#valuke

Simon had a thing for Clary

Alec had a thing for Jace

Julian and Emma are canon

Matthew and James act like a married couple

Lucie had this obsession for Cordelia's titties

Do I really have to explain Will and Jem?

Luke and Valentine's interactions can be described with two words: sexual tension

The apple trend with Valentine and Luke because they fit it so well. (Also new art style just dropped)

Luke from Alecs bedroom: DON’T SAY THAT.

Magnus : Luke calm down I’m sure you’ll go different different places

Pt. 1: The Body Keeps The Score

We are going to start at the beginning of Luke’s story and pick apart something that is central to Luke’s portrayal of himself and, therefore, how he is often perceived in fandom. And that is Luke’s chronic insecurity and internalized anxious attachment style, which seems to stem from unresolved emotional wounds he received in childhood.

The only window we get into Luke’s early years is a brief excerpt from the beginning of WtWL (pages 118-125), but this anecdote was a game changer for me in how I saw Luke as a character. Luke’s relationship with his parents built a central foundation to a pervasive self-worth issue that persists until the present day (probably because Shadowhunters aren’t big into therapy and he never did that much soul-searching to fix the problem.)

Before fully diving into the central narrative, I wanted to spend some time talking about one small detail that’s mentioned in Luke’s retelling, but doesn’t really flow with the rest of what I want to say.

“Many other families had giant manor houses, sprawling over the green fields of Idris. Ours was a cottage- small, humble. It seemed the wrong sort of structure to try to contain my father, whose fierceness was as outsized as his pride.”

I find this to be an interesting tidbit that potentially masks a lot of substance- (the fact that the Graymarks live in a small cottage while most of the families around them live in ancestral manors.) We know from what Cassie has told us that the Graymarks are an old Shadowhunting family, so why is their property so humble in comparison? Was it a deliberate choice, or did their family fall into disgrace and destitution at some point along the way? We know that the Shadowhunter economy is limited due to almost everyone having the same profession and all income coming solely from the tithes offered by world religious institutions (or from spoils, which have now been illegal for over a century.) “Wealth” in Shadowhunter terms has as much to do with social capital as it does the pure monetary accumulation of any given family- for example, after Benedict Lightwood’s demonic deeds were found out, the entire family fell not only into disgrace, but into actual destitution due to the Clave repossessing much of their wealth as punishment. Gideon and Gabriel had to work hard in order to build their reputation back up, and they were only as successful as they were because they had the backing of both the head of their local Institute and the literal Consul. So it stands to reason that if a similar social plummet occurred in another family, recovery may not be as possible.

I readily admit this is just pure speculation, as we really have no canon information on it one way or another. But generational shame is very much a thing in Shadowhunter culture- you carry both the glories and sins of your ancestors. The possibility of the Graymarks being an old and proud Shadowhunting family, but a disgraced one, could have played a role in why Amatis and Luke seemed to have so few friends, or why their father seemed so concerned with the optics Luke presented to the world and whether or not they were “shameful.”

And this idea interacts with the next line as well- that the Graymark cottage seemed like the wrong kind of structure to contain their father’s pride. If the home wasn’t a choice, but rather a result of losing previous material holdings and societal standing, there could definitely be a sense of resentment and wounded pride that festered in Luke’s father. There is a strange sort of masochism in living in humble conditions on the ancestral plot of land that once housed the family castle, especially when surrounded by families living in the luxury you once had- and not just any random families either, but the same families who have a direct history with your ancestors and who may or may not have played a direct role in whatever occurred that caused their fall from grace. I could see a bitterness developing out of that, and a need to prove oneself that could easily get passed through generations. It’s only one possible explanation out of many, but one thing is for certain- shame is immediately centralized when Luke begins the retelling of his childhood anecdote in WtWL.

“It’s shameful, a Shadowhunter being afraid of the dark.” My father would never had said it to my face. Maybe he didn’t realize how much I eavesdropped when I was supposed to be asleep. Or maybe he did, and it was a message meant for me.

“He’s a sensitive boy,” my mother told him.

“He’s a coward,” my father said. “And you encourage it. His only friend is a girl. That Jocelyn Fairchild. It’s ridiculous. When I was his age, I spent the night alone in Brocelind Forest. All of us did. Lucian cringes away from the very idea.”

