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melanielocke · 1 year

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*ChoT spoilers!*

So this is about the blackmail letter Kamala found in her father's study, and what it might be about. If you haven't read it yet, there are screenshots of the letter on tumblr somewhere, and there are links to the whole excerpt (the first 4 chapters of the book). This part is at the end of the 4th chapter.

I've seen this mentioned before, and I've also seen a couple of people theorize it's addressed to Charlotte, but I am quite certain it's addressed to Charles.

To me, Charlotte seems unlikely as a recipient because Bridgestock describes the recipient as someone with similar political views. Charlotte is very progressive as a consul whereas Bridgestock is very conservative, their views do not match at all and Bridgestock does not respect her as a politician.

But Charles is far more conservative than his mother, and Charles had sought Bridgestock as an ally before, since that's the whole reason he got engaged to Kamala. Their views match enough that I think Bridgestock respects him as a politician.

Then there's the part where he describes the recipient as favoring the Herondales and Lightwoods more lately. We know that in ChoG, Charles was not favoring the Herondales. He was constantly picking Tatiana's side over them like the fool he is and making poorly thought out decisions in general. He wasn't present a lot in ChoI so the only thing we know he did politically is that screw up with the werewolves. But I think he does consider the Herondales and Lightwoods his family even though he often does not get along with them, so maybe Charles was acting more like it, especially after James was one of the people who saved him from Belial? However, I think Bridgestock must have written the letters before that happened since he left shortly after the battle to interrogate Tatiana and has been missing since.

Then Bridgestock brings up a secret the recipient things is well kept, but Bridgestock knows. Something that Bridgestock is willing to overlook, but many in the clave will not. I think this most likely refers to Charles being gay and possibly his relationship with Alastair? I'm not sure Bridgestock knows about the affair. He could have began to suspect Alastair and Thomas after the sanctuary, but I think again this would be too late for the letter and I don't think he could make assumptions about Charles based on that either. And it seems like Bridgestock is sure of it because he can hardly blackmail someone with vague suspicions. So I wouldn't know how Bridgestock found out, but he did, and he's threatening to out Charles if he doesn't cooperate with his scheme to kick out the Herondales.

The whole scheme Bridgestock has in mind implies that he also knows about Belial being Tessa's father, and that is the information he intends to use against them, which fits with an unexpected enemy making that information public. It could be either Bridgestock or Charles, but I'm thinking Charles, since Bridgestock is blackmailing him. I think Charles would definitely betray his family to protect his secrets.

What's also interesting is that Kamala came out to her mother. As expected, her mother's reaction was very negative, her mother was willing to pretend it never happened, however Kamala things her mother has suspected for a long time. Her mother also says that if Bridgestock ever found out, he'd throw her out onto the streets. Which is funny, if he is also willing to overlook Charles being gay, though I think that will only be as long as Charles does end up marrying and refrains from sleeping with men. And while I think Charles will end up marrying, I don't think he'll stop sleeping with men entirely. In the Edwardian era London there were gay bathhouses where men went to have anonymous sex with men, so he could easily keep doing that without his wife finding out.

This whole thing also makes me worry for Alastair because if Bridgestock knows Charles is gay, he very likely also knows about Alastair, which means Bridgestock can easily threaten to out him too if Alastair ever starts getting in his way, but I think Alastair is a lot less likely to cave to his demands.

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @astriefer @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @bottomdelioncourt @ikissedsmithparker

#Maurice Bridgestock #Charles Fairchild #Kamala Joshi #Ariadne Bridgestock #Alastair Carstairs #chain of thorns #chain of thorns spoilers #chain of thorns theory #the last hours

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drublaccthorn · 10 months

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Anna : [flirting with Ari]

Maurice : [appeared from behind]

Anna : hello, Inquisitor Bridgestock! This is your daughter and I do not know her

#i’m backk ishh #anna lightwood #maurice bridgestock #ari bridgestock #arianna #source: across the spiderverse #shadowhunters #tsc #the last hours #tlh

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alastairstom · 1 year

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I know this is out of order- I've a bunch of stuff tabbed to talk about tomorrow. But Bridgestock should burn in hell for this (among other things). Like, come on. You're really going to be a jackass to this kid because he's big? I love him. He is perfect

#unhinged tlh reread #thomas lightwood #maurice bridgestock

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jamiespoon · 2 years

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Just finished to read the expert from Cassie and I have no words 😶

I wish to say many things, but first of all…

BRIDGESTOCK IS A DIRTY PEACE OF SHIT

It was obvious that he wasn’t really fond of the Herondales/ Lightwoods, but I didn’t expect that(?!)

