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julescarstairs · 5 months

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Meet The Gang: That Which Is Precious and Lost Edition!

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So, for those of you playing along at home, my best friend @tsc-reader and I have been writing a TSC Next-Generation Fanfic about our fanon kids of Kierarktina, Blackstairs, Kitty and Morgenthorn for two whole years now, over on Instagram. It’s called That Which Is Precious and Lost. We’ve written a complete instalment of 52 Chapters (which we call Book 1) and are currently working on a sequel, titled That Which is Gracious and Cruel (which we usually abbreviate to TWIPAL2, since TWIGAC makes us uncomfy ✨) as we speak!

Book 1 follows the kids as they embark on an epic journey to save their parents from a certain faerie matriarch, who is holding each of them captive for ransom — what ransom, you ask? Why, it’s none other than an ancient faerie spellbook called the Sage Scripts, which has long since been lost to the sands of time. Sands of time or not, the kids have a meagre fourteen days to find and retrieve the Scripts, and return them to the Seelie Queen’s hands — or run the risk of losing their family once and for all.

In book 2, the stakes grow higher, but there’s not much more I can tell you other than that, lest I spoil some big pointers from Book 1 for you 🤭 what I can tell you is that Book 2 introduces a staggering six more characters to the cast — five of which who are love interests for five of our main kids (and one who is honestly there solely to be an annoyance. You will hate how much we love pulling him into things. We’ll introduce you to those six on a different post, though.)

But I bet you’re wondering just who these kids are — and we would love to introduce them to you! See below the cut to meet our babies: The TWIPAL GANG!

1. Arrius ‘Ari’ Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales

‘Ari passed a hand over his face and took the time to ask himself why he had to be born into such a ride or die family. He loved them all dearly, but this was getting ridiculous.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Twenty Three: A Saccharine Melody (Written by @julescarstairs )

Ari is the eldest of our ragtag team of Shadowhunters at age 18, and is the son of Mark, Cristina and Kieran. A new adult, he takes it upon himself to guide his baby cousins, and younger sister Celeste, through the trying times that rise before them when their parents are kidnapped and held to ransom. His hair falls in short curls of medium brown, which lightens to a dirty blonde in the sun, and has the signature Blackthorn-Blue eyes, a trait shared by himself and only two other of his cousins. He stands at a staggering six foot four inches tall, though no one can really work out why or how he is that tall (not even us, the authors, but we love him for it anyway.) Ari simply grew, and everyone has come to accept that.

Much like Mark and Kieran, Ari chose a bow and arrows as his weapon of choice. Whilst he is capable with a balisong or a handful of knives, he prefers to work at a distance. In his childhood, he spent hours upon hours of his time mastering the art. Though often humble, Ari isn’t afraid to tell you he never misses.

Ari is a very mellow individual, often seen as the calm, grounding ‘rock’ in the lives of most of his younger family members. He is patient, thoughtful, but if you can scratch away that shell of responsibility that he so often hides himself away in, you will find that he does, indeed, have a sense of humour! (Ask Luc, he’ll tell you.) He loves very deeply, especially his younger sister Celeste, who he spent some periods of his childhood babysitting when his parents were busy with the Shadowhunter-Downworlder alliance, or, you know, ruling the Unseelie Court. Despite being Mark’s son, Ari bears a lot of resemblance to Julian personality-wise, and quite often looks to his Uncle for advice and guidance where his parents’ doesn’t quite suffice.

Ari’s fatal flaw is his stubbornness and his temperament. It takes a lot to send Ari into a fit of rage, given his cool and calm demeanour at the best of times, but if he is pushed over the edge, it’s hard to make him see reason. Like a bull with a red flag, Ari won’t stop something if he has his mind set on doing it, and will do anything he has to in order to get his way. His is a cold, quiet anger, which is frightening in its own regard and amplified by the fact that he stands over most people. The only person, aside from Celeste or his own parents, who has the ability to bring him back from such a dark anger, is Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs, who is only one year younger than him but not afraid to square up against him when he isn’t seeing the forest among the trees.

2. Celeste Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales

‘Celeste let out a breath. Maybe it wasn't that she was part Shadowhunter. Maybe it was just that it had been a very, very long time since the Unseelie Courts had had a Queen. Now that she thought about it, Celeste wasn't sure there had ever been a Queen of Unseelie. The thought made her lift her chin defiantly. She would be a good ruler. Even if it was just for a short period of time, until her father got back. She would show her people that there was no reason to doubt her.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Ten: Forgotten Memories (written by @tsc-reader )

Celeste is Ari’s younger sister, coming in at 16 years old to her brother’s two years senior. The daughter of Kieran, Cristina and Mark, she has her Father’s blue hair, which changes colour and value with her mood, and her mother’s warm, brown eyes. In a baffling contrast to her brother’s stature, Celeste is among one of the shortest of the TWIPAL twelve’s lineup, if not the shortest.

