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sandersgrey · 1 year

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A Study in Greys

Eventual Kit/Ty Endgame, Mutual Pining, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Psychological Trauma, Kit Rook Has ADHD, Kit Rook has C-PTSD.

First / Second / Third / Fourth / Fifth / Prev. Fic also available on ao3.

Wordcount: 6k.

A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who commented and gave me the motivation to finally finish the chapter. As always, shout out to @thechangeling for being a very supportive friend and not killing me for the hiatus, and @jynxlovesluck for being the amazing partner and beta they've been this entire time. I could not do it without you. At the very least, I could not do it this well. TW for a bit of unconscious self harm right at the beginning, and for a lot of conflict between characters, including brief fear of domestic violence that doesn't come to pass. (Not a lot of physical injuries, though. Not... yet.)

Seventh Chapter: The Ghost At The Feast

“Absolutely fucking not.”

With her arms crossed and that snarl, Livy would be any horror director’s first pick. Ty could feature in it, too; he’s pretty enough to be the star cast in marble in the dusty light of the room, his silence heavy. He hasn’t spoken in five minutes.

Kit would have liked to say he’s been handling this tension with all the poise and resilience of a Herondale. It’s true if you know a Herondale’s bad habits. He’s bit down so hard on the inside of his cheek that the thin rope of badly-healed skin split open again, coating his tongue with a taste of iron.

He’s never been good at arguing with people he actually likes. It’s his biggest flaw.

Still. No better time to learn than the present. Draping a shaky arm over his knee, Kit risks a grin: “Are you sure?”

Livvy’s stare grows unimpressed:

“We’re not using you as bait.”

“Why not?” Kit asks. “I’d be really good at it.”

Ty’s frown deepens. He’s been incessantly tapping the ground since the idea first came up, faster the longer it went on. It’s honestly a little insulting. Kit might not be the best with a dagger, but he can figure out a social situation better than anyone in this room, alive or dead, that’s for sure. He resents the worry.

“No,” says Ty.

Livvy emphatically gestures at him. “Yes, thank you, Ty. It’s a terrible idea.”

“Eh, is it?”

“Kit, we’re not risking you getting hurt.” she sighs.

That gets a snort out of him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m already at risk. I’ve been at risk since the beginning. The safest option- for everyone- is to shut down their entire operation as soon as we possibly can, or did you forget about their whole Puppet King idea?”

“That doesn’t mean we should put you at more risk!” Ty blurts out.

“I think that’s really up to me, isn’t it? We’re-” - sitting on top of a time bomb, waiting for it to explode- “ risking more the more we wait. Someone might figure out we know; I’d be really fucking surprised if they don’t already suspect you, and I’d really rather not figure out how subtler the next assassination attempt is gonna be, okay?”

Ty presses his thumb against the center of his palm, massaging the muscle. Stress tightens his shoulders into boulders- it makes Kit feel a little bad, honestly. He doesn’t mean this to be anxiety inducing to anyone else.

Rolling his tongue against the open wound in his mouth, Kit waits.

The mortar between the stones, at least, is easy pickings for a clever enough hand. He digs his nails into it and wonders how long it’d take to bring the whole castle down in itself. Longer than he has. He picks at it anyway.

“It’s too big a risk,” Ty says at last. “I won’t be able to get to you fast enough if you’re caught.”

Shaking his head impatiently, Kit says:

“Look, I can do it, alright? It’s like ten, fifteen minutes, tops, and then we’re home free. I know I fumbled it- I know I should’ve realized what they wanted sooner, but I’m not completely incompetent. I can handle some manipulative idiots.”

A tilted head. Confusion briefly crosses Ty’s expression, resolving itself into something unreadable. His clever fingers grip the hem of Kit’s jeans until the fabric stretches, near painfully, over his bruised knee. Kit doesn’t flinch. He can’t.

“It’s not about whether you could do it. You shouldn’t have to.”

Kit shrugs. “I shouldn’t have to do a lot of things.”

“What does that mean?”

Right. He sighs, more disappointed in himself than on anyone else, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb. No more cryptic bullshit: Ty doesn’t play mind games.

But, as he opens his mouth… Kit finds himself stuck. He pauses, wondering, and closes it back again. What does that mean? Does it mean anything?

For some reason, what comes to mind is this: his ten years old self, the Market, and a pocketful of stolen wallets. Then: his fifteen years old self, the Market, and a pocketful of strange ingredients. The way he had felt stuck back then, too. The way he’d felt useful.

Ty’s attention tastes like iron. It feels like it, too.

“I just want-” Kit swallows. His exhale cracks, brittle. “I don’t know. I guess I can’t go home.”

He picks at a loose thread in his jeans, wrapping it around his finger until it turns his skin swollen, a purple protest. Lets go. Once, twice, a third time, relieving the pressure just before it bursts. Ty says:

“You could go.”

It hits like a wave of nausea. Kit squeezes his eyes shut, dizzy with it.

A familiar tempo, discarded like a dirty coat on the ground. There’s nothing to say. The thread digs into his knuckles, a bright spot of pain in the darkness, and Kit holds onto it.

“What we mean ,’ says Livvy, in a meaningful tone of voice, “is that it’s a really fucked up situation that you don’t need to stay in. We’re not saying we don’t want you around.”

“Of course we’re not,” Ty says, a little perplexed. His elegant fingers twitch towards Kit’s own.

Kit can’t help it: he laughs. God. How like Ty to utterly destroy him without even meaning to. Dragging a hand over his face, he presses the palm against the orbit of his skull until he could map the bones by feel alone and asks, tired:

“What even for?”

It’s nearly comforting how baffled Ty’s “What for?” sounds, like he can’t even figure out why they’d need a reason at all. Ty pauses, his grip on Kit’s jeans tightening. “Just because, I guess.”

Just because.

It’s not anything. It’s just a sentence. Kit lets his hand fall on his lap, exhausted, the strength of Ty’s earnest expression a little too heavy to bear. It’s no good. Kit can’t deal with that right now.

“I-”

His phone rings.

The sudden trrrrrrrr makes Ty wince back, his entire face scrunching up in pain.

Scrambling, Kit paws at his pocket, frantically mumbling sorry sorry sorry until sweat-slicked fingers manage to get a grip, pressing against the screen harder than they usually need to. He hangs up.

Ty rubs a thumb against the palm of his other hand, self-soothing. “Who was that?”

“It says Nessie”, Livvy observes from over Kit’s shoulders. He sighs, mourns his privacy, explains:

“A friend from Devon.”

“You’re not going to call back?”

A grimace. Kit gently kicks at Ty’s thigh until he gets the memo and lets his foot go. Pulling his knees up, Kit rests his chin in his arms, just a little bit colder, and says:

“Nah, all my friends at home are mad at me. I’m going to wait til the dust settles.”

Ty frowns, the perfect line of his jaw tightening, but Livvy tilts her head and a few of her hair strands no-clip into the wall. It never looks quite right. Kit holds back a shudder.

She asks:

“Why are they mad at you?”

He sucks air in through his teeth. “Well, Lizzie and Mari are mad because I left with Zach, which makes sense. He was a dick to them. Nessie is mad, because…” Wincing, Kit raises a shoulder in a how to put this? way. “Well, because I’m here.”

Ty shifts his weight to lean closer, staring down at the thread around Kit’s finger until Kit lets go of it, shame-faced. “What do you mean?”

The awkward position strains at the seams of Ty’s right sleeve, the sculpted, lean shape of his arm tensing to keep him upright. There’s deceptive strength there. It had felt like a steel bar across Kit’s chest when Ty had caught him.

Someone pointedly clears their throat:

“Could it be,” entones Livvy, “because you left? Did you even tell her you were coming here?”

The tiniest flicker of a flinch in Ty’s hand. Kit tightens the reins on his own gaze, tips his chin up at Livvy, half-lidded and scornful:

“How would you want me to explain this to her? Sorry, I can’t hang out this week, I’m too busy scheming? Would you mind putting our plans on hold while I uncover a conspiracy I can’t tell you about?”

“If that's the truth,” says Ty. Kit scoffs:

“She would’ve wanted to come.”

“Then let her.”

“Yeah, that sounds like such a great idea,” Kit sneers, then pauses, chagrined. Adds: “That’s sarcasm. Nessie is a vampire. Letting her come would probably be the most efficient way to get her fucking killed. It’s too dangerous. No , thank you.”

Ty says, aggrieved:

“Then tell her that.”

“Yeah? Have you told Alyssa?”

A pause. “How do you know about her?”

Kit looks away, dragging his feet across the floor. He hadn’t meant to say that.

(Dust rises through Livvy’s form. She shakes herself off, impatient, and floats a little away when that previsibly fails to do anything. Like this, they can barely see her.)

“You’re not hiding it as well as you think you are,” he says. “Not everyone thinks you’ve cut off all contact.”

“Ragnor wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re right, he wouldn't. He didn’t need to, anyway. Harry noticed you’ve been sneaking off.”

“Like you do? You haven’t been all that careful either,” Livvy points out.

Shrugging, Kit leans back against the wall as casually as possible. He tips his chin up, allows a leg to extend, and keeps a very tight lid on his voice as he says:

“Sure. The difference is that people suspect Ty’s ‘consorting with the enemy’ because he’s openly done it before,” like an idiot, Kit doesn’t say. “They think I’m having an affair because that’s the fun and exciting thing to believe.”

Ty pauses. “They think you-”

“There’s no proof, obviously, but that doesn’t matter. It makes sense. You should’ve given them a hint of a scandal, Ty… It would’ve worked better than silence.”

Shoving the (quite helpful, honestly) suggestion away with a gesture, Ty frowns:

“They think you’re having an affair… with me ?”

Livvy turns to the wall, concealing her laugh with a cough. Briefly, but fervidly, Kit wishes for the ability to banish a spirit.

“Sorry”, Kit says. “I know I’m not your type, but I figured it’d be safer than them realizing we’re colluding. It gets the message across now that they know they can’t just kill you off openly. Heather had a moment-”

“The poltergeist.”

Kit nods. “I know you noticed. Me insisting on going with you is what sealed it, I think. Now she’s at least going to be a little subtler about it- make sure it can’t be tracked back to her.” A pause, then: “You should be careful.”

“You should have told me.”

“I knew you already knew you were in danger, Ty.”

Ty drags himself into an upright position, jaw tight with the kind of defensiveness Kit usually saw in him around Julian. His dark brows are furrowed. They cast a shadow upon his eyes.

“I didn’t know about this ,” Ty snaps. “I’m glad you trust my intelligence, but I can’t just guess what you want, Kit. I can’t just know what you’re thinking. You need to tell me things.”

He bristles. “You didn't tell me anything until last night either!”

“I didn’t know you wanted to hear it.”

“Of course I do!”

“Kit”, Ty says, “I didn’t know. Of course I didn't tell you. The last time we’d seen each other you said you didn’t know when you’d forgive me, and then you show up here, years later, dating one of the people who are trying to kill me. I knew you were after something, but fuck if I knew exactly what-”

“I had to do that! I had to date him, how the fuck else was I gonna get here-”

He bites down, but it’s too late.

Dread filling his chest cavity with something far too cold and heavy to name, he watches, scared even to blink, as the blood drains from Ty’s face. There is something devastating about the delicate pink of Ty’s mouth trembling, the dark brows creasing his marble-perfect skin into the kind of expression that would send Kit to his knees if he could move at all.

Kit watches, and fears, and regrets only that he misspoke.

Slowly, Ty says: “You’re using him.”

The tone is very nearly casual. It’s the phrasing that sends a jolt of ice into his stomach. Kit lowers his head, sinking his teeth hard onto the inside of his cheek, and waits.

“That’s why it didn’t fit. That’s why you felt so off around him. You knew he was a centurion; you knew he could bring you here, so you… instead of doing anything else, you…”

“He was insulting my friends in a downworlder restaurant. He wanted a fight.” The voice out of his mouth is nearly unrecognizable. “Ty, he was a threat. I was unarmed.”

“And now?”

Hands into fists. Sharp nails.

“He’s still a threat. This is my best weapon.”

“So you lied to him.”

Kit raises his head, heated. “We just found out that they sent him as bait on purpose, so what does it matter? That’s what I was meant to do!”

“You didn’t know that back then!”

“I knew he was a racist piece of shit who would love a chance to kill all my friends,” he says. “I knew things were going wrong here and I knew that you’d know that, but- I couldn’t just stand there! I couldn’t just hope you’d be fine!”

That pale throat moves as Ty swallows, his face a blank canvas- Kit could project anything on it, anything and nothing at all. His mouth moves:

“You said you didn’t forgive me.��

“I don’t.”

“ When,” bites out Ty, “will you start making any fucking sense?”

Kit throws up his hands, careless of the dust:

“Well, fuck me, Ty, I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“Why are you here?” Ty immediately lists. “Why would you put yourself through all that trouble for someone you’ve said you don’t forgive? Why would you send the necklace? Why would you send the book ?”

Bashful, Kit says: “So you know about the book.”

“Of course I know about the book. There aren’t that many people who would anonymously send me a special edition of Sherlock Holmes. It was either you or Ragnor Fell.”

“Ragnor doesn’t do presents.”

“Yes. I know.”

Kit runs a hand through his hair, tugging just enough to feel it under his skin. “I don’t forgive you,” he says. “Fuck. That doesn’t mean I don’t…”

“You don’t?”

A strangled, frustrated noise, deep in Kit’s throat:

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?”

“Oh, you never forget anything”, says Kit, bitterly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you dig hard enough. It was a big day for you.”

From behind the dust, Livvy says: “Don’t talk in riddles.”

His amygdala screams. Feeling a little like he’s buzzing, Kit cradles the elbow he’d thrown against the wall and considers, not for the first time, the very few weapons the living have against the dead.

“ Fuck, Livvy, you scared me!”

“Boo”, she says flatly. “Shouldn’t have forgotten I’m here.”

“ Say something next time, Jesus-”

“I did-”

Movement in his periphery startles Kit back into his guard. Ty has taken a step forward, his delicate fingers hovering over Kit’s hold- too afraid to touch and overstep? The darkness of his brows have furrowed further, worried:

“You’re hurt.”

Kit shakes his head, softening. “It’s fine. I was just startled.”

Finally resolving himself, Ty lays a gentle hand on top of Kit’s. His skin is dry and bitingly cold, the tips of his fingers and parts of his palms hard with calluses, his grip loving. Kit clenches down on the shudder before it starts.

“If you weren’t fine,” says Ty slowly, “would you tell me?”

No. Kit wants to lean back against the wall, wrestle himself back into the shape of someone who doesn’t care about it, but he can’t risk Ty moving away. He stands still. “Does it matter?”

“ Yes.”

“I came here because you were in trouble,” Kit says, because that , at least, is easy. “I sent you the book because I thought you might like it.”

Something about Ty’s mouth softens. “I do.”

“Good.”

“I still don’t get it, though.”

He shakes his head:

“I can’t explain.” Please. “Don’t make me.”

Ty’s hold on his arm tightens, sinking nearly deep enough into his flesh to be satisfying, before Ty lets go. “Fine,” he bites out. It doesn’t feel good.

Hardly anything does, these days.

“I have to go back before anyone gets suspicious. We should put the plan in motion tonight- it’ll only get harder the longer we wait, alright?”