Correspondences to throw shit at them in front of the clave? (because that was obviously his final goal). Seriously?

I have a few Ideas that may explain the letter’s content

A complain about Charlotte’s leadership

A letter to Charlotte where he explains her his complains about Herondales/ Lightwoods

A letter to another clave’s member, where he proposes to create a coalition against Charlotte’s leadership and Herondales&Lightwoods

Anyway I’m really happy about the expert, Thank you Cassie 🫶🫶

#chain of thorns #the last hours #the shadowhunters chronicles #cassandra clare #maurice bridgestock #ariadne bridgestock #matthew fairchild #cordelia carstairs #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #james herondale #gideon lightwood #will herondale #gabriel lightwood #charlotte fairchild

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thousand-winters · 1 year

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""It's a dangerous path you're on," her father said. "One that ends in ruin. It is out of kindness that I wish to save you—"

"Kindness?" Ari said. "Not love? The love you owe a daughter?"

"A daughter is not defiant. A daughter is obedient. A daughter cares for her parents, protects them—""

Not having a fun time ✨

Yikes, sir. I have my hopes on the mother tho, it seemed she did love Ari, but we shall see in time.

#fathers amiright?#chain of thorns #chain of thorns spoilers #cot spoilers #maurice bridgestock #arati bridgestock #ariadne bridgestock #kamala joshi #the last hours #tlh #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc

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beyondtheciouds · 8 months

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A match was lit, and the struck stick was tossed carelessly into the fireplace long before the Consul arrived on the city's other side. The signs were all there; a mistake was sure to be made tonight as the rickety carriage moved down the quiet street into a neighborhood she knew far too well and had visited often. The night was young, and Charlotte had enough aggravation tonight to last a lifetime. Her temper had dissolved into something far worse, an anxiousness, a pettiness that Charlotte Fairchild feared would get the best of her.

Weeks of carrying on like her personal passions did not matter--dissolved her worth. The loneliness had finally caught up with the Consul. Parading around with baked goods for the less fortunate when she wasn't tossed into a shrewd sewing circle of gossipy crones had her wanting to tear her hair out by the roots. Weeks of listening to Henry go on and on about nonsense, how he might be necessary to the community one day, all the talk made her want to run away screaming. A pillar--how he might be more than a guy with few screws loose to their comrades. How his dream would never be.

Days spent being begrudgingly faithful--- helping Gertrude with Henry's baths and keeping a tidy house while her maids gossiped in the kitchen instead of doing what they were paid to do crept up on Charlotte's cold shoulder too fast. Gossip kept her awake most nights. Tending Henry casually turned into months of long hours spent slaving and staying away from her duties to the community. She became a hermit and spent the dragging daylight at home. Often ending up so alone.

Many apparent signs had passed her eyes in the months leading up to her career's demise. So many red flags waved in her face, yet she turned a blind eye as she internally accepted her fate. What did anyone expect? What did she?

Henry was usually out of sorts these days, bamboozled by his imagination and the imagery of science. Often, he sat undressed and oblivious in the sunlight at the breakfast table. He refused to eat until Gertrude took his plate of cold eggs and stale toast away.

Then, he would eat the jam right out of the jar.

After a frustrating lunch, the mid-afternoons were a chore; sitting with him in the lab or the library while he struggled to make sense became a game Charlotte often lost at.

After supper, he was worse, moody, and intolerable at all-night hours. Sometimes, Charlotte dotted on him, reminding herself his destiny had been stolen from him like hers had. Like a thief in the night, her Henry had painfully drifted away into madness and had unwillingly taken her hopes along with him.

To Charlotte's relief, Henry preferred his own bed and usually slept downstairs in the unused study. The time after dark was hers.

Matthew was nowhere to be found most days, while others he spent tangled in his sheets with mistresses and mimes. Charlotte did not know what to make of his disappearance as he was often gone days at time without a word or sound. Some days she had forgotten her youngest son existed.