“Because he isn’t a fool,” said my mother. “Brocelind is far more full of dangers than it was when you were young. Luke knows that. He’s more my son than yours, that way.”

We start out in the middle of an argument between Luke’s parents- and we learn that Luke often eavesdrops on their conversations when he is supposed to be asleep. This to me is a sign of an anxious child who feels that they need to monitor situations between other family members and gather information stealthily so that they are able to appropriately adapt to an uncertain environment in which they may not be given that knowledge upfront (think Dolores from Encanto.) And if this is the reason why Luke is eavesdropping, it’s a founded fear- his father is communicating an expectation he has for him that he never would have told Luke about directly.

Luke’s mother tries to “defend” Luke by saying he is sensitive, and more like her, to which Luke’s father responds by challenging Luke’s masculinity and exposing his sexist worldview. This exchange is incredibly loaded, and if typical of the interactions Luke’s parents had with one another (which he tells us in the next paragraph it was) it gives us a window into what it was like to grow up in this household.

Luke’s father clearly places less value on the female sex, and sees nothing wrong with saying so to his wife’s face. It stands to reason that it affects his treatment of his daughter, and might explain why we don’t really see any evidence of Amatis being properly trained to fight or having had the opportunity to attend the Academy. And while Luke’s father may place more value in Luke simply for being male, he also sees him as a greater disappointment because he doesn’t possess the kinds of warrior-like traits he was looking for in a son. Luke’s sensitivity, his fears, his caution, his intellect, his shyness- all of these things are derided as “cowardly,” and “shameful.”

Luke may love his mother and sister, he may cherish Jocelyn as a friend, and he may not be as sexist as his father is… but none of that can completely erase the psychological effects of growing up in such a blatantly misogynistic environment. It’s unlikely that Luke has done much deconstruction of this worldview, especially since he is such a young child who doesn’t appear to have had any other outside influences. So even though Luke’s mother seems to be taking his side here- and Luke likely does see her as his champion, especially if she often sticks up for him in arguments with his father- the way she chooses to go about it still reinforces his father’s message that Luke isn’t masculine enough. She doesn’t say: “Lucian is brave, you just haven’t taken the time to see it.” Instead she says: “Lucian is sensitive.” She doesn’t say: “Lucian has the qualities of a fantastic warrior, like the ability to plan ahead.” She says: “Lucian is more my son than yours.”

There’s another reason beyond internalized misogyny that Luke likely doesn’t find his mother’s defense of him overly comforting. The way his mother speaks about him makes it seem less like she is truly standing up for who Luke is as a person, and more like she is using him as her personal mascot to both defend herself and subtly attack Luke’s father. She isn’t considering what Luke wants any more than his father is. Luke is a stand-in for a a deeper argument between his parents in this particular instance, and his lack of surprise (and even the fact that he often felt driven to eavesdrop on his parents arguments in the first place) makes it seem like this is unfortunately the norm in the Graymark household.

“They never raised their voices, my parents. It was worse, somehow, the way they disagreed. Cold, sharp. They used words to slice at each other like razors, to open wounds that would never close.”

In fact, the idea that this style of arguing was common in Luke’s household is reinforced in the very next paragraph, and it is also revealed that verbal abuse was common on both sides. Now, I’m using the term “verbal abuse” here- that is likely not how Luke would choose to define this dynamic. But what Luke describes here is a calculated and consistent effort to cause emotional damage to the other party with words. Blades are a common metaphor for hurtful language, but it’s not lost on me that a Shadowhunter comparing words to razors carries its own kind of weight. These are a people who are intimately familiar with sharp edged weapons and the damage they can do. I find it hard to believe this description was simply thrown in because it sounded poetic. Combined with the other ways Luke chooses to describe his father throughout the story: a man with an “outsized fierceness,” someone whom his mother “loathed,” a man who was willing to “untether himself” from fatherhood the minute his wife was out of the picture, despite his children being well under the age where it would be reasonable to expect them to be independent- we begin to develop a picture of their parental dynamic: intermittently neglectful and involved, with unpredictable rhythms to praise and criticism- the perfect breeding ground for the anxious attachment style Luke exhibits well into adulthood.