Alarm and frustration rise with Ty’s head: “Kit, no- you should at least have a weapon-”

“I’ll come with you,” Livvy interrupts. Both boys stop in their tracks. “It’s been a while”, she explains, confronted with Ty’s surprise. “Promise I won’t read over your shoulder, Kit.”

It’s a lie.

Kit lets her tag along anyway.

It’s not so bad at first. Livvy hums, some unfamiliar melody that echoes strangely in the stone corridors. Sound carries. Kit can imagine the notes floating down, down, down into the lived spaces where the enemy lies. He nearly tells her to be quieter before he remembers. If no one else can hear it, does it even make a sound?

Her white dress flutters to a wind that isn't there. Her hair is as still as the grave, irradiating a cold spot big enough to envelop Kit in its gelid embrace.

It’s never good to spend too much time around ghosts. You’ll forget how to be warm.

Her legs curl under her as Livvy leans forward, unbothered by gravity:

“He’s right, you know. You really should have something to fight with if you’re going through this.”

Didn’t help you, he doesn’t say. “I guess.”

Kit’s never liked swords much. They always make him feel like he’s pretending to be the storybook hero he just isn’t, but, besides the gun, they’re still what he’s best with. Getting close enough to use a dagger isn’t exactly his favored position.

And things are not nearly bad enough for the gun. He hopes, at least.

He’ll just stand behind Zach around his little posse. Idiot or not, he could make a good body shield. The shame churning inside his stomach isn’t relevant.

Livvy hums. “I’ve been thinking a lot about when we met.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been three years…” and I haven’t changed since, her frown says. She catches him looking. “Kind of weird to be nostalgic for that, right? Everything was so awful.”

“I get nostalgic about that, too. Sometimes. I think it’s just human nature.”

That makes her smile. It’s a thin one, nearly invisible against the backdrop of the stone wall. “Back then,” she says, “did you already know?”

Kit sighs, resigned.

“Know what?”

“That you’re in love with my brother.”

This time, he manages to avoid his elbow making contact with the wall- Kit still curses, unnerved, and turns to her with about the same urgency of a spy who just heard his co-conspirator sneeze mid-infiltration:

“Don’t say that!”

Livvy straightens herself up, unimpressed: “If I can’t say it and you won’t, what’s the plan there? Morse code?”

“I’m not saying shit, and you better not fucking tattle.”

“Yeah, I got that . That’s why I’m asking about the plan,” she drawls. “I don’t think you’re the type to keep Zach as your pet centurion after this is over, but then again, I didn’t think you’d do it at all. Where did you learn how to honeypot?”

Sighing, he gently butts his head against the closest wall. Wishes for brain damage. Then starts walking again:

“I’m a good improviser.”

“I guess,” says Livvy, doubtful.

“And there’s no plan,” he adds. “ I’m going to get this over with, make sure Ty’s okay, and- I don’t know, go home, probably, if my friends aren’t waiting outside with torches and pitchforks… Livvy?”

She’s only a step or two behind him. Her expression is dark.

“So you’re leaving him again.”

“It’s not leaving him”, Kit scoffs. “What, did you want me to move in permanently? I should be going home soon anyway . Didn’t you guys just say I could go?”

“That’s different.”

“ How?”

“You’re not leaving because it’s dangerous,” she accuses. “You’re leaving because you’re a coward. You’re too afraid to be around him.”

There is, he thinks, something deeply wrong with his heart. “ And ?”

“You can’t do that to Ty. Not again.”

Kit scoffs, and turns to keep walking.

Temperature shock stops him in his tracks as Livvy emerges from his body and plants herself in his way, a dangerous glint in her eyes . His body shakes. The hallway behind her nearly fades from view.

Silver-green eyes.

“Christopher, you’re my friend,” her voice is like velvet. “But if you break his heart again, I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

It gives him a second of pause. Mostly, to assess the damage. It’s not so bad- he’ll stop trembling, but his body doesn’t know it yet. That’s always the hardest part.

“I didn’t break his heart a first time,” he finally says. “It’s not like that.”

“You didn’t see him then. Kit, he was-”

“Yeah, because the thing with you didn’t work. I bet he was fucked up about it, but it was never about me. ”

Livvy crosses her arms, stubborn as a mule and just as strong. “He needs you.”

“Sure,” Kit says, “like a thief needs a crowbar. But I’ve taught him about picking locks. He’ll be fine.”

“Could you, for just a fucking second, pretend like I know what I’m saying about my own twin brother and listen ?” Livvy snarls.

A half mocking sweep of the arm: “Go ahead.”

“He does need you, Kit. Not just to help solve this situation. He was devastated when you left- I’ve never seen him quite like that before, not once, and it wasn’t just because of me. I know you don’t want to believe it, but he lov-”

“No.”

“Kit!”

“Don’t you dare stand there and tell me that. I don’t want to hear it.”

She makes a deeply frustrated noise in the back of her throat: “Why not?!”

“Because,” Kit grits out, “it’s not fucking true.”

“But-”

“I told him, okay?” Kit snaps. “I told him, back then, and it changed nothing. I was never anything more than- than a shiny new toy, someone he could drag around and have fun with. It was never about me , Livvy, it was about the first guy his age who wasn’t either related to him or a piece of shit, and good for him!! I’m glad I could help for a bit! But I can’t- I can’t- I can’t let myself believe it means anything again. Livvy, you’re my friend, too, but let’s not pretend you wouldn’t bleed me like a pig if it would make Ty even slightly happier. I can’t do it, okay? I don’t have anything else to give.”

Livvy tries: “I wouldn’t-”

“You’re doing it right now,” says Kit. “You’re even doing it to yourself. Are you happy like this , Livvy? Really? Or are you just sticking around because you think that’s what Ty needs?”

The ghost says: “Fuck you.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not even the one who dragged you back up.”

A sneer:

“You didn’t stop him.”

Kit lunges.

Something is deeply, deeply wrong.

It takes a small eternity. The fingers of his right hand cramp with the bone-deep certainty of the cold, but he sets his jaw, ignoring the oppressing pressure of Livvy’s presence grasping at him with much more force than a non-corporeal being should have any right to. She’s dead . She can’t keep him. That’s not how it works- that’s not what happens, and Kit shoulders through.

When he emerges, shivering, her eyes are as wide as plates.

She opens her mouth- Kit snarls, something primal taking over- and she snaps it shut with an expression of deep resentment.

Wordlessly, she turns her back and leaves.

And he’s the coward?

It takes him a long time to stop shaking. It’s not even the cold; it’s the fragile, flimsy way it’d made him feel, like ice ready to shatter. The pain is nearly welcome compared to that.

Distantly, Kit thinks his phone vibrates a few times while he gets himself together. It’s such a far off worry it barely registers until he can breathe again, uncurling himself from a fetal-like position next to the wall. God. With numb fingers, he clicks on his messages.

Jem. Jem, and an answer.

Not much, Kit thinks, could make him smile right now. This does.

It’s not a nice smile. It’s not a nice smile, but it’ll do.

He does get lost on the way back, though.

It’s fine. If you keep walking long enough, eventually you’ll get somewhere.

And, anyway, it’s not his fault every single hallway looks exactly the same. The Scholomance, Kit thinks, was designed by someone who thought labyrinthine was in fashion and so was bare, grey stone. You could drop a Minotaur at the center and it would not find a way out in seven years. It’d have to make itself wax wings. It’d have to drown.

At least it’s marginally warmer without any ghosts around. Raymond’s coat tail does briefly infringe upon his peace of mind, but the local spirit grimaces at him and disappears through a wall. Kit’s not even offended. He gets it.

He would also disappear through walls if he could. He’s done that once or twice, actually; it’s called climbing through windows.

Still. Ghosts do have an advantage in that field.

The window he’d nearly fallen through on his first day is, therefore, a welcoming sight. He has kind of some idea of how to get back from here.

“You’re really quite low, though,” Kit tells it. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

It doesn’t answer, which is good news.

The halls get less and less dusty as he goes on. His fingers stop leaving cleaner trails on the walls, gathering a thick layer of grime themselves. There’s a packet of tissues in his pocket, which means he can get most of it off, but seeing it there reminds him of Mina’s own sticky fingers, and it’s just- he misses home. He misses his family.

It’s better like this, though. If even shadowhunters are already trying to use him, they’re probably safer with him away. At least for now.

He wonders what his dad- what his first dad would say. Nothing good, probably. Nothing helpful.

What would his first mom say? Kit doesn’t know. She hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to be able to guess. Then again, maybe that’s an answer in and of itself. Maybe she’d agree with him.

Tessa wouldn’t. Kit sighs, shoving cleaner hands into his pockets.

“Herondale?”

“ Fuck ,” he groans.

The centurion, sword fortunately sheathed at her hip, raises a judgemental eyebrow. “Hello. I was unaware there were any cremations here today.”

He’s taken aback for a second before he realizes that the dust coating his jeans is peeling off, leaving a gray, grimy trail on the ground. Maddening. It’s stone, who the fuck cares- she should be at home with dust by now, old as their fucking traditions are, no chance centurions lower themselves to do spring cleaning.

None of that leaves his mouth. Instead, he smiles blankly and says: “Can I help you?”

Looking a lot like she wants nothing more than to correct him on the proper usage of can versus may , the centurion replies “No, I don’t think you can. However ”, and, with a flourish, takes an envelope out of her pocket, “I believe I can help you. This was left with the rest of the mail this morning. We checked for traps.”

The reason is clear. There is no name on it besides his, not even an address at all, and none of the marks of a fire message. “And it came out negative?”

“ Obviously,” she rolls her eyes.

He takes the envelope. It’s immediately, nearly dropped.

What the fuck? Even to his numb fingers, the stiff paper is cold- much, much colder than it should be, nearly enough to burn. His hand cramps again; he fumbles with the envelope, catching it at the last second.

The centurion scoffs. “Jace Herondale is alive and well, I presume? We all wish him a fruitful marriage.”

Envelope forgotten, Kit tucks it into an inner pocket and straightens up:

“Thanks. Virginia Whitecastle, was it?” Same patrol shifts as Zach. Which means he’s off duty right now, and yet was not the one to bring him the letter. Fuck shit damnit. “How’s your brother? Still hasn’t been sent out?”

Her upper lip curls. Bingo.

“He’s too important to be on the field,” she blusters.

“Oh, I bet. Don’t worry. I’m sure your brother is very, uh… integral to the cause, somehow. What’s he called again?... “

Whitecastle’s face is a silent mask of fury. “Shut it, H- Carstairs. I’m not here for chit chatting. Some of us are working, you know- you may want to check your correspondence yourself from now on.”

“Of course”, Kit says sweetly. “Thanks again for taking the time. I know your family is very busy.”

Her hand twitches toward the pommel of her sword; Kit tips his chin up, daring her. It twitches again, but she moves it away, her jaw set.

“You’re welcome,” she grits out.

Her tightly wound retreat, it must be said, is a sight for sore eyes.

Zach’s door looks the same as it has always been, which is to say: better than a lot of people.

The doorknob is a beautiful round mirror, as silver as mercury. Kit can never get himself to grip it right away- it always feels like he’s going to dirty it, somehow. Even the wood itself is shiny. The zipper on this hoodie, Kit knows, is rusted.

Eventually, you do have to face the music. The smooth surface of the doorknob feels judgmental.

“Christopher.”

Of course.

Zach is waiting for him on the bed.

Much like the door, he is- hatefully well groomed. Shoulders squared, hair carefully combed to a solid geometric shape, uniform precisely creased. His shoes shine so bright Kit starts automatically planning how to steal them.

When Zach’s eyes flick up to meet his, they’re shadowed by a deep scowl.

The only saving grace is that his sword has been carefully laid out on the dresser, out of arm’s reach. He’s not optimistic enough about human nature to assume Zach did it on purpose.

Resentfully, Kit allows the door behind him to slam shut with a bang. Zach winces. Good. Kit hopes he broke his precious door.

“It’s been an hour,” Zach informs him briskly.

“I’m sorry,” snaps Kit, “was I being timed?”

Thin lips purl like an asshole. “You know that’s not the point, Christopher. I can’t keep covering for your shenanigans. It’s not easy, people have already seen you chasing after ghosts like a madman-”

“You wanted a Herondale,” says Kit. “Don’t complain now that you’ve got one.”

“It’s not about that; I can’t keep protecting you.”

Halfway through hanging up his jacket, Kit pauses. “ Protecting me?”, he softly repeats.

Zach grimaces and turns his hands palm up in the air, pacifying: “Look, you know I think you belong here. You’re a shadowhunter too. But some people think- you weren’t raised as one of us, you didn’t drink from the cup, you don’t even live with other shadowhunters…”

“Jem was a Silent Brother. Tessa-”

“-is a warlock”, says Zach, “and Carstairs is retired, which isn’t supposed to happen. Face it. Your entire family is an outlier.”

Kit tugs the worn denim back onto his shoulders, its weight unnaturally light without the anchor of Oliver’s dagger. A muscle twitches in Zach’s jaw. His big hands flex, ripple the fabric of his gloves, but nothing else moves- still the perfect statue of a centurion. Raymond would be proud.

“And?”

“You can’t let them have leverage”, Zach emphasizes. “There are some concessions you get from being Jace Herondale’s cousin, but once people stop thinking you’re fun, they’ll- you’ll lose all privileges. Stop hanging out with the Blackthorn. He’s a ticking bomb.”

In a velvet tone, Kit says: “Would you like to elaborate on that?”

“Stop getting mad at me. I’m the one who should be angry- you’re making people think I’m a cuckold!”

“I haven’t done shit. It’s not my fault your kind doesn’t understand the concept of friendship. And, anyway, cuckold ? What the fuck kinda word choice is that? We’re not married, Zacharias.”

Zach says: “ Is it friendship, though? He has your fucking necklace.”

“It might be a little too complex for your little shadowhunter brain to understand,” Kit sneers, “But outside of this death trap of a cult, some of us manage to have meaningful friendships without having to have our skin burned about it.”

“You can’t possibly be comparing that to parabatai.”

The very idea is repugnant. Still- “I’m sorry, were you there for me when my dad fucking kicked it?”

“You haven’t talked in years!”

“As far as you know,” Kit scoffs.

“Why does it have to be fucking Tiberius Blackthorn, anyway? Can’t you pick literally anyone else?”

Kit takes a step closer. His hand grips the back of a chair, nails biting into the wood. “Oh? Would you like to explain to me why Ty is such a bad choice, then?”

Wisely, Zach stays silent.

“C’mon, now, don’t be shy. Tell me exactly what your thought process was on that one.”

“See?” Zach blurts out, glaring. “You’re even defending him now!”

It’s hard not to laugh at that. Kit doesn’t even try. “I never said I didn’t care. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t go for such an obvious lie, dollface.”

“You’re in love with him.”

Wood creaks. “ Don’t,” Kit bites out, “ ever say that again, or I swear, Zacharias Cross, I will end you.”

“You couldn’t. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, anyway.”

Carefully easing his death grip on the back of the chair, Kit puts forward a smile. “Oh, I love hearing gossip. Do go ahead.”

Stupidly, he does. “The Blackthorn’s family is half changeling already, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Tiberius were one of them, too. You know that. I don’t care how many privileges he gets because he’s the Unseelie King’s in law, the only one allowed headphones in the training room-”

“It’s not a privilege. He needs them.”