But don’t let that deter you. Celeste is a pocket rocket, and — much like her brother — won’t stop until she has what she wants, or achieves what she wants to achieve. Promises are like liquid gold to Celeste: when she promises you something, she will not break it, and will not forget about it. She’ll shake on it, pinky-swear, write it in blood if she has to, and will always follow through with what she claims. If ever she is rendered unable to do so, it breaks her heart. Minimum four business days should be allowed for her recovery. And if you break a promise with Celeste? I’d recommend digging your grave in advance, because she will come for you. She might even make it quick, since you did some of the dirty work for her.

Being Kieran’s biological daughter, Celeste takes her role as Heiress to the Unseelie Court throne very seriously. During the course of TWIPAL, Celeste actually splits off from the main gang to take her Father’s place on the throne, since Kieran is rendered unable to do so. She puts a lot of pressure on herself to do well, to do her Father justice and respect him and his wishes in every decision she makes. Every year, on her birthday, Kieran would take her on a walk through Unseelie Tower, showing her anything and everything he possibly could. The year she turned fifteen, Kieran gifted Celeste Windspear, his steed, just as Adaon had handed him down to him.

Celeste’s weapon of choice is a balisong, much like her mother. Unlike Ari, who likes to keep a distance from his enemies, Celeste likes to get up close and personal. She is very easily swept up in the fierce thrill of fighting. Though faeries may fight remarkably cleanly, Celeste does not. She’ll roll around in the dirt if it means she’ll win.

Celeste’s fatal flaw is her perfectionism. Because she so often strives to be perfect, to be everything everybody wants her to be, it makes her a bit of a control freak. Being raised by who she was raised by, Celeste recognises and admires her own autonomy and individuality, so any situation where that autonomy is taken away from her frightens her more than anything. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy, let alone herself…

3. Eleanor ‘Ellie’ Blackthorn-Carstairs

‘Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs seldom ever found her home empty— at least, not without a note on the kitchen bench, or a text from her Mom or Dad letting her know they were going out. But when she returned to Blackthorn Hall from patrol, she found the vast home dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop, and there was not a single text on her phone. Maybe some teenagers her age wouldn't mind their parents stepping out without saying anything. Maybe some would savour the quiet ambiance: the faint chirping of crickets out the window, or the hum of wind as it blew past the curtains... But this was not a comfortable sort of quiet. And Eleanor's parents NEVER stepped out without letting her know.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter One: Pure Distilled Horror (Written by @julescarstairs )

Fun fact! Eleanor was the first of the TWIPAL gang to be born from our collective mess of brainstorming. Coming in at the second eldest of the cousins, Eleanor is an only child of age seventeen. She’s Emma and Julian’s daughter, and you would be able to see it from a mile away. She’s got Emma’s blonde hair and Julian’s blackthorn-blue eyes, as well as a face full of freckles, a trait often attributed to the Blackthorn bloodline.

Eleanor is just as chaotic and energetic as her mother is, often bouncing off her younger cousin Luc’s obnoxious, sardonic energy with witty remarks of her own (can you tell that Luc is going to be an important character to the narrative? I’ve mentioned him in two other characters’ descriptions already.) She is a strong swordswoman and she knows it, and as a result she has a competitive edge. She isn’t arrogant, but she knows her strength and her worth. She isn’t backwards in coming forwards about the things she wants.

But, despite everything, Eleanor is a balanced individual. Whilst she can be loud, bubbly and barbaric, she also has her Father’s maternal/paternal instinct, and is very quick to swoop in and lift people up when they’re falling apart inside. Where Ari is the dad of the TWIPAL gang, Ellie is very much the mom (but she’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool mom!) and it’s BECAUSE of their shared maternal instinct that Eleanor can call Ari out when he’s out of balance. She knows him better than he wants to admit, and will back him to the ends of the earth — as she will all of her cousins, especially LJ, whom she wants to be Parabatai with desperately, if her deep fear of the Parabatai bond wouldn’t keep holding her back.

Eleanor’s weapon of choice is Cortana, since she inherited it from her Mother. She values the heirloom dearly, and loathes being parted from it more than anything. Whilst she will always be found with Cortana strapped to her back, she is also quite competent with a crossbow, thanks to her dear old Dad.

Eleanor’s greatest weakness is her trust — or rather, her inability to trust. This excludes her family, of course, since she’s grown up among them and knows them better than she knows herself. But whenever new people come into her family, she isn’t quick to trust them. This is all primarily due to one person, who blindsided both her and her family into believing he was in love with her, only to drop her and walk away in a heartbeat. Whilst trusting too easily can be a flaw, being afraid to trust can put strain on new relationships she develops over time.

4. Livia ‘LJ’ Blackthorn-Herondale

‘LJ’s feet had barely touched the floor when she began to run. She sprinted through the hallways of the upstairs of her house, overcome with fear. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. She could hear the commotion coming from the floor below, something crashing to the ground, metal clanging against metal. When she got to the banister, LJ didn't hesitate. She jumped. There was the brief feeling of weightlessness as she fell, before she landed hard in a crouch on the floor. LJ burst through the doorway ofher living room, just in time to see a flash of blonde hair, a glint of gray eyes, and the spark of a Portal disappearing into nothingness.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Two: Stuff of Nightmares (written by @tsc-reader )

LJ is the third youngest of the TWIPAL gang, at fifteen years old. (She’s only the ‘third youngest’ because the last couple of characters in the lineup are twins, and were born two months after her.) The adoptive daughter of Kit Herondale and Ty Blackthorn, LJ has long, black, curly hair and dark eyes to suit. In average lighting, her eyes seem black — but in the sun, or if a lamp or campfire hits her eyes just right, you’ll find that they’re actually a dark violet. LJ, despite being the youngest girly in the gang, happens to be the tallest, standing above both Ellie and Celeste but below Ari and the twins (who you will meet below.)