“In the morning, when I told my parents that I wanted to spend the night alone in Brocelind Forest- that I wanted to prove to myself that I could face the darkness and whatever lurked within it- a rare smile spread across my father’s face.”

“As I left the house… my mother whispered: “You don’t have to do this.” But I saw the pride on my father’s face, and knew that I did.”

Here, we see that anxious attachment style on full display. He feels that his parent’s love is conditional, especially his father’s. He doesn’t trust that his parents will communicate relevant expectations to him clearly, so he often sneaks around and tries to gather the bits of intel that he can. He doesn’t feel that he can approach his parents and ask for any kind of guidance, so he tries to guess what would please them according to his twelve-year-old understanding of what he overheard. And he is incredibly reactive to body language, facial expressions, wording… he is on full alert, hyper attuned to any sign of a possible emotional shift so he can adjust accordingly.

In this scenario, his father’s facial expression was so impactful that an adult Luke sees it fit to mention it twice, and cite his smile as the deciding factor in taking an action that he was certain would lead to his death.

“I was certain I would die that night. And I would die knowing I was a coward. A true warrior, I thought, would have roamed the woods in search of prey, crouched, narrow-eyed, ready to take down any vampire or wild fey in his path. But I stayed where I was, and I waited for death to emerge from the dark.”

Not only was Luke sure he would die, but he wholeheartedly believed he was a coward. This is very important, because it is such an absurd statement. Here is a twelve-year-old child (Luke’s actual age isn’t stated in the story, but I am going with eleven or twelve based on context clues) who is afraid of the dark, and has been told horror stories about entities living in the woods ever since he could understand language. And he knows these are not just some made-up ghost stories-some very real and very dangerous beings do indeed live in the woods. Yet, he chooses to go off alone into those woods for an entire pitch-black night rather than face his father’s disappointment. It’s certainly stupid, and I hate Luke’s parents for making him feel he had to do it, but cowardice is not really the word that comes to mind to describe it.

“Ave atque vale, we were taught to say at a warrior’s death. But I was only a child, and no one would say it for me.”

If Luke did die in this forest, it would absolutely be a warrior’s death. Even if he didn’t fight very well, he would have been actively murdered by a demon or Downworlder (or I guess mauled to death by a regular wolf.) It would be an absurd waste of life (which is probably part of the reason this “tradition” of spending the night alone in Brocelind seems to be going out of favor) but the criteria to die an honorable Shadowhunter isn’t like the criteria for going to Valhalla- basically, you just have to be a runed Shadowhunter and not commit suicide. Plenty of Shadowhunters die peacefully at home in their beds and still are given a “hail and farewell.”

Yet, Luke is still convinced no one in his life would bother to give him proper funeral rites. What’s worse, he almost seems to think he doesn’t deserve them, presumably because he isn’t a warrior. But if he’s old enough to be sent off into the forest to brave a night alone, then certainly he is old enough to at least know the basics of combat- unless he doesn’t.

“I packed nothing but a dagger. My father’s favored weapon. One that, until that night, he’d never let me touch.”

In Shadowhunter society, there really doesn’t seem to be such a thing as centralized schooling until the Academy, and the Academy is presented as very optional anyhow. Not everyone goes, and it can even close down for entire generations without it leaving that significant of an impact on the Nephilim’s ability to educate their children. To me, this means that parents and/or other adults in a child’s life bear the responsibility for teaching them foundational skills in both academic and physical spheres. We see consistent evidence of this throughout the books- everyone in TID learned to fight at the London Institute. The TLH gang attended the Academy but it was clear that they all had received a significant amount of training in their pre-Academy days and getting kicked out of school didn’t affect their ability to be Shadowhunters in the slightest. By the time TMI rolls around no child even had the opportunity to go to the Academy, and yet they all had received proper education and training.

In fact, educating children is so clearly presented as the domain of their guardians that it actually is a form of neglect in Shadowhunter society to not properly preform this duty to the best of one’s ability. This is especially true of failing to train them in the warrior arts. If you expect them to fight demons as a career, you better be teaching them how to keep themselves alive when they face one. Throughout all the series, the two Shadowhunter guardians towards whom other Shadowhunters show the most disdain are Tatiana and Arthur Blackthorn, because neglect and lack of providing proper education for the children in your care is more unacceptable to your typical Nephilim than even physical abuse.