Zach makes a dismissive noise. “That’s what he wants you to think. The precious little Blackthorn- Ragnor Fell nearly bites off the head of anyone who dislikes him, it’s pathetic. You can’t expect people not to assume anyone who wants to be around that has ulterior reasons. You can’t expect them not to want to balance the scales a little.”

“I see.” Kit does. “Those people your friends?”

“Maybe. Maybe so.”

Kit allows the smile he can feel tugging at his mouth. Judging by Zach’s expression, he doesn’t find it very reassuring. What a shame.

“They actually tell you what they plan to do with their ulterior motives, or do you just do whatever the fuck they say and hope it works for the best?”

“Don’t- it’s fine, okay? They’re mad right now, but it’ll just blow over. I just need you to keep your head down.”

The bark of laughter startles both of them.

Kit leans into it, throwing his head back, until the hysteria bubbling up inside of him has left his stomach empty. He bares his teeth:

“Really? You think I can just keep my head down and everything will be fine ?”

“Sure. You’re a shadowhunter- you’re a Herondale. We’ll be fine. Just- just need to be careful, right now, just need you to stop acting like a Market rat, and then everything will be alright. It’s not like this shit will last forever.”

That’s hilarious. Laughter punches Kit’s throat, but he presses his lips together, grinning. The expression on Zach’s face nearly sends him right back into a fit. God. He should be spending more time around Zach, he really should; this is fucking priceless.

“Zach”, Kit manages, “They tried to kill you.”

A flinch. The smooth planes of Zach’s forehead scrunch up into mountain ranges, his confusion palpable. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Heather sent you to a famously shadowhunter-killing poltergeist in your uniform .”

“I mean, I know she wanted Ty to die-”

Now that’s new. Kit takes in a sharp inhale, reeling. “You knew?”

“It wasn’t subtle, of course I fucking knew. I knew as soon as Mayhew told me about the assignment- That’s why I volunteered. We don’t have enough centurions to be wasting them out of grudges; I knew you’d be acting up again, and I could handle it, anyway.”

“Aww. Could you?” A hysterical grin stretches Kit’s mouth a little too wide. He can see it in Zach, clear as day; the curl of his upper lip, the unnerved twist of his fingers against the bed, leaning away from him. “You were a second away from being minced meat when I saw you.”

“I had it under control-”

“She gave you physical weapon s to fight a ghost .”

“It worked the first time!”

Kit leans against the wall, running a hand through his hair. “You know, I did wonder about that. How could a poltergeist have turned up in Devon without me knowing about it? I have been dealing with those things for years.”

Zach’s eyes dart from him to the door and back, a cornered animal. Broad fingers twitch restlessly. His weapon is still laid out of immediate reach, an useless tool this far from home. Kit bets he’s regretting it now.

“Unless, of course, there was no poltergeist. Not really.”

“There was,” Zach immediately protests, “They wouldn’t-”

Kit drops the smile, face turning to stone. It makes Zach take a sharp inhale.

“They wouldn’t- what? Lie to you about it? You just admitted to believing they’re at least attempted murderers. Tell me, Zach. Did anything even happen when you walked into that first ‘haunted’ house?”

Silence. His lips twitch upwards.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“That makes no sense,” says Zach, empty.

A carefully casual shrug. Kit’s hand finds the doorknob behind his back, curling around the key ring. “Face it, Zach”, he says. “Your entire social circle is a death cult."

"You're lying. You’ve always hated them- of course you're lying! You want to keep me away from them so you can have your way with Blackthorn! Well, fuck that shit, I’m not falling for that!" Zach stands up, a head taller, two heads wider. Kit's back touches the perfect door:

"Alright. You’ve done me a favor, Cross, so I’ll do you one better. If they don't think you're disposable, if you feel like they actually care about you- then why don’t they know you're only second gen?"

Mid-step, Zach freezes.

"How do you-"

"Your surname was the first clue. Cross isn’t really a shadowhunter name, is it?” Kit says. “You guys like to pretend you’re not painfully Christian where it matters. Now, Zacharias- that’s a good, respectable name for a shadowhunter, if a little overused. I never understood the urge to recycle all the same names.”

“Kit…”

“You have my dad to thank for yours, you know? Jem oversaw your mother's Ascent. Sarah- the real poltergeist- that’s what made me think about it, because why wouldn’t you accept at least a little disguise, unless you’re overcompensating- but he’s the one who really confirmed it for me,” Kit adds, pleased. “That's the thing about him being a retired Silent Brother; he can actually talk , now. You'd be surprised just how much ."

Unlike some, Zach doesn’t look good that pale. It just makes him look unwell.

"You can't tell them. Please."

Kit can't help it: he coos, as sweet and cloying as honey. "Aww, what's wrong, Cross? Do you not trust your friends to stick by you?" He clicks his tongue. "Afraid to find out how little they really care? You can't escape that, you know. No matter how fast you run, you’ll always just be- their tool . You’re not even that important, you know? They were talking about replacing you."

Zach’s hand closes around the pommel.

Kit lurches back, twisting the doorknob, and the cold air of the hallway hits his back like a physical wall- Zach's eyes widen in horror; he takes one, two, three quick steps forward- Kit slams the door shut on his face-

And, at the end of his last shred of self control, Kit does what he does best.

He runs.

#alex wont shut up #alex's arty: writing #tda #tsc #sobh #twp #kit herondale #kit x ty #ty blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #zach au #a study in greys #blood tw #self harm tw

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ti-bae-rius · 2 years

Text

Pas De Deux - Part 1: KITTY

Part 1 of my dance partners au, inspired by @teetee-ali-xo's prompt list. If people like it, I'll post part 2 and might make it a fic on Ao3 or smth. Anyway, enjoy!

The minutes tick down and, right on time, he walks in. I watch him do the same thing, twice a week; he comes in, takes off his jacket, opens his locker, shoves some stuff into his bag, taps together the toe boxes of two pointe shoes hung up on the inside of the locker door, closes and locks it, and heads into one of the studios. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

Except today.

Today, he turns to go into the same studio he always does and freezes. I crane my neck to see through the glass panel in the door. A yellow wet floor sign is propped just inside, and they aren’t joking. The whole floor is slick with water and the culprit is obvious. A big metal water pipe running along the ceiling is still dripping into buckets, onto already saturated towels on the floor. The boy stares for a couple more seconds, then heads back to the reception desk. He returns looking mutinous.

“There’s a spare studio upstairs I think,” I tell him. He’s stood there, hands wrapped around the strap of his gym bag, and looks as if he’s debating what to do. I add, “Studio 8.”

“I work in studio 5.”

“Not today you don’t.”

He glares at me and for some reason it makes me grin.

“Sorry,” I say, schooling my features back into something like a neutral expression, and stick a hand out. “Kit.”

He doesn’t take my hand but he sits down on the chair opposite me, pulling his bag onto his lap. “Ty.”

“Studio 5 not to your liking?” I ask and he rolls his eyes.

“It’s fine, I guess. But it’s not my studio.”

“A creature of habit, aren’t you?”

He smiles a little and shrugs. “I guess so.”

“I guess? You do the same thing every day. Every day you open your locker and do the tapping thing with those pointe shoes and-“

“Then so are you,” he interrupts.

“I’m what?”

“A creature of habit.” He’s not looking at me, but I can almost hear the mischief in his eyes from the tone of his voice. “I might do the same thing every day, but you watch every day. So what does that make you?”

My cheeks burn and I turn towards the window to watch Mina. She’s doing some little jump thing and is seriously adorable. Ty follows my line of sight.

“Is that your little sister?”

“Yeah, cute isn’t she? She’s called Mina.”

He peers through the window. “You need to tie her ballet bun properly. It’s coming out.”

“Are you for real?”

He grins. “She’s very cute.”

I roll my eyes. “So what’s your story? Why are you here?”

He looks confused. He’s slouched back in the chair, one leg resting on the other, chin in his hand. “I’m talking to you.”

“Not now,” I laugh. “I mean usually. What are you practising for?”

He glances down at his feet then, and the air between us shifts between one breath and the next. I can feel the tension all of a sudden, the way he’s deciding how much to tell me. He eventually exhales and sits up.

“A recruiter from the college I want to go to is coming to the end of year showcase, and I’m meant to be performing a duo. And I can’t.”

“I haven’t seen you practise with anyone,” I comment. I wonder if he’s going to call me out for paying so much attention to him, but it doesn’t even seem to register.

“Yeah. I haven’t been. I’ve performed with my twin sister, 5 days a week, every week, since we were 4.”

“She quit dance?” I ask.

“She died.”

“Fuck,” I breathe, horrified. “Dude, that…I’m so sorry. You can’t perform a solo?”

“I’ve never danced alone. Besides, getting these scholarships was our dream, mine and Livvy’s. If it’s just me then…it’s not the same dream, is it? It’s not the same plan. I don’t even know if I want this anymore, but I don’t know what else to do.” He scrubs a hand through his hair and sighs. “This studio used to be the only place I didn’t have to think about everything else, all the worries and pressure. Now I can’t even focus long enough to choreograph a solo because all I can think about is how much better she made me, how much better we made each other. Besides, that scholarship is for a duo. There are too many dancers who’ve been perfecting their solo careers for years. I don’t stand a chance.” He rubs a hand across his eyes tiredly, like he’s trying to wipe the exhaustion out of them. Then he looks up and huffs a half-laugh. “Sorry. You probably only asked that to be polite. Sorry.”

“And you can’t find a new partner?” I ask, ignoring the apology. He glances back at me, a fleeting gaze, but I understand what it means: you actually care about this? And, I realise, I do. A lot.

“Not really. Almost everyone here who dances duos has a partner already. And everyone who doesn’t is heading off to do some mainstream degree. They don’t exactly have the time - or inclination - to use those last few months before college learning a dance with the weird guy who doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I mean, not to call bullshit but you’re talking quite a lot to me,” I point out, and he laughs. Properly laughs. It drives into my chest, right between my ribs, like a needle, pumping me full of…something like affection.

“Sorry about that. You’re kind of the first person I’ve said any of this to. But you probably want to watch your sister,” he trails off, and stands up, looking embarrassed to have unloaded all of this on me. I catch the strap of his gym bag and pull him back into his chair.

“You could teach me.”

His eyebrows furrow, confused. “What?”

“You could teach me the duo and I could stand in until you find someone who can actually dance to take my spot.”

“Have you ever danced?”

“I play a lot of DDR,” I offer. “Look, I’m here twice a week but I don’t do anything and my parents think I’m some freaky loner who’s doing to end up living in their basement forever. I’m meant to be finding a college course but this is a perfect excuse to procrastinate. As long as my parents think I’m helping someone, being productive, they’ll get off my case. So what do you say?”

He chews his lip, and for a stomach-dropping minute, I think he’s going to laugh in my face. Or worse, be insulted. Maybe he should be, some random nobody who can’t dance offering to help, to take over from his twin. His dead fucking twin. Oh my god I’m an idiot. I open my mouth to say I’m joking, that obviously I was just messing around, but he smiles and the words die on my lips.

“Okay.”

“Really?” I ask, and I’m surprised by the excitement in my voice. I guess I didn’t know how much I wanted this until, for a moment, it seemed like an impossibility.

“Really. I’d like that. Does your sister have class tomorrow?”

“No,” I say, but continue quickly. “But I can come in anyway?”

“Would you?”

I’m nodding and the genuine earnestness in my eyes is reflected back to me for just an instant as his gaze meets mine.

“Thank you, Kit. Thank you.” He’s getting to his feet, zipping his bag closed. I have to keep him here, just a second longer.

“Wait,” I say as he reaches the door. He turns back. “When Mina next has class, will you show me how to do her hair?”

His smile makes his eyes crinkle, and he nods before heading out into the streets, sliding headphones over his ears, and leaving me to wonder what on earth I just signed up for.

#tda #the dark artifices #ty blackthorn #cassandra clare #tsc #tiberius blackthorn #the shadowhunter chronicles #kit herondale #fanfic #kitty

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theamazingwhizzo · 2 years

Text

What’s broken and what can be fix

Mini fic to fix my broken heart. It literally has no context, in the middle of TWP I suppose.

Warning: Angst and maybe a little bit of fluff at the ending. I’ve written this in less than half an hour, no beta reader, and English is not my first language. That should be warning enough.

..................................................................................................................

-What will it take you to forgive me?

It hadn't been a good idea from the beginning. When he opened the door and saw Ty, he knew it wasn't going to be an easy conversation. It was sad to think, after so long missing him, that he shouldn't have open it.

-I know I need you more than you need me. *Ty said.

-Is that what you think? That I don't need you? Because i do. I need you.

-Then why did you live me?

-Because you hurt me! -He had to stop to breath -I... I can't do this now

-Then when?

-Not in a postapocalyptic alternative universe would be nice.

Ty sight and took a step back. His eyes were fix on the floor, where some tiles were missing.

-I miss you, so much it hurts. You can't even imagine.

-I can, because I feel it too.

They stayed in silence, it had never brother them, but right now it was tense and heavy.

-I wrote you.

That seemed to made Ty stop. He looked at the wall behind Kit, his jacket, and then at the Herondale dagger he was crushing on his hand.

-I wrote you -He continued -Sometimes. When there was no one else I would tell. I never send them, I couldn't bring myself to, but I didn't have the heart to burn them.

It was a first step, the first piece of their broken hearts. It was the only thing he could give him in that moment, the other truths too important to rip them from himself.

-Kit, I...

-I haven't told you so you have to say something. It's just the truth.

There was another long silence, and then.

-Is it what I did so bad that you will never look at me again?

It was an unexpected blow. It had hurt, so much. He still had nightmares, even years later, of that night. He came to understand, with time, but that was not forgiveness.

So many people in his life had let him down, maybe not so many because it had never been many people in the first place. But Ty... it had been different. He let himself open up, take him into his arms and his heart, and then he exploded, leaving his remains like ruins.

After his father’s death, he didn't cry, he didn't allow himself to mourn. Instead, he hid it into a dark corner of his mind and let Ty and Livvy and this new Shadowhunter life light him from the inside.

And then there was no Livvy, and no Ty, and he was part faerie from a dangerous line and with a dead mother. Jem and Tessa had been the glue to kept him together these past years, and Mina what kept the pieces to became more. It had been enough, for a while, until it wasn't.

And here he was, with Ty once again in front of him, too many history between them to ignore, and too many future to miss. In the end, he wasn't ready, not strong enough to fix it. Fix them.

Because he didn't know how.

So, he looked at the ground, and waited for ty to go away, to go plan their next move with Jaime or Dru.

And the noise of the door closed never came. Instead, he heard light steps coming in front of him, and Ty’s centurion shoes came into view. He kneeled in front of Kit, who was sitting in the bed of the small room they were able to find for him. Then, Ty’s hands were on his knees.

-I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for letting my grieve blind me. I'm sorry for breaking us. I'm so sorry for everything.

His eyes were locked on Ty’s hands, too busy fighting back the tears.

-I know- he said finally.

Ty came slowly, doubtful, until his arms were around Kit's shoulders and he was squeezing him. He let his head to fall into Ty’s shoulder, his tears wetting Ty’s shirt.

Ty squeezed him harder and Kit cried harder. He could smell Ty, the dark comforting smell that he remembered from when they were fifteen. He cried everything that was inside him, all the regrets, and words, and happiness, and sadness, and mostly the memories.