She now wondered if his disappearance was unrelated to that of the Herondales and Miss Carstairs. If he had gone into hiding in Paris as his exploitations often found him in a source of trouble.

If he would turn up dead or in prison.

Charles was usually out, tending to business on Charlotte's behalf in the city during the daylight. He reveled in the fact that his mother had become a hypocrite and now strived to do far better and take on more responsibly in regard to his up and coming position. Unfortunately for Charlotte, the Clave agreed. The members had cited Charlotte was under far too much stress and gave her son the assignments she would have usually handled.

Charles was proud and did not speak to his mother about his work. He didn't want to offend her now that she had sequestered at home. In the evenings, he almost always seemed to have private dinner plans or spent long hours working at his new office so he would avoid any confrontations with her. He usually waited until he knew she was asleep to drag himself home.

That left Charlotte alone with Matthew's dog, Oscar most evenings.

Being dutiful, respectful of their vows, and mindful of their families all for nothing. To be alone with a madman, have a rebellious son on the loose, and, worst of all, a son who stole her happiness. She wanted to scream and cry and carry on like a child.

Pursuing her dalliances made her happy. Her work made her happy. Her family had once made her happy.

All these things gone, leading to a point of breaking. The loss of oneself.

Tonight, the news of Matthew's and the others disappearances had been Charlotte's breaking point despite her best efforts to tell herself Matthew, of them all, was fine. Tonight, will be the beginning of an end she decided as she sat further back against the plush, green velvet. It was time the wolf emerged from the sheepish clothing regardless of where her son and his friends were taken.

The olive-colored carriage pulled to a stop in front of a large, overpowering brick mansion without the slightest hesitation. The golden wings painted on the panels of the carriage doors glistened like snowy dew drops under the overhead lamplight. It was as if they were stars themselves.

Imposing and threatening gates surrounding the mansion were iron encased in ichor; pickets and posts shaped as sharp arrows were meant to deter all visitors. The stained-glass windows were wide and dark; the heavy ceiling candelabras were unlit. There were no signs of life; no shadows stirred inside, but she knew he was home.

Maurice was always home at this late hour.

Charlotte quietly scolded herself for dragging the Inquisitor into this mess and the chaos that would ensue such decisions a she waited to be let through. Time and resentment had erased most of what her and Henry had so she was not feeling guilty as her hands itched inside their gloves. What she was feeling, however, was nervous.

A man in a satin black frock coat and elegant top hat appeared out of the shadows, startling the driver for a moment. The driver hesitated before he handed the man a parchment, then whispered words were exchanged. Charlotte studied his face. It was skeletal; gaunt in the cheekbones and bruised under the eyes, the mysterious man in the top hat. He tried to peer in with his shadowed eyes through the frosted glass several times at her without success. The horses made obtuse sounds as Charlotte's driver informed the man of their business without so much as a smile or a tip of his hat under the moonlight.

A moment later, the gates opened, and they passed quickly through while Charlotte watched the numerous vacant gardens go by. Greek and Roman; the statues of maidens and goddesses were covered in blankets of pure snow. She heard the click of the lock; the clank of the gate shutting her inside his estate as the man's laughter chimed like a bell, following the carriage as the wheels chugged along in the dark. Then the man was suddenly calling out behind them, shouting German orders to the few soldiers surrounding the house. Charlotte sensed that he was telling everyone that the Inquisitor had company. He was not to be disturbed.

The night, the open sky; stars as free as she felt.

Arriving at the door, an overweight butler had been waiting with an overly friendly smile. He tipped his bald head as if she were the matron of the house and not herself. The door to the carriage opened and he held out his hand to her. She exited the small compartment with such grace that he was taken aback. Charlotte swiftly took the old man's hand and his smile widened unsteadily as if he knew her deepest secrets.

The reason for this perfectly timed visit.

Long days and longer nights had passed between tonight and the last time she was at the Inquisitor's estate. The last time had been deep in the summer when the roses were at their blooming peak. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the softness of the petals on her skin and smell the jasmine in the air.

The building had seemed to grow large and foreboding, it suddenly felt foreign to her eyes beneath the lenses of her glasses. She blinked, almost disbelieving she had returned to the Bridgestock Estate.