Luke gives several hints throughout the story that his family failed majorly on this front, and this detail that his father had never let him touch his special dagger until this night underscores that. Maybe on its own that isn’t a major detail- but combined with the fact that Luke seemed barely able to use it and was convinced that he was a failure for not somehow naturally knowing how to fight is a huge red flag. He grew up in an environment that caused this insidious idea to take root that certain traits were entirely inherent- you either had warrior skill or you didn’t, you either were brave or you weren’t, etc. There doesn’t seem to be any understanding that you need to practice things in order to get better at them, that you need to fail first to learn from your mistakes, that you need someone to mentor you and show you the best methods for excelling in any discipline. And even an adult Luke who has learned all of these lessons and demonstrates himself to be a very patient teacher to those younger and less experienced than himself never seems to be quite able to unlearn this mentality when it comes to self assessment. Unfortunately, people often believe that whatever family dynamic they are raised in is the default for everyone else in the world, and so Luke likely believed to his core that everyone who was “good” at being a Shadowhunter was simply born that way- and that he was doomed to always be a disappointment by the same token.

“My sister Amatis had told you what I was doing- perhaps to frighten you, perhaps thinking you’d be impressed.”

As Luke is sitting in the dark, afraid and resigned to his own death, Jocelyn comes to find him. And now we get several interesting tidbits, starting with the fact that Amatis told Jocelyn what was happening. The real reason for this isn’t known, but the most logical explanation to me is that Amatis told Jocelyn so that she could go and help ensure her brother’s survival. We know what kind of family Amatis is growing up in- one where Shadowhunter-typical sexism runs rampant and one in which even the male heir of the family wasn’t properly taught to fight due to the neglect of their parents. As I mentioned before, we see no evidence throughout the series that Amatis can fight, and I’m inclined to think she never really learned how. Amatis knew she couldn’t go help Luke, but she also knew that Jocelyn grew up in a different kind of family and was much more equip to deal with the dangers of the forest than either her or Lucian. And if not, Jocelyn had loving parents who were accomplished Shadowhunters that might be able to help.

But the only reasons Luke can possibly fathom that Amatis might have told Jocelyn what he was doing was that she was trying to either frighten or impress her. This doesn’t seem very in line with the Amatis we meet in TMI, although granted, the dynamic between them might have been very different as children. Still, I’m more inclined to believe that this reading of Amatis’ motivations extends from that same place of low self-worth that dominates the rest of the story. It was too mind-boggling for Luke to think Amatis may have preferred he come home alive than have a brother who had proven himself a brave and manly Shadowhunter.

“But you had never been easy to alarm, or to impress. You threw on your coat and raced into the forest after me. Even as a child, you knew no fear.”

And then the comparisons start. Luke compares himself to Jocelyn, and even though she is a child no older than he is, she is somehow everything he isn’t. She is stoic in comparison to Luke’s apparent sensitivity. She knows no fear, while Luke is a self-branded coward for being afraid. And yet, her very actions show this isn’t true. She ran into the forest after Luke because she was so afraid- afraid for him. It was only Luke’s perception of her from the outside that she was fearless, that she kept her emotions in check, that she was naturally a great warrior. And this is the story Luke consistently presents as fact- an unfair comparison point that contrasts the actions of others and the face they present to the world with his own inner world that is filled with anxiety and self-doubt.

“You think I can’t handle a vampire?

“I think we can handle anything if we stick together.”

Which, now that I think about it, was extremely diplomatic.”

We now get a little taste that this perception of himself is not shared by others who only get to see Luke from the outside. Jocelyn says they can handle anything together, and Luke assumes she is being diplomatic, because he feels he could be of no assistance in a fight. But from everything I know of Jocelyn, I highly doubt this is the case. Jocelyn might not even realize that Luke has very little combat training in comparison to her. In fact, her declaration that they can “handle anything if [they] stick together” closely mimics language used in a parabatai proposal. If anything, Jocelyn is trying to signal that she sees Luke as an equal and wishes to be by his side regardless of the situation. But to Luke, this isn’t a declaration of trust- it’s a subtle reproof of his incompetence as a warrior. This is yet another failure of the mentality his parents somehow instilled in him- successful Nephilim know that reliance on others is a key part of Shadowhunting. Patrol is done in pairs at the very least, but larger groups are common as well. For Luke to believe that he is a failure if he can’t solo Brocelind Forest is yet another sign that he grew up being taught the most warped view of his culture possible.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” you said. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“That was it, Jocelyn. The first time I lied to you. “I’m not afraid,” I said. Then I lied again. “I need to do this by myself.” The voice of my heart, the truth-teller, said: Stay with me, keep me company. There’s no one I like being with as much as I like being with you. But that voice was a silent one.”