They stayed like that for a long time. At some moment, Ty moved his head so it was resting against Kit's and started touching his hair.

And maybe, in the end, it was enough for now.

#kit herondale #Ty Blackthorn #TWP #the wicked powers #sobh #secrets of blackthorn hall #kitty #kit and ty #ty and kit #cassandra clare #dru blackthorn #jaime rosales #Kit x ty #Ty x kit #Livvy Blackthorn

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amchara · 2 years

Text

Trouble Seems to Follow (Part Seven)

Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, Livvy Blackthorn (Kit/Ty)

Wordcount: 5,155 words (23,236 words in total)

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

The final part of the 'Kit and Ty meet again after three years when Kit rescues Ty by teleporting them out of danger.'

Kisses are analysed, secrets are revealed, and the Seelies hunting Kit down return (with a special guest). The final installment of this story!

As always, thanks to @sandersgrey for the Kit/Ty posts that keep inspiring fic, including this one!

There was something about kissing Ty that scared Kit. It was unlike kissing Holly, even when she had been the one nipping at his earlobes and down his neck, leaving hickeys and Kit had briefly wondered about bites and how werewolf transference actually worked.

No, it was different with Ty. It was everything Kit wanted… but it felt somehow darker, where they were both still keeping walls up, a spark of dormant conflict and uneasiness existing, despite boundaries becoming tangled between them.

He was aware of Ty’s body covering his in a possessive stance, pressing against him in a way that in other situations would have set off his fight or flight instinct. His hands were around Kit’s waist, firm pressure and unmoving, in contrast to their usual beautiful fluttering movements. But Ty kept his kisses lighter and undemanding even as Kit curled fingers into his dark hair, urging him him down, closer. Wanting to close the distance of years apart.

After countless times agonising over lost and potential what-if scenarios in his head- touching Ty, kissing him- initiated by Ty was the sweetest relief. But it also provoked new waves of anxiety. What if he was doing it wrong? What if this was his one chance and he was messing it up? Shut up, Kit tried to tell his spiralling thoughts.

He placed his other hand at the edge of Ty’s borrowed shirt, slipping it underneath. He hesitated until he heard an impatient in-breath, and a slight movement of Ty moving even closer and only then did he allow himself to touch Ty’s skin, feeling goosebumps and the hard planes of muscle as they moved with his breath, as their lips touched and lifted. Ty left butterfly kisses around Kit’s mouth and along his neck, sending thrills down Kit’s nerves, setting them alight. Kit traced along Ty’s shoulder bones, feeling the curve of Ty’s lips shape into a smile as he did so.

Sometime later, Kit leaned his head back to catch a breath, dropping his hands from their explorations.

Ty also drew back, his gaze set at a point in the wall. He kept his hands where they were, almost as if to keep Kit in place- from fleeing again.

Kit studied him, trying to read into the set of his jaw, the squint around Ty’s eyes or the subtle tension he held in his lips for clues as to what they did next. Where they went after this bridge had been crossed - no, thoroughly destroyed - when it came to their friendship.

Rather than address that thorny issue, his eyes were drawn to the slight raise underneath the fabric of Ty’s shirt. Kit traced a finger over one of the delicate chains, hooking a finger over it, to pull out the Herondale necklace.

Ty let out an involuntary shiver.

“You shouldn’t wear this anymore,” Kit said, his voice cracking loudly. Ty’s eyes flew back to his face, settling on his lips, as Kit winced. “It was supposed to keep you safe. But things have changed and wearing it now will only put you in danger.”

“I’m not in danger from the necklace,” Ty said, his voice steady. Finally releasing Kit’s waist, he took several small steps back. Watching Ty distance himself again, Kit felt a sudden surge of apprehension.

“Kit. I have to tell you something,” Ty said. “I was going to wait until Livvy came back but I- can’t wait.” He looked nervous - possibly for the first time since they had reunited - rubbing his hands up and down along the side of his jeans.

Kit’s stomach was churning with uneasiness. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “Okay?” he replied, trying to remain casual.

“I know you’re the descendant of the First Heir.” Ty met Kit’s eyes as he dropped his bombshell, his eyes now dark and fathomless in the rapidly-darkening training room.

Kit straightened up at Ty’s confession. Whatever he expected Ty to say, it wasn’t that. But then again, it wasn’t exactly surprising Ty had put two and two together, he reasoned. The monster attacking Ty had addressed Kit as the heir. And combined with the past twenty four hours and seeing Kit’s powers in action… “Right,” he said, neutrally, noting that Ty was waiting for a reaction before continuing.

“We- the Centurions, we know the Seelie Queen and her court have been trying to track down this heir - and it’s… you,” Ty said, rubbing the back of his neck, ducking his head. He looked distraught. “I’ve realised it’s you.”

“Yeah, no shit- that’s been my life these last three years, them trying to find me.” Kit said bitterly. “What of it? I didn’t exactly expect the Centurions to protect me, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“No- but. You probably didn’t expect the Centurions would be helping the Seelie Court track you down.”

“What.” Kit felt cold. “Why?” Suddenly his heart was pounding too loudly in his chest and he could feel his gaze drawn past Ty to the door to the rest of the house. His power itched in his veins, telling him to leave, escape, flee.

“Why? Kit, I’ve just seen what you can do. And according to prophecies we’ve read, you’ll be ten times more powerful once you’ve learned to harness it properly.”

Ty’s voice was back to that same, flat tone. His Centurion voice, Kit decided. “Plus, you have claims to both the Unseelie and Seelie thrones which- if they go to war, it could spill over to the wider Shadow World-” Ty was shaking his head, almost disagreeing as he listed all the reasons that Tessa had laid out to Kit, all those years ago, when she invited him to live with her and Jem at Cirenworth.

“Yeah, yeah- fine, I’m a ticking time bomb,” Kit interrupted, pushing himself off the wall. His power was building again, gaining energy from his growing anger and fear.

Fighting against his instinct to flee, Kit walked up to Ty instead, forcing him to back up several more steps. Kit narrowed his eyes. “So, I guess- for the good of the Shadow World, what are you gonna do? Arrest me? Hand me over to the Seelie Court?”

Ty’s jaw moved imperceptibly, his eyes darting back and forth past Kit.

“Whoa, things seem to have escalated here,” Livvy’s voice was loud behind them, as she materialised in the gloom.

“Not a good time, Livvy,” Kit told her, watching as Ty pivoted to greet his sister, as Livvy drifted up to his shoulder. The twins held a rapid hushed conversation between them, before Livvy turned to Kit.

“Well, you better make up in the next thirty seconds ‘cause you need to leave Cirenworth now. Ty’s machine has gotten very good at giving the Seelie Court’s hunters a heads up to your location… and Anush has just spun it up to try and locate you again.”

“Ty’s machine?” Kit knew his voice was strained at this new detail of Ty’s betrayal. Ty grimaced and looked away.

Livvy’s mouth went into a round ‘o’ and she blinked rapidly. “Yeah- his and Anush’s adapted Sensor- did he not tell you-” she said, looking confused. “I just- you were talking about the Seelie Court, so I assumed you knew he’s been running the Centurion side of the operation to find the heir… like, before he knew it was you.”

“We were getting there,” Kit said, gritting his teeth. “I assume.”

He looked over- only to find Ty had slipped behind the nearest workbenches, gathering up throwing knives. “You need to pick a weapon,” he called out to Kit. “Quickly, before we go.”

“What do you mean ‘before we go?’” Kit tried to sort through his rapidly blossoming thoughts, which were threatening to overwhelm him. Automatically, he moved towards the nearest plinth, and grabbed tiny knives and their corresponding sheaths.

Ty stopped in front of him. “We’ll need to teleport away from Cirenworth for the fight,” he said. His voice was calm, even as he tapped a rapid rhythm on the ground with the massive pike he had grabbed from the wall. He held out several larger knives to Kit.

Kit threw a glance to Livvy, who nodded. “We need to go.”

“What do you mean we?” Kit repeated, even as he accepted the knives. Ty couldn’t mean-

“Kit, I know you almost drained your power earlier but- you need to take both of us to a location away from Cirenworth. Otherwise your family won’t be safe,” Ty told him, his voice barely above a whisper, deadly serious.

“I - seriously? You’ve been sending Seelie hunters after me, and now you want me to take you to an ambush with them?” Kit pointed out. He clenched his fists, feeling the ornamental hilts of the knives becoming slippery in his sweaty hands. Why was he wasting time? He should’ve been left as soon as he had heard Livvy’s warning.

Ty screwed up his face in consternation and his eyes kept slipping to Livvy before being drawn back to Kit. “I understand why you don’t trust me but you need me there for the fight,” he said fiercely.

“I- can’t,” Kit said.

Ty’s hands spasmed around the pike. “Please- I want to help. Let me help you. So you don’t have to keep running - you told me you don’t want to keep running.” Livvy was hovering behind Ty, an anxious expression on her face.

It’s an impossible dream Kit thought dully. Particularly with the bombshell Ty had just dropped - that the Centurions were helping track him down - it didn’t bode well for his future freedom or chance of a normal life. He tried to focus on buckling the knife sheaths around his forearms.

“Kit, please.” Ty’s voice was almost a whisper and Kit’s survival instinct kicked in. It didn’t have to be today that he was finally caught, he thought. This time around, he could have a well-trained, insider Centurion help him slip the rapidly-tightening net.

Assuming Ty wasn’t double-crossing him and wasn’t just planning to deliver him over to the Seelie Queen. But that didn’t seem Ty’s style; so, did Kit trust him?

Kit made his calculations rapidly. He stashed the knives in his arm braces and moved within Ty’s orbit. “Where to?”

Ty didn’t hesitate, shifting so Kit could comfortably fit his arms around him, in a tight embrace. “Someplace with high cover, maybe a few miles from here. So we don't have to hike half a day back again,” Ty said, his voice close to Kit’s ear.

“I’ll follow,” Livvy promised.

In the distance, Kit could hear Jem calling him and Ty for dinner, as the scene in front of them melted away in a blur.

Kit felt like he was going to be physically sick. The trip to the steep, hilly Dartmoor viewpoint where he and Jem had started hikes had taken most of his power reserves, and he fought off dizziness, clutching at the nearest tree trunk. Had he jumped quickly enough that Ty’s adapted Sensor was tracking him to this new location, or were the Seelies going to show up at Cirenworth?

“Let me-,” Ty took his arm, turning it upwards and and efficiently sketched fresh strength and perseverance runes before letting go of Kit, watching him closely for a minute before turning away. Dizziness fading, Kit was reminded once again of the usefulness of runes but decided he may have to talk to Ty about his obsession with drawing them on him.

Livvy popped into view and with unspoken agreement, all three of them turned their attention to their immediate surroundings, looking down from the craggy, tree-filled outcrop of rock, and the empty parking lot and fields below. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any mundane hikers around.

It was so quiet in the still countryside evening that the sudden pop and appearance of the Faerie contingent made Kit jump.

“Oh shit.” Kit had never heard Ty swear using mundane terms before.

While Kit’s previous brushes had involved one or two at most Fae warriors or beasts, this was a full contingent, counting at least fifteen fully-armed faeries and two very large wolf-like creatures pacing back and forth below them. Standing as an odd man out, there was also a Centurion, his dark hair and skin and black uniform in stark contrast to the bone-armoured Seelies.

No matter how well-trained Ty was - and whatever help Kit could provide - there was no way that they could take them. Even if Ty was inclined to fight his fellow Centurion.

Kit looked over at Ty’s pale face and Livvy’s terrified look and a wave of despair washed over him.

“What do we do?” he could see Livvy mouth and Kit shook his head. Maybe it was best that this was where he surrendered, keeping his family safe and far away, he thought, even as every part of him rebelled against that suggestion.

“It’s not possible to fight that many…” Ty murmured, as an intense look of concentration crossed his face.

Several long seconds passed and Kit grew antsy, attempting to split his attention between the danger below and Ty.

“Well, Sherlock?” he asked.

Ty smiled at the nickname, despite Kit’s sarcastic edge to it. He dropped his pike and fished out a couple more items from his pockets, and dropped them carelessly underneath the nearest tree. “I have a plan,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Pass me a knife, Watson.”

Kit handed it over and then bit down on a yelp as Ty pulled it out of the sheaf, and with a swift motion dragged it high across his collarbone, and then across his left cheekbone. The cuts bled a sluggish red as Ty addressed Livvy. “Can you shield Kit with your ghost cloaking ability, Livvy? For a few minutes at least?”

“I- I think so. I don’t know if Seelie magic can cut through it but I can try,” Livvy nodded and Ty looked reassured.

“Ty- don’t be, what the fuck are you even doing?” Kit hissed, torn between wanting to get an explanation or better yet- drained power be damned- grabbing Ty and teleporting them both someplace far away from the deadly squad below.

“Buying us enough time so I can get back to London and disable the Sensor,” Ty replied, as he added a few more shallow knife cuts to his arms, and then smeared the blood around.

Kit and Livvy looked on in horrified silence. “But I need to do it now before they find us!” Ty said, more urgently. “Climb that tree and just wait here,” he told them, pointing. Without waiting for an answer, he started to walk towards the narrow path down to the empty parking lot and towards the Faeries, who had gathered their bearings and were beginning to spread out.

Feeling incredulous but unable to think of anything better to do, Kit hiked himself into the nearest suitable tree. Livvy floated up beside him. “Stay still - it’s cold but it won’t hurt you,” she whispered. An invisible blanket of cool air fell across him, and the world suddenly went foggy at the edges, as if they were in a glass filled with condensation. “When did you learn that?” Kit asked, his voice low enough he wasn’t sure she heard him.

But she did. “At the Scholomance - I discovered I could hide from other ghosts, and Ty and I experimented where we discovered I could also cloak him from ghosts- and also from his fellow students. For a time, at least. ” In the ghost bubble, Livvy’s eyes were fathomless and her voice was as harsh as the winter wind.

Kit tried not to recoil. Then he leaned forward, as Ty broke from the tree cover towards the now-fanned out Faeries. His heart in his throat, he heard a shout from the nearest one, aiming their crossbows at Ty’s heart, before Ty was ushered into the centre of the group.

Several long agonising minutes passed as Kit strained to see Ty’s every move and gesture, watching as Ty pointed to his self-inflicted cuts, and wondering if he was able to pull it off whatever mad plan he had come up with. He didn’t seem to have been immediately taken prisoner by the Seelies, which Kit figured was a good sign.

A few moments later, Ty’s debrief finished, the Faeries continued their scouting of the area. A small group of them, including Ty, headed towards the outcrop where Kit and Livvy were hiding.

In the distance, Kit could see Ty and the other Centurion - he wondered if it was Anush - in a deep conversation, with a large piece of paper held in his hand and Ty pointing to several spots on it. The wind blew snatches of words towards them but Kit couldn’t make out a legible conversation. He gradually relaxed as Ty’s stance remained ramrod straight but untroubled while hiking upwards with the other Centurion. But then Kit’s attention turned to the Seelie wolfhound attached to the group, which growled and rushed ahead to the clearing where they were hiding.

Kit tensed, rustling branches. Livvy glared at him and he shrugged apologetically. As the Faeries prowled underneath and around them, he tried to refrain from even breathing. In that sense, he thought, Livvy had the easier job.