Warmth and heat filled her body so quickly that Charlotte thought she may have entered an inferno the moment she stepped over the threshold. She had half expected to see Flora hiding in the shadows, her face sharing all of Maurice's betrayals. Shaming them quietly.

The Fairchild carriage waited patiently outside, the old driver shivering as he read yesterday's paper under the dim light of the kerosene lamps. Charlotte knew she could leave. Pretend this was different from what she wanted. What she needed.

Instead of running away, she hastily clasped her shaking hands over one another, her oversized hat swaying like pendulum as she led herself down several narrow hallways and corridors toward the East Wing.

There is still time to leave, she thought. A deep breath and her fear gripped her like a forlorn lover as she passed open and empty rooms, closed and locked doors. I can still go home to Henry.

A glance in a hall mirror caught her by surprise; her round cherub face felt childish; brown eyes were wide, cheeks pink, and lips parted. Her skin glistened with sweat, and the small opal twinkled; the stone was dangling at her throat as it would have when she was young and naive.

Charlotte remembered when she dove headfirst into politics, not knowing where it would lead her as a female. She could not replace her father's proud look as she was first announced head of the London Institute. How that memory rooted itself between the rocks, he formed in her heart.

The two maids scurrying about the unkept halls caught her attention. Both women knew her well by now. Charlotte was not one people tend to forget quickly, regardless of her title or position.

One of the women stopped, smiled, and greeted her by name. Then the maid had told her to go right in as Charlotte raised her hand to knock on the hardwood door of the Inquistior's Private Office. The door, she knew, would be unlocked. Charlotte had been expected.

Charlotte flatted her hand against the cooling wood as the maid vanished around a corner, singing some off-key ballard. Am I really doing this? Am I really doing this again?

Maurice had been waiting patiently for her. He opened the door before her bony knuckles hit the wood, his long face lit ablaze by the candlelight beyond him, and she swooned.

He was smiling, large, dark eyes alight with what Charlotte recognized immediately as longing. His thin upper lip held a glisten of sweat, and she could already taste the dry, dirty whiskey dripping from the corners of his curving mouth. The top three buttons of his starched white shirt were undone, exposing dark strands of hair plastered on milky skin. The sight brought Charlotte back to a time before she was a leader. A time when she was just a girl with a dream in her heart and a boy in her mind. This boy.

A long fur coat and matching gloves; a jeweled reticule and a pair of freshly shined ladies leather boots had become tangled in the furniture not long after she entered his office. Wedding rings and family Signas became discarded on an end table as if they were nothing more than heirlooms. A black robe and a periwinkle gown hanging on the coat rack next to the door blocked the light, casting the room in shadows. The hat, tossed carelessly to the floor.

Calming.

Maurice was the calming to the petrifying storm that raged inside her soul. He eased her as he was easing her now. The rush cleared her ears; voices she no longer wanted to listen to ceased.

"Draw from it, Charlotte. Let it pull the truth from you, clear your mind. Relax. You are safe here. Everything is off the record." Inquisitor Bridgestock smiled, his large mouth twisting, exposing yellowed teeth crooked and chipped. The white shirt he had worn now caressed the back of his chair. "There it is, dear. Inhale, exhale. Now, tell me what you know." His long fingers tolled the servant bell as he watched her chest rise and fall beneath the eggshell chemise.

Charlotte did just that; she inhaled and exhaled, but the ugliness remained on the tip of her tongue. I am married. You are married. I am your boss. What are we doing? All her insecurities about her position had come flooding up from somewhere deep inside. Guilt and shame huddled together in the pit of her stomach. Acid buildup climbed her throat. The voice ridiculed her and called her a hypocrite, and it only took a fleeting moment to realize the voice was Matthew's.

Consul Fairchild is a dream, a fraud.

Charlotte realized everything in and about herself was a calculated mirage set in place by her father. Life as she knew it was false: her marriage, her children, her career, and her very existence had been planned and staged by her father to keep the family name going after losing his heir.

Her affair would undoubtedly ruin her career, ruining her family's name. Her downfall would leave Charles and Henry mortified. Her divorce would leave the public stunned. The community would be decimated. Her friends would be devastated. Scandal after scandal.

