of the beautiful annabel lee

Clary knew she was in a risky situation when she had portaled the blackthorn’s home free but stayed at Annabelle’s side. She trusted that Jace or Magnus would figure out some way to get her back, but it didn’t help the skin crawling on her body. Green eyes assessing the situation for some way to fight back. “Please. Your not a killer. You were kind and lovely. I know your family and the clave did you wrong, but you don’t have to take it out on me. I want to help you.”

Annabel clicked her tongue, hand missing a finger running along the wall, four nails scratching as she walked. “Am I not? You have no idea who I am.” Annabel no longer knew either. She’d suffered for five years, awake but not living; in pain and unable to scream. It was enough to drive anyone to madness. “Help,” Annabel cooed, tilting her head as she looked at the red head. “I am beyond your help.” 

‘Not to the extent they used to be and not by as many people. ’ 

Though Mark was back with them they had still abandoned him to the wild hunt, because they were unsure on his loyalty. Maybe Annabel was right, maybe the Clave hadn’t changed. But the blackthorn’s had changed and she had to know that. Maybe it was just a bad lot, that she had to deal with. Livia had no clue when Annabel had died, no clue who on her family tree had drowned her. It couldn’t have been recently, the way she talked and had dressed was too different. 

‘See?He’s real in this time period. Mark Blackthorn. He’s my brother. ’ there she goes, telling the truths she had no idea Annabel would react to. ‘The Clave may not be all that different, but we are.’ 

      “Mark Blackthorn,” she repeats, testing the name on her tongue, it did not sound faerie like, then again, Annabel had thought too hard on the names of a faerie. She should be glad, that generations later, her family have grown to accept and invite downworlders into their fold, but bitterness and anger had taken centre seat, and refused to make room. Why had it taken generations for her family to realise what she had years ago? 

      “Do you love him, your brother?” Asks Annabel, demanding, lips painted in a thin line as she stares at her distant relative. She wonders, which of the Blackthorns Annabel knew sired this line of Shadowhunters. 

      Her chilling sea-like hues narrow, as she processes the information, hatred for the Blackthorns she called family still running deep, but her focus moves to the Clave. The Clave, she thinks, would never change. 

      “If it is as you say, and the world is changed for the better, tell me- why is my Malcolm dead?” She may have begun to move, whilst Malcolm was alive, her consciousness returning slowly, but she had no recollection of anything up until the moment she opened her eyes. She’d opened her eyes to find herself completely lost. Like any lost, and injured animal, she’d spooked, acting on her first instinct to anger and seek vengeance.

‘Because things have changed. ’

Livia had zero patience with the sudden relative from the grave, as Malcolm had almost killed her baby brother bringing her back. Now she was trying to curse them?They weren’t the same blackthorn’s that killed her, but she would have no problem doing it if this woman came after revenge. There were bad shadowhunters then and now and she had to accept it. She wouldn’t accept,however,someone trying to hurt her family. 

‘Would those blackthorns have a half faerie as a  brother?Love him despite that?’ 

      She’s utterly aware of the change. To both the world and herself. She feels hollow, for all but rage, and the world is not same one she’d been cast out of. The last remnant of that world, her love, was dead. Grief threatens to wreck her but she holds it at bay, instead she focuses on the other.

      “Have they? Are downworlders not looked down upon still?”

      She speaks, tilting her head to look at the girl, her bright gaze unblinking.

      A half faerie brother? Absolutely not. They had been upheld the rules, and ashamed by their daughters relationship with a warlock - dalliance, they’d called it. To think of her family accepting a faerie child, was unimaginable.