“Dhosvy has found a scent,” said the imperious Seelie knight holding the lead. “The Heir must be close.” The wolfhound started circling around the tree Kit and Livvy were hiding in. Kit closed his eyes briefly, wishing he believed in God, Raziel… any deity, so he could pray to them.

But Ty shook his head. “Perhaps-” he said, looking perfectly at ease despite being only a few metres and moments away from his whole ruse falling apart. “Or-” he tilted his head and went to grab his abandoned weapons, under the tree, picking up a small box. “He might be picking up this artifact that belongs to the Heir,” he said, flashing the small wooden box he had shown to Tessa, Jem and Kit, hours earlier.

“It’s something I found while searching in the area,” he told the Fae, who were looking disgruntled, as the wolfhound sniffed eagerly at the box being held out and growled at it. “It’s associated with the Heir and I dropped it in my brief skirmish with him.” Ty said calmly gesturing to his wounds. He smiled, at ease, reaching out to let the wolfhound sniff his own upturned palm, which was brave, Kit thought, considering the size of the creature.

The two Fae looked disappointed and they spoke amongst themselves in a language Kit couldn’t understand but assumed was High Fae. They circled around the clearing a few more times with their hound, while Ty and the other Centurion just watched in silence. But Livvy’s cloaking held and Ty’s deception seemed to have convinced them. After a few more tense minutes, the duo left, their soft, sibilant High Fae words sounding angry.

Ty and the Centurion lingered, as Ty picked up his pike and other spilled weapons. “So… I assume you’ll tell me the full story of how you arrived here, in the nick of time, when we’re back in London and out of Fae earshot,” the other man said, softly. Despite his accusatory words, he sounded almost cheerful and from Kit’s position in the tree, it looked like he was almost grinning at Ty.

Ty nodded slowly. “Yes, I definitely have a story to tell,” he said neutrally. “But I have to head back to the Carstairs’ place first- their library has some texts on Fae legends I think will be useful to unravel the next stage of finding the Heir.”

“Hey. We’ve already found him- it’s just too bad he got the jump on you this time and escaped,” said Anush. “You should’ve brought along Kit Herondale on your hike. I know some of the London Institute aren’t too keen on him but he’s a Herondale, so I’m sure that’s got to count for something. And you mentioned in your message he was helpful last night- which by the way, I am still hurt you chose to bring him instead of me for your jaunt down to Devon to investigate your newest lead.”

Ty just shrugged in response. But Anush didn’t seem to take it personally and continued chattering on as they made their way back down the hill.

Kit let out the breath he had been holding.

Slowly, the Faeries drifted back from their reconnaissance of the area, and despite the distance, Kit thought he could see the looks of frustration on their faces. After another short huddle and consultation, one of the more grandly-dressed Faeries held up his arm, and as suddenly as they had appeared, they blinked out of existence, leaving Ty alone again.

Kit slumped back against the tree’s spindly trunk with relief.

Ty made his way back to them almost half an hour later, which Kit assumed was in case anyone had tried to follow him. His lips were tight and white-rimmed, and he kept running his hands through his hair, almost compulsively, as he entered the clearing where Kit and Livvy were waiting.

“You can come out,” he said. Kit cautiously made his way out of the tree, and watched Livvy rush over to her twin and fuss, as Ty slumped onto a flat rock.

Kit approached, watching Ty scrub at his face, and he could see the sweat beading Ty’s forehead, despite the rapidly-cooling night air.

“That was a bold plan,” he said, as the silence stretched out between them. “I didn’t realise you had become so good at deception,” he said.

Ty’s face shuttered at Kit’s words. “It’s a skill like any other Centurion one- like any good detective should have,” he said defensively. “Anyway- you’ve been good at it for years,” he said, lifting his chin.

Ty’s words stung more than Kit would have liked. “Yeah well- we’re both excellent liars now, hooray for us,” he replied.

Livvy sighed loudly and both of them turned to look at her. “Oh please- do NOT start this again,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “Can’t you both acknowledge that you’ve both kept secrets from each other and move past it?”

Kit ignored her plea. “Oh, I don’t know- maybe. But then again, maybe the fact you’ve been in charge of hunting me down for the past few months could’ve come up earlier?” he said, directing his sarcasm towards Ty.

Ty stiffened. “I didn’t know it was you- plus you also haven’t been forthcoming about where your power came from. Or why you’ve been in hiding.”

“You didn’t ask,” Kit shot back. Then he realised how weird that was in hindsight- Ty not asking those questions, and his curiosity made him forget his anger briefly. “When did you figure it out?”

Ty had started angrily tracing patterns in the dust of the rock he was sitting on. “I didn’t know it was you,” he repeated, unwilling to look up. “But I started to have suspicions almost from the beginning when we met up again.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?” Kit asked, desperate.

Ty stopped his finger drawings, and slowly stood. “Because I didn’t want it to be true,” he said, an undertone of anger colouring his voice. “Because I don’t want us to be on opposite sides of the war that is coming.”

Kit felt cold apprehension at his words. “Wait- what do you mean by that?” He looked to Livvy but didn’t find any clues on her pale, immobile face.

Ty shook his head, looking frustrated. “I- I don’t have time to explain it all. Not right now,” he said, starting to pace around the clearing.

Kit could’ve throttled him there and then. “Why not?”

“Because I have to head back to the London Institute. I need to disable or adjust the Sensor so the Seelie Court doesn’t immediately come after you again!” Ty pointed out, and he looked close to losing his patience with Kit. He ran his fingers through his hair again, letting it stand on end.

In the fast-paced scenes of the previous hour, Kit had forgotten about that. He nodded reluctantly. “Okay fair.” He watched as Ty re-arranged his weapons, shifting the small box that had saved his skin, into a front pocket.

“What is that, really?” he asked Ty, nodding at the Faerie artifact.

Ty ignored the question, pulling out his stele to draw an iratze on his arm instead. Kit pushed down his irritation. He paused. “Thank you for risking your career to pull one over on the Seelie Court for me.” Despite his hurt over discovering Ty’s role in the whole mess, he owed him that much, at least.

“You’re welcome- today’s situation is only the start though, to avoid them catching on,” Ty said thoughtfully, stowing his stele and tapping his fingers on the pike again.

Kit thought about the monumental task Ty seemed to have just agreed to - keeping Kit out of the Seelie Court’s way and presumably also out of the hands of his fellow Centurions. How long could he keep up a double agent life? And why was he agreeing to it? Ty had wanted to be a Centurion for a long time and was surely risking not only his career but also potentially his status as a Shadowhunter just to help Kit.

Kit felt conflicted - it all felt like too much to ask of Ty- and therefore, he didn’t trust it.

Noticing Livvy’s mournful gaze towards Ty, Kit also considered her position - watching from the sidelines as her twin moved through life, her own autonomy shuttered and tied to Ty.

And how his own life- which was barely kept under control- was spiralling into an even larger problem. Particularly as his cover as a barely-competent Shadowhunter was crumbling around him. He- and Tessa and Jem- were going to have to come up with a new plan. Or maybe it was time to drop the subterfuge and show the Shadowhunters who he really was.

The dying rays of the sunset lit Ty’s hair, catching red highlights, and with his unhealed scars, he looked every part of the dangerous, dark presence Kit had originally seen when he first properly met Ty again, deep in the depths of Dartmoor.

It had been only a little while ago they had snatched a brief moment to be just Kit and Ty. As they had been in L.A. Friends- or maybe it had always been something more, Kit thought, remembering their kiss. Part of him wanted to kiss Ty again, and part of him wanted to shake him until he gave up every remaining secret hidden behind those flinty grey eyes.

But their roles as Centurion and First Heir were overshadowing everything else. And any clarifying questions Kit might have proposed were stuck in his throat.

“So… what are we going to do, long term?” he finally asked, wondering if any of the sadness he was feeling came through in his voice.

Ty’s face softened. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. He stepped closer to Kit tentatively. “But we’ll come up with a plan,” he promised.

He held out a hand and Kit took it, accepting the truce. Digging deep within his power, he returned them to Cirenworth without another word.

Ty, alongside Livvy, disappeared through the Portal, and Kit felt a hollow ache in his chest expand, as the flashing swirl of blue lights closed.

“As soon as I can, I’ll come back and we can talk more freely next time,” he had promised Kit just ahead of Tessa opening up the Portal.

Kit had crossed his arms, holding himself back from touching Ty. “You better,” he said baldly. “No secrets next time- all revealed, promise?”

Ty’s smile had been brief but dazzling, and he reached out to briefly embrace Kit. “I can do that,” he said. “We’ll find the time.”

And Kit had felt just the tiniest bit guilty.

“You’ll see him again soon, darling,” Tessa said, returning Kit to the present. She clasped him by the shoulders. “And the visit to Jem’s family is only temporary while we chat with Alec about what kind of protection you can get if you go back to another Institute.”

“Yeah,” Kit said, allowing a quick hug before stepping back. He hadn’t yet told Tessa and Jem about Ty’s reveal that the Centurions were working with the Seelie court to hunt him down- or that Ty was in charge of it, instead making up an excuse that he and Ty had lost track of time. He suspected if he hadn’t, Tessa might not have been so willing to send Ty back on his urgent mission to London.

“But… I don’t know if he’s gonna be super happy to see me next time…”

Tessa frowned. “Why?”

Kit dug into the pocket of his hoodie and produced the small, ornate box. “Because I pickpocketed that Faerie artifact from him.”

He felt bad about stealing from Ty. But he also needed to do what was necessary if he was going to stay one step ahead of the Seelie Court- and now the Centurions, even if Ty did manage to muddle the Sensor so it wasn’t able to find him. The box and the pendant within were clearly important to the Centurions’ mission around the First Heir, and he needed to find out why, even if - especially if - Ty was unwilling to tell him more about it.

Beside them, Jem swore softly and Mina, in his arms, giggled. “Kit…” Jem said.

Tessa shook her head but Kit thought he saw a proud look in her eye. “Do you want me to take a closer look at it, before you head off to Shanghai?” she asked.

Kit pulled off the lid and peered inside. In contrast to its fancy exterior design, the pendant inside was plain, a hollow circle, edged in gold, with two gems- a sapphire and ruby at either end.

He reached out to touch the sapphire- and immediately felt a pulling sensation, almost as if his powers were being activated unwillingly. He saw Tessa’s eyes widen and she threw out a hand, attempting to snatch the box away.

But it was too late; he felt the air compress around him and the warmth of Cirenworth’s garden turn into a damp, closed space. The scene in front of him twisted and reformed into a dark cave, lit by flickering candles with black flames. “What the-” Kit pivoted to find a blond boy - of similar age to him in front of him, practising sword drills.

His green eyes narrowed, noticing the pendant but didn’t seem to be surprised at Kit’s appearance and he let out a short, cynical laugh. “You’re early, First Heir,” he drawled. “But I guess we can start training now.”

I know, I know- it's not really a proper ending but it's as far as I'm willing to write my version of The Wicked Powers and Kit and Ty's reunion. And I know it's messy, a lot of questions unanswered- and they still don't entirely trust each other to truly relax, and who can blame them? But progress has been made, a connection reforged (and a kiss happened!) so I'm satisfied I've achieved everything I set out to do with this story.

Thank you for sticking with it, despite the long gaps between updates for the last couple of chapters. (Life, y'know?)

Taglist: @dontmindmyshadowhunting @jesse-is-spiralling @of-same-steel-and-temper @thomastaircompassrose @sandersgrey @thechangeling @mferraz @kestrafagnor @gabtapia @alldagayships @blindbandit1515 @silvermagnolias @chaotic-halfblood-kit @fighting-god-69 @lifeofbrybooks @all-this-panic-still-no-disco @heloisacosta23 @kitheronthorn @idk-i-just-really-like-tsc @t0wergirl

#tsc fanfiction #kitty fanfiction #kit x ty #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #secrets of blackthorn hall #the dark artifices #the wicked powers #my fanfic #trouble seems to follow

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spooky-drusilla · 2 years

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Idk why but when I was rewatching gravity falls I kept thinking about Kit as Bill bc that would be so funny-

IT WOULD!!

I don't remember now if you've ever read aftg, but there's a fic that I instantly thought of when you said Kit as Bill: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508695

Yk. The creepy small town vibes, Ty and Livvy spending summer with their uncle (or aunt Marjorie or whoever if you thought would substitute grunkle Stan), and then they find a telepathic presence that is also a quirky rebellious teen who likes innocent mischief and constantly needs to possess something/someone so he can be chained to the material plane

Sounds amazing

#asks #ly!!

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thechangeling · 2 years

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There are so many fics I could write about ty but I feel like most people won't get it...yk? Like allistics won't understand the thoughts, or the euphoric feeling of certain things, or the constant grieving and personality switching

I never see fics talking about ty and how he's probably suicidal after livvy's death, how he probably didn't even hear kit's confession, how he's probably gone days forgetting to eat, how he feels alone even when he's surrounded by people

Everytime allistics write about ty, it's always he's fine, he's not sad about livvy because her ghost is there, he would never self harm, he's still in love with kit

It's just pure bullshit. And I'm really really tired

Yeah literally. They just don't get it. And I'm sick of trying to make them get it you know?

I think the main reason why I've avoided writing Ty being suicidal is because it would just hit too close to home. I've scattered little bits of it in my fics, especially in ones like Seven days, but certain things just are too real.

Then again I don't know, maybe it would be cathartic. But it's definitely realistic. And I wish people would write more of that.

#asks #mutuals!#ly!

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xnicowritesx · 1 year

Text

Unused to Affection

Fandom(s): The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types

Relationship(s): Livia Blackthorn/Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook, Livia Blackthorn/Kit Rook, Tiberius Blackthorn/Kit Rook, Livia Blackthorn & Tiberius Blackthorn

Archive Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Series: Nico's Multiamory March 2023

Summary: Ty and Livvy show affection to Kit, and the latter is definitely unused to it.