Her exile. Her death. Everything was now in jeopardy-- she dropped her life into Maurice's calming hands. His steady hands.

Her father would be so disappointed. Her mother highly mortified.

Matthew would laugh. Tell her she was a joke. She was just like him.

Matthew...

Charlotte lost focus, hiding her tears as a maid entered and began tending to her, rubbing intense smelling and weirdly warm spices on her bare shoulders and neck. The heat flowed into her as the woman whispered words in some misinterpreted language and moved her hands slowly in Charlotte's chestnut hair.

Hypnosis was a new age practice; one Maurice Bridgestock had just discovered in the recent weeks. One he had been dying to try out on the Consul particularly. A watch sat idly on his desk next to a black and white swirling box with a pull chain attached. Two mugs of steaming tea sprinkled with a peculiar opaque powder were arranged neatly on the desk by another stone-faced maid who quickly left.

Maurice delicately sipped from his cup.

Charlotte lay on her back, her petite body set up on the chaise opposite the awkward Inquisitor Bridgestock who sat at his large, oak desk in a sea of smoke. His mouth was still oddly parched, and his lips puckered at the sourness of the steaming liquid coasting down his throat. Charlotte closed her eyes and tried for a third time to refocus her energy even though she imagined his clammy skin still against hers. Their bones entwined on the fur of some deceased mammal.

A fire beyond.

Maurice had waited so long to get Charlotte Fairchild under his spell. He swore to himself this time he wouldn't let her go. He had loved her from afar for so long and now here she was, delivered once more in the palm of his hand.

A gift.

The sage that was burning on the silver tray upon his desk was giving Charlotte a slight headache, leaving her feeling sluggish and faint. Her long hair felt like it was being untangled from the tight bun at the top of her head. "Maurice," she said, breathless. "Belial is back. He's taken the children. James and Matthew. Lucie and Cordelia."

Maurice Bridgestock did not blink at the name of the demon prince, or of the missing teens. The Inquisitor was callous towards the Herondales and Carstairs, but he did have a soft spot for Charlotte's son. So, he let his face remain neutral and just eyed Charlotte curiously as the maid wordlessly untangled her hair. Excitement coursed through his veins, light and giddy at the thought of finally using the Mortal Sword on Tessa Herondale. He would kill her with the sharp edge after she told them the truth. He took a deep breath, slowly and casually said, "When Charlotte? Tell me when you knew."

Charlotte's cheeks reddened. "Well..."

"Go on dearie," he said sounding like the big bad wolf.

She looked as though she did as a teen, long before she took the long arm of the law's hand. Her hair now hung in loose curls down her back, cascading off her shoulders. Maurice's heart skipped an unexpected beat. He was still in love with her. She looked just as he remembered. It felt like only yesterday had gone by when he had known her as nothing more than Lottie Fairchild. Innocent, smart and sweet. The girl he thought he would one day marry.

His red riding hood.

A log in the fireplace spat ash furiously and the maid yanked a knot free as if the idea had been preposterous at the start, even in his youth. Maurice licked his lips, contemplating his next steps.

Charlotte took another breath, long and deep. "I... I was not told he was back until this evening. He could have been here for months while Tessa Herondale went on about her daily life. That is, until late this afternoon."

"Go on," Maurice said, a wicked smile on his face.

#cassandra clare #the shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #charlotte fairchild #Maurice Bridgestock #au

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youwerealwaysmysecret · 2 years

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100% sure that bridge stock is the one to announce James’s and Lucie’s heritage >:((

#ariadne bridgestock #Maurice bridgestock #Such a asshole

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walkingaftermidnight07 · 1 year

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Chain of Thorns: all my main thoughts

yes hello, i wanna make a large post abt this bc i just need to list everything out since i have A LOT of thoughts

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING

SERIOUSLY

DONT READ FURTHER UNLESS YOUVE READ THE BOOK

Things I Liked:

basically every moment where we got to see Will. I was laughing at so many things that Will said and I missed having that, since I will never get enough of Will's humor.

Seeing Jesse interact with the Merry Thieves. It made me so happy and I love seeing Jesse's dry humor mixed in with the Merry Thieves; he fits in with them so well.