Then Jocelyn neatly demonstrates the difference between her upbringing and Luke’s in one simple sentence: “it’s okay to be afraid.” Just a few paragraphs ago, Luke praised Jocelyn as someone who harbored no fear, simply because he didn’t see it in her. By that same token, he derided himself as a coward- not because he was running away from anything, but simply because he felt afraid. But it turns out Jocelyn didn’t even see the world that way. She believed that it was okay to be afraid, and she knew that bravery meant pushing through that fear in order to do what needed to be done. Someone taught her this, likely her parents, who also taught her things like how to fight demons and to cultivate a belief that she had intrinsic value.

But Luke had been taught other things. He’d been taught to sit at the stairs and listen to all of his parents arguments in order to have the information he needed to navigate their expectations. He’d learned that he should possess perfect mastery over his emotions and body, and the fact that he didn’t is what made him disgraceful to his father and unworthy of even being mourned over properly in the event of his death. He still had his father’s voice ringing in his ears: “his only friend is a girl…it’s ridiculous.” And although he loved and respected Jocelyn, a part of him believed that it was different for her- that maybe she could afford to be afraid since she was a woman, but he couldn’t. So he sent her away, and was drowning so completely in his own warped worldview that he didn’t realize why this hurt Jocelyn so deeply. He couldn’t fathom that he was turning down the potential beginning of a more solidified relationship that may have even blossomed into something like a parabatai bond or romantic relationship down the road, because the fact that she could be trying to develop something like that with him genuinely never crossed his mind.

“I expected my parents and sister to be waiting for me. But my father had gone into Alicante for the day- he hadn’t even waited to see if I’d survived. And my mother was sitting on the porch, with a packed satchel next to her.”

And what happened next shows why Luke couldn’t have possibly had the spoons to consider Jocelyn’s perspective too deeply at the time. Luke’s entire family has acted as if they had no faith he would survive the night in the forest this entire time- which, all things considered, is pretty ridiculous. His death was definitely a possibility, especially with how little training Luke seemed to have, and I would argue any kind of risk with your child’s life is too high of a risk. But for every scenario in which Luke died, there were ten others in which he survived. For all that Shadowhunter racism paints Downworlders as bloodthirsty monsters, surely the adults would at least understand that there were very few willing to risk the wrath the Clave would surely rain down upon their heads if they murdered a Nephilim child. Really, the greatest chance of Luke dying was if he were attacked by an actual demon… which could happen, but doesn’t seem to be too likely in Idris. What I’m getting at here is that Luke’s parents should have been expecting him to survive… and the insinuation here is that they did, but simply gave him the impression that they believed he wouldn’t. Which is pretty fucked up on its own. It also means that Luke comes back, feeling that he beat the odds in a million ways, and is only met by his mother, giving the impression that his father cared so little about whether he lived or died that he didn’t even bother to stick around to see.

“When she saw me, she wept. She caught me in her arms, and I stood motionless, stiff and frozen and unresponsive, because I couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Oh, Lucian. I was up all through the night, and I prayed and prayed to Raziel for your safety. I made a vow to him, to the Angel. I promised my life for yours.”

I still didn’t understand. She explained that she’d promised the Angel that if I lived, she would consecrate her life to the Iron Sisters… Even as she spoke, I could feel her excitement, that she was glad to go, and something inside me seemed to shrivel and die.”

His mother, by the way, already has one foot out the door when he shows up. She makes this bullshit excuse that she made a vow to the Angel to trade her life in service to the Iron Sisters for his. Now Luke isn’t even able to believe that his own determination to sit the entire night in that forest despite the fact that he was so afraid that he was hallucinating meant anything at all- because in reality, the only reason someone so cowardly and weak was spared was because his mother prayed all the monsters away.