@polyamships

#multiamorymarch2023 #my fics #kitty #kivvy #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #ty blackthorn #tiberius blackthorn #livvy blackthorn #livia blackthorn #kit herondale #kit rook #kivty

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savannaswrites · 1 year

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you are so right alastair IS the best character in tlh i only really finished the last book for him. the release of the last book is partly why i also started thinking about tsc again and started vibrating excitedly about twp again even though it is ages away and who knows what it’ll even be like, but that’s why i went back into the tab and i couldn’t believe i never found ur fic before because it was exactly what i was itching to read! like whenever i have looked for post qoaad fic which i don’t think i have since 2020 it’s usually either short, only focused on what happens during the three years before twp, or is only focused on kit and ty’s reunion. and i love reading about kit and ty’s reunion but what i wanted most was a super long fic dealing with all the problems and politics of twp and interweaving character and romantic drama with well-done plot, and lo and behold i found your fic which is exactly that and is well-written to boot. i really do believe it’s one of the most well-written tsc fics i’ve ever found and was Shocked and Outraged it didn’t have more kudos. i literally wished i had made a tsc sideblog in 2018 just to promote it to hell. i know a lot of things have been jossed now but i still found it all so fascinating. also 40k outline um i would read that many words…would definitely do that <3 but the things i’ve been wanting to know most about since reading it are partly plot-related — thule livvy and her ghost counterpart, whether our current thule questers will run into ash, clave and downworlder and faerie politics, if all the blackthorns reunite, the riders finding kit again, more about kit and the first heir and his role to play, omg side note that story kit tells in the far about naoine was amazing — and partly character-related — ty and anush and june!!! dru friendship with kit and jaime!!! kit and jaime v interesting dynamic i never considered!!! kit and tessa and jem and mina! kit and jace! how ty has changed and how kit has changed and his future character development and how dru wants to change. but also, the Drama of all of those character dynamics is probably what im curious about the most. like, kit and ty making things awkward with everybody…that painful tension between them and what it would be like if they actually talked about it. how thule livvy feels about her brother and sister and kit. jaime………like i cannot decide if he and kit had a fling, if kit has a crush, if jaime does, etc, but every scenario i picture is So Great in terms of awkwardness and hilarity and poignancy. you wouldn’t think i could feel all those feelings about it but i do. dru’s reaction? TY’s reaction? jesus christ. also jamie’s character in general you’ve set up very nicely, particularly with the mentions of diego, i think their relationship is very interesting. dru’s reaction? TY’s reaction? jesus christ. however ash fits into all of this too is also v intriguing. i just almost deleted all of this which was a very scary experience but made me realize how completely incoherent and crazy long this is, i am so sorry about that. also want to stress that you don’t have to answer any of this or tell me anything at all, i just loved writing all of that out because this fic had me super excited yesterday. but that is all hope u have a good day :)

AHH i am so intrigued to hear that alistair is what pulled you through chain of thorns!! i swear i'm not a hater, but like -

- i am working my way SLOWLY through that book right now and i just. !! i wish i liked more of the characters more, you know?? there's just SO. MANY. of them, and i don't feel like any of them have really had enough time to develop, or at least to make me feel invested in them, which is such a weird thing to say after already having had two long books with them!

did you happen to read the ghosts of the shadow market book? the versions of james and matthew in that book to me are SO wildly different than the versions that ended up on the page of tlh, and i hate to say it, but i liked the gotsm versions more!! i don't necessarily think that all characters have to be super developed and layered or what have you in order to make them compelling, but when the mythology of the story has also sort of started to lose touch with what makes it matter, and the characters aren't super compelling...what's left, you know??

it's like, to me, we have these villains in belial and lilith who are so otherworldly that they're practically abstract, which makes them just not very good villains to me. i'd much rather read about someone who is their champion (or paladin, i suppose) by choice, because then we could have that conflict between power and powerlessness and agency and lack thereof play out on a much more human level, presumably with stakes it's easy to be invested in.

sorry for the tlh detour - i'm just like, i WILL finish this book, but goodness gracious, i will admit to it being harder to power through even than qoaad. (sorry)

going back to what you were saying, thank you so much again!! the politics of twd and the way that different characters could end up on different sides of that conflict and the romantic drama therein are SO compelling to me they literally kept me up at night as i was reading tdi! there is nothing juicier to me than a story of political intrigue because they function SO well as stories about personal values, and there can be so much richness and depth and nuance to that!

i mean, we have kit as a microcosm for some of this conflict, too; he's someone from a "mundane" background with not only downworld heritage but royal downworld heritage and yet also this shadowhunter blood and, most affecting to me, maybe, his father's blood as a bit of a liar and a cheat and a rapscallion, all of which could theoretically push and pull him in different directions. i loved the idea of really exploring how these aspects of who he is could complicate some of the underlying assumptions of shadowhunter society and maybe even the books themselves.

which, i mean, okay! i get it! they're the shadowhunter chronicles, they're about shadowhunters, i get it. but i don't think that doesn't mean that you can't interrogate a different pov, you know? like, sure, james and co. have saved the world in tlh, but they've also directly been the cause of it being threatened in the first place. and maybe he could've found more acceptance of his demonic heritage from warlocks like his mother, or maybe downworld would regard him as just as odd as the clave does - who knows? my point is just that the books never really even seem to acknowledge that those are questions to be asked at all. :(

(sorry that that makes me sound like a hater, i promise i really enjoy reading these books!! i just have a lot of thoughts! hence the long ass fic as;dlkfj)

but so yeah, getting back to the gang there in thule, i just loved setting up their relationships with a bit of conflict and intrigue! they're united under this common banner of saving the world (again), but i don't think that any two of them are in 100% agreement with anybody else, even ghost-livvy with ty or her own living counterpart!

they all want something, different things, but i don't necessarily think that's a bad thing, either, you know? like, dru wants so badly to prove herself, and meanwhile kit's over here watching her say "we gotta go investigate that green light" because she's burning up inside and he maybe doesn't totally get it but maybe he sort of does, and so he's like, "oh, dang, is that what a shadowhunter does? i guess i should be more like that, then," and so they're there like. nodding to each other. meanwhile jaime's like, "well, if it makes them happy," so they're the three musketeers...up to the point that what they want brings them into conflict, perhaps?? [eyeball emoji]

i swear i'm just about done talking your ear off, but thank u so much again for saying u liked kit's story about naione! the fair folk are just too old not to have myths of their own and like!! that's such a rich vein of world-building, who could resist it!!

okay, now i'm really done!!

#anon #fs

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actuallythatwaspromise · 2 years

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THIS IS GONNA SOUND REALLY WEIRD but I’m not into immortal instruments what so ever. I’m pretty sure it based off a ron/ginny incest fic but I saw edit of character from it before I sent my last ask but then my insta page reset. So, guess whose scrolling through a tag trying to find it? Me for some reason???

Just woke up to pee and saw this and I will get to your other ask later. But The Mortal Instruments. The first one is City of Bones by Cassandra Claire. I like the series. Teehee. I’ve read a lot of books.

To aid:

If hes blonde: Jace or Mark or Kit

If he has dark hair: Alec or Jules/julian

Ginger woman: Clary

If hes nerdy with brown hair: Simon

If shes blonde: Emma

If she’s older with dark hair: Isabelle

Any Younger with dark hair: livvy, Ty, Dru, Tavvy

Woman older with blonde hair: Helen

Of hes asianish with golden skin: Magnus

The only woman poc in the series I think: Cristina Rosales

I think that covers the main group of people. If you managed to find a character from the prequel or any other one than these, I’ll be impressed.

#nj anon

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andrewjostn · 5 years

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So I based this off of this song about a girl who likes to dance with her ghosts and doesn't want to leave, so I turned this into a fic about kit (+livvy, will, tessa, Jem, and some tlh peeps), a sad but sweet kinda thang I hope you guys enjoy it

@allyreynclds bc idk your undying support makes my heart go 💓💞✨

also sorry if there is no keep reading thing, if i use my computer it changes it to look weird if you look at the high school fic you'll understand, it changes into html on my phone when it wasn't on my laptop,, if anyone knows how to help please message me!!

Kit wordlessly walked through the halls of his now home for a year, there was a book placed under his arm and a look of concentration on his face as if he was trying to remember something important.

He silently pushed the door to the ballroom open the only sound the creaking of the door as it was moved. Kit closed the door behind him with a quiet thud, he leant against the door and sighed.

After a moment Kit moved across the floor the only sound his echoing footsteps against it. He reached the piano that was placed towards the back of the room and sat down at it. He placed the book he had purchased on the small stand.

Jem had mentioned how Jace plays piano and how Will had also played piano, Kit didn't know who Will was but Jem had spoke about him with great fondness and love in his eyes. So Kit had thought the only right thing was to try and learn piano and by how he was going it was hard.

Moments later he let his head fall with a clunk onto the piano, he couldn't understand these notes for the life of him or understand which keys were which, he closed his book and sighed. He needed something that would take his mind away.

Kit had been having a great time in Devon but even in the times admist that fun the thought of Ty would slip in his head no matter how unwelcome it was.

Kit placed his fingers over the keys and decided to screw it, he didn't need to learn off a book he could learn by how it sounded and what sounded right. Silently he closed his eyes and let his fingers glide across the keys making a beautiful yet heart-wrenching melody.

When Kit had finished he opened his eyes and stared in disbelief, he did that. He looked up from the piano and saw a shimmery figure of a girl sitting on the piano.

"That was beautiful, Kit."

Kit held the urge to get up and run towards her with a hug. "Livvy." His voice was just a whisper but she heard it. "H-how are you here?" He asked slowly getting up, tears now glistened on his cheeks.

"It takes a lot of my energy to leave Ty but I had to pay a visit to see," she faltered slightly, "there are many other people who would like to see you too." Livvy said calmly.

"If you mean anyone from LA then—"

"No, I don't mean anyone from LA." Livvy stood up from the piano and moved over towards Kit. "You play the piano like one of your ancestors, horribly sad music from the heart."

Kit looked at her in question but her gaze wasn't on him it was on a figure who had appeared behind him. Kit whirled around to see another shimmy figure this time with black hair and blue eyes. The man made a disappointed sound.

"What is it with all the Herondales these days having blonde heads," He seemed to be visibly upset by this until he moved his gaze to Kit's face.

"Who—uh Livvy?" Kit asked looking sidelong at her.

"He is rather caught up on how none of the Herondales had inherited his dark hair," She said clearly amused, "He's Will Herondale, Kit."

Kit looked at Will with newfound interest, so this was Jem and Tessa's Will, the person they talked about both with so much love and sadness.

Kit quickly wiped the tears off of his cheeks before turning back around to see Will staring at the ballroom floor.

"How are my Jem and Tessa?" He asked airily.

Kit didn't know what to say really, they are going to have a baby? they are very happy? He settled on the latter. "They are quite happy,"

Will nodded smiling ever so slightly, "Tell them I'm waiting for the days we can all be reunited once more."

In almost a blink of an eye the ballroom floor was covered in shimmering figures. Kit watched as Will moved into the crowd and took the hand of lady with the same dark hair and blue eyes, her own partner frowning in calm dislike.

Somewhere the sound of music started playing and the shimmering figures started finding their partners and dancing.

"Who are all these people?" Kit asked in wonder, watching as the figures moved around the room like water in a stream. It was rather beautiful.

"Well the hand that Will took was his sister's, Cecily Lightwood, she married Gabriel Lightwood who Will and him share quite a dislike for each other though it's settled to they won't admit they like each other."

Kit nodded, so some of these people were his family and others his friends family, it was quite a beautiful scene.

"Who are those two?" Kit had gestured to a couple one with dark hair and gold eyes and the other dark red hair and black eyes. The boy looked like he didn't want to be dancing but was doing it anyways for his partner.

"That's James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs, they are married too. James is one of Will and Tessa's children and Cordelia is Emma's ancestor, back then Cordelia had Cortana."

Kit nodded completely taken in by all these people, "How do you know who all these people are."

"I was dead for a little while Kit, and while they had all moved on sometimes we like to visit the earthly plain." She said calmly.

Kit continued to ask who people were and Livvy would answer. Names were swirling around his head, Anna, Grace, Lucie, Alastair, Matthew, Thomas, Gideon, Alexander, Sophie, Charlotte, Henry... parabatai, married, friends... there were so many families and they were all so close.

Eventually Livvy looked at Kit, "Would you like to dance with me?"

Kit smiled, "Of course."

Kit and Livvy moved onto the dance floor, Kit lifted his hand which Livvy tentatively placed her own over hovering slightly over his. Kit held his hand at her waist keeping from touching her and Livvy keeping her hand a hairs breath away from Kit's shoulder.

At first their movement was clunky until each adjusted to not being able to touch the other and they moved as gracefully as they could.

"How's Ty been?" Kit asked, breaking the silence between them. He looked away from her face, they looked so alike it made his heart ache.

"He's doing okay, he has been better. I'm sure he would be better with you there instead of a ghost sister." She said shaking her head ever so slightly.

Kit sighed, "I—just, yeah—" He gave up trying to form words and decided to look around the room instead.

All the shimmering figures together were beautiful, Kit's breath hitched in his throat so he turned his gaze back to Livvy.

"When will you go?" Kit asked the feeling of sadness washing over him like the ocean does over sand.

"Soon, my energy is draining," She hesitated for a moment, "Once I leave they will leave too, except Will he'll stick around a bit longer." She said smiling a little sadly.

"I'm sure he'll keep great company," Kit said smiling slightly, "not as great as yours though."

Livvy smiled. "I must go." She said sadly reaching up to Kit's face to wipe away a tear he didn't know he had shed, she quickly dropped her hand realising she couldn't touch him.

"If I never see you again, this was nice." Kit said wiping away his tears as more took their place, he watched as Livvy slowly disappeared and soon the others began fading too and the music coming to a halt.

Kit now stood alone on the dance floor, not exactly alone just as Livvy said Will had stuck around.

"I know I'm not exactly the one you wanted to stay, but I'll do my best." He said warily offering a smile.

Kit nodded, quickly wiping his tears away, "It's okay, she has a brother that needs more care than me besides I have you." He grinned openly, barely any hints of sadness.

Will smiled too.

Kit heard footsteps on the echoing floors and looked away from Will to see Tessa and Jem walking towards him.

"There you are, Kit," Jem said smiling warmly. He always smiled at Kit and looked at him with a kind expression, Kit appreciated it a lot.

"Dinner's ready, we didn't want to start without you." Tessa said smiling too. They both smiled and loved Kit so much, it was almost a shock sometimes.

"Okay," He looked over to Will who was watching the two a sad smile on his face, "But we are going to need an extra chair for our guest." He said smiling. Will looked over in surprise but he too smiled.

"Guest?" Tessa asked raising her eyebrows slightly, clearly intrigued.

"Yeah, Will." Kit said smiling at Jem and Tessa looking sidelong at Will. "I guess there will be some catching up then."

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blackthorngrey · 2 years

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fic snippet

"What are you going to do about it?" Ty asked.

"Well, last time we found out he was selling information, I told him that if he does it again then I'm going to burn down his house. I am nothing if not a man of my word, so I'm most definitely going to burn down his fucking house," Kit said, with delight.

Ty snorted.

dead men tell no tales, chapter 5 (hopefully uploaded soon)

#kit herondale #ty blackthorn #kit x ty #kit x ty fic #fic snippet #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #twp #tda #livvy lives in this fic btw x #since its an AU #pirate au

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amchara · 2 years

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Effortless Ch. 3: Spirals, Ghosts and Buckfast

One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven (completed fic)

(Completed fic at Ao3, posting to tumblr with a few minor edits)

Summary: After moving to England to live with Tessa and Jem, Kit ends up attending a local sixth form college alongside his Shadowhunter training.

Featuring- a charming but slightly broken Kit, typical teen drama, mundane friendships, pop culture references, Carstairs-Gray family moments, a rotating cast of our favourite Shadowhunters as guest tutors and of course, some unacknowledged pining for one Ty Blackthorn.

Wordcount: 6,490 words for this chapter

Rating: Teen, this chapter: depression spirals, drinking as means to cope with depression, brief mentions of racism

CHAPTER THREE: SPIRALS, GHOSTS AND BUCKFAST

December-April 2014

It took almost until almost the end of Emma’s visit for her and Kit to have the conversation he had been dreading.

They were finishing up a sparring match on the raised platform in the training room. Kit could feel the recently applied Deflect and Stamina Marks on his shoulders burning as he jumped back while Emma drove forward through his weakening defensive stance.

“Boop,” she said, tapping his nose.

Kit batted her away, and dropped his two training sticks. “Yield, I yield,” he said, pushing back the sweaty hair that was sticking to his forehead.