Just human Jesse in general. Everything about him made me so happy. He was so kind and brave and quite funny.

Getting to see more of Anna/Ari. During the first book we got almost nothing of them, partially because of Ari being poisoned but also because Anna was kind of not in the main circle yet.

Christopher visiting Grace and them getting to know each other. It made me so happy that there was someone who could see past what Grace had done and could give her a second chance, and their bond over science was so sweet.

Thomastair. That's it. No explanation needed.

Ghostwriter I thought was pretty well done, but the whole "them kissing would cause Lucie to see demon stuff" was kind of unnecessary.

Jem being there for Grace and talking to her to help her through

The Watchers were a really cool plot twist I wasn't expecting

honestly the james turning on the lamp on pg 127 caused a lot of pterodactyl screeching which was fun

the Herondaisy scene in chapter 23 hehe

Effie every time she opens her mouth

Also Bridget who is my queen. she is my love, my life, my star.

Eugenia Lightwood just existing was fabulous.

Esme being the most random plot thread ever which caused a lot of unexpected laughter

"Alastair why are you so stupid I brush my teeth dont tell anyone" LMAO

Alastair with the baby

Again, Thomastair.

Matthew's eventual acceptance of Alastair into the group

Cordelia outsmarting Lilith with her deal

Belial having a weird obsession with being crowned prince of London or whatever

Also Belial's weird bird demon friend made me CACKLE

Bridgestock blackmailing Charles. if i'm honest, i think it was a great part of the plot bc it did kind of give Charles a slight redemption (but also him being kind of outted is also really bad) but i think it was great in kind of allowing Flora be able to accept Ari without fear of Maurice

Lucie and Cordelia talking abt Cordelia's boobs lmaooo/The Wicked Queen Cordelia

Grace's entire arc through this book

the different meanings behind "cordelia ran"

Things that made me sobbbb:

Will becoming a sort of father figure to Jesse

The Merry Thieves helping Matthew with his drinking

Cordelia and James when they finally confessed for real

Matthew's entire arc with his drinking and telling the truth

Christopher's death

"you are my unfinished business" IM SOBBING STILL

Christopher's death

The scene where they see that Kit's dead

Kit being dead

Intermission: Grief

the fact that kit was in fact dead and not going to come back at the end (i was in denial for the entire second half)

Matthew and James while in Edom

Thomas coming out to his family

Alastair telling Cordelia that he's always afraid for her with her being the wielder of Cortana

Again. Kit's death. (i cried a lot ok its been an emotional couple of days)

Things I didn't like:

The whole love triangle. I still don't think that Matthew truly loved Cordelia and i never believed it would be an actual love triangle

the fact that the truth about the bracelet had to be kept secret for so long. it felt kind of unnecessary. there were other ways to draw out the plot than that.

the fact that tatiana exists

Kit's death. I feel like it's so unfair that of all people, he's the one to die. it didn't feel well written, it felt like it had to happen bc she couldn't kill the queer characters and Kit was the only main character left that she COULD kill.

Grace's entire plot being kind of left without an ending.

The lack of mourning/a funeral for kit. (since we didnt get enough mourning, i think im going to write it bc i want to suffer for the purpose of completing the loose ends)

the pacing. the entire plot felt so oddly paced, and it wasn't as much of a mystery like choi or chog.

again, why christopher? i feel like matthew would've been a better choice, or perhaps sona.

magnus kind of getting written out so early

though i love our gay couples and their accepting families, it is a little bit unrealistic. i get that the point is that this particular batch of the families are very kind people in comparison to what their families become a little farther down the road(ie Robert, maryse, etc), but it still feels a little bit unrealistic.

i felt like the whole lucie and cordelia struggling with their friendship thing was a little bit too much to add into this already very full book. (although i loved the wicked cordelia reveal that was fun)

i feel like we didn't fully get the wrap up at the end that we needed. we didn't see enough of them after the battle, as they came to terms with their losses and their wins and how they would continue their lives.

also we never really got to see jesse meeting his cousins/aunts and uncles and i wish we'd gotten that.