“My father had gone to Alicante because he could not bear to watch her leave, and Amatis was in her room, sobbing. Alone, I watched my mother walk away, and I blamed myself. I was the one who had chosen to go into the woods, who had forced my mother to make this sacrifice to ensure my safety.”

And now all the pieces come together- the proof that Luke’s parents, at least, had expected him to live from the start. His mother was waiting on the porch with her bags packed, excitement radiating off of her. His father had left because he was sure she would be gone when he came back. That only works if Luke lives. But twelve-year-old Luke can’t put all those pieces together. Instead, he is left with the parting impression that he was to blame for being so pathetic that he needed such a sacrifice just to keep him alive. And that’s a weight he would carry around with him for life- no matter how much he claims he knows better now, it colors the way he paints himself in every story he tells.

“Now I am wiser: I know my mother loathed my father and was fleeing from him, not from me or from my sister. But at the time, as a child, all I knew was abandonment. All I knew was that my mother, who I thought had loved me more than anyone in the world, had found it easy enough to leave me in the end.”

The truth, though, is that his mother loathed his father, but wouldn’t get a divorce from him because of the same traditionalist stigma that informed the family attitude on everything else. She was escaping an abusive situation in the only way she had figured out how to without compromising her own beliefs- and on her way out the door, trampled on her children’s self-worth and trust. Luke’s parents already weren’t stable figures in his life, but he had at least believed that his mother loved him. Now she left him, quickly, excitedly, and insinuated that it was his fault she did so. Is it any wonder that Luke’s attachment style is so anxious or that he doesn’t trust that people could see value in who he truly is?

“And I survived it…. My mother gone. My father, without her, untethered from us… The task of raising me fell to my sister Amatis, forcing her to sacrifice her freedom to obligation. Did she love me less for being the cause? I think so.”

We end this vignette with the complete collapse of this horribly unstable family system. His mother leaves, his father also seems to leave in every way that counts, Amatis is parentified and Luke can sense her resentment and blame. Luke also mentions that his relationship with Jocelyn became more distant than before. “I survived it” became his refrain. He lived life feeling inadequate, burdensome, and undeserving- as a Shadowhunter, as a man, and as a friend and family member. That is enough to break anybody down.

I felt sick to my stomach reading every line of this story. Yet Luke tells this story as if it isn’t horrifying. He seems to struggle reconciling his family dynamic as abnormal or abusive- there are hints in that direction, but he can’t seem to be able to acknowledge it outright. But emotional scars like that are carried throughout life, and we see them mapped out in Luke’s behavior, in the way he codes worth, in how he tells stories. This particular story isn’t just about how he first lied to Jocelyn- it’s about why he became a people pleaser, why rejection terrifies him more than living in abject misery, why he doesn’t truly believe anything good about himself, and why he would rather stick out an increasingly untenable and abusive situation than walk away. It’s an important thing to keep in mind as I continue this breakdown- Luke is great at seeming put together on the outside, but internally, he’s a bit of a mess, and this is reflected in the way he tells stories. Everything is wrapped up in a nice neat package, but the cracks are there if you care to look for them.

Some part of him will always be that little boy on the porch after the most exhausting and terrifying night of his life, watching his mother walk away from him and realizing that nothing he ever did would make his parents love him. This is the Lucian Graymark that Valentine Morgenstern meets a few years later at the Academy… a Valentine Morgenstern who also had plenty of emotional scars from an abusive childhood of his own. And as I’ll show in part two, this is key to understanding this relationship… and also to understanding why it was so toxic and doomed from the start.

As a fan of the Circle and also a lover of sweet and tender things, I made a fannon collab

Robert Lightwood = Hello Kitty or Black Oppal

Michael Wayland = Charmmy Kitty, Sugar or Dear Daniel

Valentine Morgenstern= Kuromi

Lucian Graymark = My Melody

Amatis Graymark= Chiffon

Celine Montclaire = Cinamoroll

Stephen Herondale = Little Twin Stars

Hodge Starkweather = Pochacco

Jocelyn Fairchild = Keroppi

Maryse Trueblood = Bad Badtz Maru