Despite the cold December day, they were both wearing tanktops. Kit saw with some satisfaction that Emma also had beads of sweat gathering on her forehead, although she wasn’t breathing as hard as he was. She looked more like she had a healthy glow, like she had just finished a light yoga class, rather than two punishing hours of calisthenics, climbing practice and several sparring bouts. Plus he had taken her on his running route earlier in the morning. Disgusting, he thought. But he felt proud he had kept up to her pace until now.

He flopped onto the ground of the platform, reaching down to grab his water bottle.

When he rolled back up, he could see Emma had sat cross-legged a few feet in front of him, a serious look in her eyes, as she leaned on one of the training sticks as it supported her steepled hands underneath her chin. “So… Kit,” she said.

“What?” Kit asked. “Do I have food caught in my teeth from breakfast- you’re supposed to tell someone about that, pretty sure that’s in the warrior code-” He was suddenly nervous.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye to us before you left?” Emma asked softly. “You just… left.”

And there it was. Kit felt like the air was closing in around him, a fraction of what he had felt that day on the fields outside Idris, when he had made the Riders of Mannan’s horses disappear -- to save his and Emma’s lives, when he had first been told about the First Heir. He stared at her.

“I- uh,” his voice caught.

Emma waited but when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything further, she dropped her gaze. “I think some of it has something to do with the battle,” she said. “And what happened with the Riders-” she said. “That’s my suspicion. Don’t forget, I was there, and despite what happened… afterwards, I still remember the start.”

Kit wished his poker face was better as he knew he let a small grimace cross his face.

“And I suspect you’re not able to tell me more,” she said, studying him.

“I can’t - but maybe someday, Emma,” Kit said, relieved that she was focused on that aspect.

She nodded. “I get that. Jem told me something similar. But Julian also thought it might have to do with the prior events too…” Terror seized Kit’s heart. Julian and Emma had been discussing him?

“With your dad dying in front of you. And Livvy dying so soon after,” Emma continued.

Kit wished his eyes would stop watering, and that his heart would stop pounding. “I- yeah, I mean, I was fine eventually,” he said roughly.

“You don’t have to be,” Emma said, reaching out to grab his hand briefly. Kit wished she would stop- maybe some of that was true but he had also been a complete failure of a human, and Ty was still unreachable to him and Livvy was still an undead ghost…

He had missed the next part of her speech. “And… speaking as someone part of the dead parents club, I totally get throwing yourself into something else to try and just live.”

“How did it work for you?” he interrupted.

Emma smiled a crooked, knowing smile. “I lived only for revenge for five years and then fell in forbidden love with my parabatai and became a giant burning angel… So while I guess it eventually turned out, I think you’re probably currently in the lead on the better coping mechanisms by fleeing the country and trying out mundane high school,” she said. “And hooking up with mundane girls- I see you have a taste in violent girls if that Ellie girl is anything to go by. She looked like she wanted to murder me.”

“College,” Kit corrected absently. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

Emma waved a hand. “My point stands. But you know- when you’re ready, you should come visit us again- I know we’d all love to see you, especially Ty and D-”

“I doubt Ty would actually care,” Kit said harshly, suddenly tired of the conversation. He stood up. “Thanks, Emma. I’ll think about it. I’m going to go have a shower before lunch. I’ll see you there.”

He hopped off the platform and crossed the room, hoping Emma wouldn’t follow him and try to press her point.

She didn’t. And she didn’t bring the topic up again during the remainder of her visit. Kit held his breath the day Julian visited but luckily he had been delayed even further than anticipated wrapping up business in London, so was only able to visit briefly on the last afternoon, to join in on a Sunday roast lunch before he and Emma planned to head back to Los Angeles.

Kit skulked around in the kitchen most of the afternoon, not wanting to be ambushed by another conversation with Emma or start one with Julian. He offered his assistance to Tessa, who seemed both amused and suspicious of Kit’s sudden sous-chef interest.

He suddenly had a thought and texted Ellie in between peeling carrots and parsnips. U in for a sunday roast at mine? id say i fancied pizza but id rather u r here to help me eat it

Ellie was over like a shot. “I got your back,” she told him grandly, as she swept in from the drizzly day.

The resulting mealtime was stilted but both Julian and Emma just seemed mildly amused at the mundane conversation, while Tessa and Jem were confused at why Ellie was suddenly there but realised they couldn’t disinvite her without appearing impolite.

“You have many other hot ‘family members’ that are planning on dropping by? Ellie asked, after they had finished lunch. They were lurking by the front door, Ellie getting ready to leave. “I didn’t notice anything super culty, I mean- they seem a bit out of touch with pop culture and politics but nice enough. Can’t say I minded the eye candy though-- what do they put in the water over there?” She lifted eyebrows appreciatively.

“Oh- you mean Julian,” Kit said. “Yeah- I ah, wouldn’t. Emma’s pretty handy with a sw- knife, I mean words,” he said. “And no, I don’t think there will be others anytime soon.”

Ellie gave him an odd look as she waved good-bye.

Kit closed the door, and turned around, and started. Julian was there, lounging like a dark panther in one of the alcoves, arms crossed casually.

“Hey, Julian,” Kit said, nervously.

Julian smiled. “Hey- I just wanted to say goodbye. Sorry we couldn’t catch up further but we promised Dru we’d be back in time before she returned from the Academy.”

His blue-green eyes were as piercing and perceptive as ever, looking at Kit. But Kit couldn’t detect any anger in Julian’s face and he relaxed fractionally.

“Yeah, too bad we didn’t have more time,” Kit mumbled.

Julian’s gaze passed over him and Kit tried to avoid squirming. He worried Julian could still read the situation with Ty, around raising Livvy, on his face. “I know Emma’s already extended the invite to you to visit- and I just wanted to repeat it. Despite how everything ended, you should know you’re always welcome at the L.A. Institute, if you ever want it.”

Kit’s heart squeezed, and he couldn’t resist asking. “Thanks. How is… everyone?”

A shadow passed briefly across Julian’s face before he controlled it. “We’re getting by,” he said simply. “But it’s not been easy. Some days are hard. I imagine you’ve experienced something similar.”

“Yeah.”

They both fell silent at that, acknowledging the chasm of grief that was always there, and the struggle not to tip over the precipice. Kit resisted the urge to ask about Ty.

Then Jem came to tell them the tea was ready, and Kit was suddenly glad that soon it would just be back to him, Tessa and Mina in Cirenworth.

Except it wasn’t. A week later, on Boxing Day, there was a large bang in one of the upstairs rooms, and two minutes later, Magnus, Alec, their two kids, and Jace and Clary piled downstairs, and Kit suddenly remembered the previous year, when they had also dropped in to exchange presents and ‘escape the hell that is New York ahead of New Year’s Eve’, according to Magnus.

Last year he had enjoyed the visit, as it was a break from the monotony of the grey December days. While he tried to enjoy this year’s Christmas activities and visitors, the tired feeling that had been growing over the past week was dragging at him. Probably he had been doing too much training, he thought. Emma had run him a bit ragged, plus he had had end of term coursework to finish in the evenings up until the break for Christmas.

While Alec, Magnus and the kids ate shortbread cookies in the grand visiting parlour, he showed Clary and Jace the training room, and caught them up on the past few months.

“Mundane high school- how’s it going?” Jace asked, with an easygoing grin. “I don’t know if you know this but I bet Jem you’d-” he stopped as Clary elbowed him in the ribs.

“I think it’s great,” Clary said firmly. “I wish I had finished my GED.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Kit said, not wanting to get into it. “Hey- let me show you some of the weapons Jem and I found in the attic. We’re sorting them to see if they can be restored.” He directed Jace over to a cache of ancient weapons that he knew would at least spark a good half hour’s worth of conversation. Jace’s eyes lit up, and Kit mentally revised the time upwards to at least an hour.

The rest of the visit from the New York Shadowhunters was uneventful and dare he say it… fun. After a quiet but peaceful Christmas Day with Jem, Tessa, the following days were filled with children shrieking down Cirenworth’s halls - Mina included - and the warmth of company kept days busy with countryside walks, gentle training (too much food to do anything else), and games like charades and pictionary that were filled with laughter and comfortable conversations. It was so saccharine at times it almost gave Kit a toothache, despite his love of sweet things.

He remembered Christmas’ past in Los Angeles, his dad barely doing anything to mark the occasion, maybe getting a discount wreath to hang on the door, ordering Chinese food on Christmas day, and Kit pretty much forgetting it was the holiday season, save for the homeless people wandering past with Santa hats.

He was fairly sure which Christmas he preferred.

The only major downbeat to the period was when he passed by the conservatory near the end of the visit. Magnus and Tessa were talking in low tones, and he heard his name mentioned. “- job keeping Kit safe-”

He paused near the glass door, trying to eavesdrop while keeping out of sight. “The wards haven’t tripped since early summer,” Magnus said. “That’s good, at least?”

“Yes, it is- and the initial alarm was only triggered by a couple small piskies who were easily scared away.” But there was a doubtful tone to Tessa’s confirmation. “I just don’t trust it.” Kit could hear her walking across the stone tiles, as if pacing, and he shrank back. “But I also recognise we can’t live always looking over our shoulder.”

“No- you have to carry on,” Magnus agreed. “But I agree. It’s strange that there hasn’t been any further whispers from the Seelie and Unseelie courts.”

“We earned a reprieve due to the upheaval in Faerie with Kieran taking the throne- probably many alliances are being made or broken to adapt to this unexpected situation. I don’t expect it to last but it has bought us some time.” Kit had rarely heard Tessa sound so strategic, and he remembered how she had once, long ago, been married to the head of the London Institute and helped him run the London Enclave.

“Are you and Kit exploring his powers?”

There was silence. “Not yet,” said Tessa. “He needs time… to deal with his grief, to find himself. And he’s still training with Jem - and going to his mundane school. I plan to start him soon- but he’s still so young- fragile in many ways.”

“I know, Tessa. That’s the trouble with Shadowhunters though- and you know this as well as I do. We saw it for Will, for James… and for others who didn’t have the happiest of endings,” Magnus’s voice was gentle. “They don’t usually get that chance to be young and carefree before they have to face their battles. All we can do is make sure they are prepared as much as they can be.”

Kit crept away before they spotted him. He knew he would have to face the music about the First Heir stuff but the way that Magnus and Tessa spoke about him- their faith in him to survive whatever was going to come after him… well, it wasn’t exactly inspiring, was it? Maybe he should just focus on enjoying the time he had right now, given his non-likely future.

The hollow, deadening feeling that had been creeping in at the edges widened, and Kit pushed it away.

The first two weeks of January term passed in a blur of drizzle, darkness and cranky teachers who used to smile at his witty remarks now staring and ordering him to pay attention. Kit stared at his alarm clock each morning, watching it tick over until seven am, and he had to get up in order to not be late for college. He stopped going out for his usual runs. He heard Mina cry out a couple mornings and he knew that he could get her easily, but he stayed in bed until he could hear Mina instantly quiet from Jem’s soothing greetings, ignoring the guilty feeling building in his chest.

Kit knew he was spiralling and he was scared about descending back into the fugue state that had defined most of the previous winter. And his nightmares were intensifying - almost nightly he now had a front row seat to his dad, Ty, Tessa, Jem and Mina getting eaten and torn apart by mantid demons.

The frustrating thing, Kit thought, was that he was perfectly aware of how messed up he was, but he just couldn’t figure out how to snap out of it.

Until Harriet Ketterly’s party, that is.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—

Kit intoned with style, and then looked over. “Something something, Dulce et decorum est.”

“That’s deep,” Ellie said, listlessly. “Do you think I could find some mustard gas for Jack?” she asked in a darker tone. Ellie had broken up with Jack two days prior and was still in the depths of the breakup. She handed him another bottle of smirnoff and Kit took a big swig. They were sitting on a deep sofa in Harriet’s fancy front room, with Kit trying out some sarcastic running commentary as various members of the Drama club passed by. He also decided to liven it up with some of the World War One poems he had memorised for their English Literature’s poetry module. It had nothing to do with the fact he sometimes thought of a certain Blackthorn, who might appreciate the solemnity of the poems and...

“Hey, Kit-” Ade said, snapping his fingers in front of Kit’s face. “Eamonn was looking for you.”

“What?” Kit sat up. “Oh- I was supposed to-” Something, he was supposed to do something. He took Ade’s helping hand, but swayed suddenly as he stood up. Oh yeah, that was it- he had a running date to meet up with Eamonn at Harriet’s party. Oops.

“Whoa, you’re definitely pissed,” Ade watched him with friendly interest.

“Here-” Ellie handed him a green bottle, suddenly perkier. “You have a chance but not if you’re completely sloshed. This isn’t a cure but it could help.”

Kit looked at the bottle. “Buckfast? Isn’t this the medicinal wine sold by those monks down the road?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “And it has a ton of caffeine in it. It’ll give you the liquid courage you need to go get your boy.”

Ade looked skeptical but he didn’t argue, just pointed the way he had last seen Eamonn.

It didn’t help him get Eamonn - Kit had missed his chance, as he could see Eamonn trying to negotiate with Harriet over a clearly vomitous Ben… but he did appreciate the feelings a few drafts of Buckfast could give. A deadening of feelings and emotions but also, an energy boost to get shit done.

So, he helped himself to a few of the leftover bottles. Purely as an evening nightcap, he thought.

And though the taste was foul, he found himself pouring some of it into his evening tea each night throughout the rest of January and into early February. It allowed him to finish his homework, help Tessa with tidying up from dinner, and play a couple hours of video games, with the caffeine usually wearing off afterwards, enough for at least a couple hours of dreamless sleep.

But mornings were tough, and looking at the growing bags under his puffy eyes, Kit wondered if it was worth it. And training was relentless with Jem continuing to ratchet up the challenge by moving on to teaching him about the various specialty weapons that Shadowhunters of the past had used.

“Kit- are you hurt?” Jem quickly set down the chaliker he had been holding, making his way over to Kit.

Kit winced as he looked down at the shallow cut on his collarbone, slicing his shirt open. He had stumbled and forget to block as Jem had come in from the side- a stupid mistake and an unusual one, given they had been training now for more than six months.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Kit said, dabbing at the blood, pushing Jem away as he bent to look at the cut.

Jem straightened up and Kit thought he could see a hint of suspicion cross his face. Kit suddenly wondered if he had been able to smell the Buckfast that had been quickly downed before the session - it had only been enough to give him a small buzz. He drew a quick, graceful iratze on Kit’s neck with his stele, and Kit could feel the small burn as the cuts sealed up.

Jem stepped back, assessing his work. “Let’s finish here for the evening. You look tired. Perhaps you should head to bed early,” he suggested.

Kit nodded and slunk away.

It should’ve been an easy job, lifting a couple bottles. But Kit had gotten soft since coming to England, and he was out of practice shoplifting.

“Oi, you there-” the florid-faced cashier came hurrying after Kit.

Kit continued to casually stroll out the door but there were several elderly shoppers congregating at the entrance of the Sainsburys and he wasn’t about to push past them. He might be a shoplifter but he wasn’t a monster.

He turned around, plastering what he hoped was an innocent smile on his face, preparing to BS his way out. But he was suddenly flustered as Tessa came out of nowhere, and he could feel her gently pulling out the two bottles he had hidden.

“Thank you for getting the wine, darling,” she said, her voice slightly too loud. He started to speak but the small shake of her head and look on her face warned him to be quiet and or to risk all hell breaking loose. She handed a wiggling Mina to him.