Questions I still have:

bridget? whats going on with her? theres a throwaway line in the coda mentioning something is odd abt her, but thats it??

grace. what is going to happen to grace? i wish we could perhaps see her and figure out if she's alright.

im still confused abt the lightwood line. i guess they're trying to say that alexander is going to continue it? (that actually kind of makes sense, genetics wise tho, cuz alexander looks like cecily and alec and izzy are supposed to inherit that)

will we ever get a revised family tree?

blackthorn line???

Rupert's ghost?

fairchild line? am i correct to assume that its going to tie into charlotte's pregnancy reveal at the end?

I'm sure I have more thoughts but I can't remember them at this present moment and I didn't write them down but these are all the ones I wrote down.

lmk what y'all think abt this book

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hahahax30 · 1 year

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A Son Dressed in White

@ the anon who pushed me to write this. I'm also going to post this on ao3 but it's almost 2am here in Spain and I'm tired. So I'll do that tomorrow

Cecily and Gabriel find out Christopher is dead. A fic

Cecily Lightwood hadn't been to any trials in her life; neither before her life embodied her shadowhunting heritage, nor after she'd taken runes to her skin, forever sealing her fate. She found she was rather glad about that fact, for trials were very, very, very boring.

Her older brother Will stood on a dais with as somber an expression as she had ever seen him don. Left and right and before him and behind him were shadowhunters gazing intently at Will, yet he was only looking at one person: Maurice Bridgestock.

"Did you confabulate with Belial, your father-in-law?" the Inquisitor spat.

"When was a madman elected Inquisitor?" Cecily's husband wondered through gritted teeth.

Cecily squeezed his knee to let him know she agreed with him: this was ridiculous. Inquisitor Bridgestock was ridiculous.

The Mortal Sword lay balanced on Will's outstretched hands. Under its Raziel-born influence, he would be compelled to tell nothing but the truth. "I never confabulated with Belial," Will said.

"So you never cooperated with him to let Leviathan ravage the London Institute?" the Inquisitor pressed.

"By the Angel, my brother helped fight off Leviathan," Cecily protested. Her voice came out higher than it should have, which made little Alexander squirm on her lap. She could've left him in the care of his favorite maid, but after Tatiana Blackthorn had kidnapped him, she wasn't ready to leave her youngest out of her sight.

"Mummy?" Alex asked.

"Nothing. It's nothing, Alex bach."

Cecily turned her attention back to Will.

"I never cooperated with Belial."

"Are you saying that–"

Whatever it was that Inquisitor Bridgestock had wanted to say got cut off by a dozen shadowhunters swarming into the meeting room. Gabriel stood up promptly, and so did his brother –Gideon– and her wife and daughter. Soon everyone was standing up, thus blinding Cecily, still on her seat due to Alexander, to the new arrivals.

"Gabriel," she called out "Who is there?"

"Martin Wentworth," her husband said, a hand on her shoulder "Thoby Baybrook. I think I see Charles, too. He's talking to the Inquisitor– no, he's pushing Bridgestock away. It was about time he stopped being Bridgestock's lapdog, I say."

"What else can you see?" before Gabriel could reply, Cecily gently ushered Alexander down from her lap, took one of his tiny hands –from the corner of her eye she saw Gabriel taking the other one immediately thereafter– and stood up.

Charles had indeed seemed to push Inquisitor Bridgestock: Maurice was on the floor with a half-disgusted Flora Bridgestock fretting at his side. The petty part of Cecily, which had shrunken with age but not entirely been driven to extinction, wished he would break a knee or a rib or whichever other bone would keep him confined to a bed in the Silent City. Inquisitor Bridgestock ought to pay for having questioned her family's goodness.

In any case, the Inquisitor was on the floor, but Charles was nowhere near him. Instead, Cecily found him making a beeline towards her, Alexander and Gabriel.

"Order! Order!" Charles thundered as he elbowed people out of the way "Let there be order!" he reached Cecily's side "Gabriel. Cecily. May we talk?"

Cecily exchanged puzzled looks with her husband. This close, Charles had a certain panic to himself. His skin had a ghastly undertone to it; he clearly hadn't brushed his hair in over a day.

"What is the matter?"

Later on, Cecily would remember her husband's voice as impossibly faraway. Odd, she knew, for he'd been standing next to her. Always. He hadn't detached himself from her side.

