#aidanverse

When he first meets Clary, she is two.

She is playing by herself in a park, red curls flying around haphazardly, giggling the laugh of a carefree child. Her mother, identifiable by her nearly-identical features, is lying on her back in the sunlight with worry creasing her otherwise beautiful features.

He checks his glamour- still intact, and why shouldn’t it be, he’s the best (and oldest still-living) warlock the world has ever fucking seen- and walks over to the little girl with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

The red-haired woman doesn't see him, and he advances further. He crouches by the toddler’s side and smiles gently down at her.

The two-year-old feels his shadow fall over her and looks up with a little gasp of surprise.

“Hey there,” he says, and his voice is gentle as the breeze caressing her soft red curls. “How are you, little lady?”

She gurgles at him, and he wonders if she can speak.

“My name is Simon,” he tells her, touching her gently under the chin. “What’s yours?”

She looks up at him silently for several minutes. He waits with the patience of a man who has forever and knows it.

“Clary,” she says finally, little-girl voice trailing off in a giggle. “Clary!” she cries, throwing her hands into the air and running in a circle.

He sits back on his heels and watches her, brown eyes entranced. “Well hello there, Clary.” He greets her formally, even doffing an imaginary hat to the little toddler.

The redhead giggles and hugs him.

Simon takes a moment to hug her back, cradling her gently, unused to this; unused to open displays of affection, so freely given and with such innocent intentions. Unused to everything relating to children, really. He hasn’t been around them in so long…

Clary lets him go, beaming. “‘Imon!” she crows proudly.

He finds himself smiling at this innocent, fiery-haired angel, and he also finds he doesn’t know or care why. It feels good to smile, and he is allowed to feel good, goddammit.

“Yeah, I’m Simon,” he replies gently, grinning back down at her. “Nice to meet you, little lady.”

He wiggles his tanned fingers in front of her. Gold sparks burst from his fingertips and dance between their faces, illuminating hers and bringing out the little caramel freckles dotting her cheeks. She coos, eyes wide and awestruck as she reaches out to touch one. It dodges and skims her milky cheek gently. Clary gasps and claps her hands, high childlike laugh ringing into the air.

The redheaded woman looks up then. Her emerald eyes widen and she jolts up, running to her daughter and jerking her away from Simon.

“Get away from her,” she spits.

Simon looks at the woman he now recognizes as the infamous Jocelyn Fairchild. Valentine's wife. Meaning that this innocent little child…

“Oh,” he murmurs, looking down at her daughter with anguished eyes, “what have your parents made you, little lady?”

“Get away from her,” Jocelyn insists.

Simon looks at her squarely, brown eyes frank. “You will never be safe, Fairchild. She has the Sight. She will be dragged into the affairs of the Nephilim, and what then?”

“Shut up,” Jocelyn hisses, dragging Clary against her chest; “shut up, you warlock, leave my daughter the hell alone-”

“I want to help you,” Simon tells her, and he can tell she knows it’s honest. She stares at him and he directs his gaze to Clary.

“I will protect your daughter,” he swears, and his eyes flash gold with magic. “Whatever form that takes, I will choose, but you can stop me if you want. I swear on my magic, Jocelyn Fairchild, I will guard your daughter’s life.”

Jocelyn stares at him and Clary wriggles in her grasp, fighting to get to Simon.

When the Shadowhunting woman realizes that, her eyes go blank and she releases her daughter.

Clary runs straight into Simon’s arms.

Jocelyn's shoulders slump and her breath hisses out. “Okay,” she says, eyes on her little girl.

The brunet looks over at the redheaded Shadowhunter and smiles reassuringly.

“I will never hurt her.”

“You better not be lying.” Her green eyes blaze with a maternal fury that Simon hopes Clary will have the chance to develop, decades in the future with her own child(ren).

“I’m not,” he tells her, and then he rubs his nose in Clary’s curls.

“Take her to Magnus Bane,” he says, not looking up. “He can take her Sight away.”

He tells her where to find the much younger yet very powerful warlock- perhaps tenth in the world- and then he stands, placing Clary on the ground beside her mother.