He stood there, letting Mina play with his hair, while Tessa spoke to the cashier and returned to pay for the Buckfast and the whisky he had grabbed.

When she returned, Tessa’s lips were in a thin line but she didn’t raise her voice as she told him. “Get in the car, Christopher.”

On the way back to Cirenworth, Kit kept sneaking glances over to Tessa, who appeared to be deep in thought, her brow furrowed, as they drove on the narrow roads back home.

Feelings of shame rolled over him, and he stared out the window. He knew he should apologise but he couldn’t find the energy to get the words out.

As they exited the car, Tessa moved around to get Mina, and when she stood up, she finally spoke. “You’re… grounded,” she told him. “You can go to college and then home- no going to Ellie’s or Ade’s or anyone else’s house.”

“Fine,” Kit said flatly. “I don’t care.”

He stomped across the gravel and into the house.

That evening, as Kit returned to the kitchen for his third round of cookies, he could hear Jem and Tessa speaking in low voices nearby. Kit crept closer, and was rewarded by finding out that indeed, they were talking about him.

“I’m just worried.” He heard Tessa say. “I know this is a stage… but- I can’t help but remember what happened with James and-” she sighed heavily.

“There’s no magic bracelet this time,” Jem said. “And although it was a trying time, James got through it, with some scars, admittedly- but Kit isn’t facing the same situation.”

“But with Matthew too…” The sorrow in Tessa’s voice startled Kit, and he strained to remember who Matthew was in the long list of dead Shadowhunters that he had tried to memorise.

“This isn’t history repeating itself,” Jem reassured her. “But let me try- I have an idea that might get through to him.”

“We’re going on a drive,” Jem told him, the next day- a Saturday - as Kit shuffled down to breakfast.

“Thanks but I’m good,” Kit said. “I’m busy.” He yawned as he poured himself an extra large bowl of Crunchy Nut cereal. He passed over an extra spoon to Mina and they had their tiny, regular Jedi fight before she grew bored and threw the spoon off her chair and returned to eating a rusk.

He thought the matter closed, until Jem returned with his coat, a seraph blade, and small, antique globe that Kit had never seen before, and placed it beside him on the table.

“We’re training. It’s not optional,” Jem said, and Kit heard the quiet thread of steel in his calm voice.

Kit rolled his eyes but he complied and went to get changed.

They bumped along narrow roads heading into Dartmoor, the grey sky overhead, and the lingering fog throwing the scenery around them into a dim portrait that made everything seem unreal, as if reality was fading at the edges.

Jem stopped the car, in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. Rolling hills, peppered with large boulders stretched out in every direction. “Hey- if this is about the drinking- you know you didn’t have to bring me out this far to hide my body- pretty sure Cirenworth’s gardens are big enough,” Kit said, trying to make light of the situation.

“What are you-” Jem gave him a strange look, and then unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come, let’s get some of the equipment out of the boot.”

“What are we doing?” Kit finally asked, as they opened up the trunk - or the ‘boot’.

“Ghosthunting,” Jem said, his eyes scanning the small array of gleaming weapons and arcane items in front of them. Kit recognised some from his Shadow Market days.

“Oh, of course-” Kit said, trying but failing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“It’s a skill you’ll need to know,” Jem told him. “Not all fights will be with demons.” He started handing several items for Kit to add to his weapons belt. He started explaining each one, and despite his annoyance, Kit found he was listening intently.

But his passing good mood soon turned sour, as they hiked further and further into the hills and the light drizzle turned into a steadier downpour. Kit was cold, and tired and very much over this whole Shadowhunter thing.

“Is this a punishment?” he asked Jem. “Cause of what happened with Tessa at the supermarket? C’mon- you guys knew when I came to stay with you that I had a klepto streak.”

Jem looked over at him, rain streaking down his calm, passive face. “No, it’s not a punishment.”

“Then what are we doing?” Kit asked, frustration starting to spill over.

“We-” and then suddenly Jem stopped, and Kit could see why. Ahead in the mist, three huge, hulking figures were emerging over the hill.

He could see the Anglo Saxon warriors moving down, and while he knew that they physically were unlikely to be able to hurt him, particularly given the equipment they carried, it was cold comfort. One of the Ghosts turned his gaze on Kit, and on his blackened face with milky white eyes Kit could read a murderous expression. He gulped.

“Use the Astronas and filiker, Kit,” Jem warned him, as the ghosts approached.

Kit set up a fighting stance, trying desperately to blink the oncoming rain out of his eyes.

“Well… that was...,” Jem said, at a loss for words, in the aftermath. He looked over at Kit, who was lying about twenty feet away, from where one of the ghosts had thrown him. “How did you find your first unfriendly ghost encounter? Dartmoor is full of them, so if you want to try again- I know another one around three miles further on. You did well for your first one but practice is essential so-”

“No. No, this was not fun,” Kit fumed. He picked up his scattered weapons and stood up. “You’re fucking mental, Jem! What was this supposed to be, some kind of weird intervention? You’re not my Dad- you’re never going to be. And I’m not some Will clone either- so just… fuck off, and leave me alone,” he spat out.

Jem stood there, his face in shock.

Kit stalked off, not caring.

He had barely made it five minutes down the road before he realised his mistake, and frantically pulled relics off his weapons’ belt as three more Saxon warriors closed in on him. Kit closed his eyes and started praying.

But suddenly Jem was there, with deadly grace and almost superhuman speed, quickly dispatching the ghosts.

“Shall we go home?” Jem asked, raising his voice above the rising, howling wind.

“Yeah,” Kit said in a small, defeated voice.

“I’m sorry,” Jem said, and he shucked off his wet overcoat, sweater, and then feeling his plain t-shirt, stripped that off as well, his lightly tanned skin pimpling with goosebumps, old, faded Shadowhunter scars scattered white around his upper body.

He and Kit had returned to Cirenworth and were immediately banished by Tessa to the laundry room to change out of their soaked clothes.

“What?” Kit was still in a less than forgiving mood. He also stripped off his wet shirt and grabbed his Avengers t-shirt from the pile of clean clothes.

“I erm-” In the dim light, Kit thought he could detect a faint blush on Jem’s cheeks. “I’m not trying to compare you but.. Will used to get in these same types of moods, and often a ghost hunt in Highgate Cemetery would help him. It would provide some distraction.”

Kit stared at him. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, I thought it would cheer you up. But I was mistaken… so I am apologising,” Jem said. “You’re going through some serious issues and I wanted to help. But I clearly misunderstood.”

Kit sighed. “Wow- it’s nice to know you don’t always have the perfect solution or that you can also be wrong. Nice to see that you have character flaws.”

Jem frowned.

“It’s just- like, you’re Saint Jem,” Kit said, pulling off his waterlogged boots but he was starting to feel weirdly warm and fuzzy towards Jem. “You’re basically perfect from what I’ve seen and heard- even when you were younger, never losing your temper, never saying the wrong things. Not like me- who’s just… messy. Emotional.”

“Hmm,” Jem said, and the solemn look on his face started to dissolve. “I was a Silent Brother for well over a hundred years, don’t forget. And you become far removed from human emotion when you become one. That experience doesn’t fade easily.”

He looked over at Kit. “But I’ve never been unemotional when I was… more human. Before and after being a Silent Brother. At least, I don’t think so. And I have been upset- angry at situations and reacted to them. Don’t forget, Will Herondale was my parabatai. I spent my teenage years becoming very used to dealing with the outcomes of his... encounters, and we created many together.” He let a wry smile cross his face. “I was almost always the one to de-escalate them though, so I had plenty of practice. But I couldn’t always control my emotions- and I did let them slip out.”

“How- by cracking a frown on that beautiful face? A small moue of disappointment?”

Jem laughed. “There was one time I punched Will in the face.” He paused, reminiscing. “And then that same night… I made out with Tessa in my bedroom for the first time.”

Kit grinned at Jem’s slip into modern slang. “Damn- that’s pretty good. What did Will do to make you punch him?”

“Tessa and I found him in an opium den.”

Kit’s mouth opened and closed. “What?! You guys came down so hard on me for even just drinking Buckfast a few times a week. Not fair - at least I’m not doing heavy drugs.”

“That Buckfast drink is a poison,” Jem said with a vehemence that startled Kit, but the moment passed quickly and Jem shrugged. “Yes- I suppose I have become less flexible - or I’ve gotten out of the practice of dealing with Herondales.”

He paused. “You are your own person, though, Kit. I don’t see you as a Will replacement. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kit said, still embarrassed over that insult. “I’m sorry I said that. That being said- I kind of wish I had known him. Will. I feel like he would definitely get me.”

“He would have,” Jem said, the fond smile that always appeared whenever he spoke about Will, playing on his face. He continued. “You two would’ve been the death of me- but I still would’ve enjoyed every last one of my last moments.”

The fight with Jem seemed to be a catalyst. Shortly after, Kit apologised to Tessa for the shoplifting and offered to make it up to her by offering to watch her favourite Pride and Prejudice version (the six hour BBC miniseries) and he felt like the heavy air in Cirenworth was finally clearing.

But he still found it hard to get through the dark, dreary English winter days, especially without the crutch of alcohol. But the solution to that piece of the puzzle remained missing until nearly the beginning of March.

“What’s up with you, man?” Kit asked finally, watching Ade uncharacteristically slam his fist against the wall. They were taking a break from their workout in Ade’s back garden. His dad had set up a home gym in a shed at the bottom of the garden, and Kit and Ade had been spending at least one day a week trying to improve their reps. Kit poked at his stomach- his one ab was coming along nicely…

Ade shrugged but Kit could still tell he was annoyed. “Nothing- just… stressed a bit about mocks. Mr Whittaker is an absolute wanker, mate.”

“Why, did he threaten to take you down from an A* to an A?” Kit asked, grinning.

It was a light poke but Ade’s face darkened. “Oh forget it, it’s not like someone like- like you would understand.”

“Someone like me?” Kit was stung. “What the hell does that mean?”

Ade stood up. “Nothing- never mind.” He started fidgeting with the weights, as if to adjust them but Kit wasn’t fooled.

“No, tell me-”

Ade turned around, and his face was calmer but set, like he was ready for the argument. “Well, it’s not like you have to worry about exams, hey?”

“Why not?”

Ade snorted. “Kit - I’ve been to your place. You’re set up. Honestly, do you even care if you pass your A-levels?”

“Your mom is a doctor,” Kit retorted. “It’s not exactly like you’re about to get thrown out on the streets if you fail an exam.”

Ade rolled his eyes. “You clearly do not understand Nigerian mums. But also- it’s not about- look, let me spell it out for you. You see this?” he pointed to his face and his hands. “I’m black, mate. And that comes with some additional considerations that you aren’t going to have ever even think about.” He shook his head. “I mean- I thought you might understand, given your family and your sister… but-”

Kit sat down heavily. “Ah.” The growing anger suddenly went out of him like a deflated balloon. They sat there, on opposite sides of the small room.

“Sorry,” Kit said finally. “You’re right, I don’t understand that. But… if you wanted to share, I want to listen.” He looked up to meet Ade’s steady gaze. His friend also looked like his anger was also dissipating.

“It’s not even... even like it’s overt, racism,” Ade said, almost aggrieved. “It’s just this.. Undercurrent of expectations. You know Altofts is like- 95% white. When I moved here, it’s like people already had this expectation of who I would be- and it wasn’t a good student. But stereotypes like I’d be only into football, or a London gangsta. And Mr. Whittaker is just one of the worst- he always praises me when I get a good grade, like he expected nothing better of me… and he’s not the only one.”

“And that’s why you want to get back to London so bad,” Kit said, thinking he was starting to understand.

“Yeah, maybe- although London is also the best city in the world, innit,” Ade informed him. “It has its own problems though, being black there. That’s why my parents moved us out-”

“Oh?” Kit was curious. Ade had never really opened up about his life before in London.

“Yeah…” Ade seemed hesitant suddenly. “Or at least, I think it was the reason… my mum never really said but I think it makes sense. One of our neighbour’s sons was stabbed, about a block from our home. He wasn’t part of a gang or- just a young black bloke in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Jesus, that’s horrible,” Kit said.

Ade shrugged. “Yeah- and I think it freaked out my parents, my mum especially. And so when this opportunity came up for her, I think she jumped at the chance to get us out of London, at least for a few years.”

He looked over at Kit. “Anyway- that’s my dark history.”

“Batman has nothing on you,” Kit told him seriously and was pleased to see Ade grin back at him.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you,” he continued. “Also, I know I’ve been kind of a crappy friend lately. I promise to try and be better in the future, and listen if you want to talk.”

“You have been full on angsty, Herondale,” Ade told him. “I can’t wait until daylight savings time happens and you snap out of your Mr Depressive, Heathcliff persona.”

“What?” Kit asked, not seeing the connection.

“Like- I’m not a doctor yet, but I swear you have a classic case of SAD - Seasonal Affective Disorder,” Ade said, clarifying as he saw Kit’s confusion. “You’re from Los Angeles- land of eternal sun. It must’ve been a huge shock to your system to have to live in the land of perpetual gloom, aka Blighty.” He eyed Kit. “Maybe a touch of PTSD too, from whatever your own origin story is.”

He held his hands up. “Mate- no need to tell me, if you don’t want to. I know it’s something to do with a cult, or something, according to Ellie. But you know… maybe if it’s tough, get a light lamp, and spend some of that whack of money you have on some therapy.”

Kit opened his mouth, considering. He closed it again and nodded. “Yeah. okay, maybe…” He moved back to the bench. “I think we’re way over the time now- let’s get back to our reps.”

Ade nodded and came over to spot him. As he was about to start, Kit thought of something else. “Ade, you need some time to relax and chill out about exams. You should come and hang out with Ellie and I. Once a week, we watch terrible films and throw popcorn and it’s… great. Helps with the stress.”

“Okay,” Ade replied, casually. “We can use your big cinema room, right? That’s class, it is…”

Kit smiled, realising that his half-cocked plan might actually work. Ellie needed some new distraction from Jack and he knew she had been mentioning Ade more recently.

Maybe it was the stupid light ball lamp he had bought in Argos, or maybe that finally the days were getting longer, or that he finally started to feel as comfortable in both half of his lives - Shadowhunter and mundane but Kit could feel his spirit lightening as the days moved into April.

And one day, after spotting the tomes about Faerie lying on a side table in Tessa’s special dedicated library and reading room, he knew he also had to finally face another part of his history that until now, he had been ignoring.

He knocked on the door, one evening, while she was bent over a book. She smiled and gestured for him to come in.

“Tessa- can we talk about the First Heir stuff?” Kit asked. “I think it’s time I learned more about it...”

------

Notes: As always, not canon-compliant with Secrets of Blackthorn Hall. But also... I wrote this a year ago, and looking back on what we've seen for SOBH and Kit's interactions with Emma and Julian, I think the vibe here is pretty spot on. Also, nailed it with how depressed Kit is at Cirenworth. The difference is... at least in this story he's actually trying to work through it, and Jem and Tessa are trying to help in constructive ways, or at least- not ignoring it. *sigh*

#tsc fanfiction #kit herondale #the dark artifices #sobh #ty blackthorn #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #jem carstairs #tessa gray #mina carstairs #found family #slow burn #teenage angst #kit x ty #my fanfic #effortless #alicantenet

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