Charles led them through a narrow corridor into a small room whose entrance was guarded by Piers Wentworth and Catherine Townsend. The young shadowhunters nodded once before scrambling off Raziel knew where. As did Charles. "I'm sorry," he murmured right before striding back to the ocean of shadowhunters they'd left.

Those two words reached Cecily's ears, but she didn't register them until much later. Until she found herself inside the small room and had contemplated the corpse of her son and understood she'd lost him forever.

Time halted to a stop.

Christopher lay on a bier. A white cloth covered his whole body but for his neck and face. An equally-white blindfold rested over his eyes.

Cecily began shaking. As if from afar, always as if from afar, she heard and felt herself emitting a low, guttural sound. She had to fight to keep on her feet. Cecily Lightwood couldn't break apart like every piece of her body was screaming at her to do: she had to go to her baby.

Her son's brown hair had lost its smoothness. It had become dry and brittle –just like his skin had grown cold and inhumanly pale. Cecily put her hands at either side of Christopher's face and massaged his temples. "My love," she murmured, frantically; her voice didn't sound like it belonged to her "My love, my baby, wake up. We'll fetch a Silent Brother. Jem, we'll get Jem to you," she turned to Gabriel "Ask for Brother Zachariah."

Gabriel looked at a loss of words. He'd frozen before the bier little Christopher lay on; his eyes were fixed on a particular spot. Cecily knew it to be Kit's chest.

Her hands shaking, she pressed a palm to her son's left pectoral. Cecily knew how this went.

When Anna and Christopher and Alexander and even Gabriel slept, she always felt compelled to stare at their chests. She needed to make sure they rose and fell steadily, for Cecily had lived in a family in which Death had ripped her older sister away in the blink of an eye. Ella had been asleep when she died, and Cecily had grown paranoid that those who were the most dear to her would also die in her sleep. That's why she needed to check that her children's lungs still worked, that their hearts still beat.

"They always breathe. Their hearts always beat," she told herself. She repeated those two sentences as a mantra as she first posed her hand lightly against Kit's chest and then pushed with a bruising force against that spot where his heart out to be.

Christopher's chest didn't rise; it didn't fall either. Cecily couldn't feel his heart beating.

"No," she whispered. Then, louder "NO."

She screamed her throat raw. She screamed so much, with so much pain and devastation and fury and sorrow and loss that Gabriel shook out of his stupor and finally went to her. Alexander began crying.

Gabriel's arms wrapped around her back. Her husband sat up on the floor and drew her to himself. He rocked them back and forth as Cecily sobbed loudly against the crook of his neck. Her tears were soon in communion with his own. Gabriel was shaking, and though he wasn't making the noise that Cecily was making, his pain was palpable, acute, there.

Tatiana. Tatiana is responsible for this, Cecily thought. That madwoman had taken Barbara from Gideon and Sophie, she'd captured Alexander, and now she'd murdered Christopher.

Cecily gripped Gabriel's arms. She took a deep breath. Two. Three. A small body crashed against her: Alexander. Through her tears, he looked like a black-haired Christopher when he was only three. It only made Cecily break down further.

Oh, the riches she would give to have her baby Christopher back with her. Now she could never see one of his experiments succeeding and the whole of the Clave praising him. Now she could never collect him late at night from the Fairchild's house. Now she could never see him at the breakfast table while he talked about elements and mechanisms and all those things Cecily didn't understand. Now she could never kiss him goodnight or chastise him from ruining yet another piece of furniture or wonder at how beautiful his lavender eyes were.

Now she could never see her son smile again, for Christopher Lightwood was gone forever.

"Cecy?"

Someone had opened the door, and now Will and Tessa, Gideon and Sophie, Henry and Charlotte were streaming into the room. Cecily heard one of them draw in a sharp breath.

"Who is that?" Henry asked. Of course, the bier was too high for him to see Christopher correctly.

Cecily didn't know how she did it, but she stood up, left Alexander with his father and faced the rest of her family. "It's Christopher," her words were directed at Henry, yet she was looking straight at Gideon "Tatiana will pay for this."

#chain of thorns spoiler #chain of thorns spoilers #chot spoiler #chot spoilers #chain of thorns #chot #tlh #the last hours #christopher lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily herondale #gabriel lightwood #alexander lightwood

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