite often, tee hee!

Now for some clarifications! In this head canon, Will's mother is half-French in order for the lullaby thing to work. It's important because it's my head canon that Maryse Lightwood is a direct descendant from this Herondale line – which Herondale? Stick around (wink!). It's also why Ella's second name is "Maris" since it's similar with "Maryse", it did come from the Welsh name "Mari", and it's androgynous (or it has the potential to be). Thank you so much for the corrections and I'd really appreciate some research material on Victorian Wales in order to be more accurate with wording and all that.

Also, the soup mentioned in this chapter is called Tinola in my country. It's really good, one of my favourite viands on white rice. It was discovered in the late 19th century and with spices that were predominantly in East Asia. In my head canon, the library of Ravenscar Manor was had been filled with mostly Asian books (not just because I, myself, am Asian – it'll play into the plot, I promise!) and Cecily then knows how to read very limited Mandarin (mostly ingredients) but does not know how to write or read it.

Thank you so, so, so very much with the reviews and comments, I really appreciate everything you guys send me! It really encourages me to update this little fic when I see that people actually like it. Detailed reviews are my favourites but any sorts of encouragement, whatever the length, are duly appreciated. I'm working very hard to keep updating regularly, while juggling work and university course work, and I think now with my dropped workload, I can finally find my balance with leisure and work.

Thank you so much for sticking around and y'all come back now! Reviews are the bee's knees and the cat's pajamas! You can follow my social networking on Twitter (jonnahohnana) or Tumblr (sisypheandreams AND/OR snapspotter).

xx, Jonnah.