LJ was found on Kit and Ty’s doorstep, a classic image of a baby in a basket, swaddled in blankets. Neither Kit nor Ty know who left her there, only that the mysterious individual trusted them to look after her, and that they were going to look after her with their whole hearts. Sure, there must be a reason why they were chosen to look after baby LJ, but that was a fact they were yet to learn. With Livvy’s endorsement (because, yes, she is still here as a ghost), they named her Livia as well, but her whole family calls her LJ — with the exceptions being Kit, Ty and later Eleanor, who call her Liv.

LJ is a very, very bright young woman, nothing short of a brainiac. She is the first to seek logic and reason in everything she and her cousins come across — even in matters of magic, when logic and reason don’t really come into the picture. She’s also, possibly, the most levelheaded character in the entire gang. I’m convinced she carries their collective braincell 99% of the time (and the other 1% of the time is taken up by Ari and Oberon, who can lead when their siblings aren’t driving them insane.) In a way, LJ idolises her Father, Ty, for his intelligence and innovation. She spent hours upon hours of her childhood sitting with him in his study, watching him work on projects and inventions, and as a result she has developed an inventive streak within herself as well.

Liv’s weapon of choice is the Herondale dagger, handed down to her by Kit. When the dagger isn’t feasible, however, she also has a keen hand for throwing knives. Any small, sharp object — a dagger, a knife, a dart — is LJ’s specialty, but thats not to say she hasn’t at least made herself competent at every other weapon she can get her hands on. On top of that, LJ trained herself to be ambidextrous, not only to be able to handle weaponry better, but to be able to work on projects and experiments for longer periods at a time whilst minimising fatigue.

LJ’s biggest weakness is how she feels restricted by how little she knows. LJ can often spiral into a state of self-deprecation if she can’t solve a problem or puzzle herself. Even if her intelligence runs rings around that of her cousins’ — Ari himself actually comments on this — she beats herself up endlessly if she cannot work something out that flew over their heads. Liv puts a lot of pressure on herself to be great, to know the answers to anything and everything when it’s physically impossible for her to do so. She gets herself down a lot, but Ellie is the first to lift her back up and remind her that if she doesn’t know now, she will find out soon.

Second to Eleanor, LJ’s closest companion among her cousins is none other than Oberon Morgenstern, one of the twins. Oberon often finds himself recruited by LJ as her lab assistant, whether it be voluntary or not. He doesn’t mind, though, because if helping LJ means seeing her smiling and happy, then he’d do it any day of the week. The two are close, a dynamic explored regularly through TWIPAL’s fifty-two chapters, in a number of ways.

Speaking of Oberon, that brings us to our next character in the lineup…

5. Oberon Morgenstern

Oberon rarely ever lost his cool in bad situations, but his twin brother lying unconscious on the ground was clearly the exception. He sped downwards, the world turning to a blur around him. He landed in a crouch, bracing himself on the ground with his hand. Ari looked over at him, surprise touching his face at Oberon's sudden appearance, but he sat back on his heels, letting him take over. Whipping out his stele, Oberon sketched a neat iratze on Luc's arm. "Come on, brother," Oberon said softly. "Come back to me. Stay with me." He touched Luc's cheek lightly with his fingertips. His twin's face was icy, his pale curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. A few seconds passed.

Then Luc's eyes fluttered open, ocean blue behind his eyelashes. "Oberon," Luc said, his voice hoarse. "Im okay."

"Lucas Andrew Morgenstern, you are not okay." Oberon said, his fear coming out as anger. "Stop being an idiot, and tell me what's wrong.”

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Twenty-Four: An Exquisite Dance (written by @tsc-reader )

Listen, we don’t pick favourites in this household, but the Morgenthorn twins are definitely a step above the rest. Oberon, and his brother Luc, who you’ll hear about next, are fraternal twin brothers, both the sons of Drusilla Blackthorn and Ash Morgenstern. Oberon is the older twin, and even though there were only a few minutes between their births, he isn’t afraid to tell you, your friend, or even Luc himself that he’s older. He takes his role as ‘the older twin’ very seriously, much to Luc’s irritation at times. Oberon is a gentle soul, with his mother’s dark brown hair — which falls in picture-perfect curls around his face no matter how many times he runs his hands through it — and his Father’s green eyes, reminiscent of his Fairchild heritage. Much like Celeste, Ari and his brother, Oberon has the tapered ears unique only to the fair folk, though they aren’t quite as pointed as a full blooded faerie gentry. He stands at five foot ten inches at age fifteen, which renders him the second tallest of the TWIPAL gang, second only to Ari (he is about one inch taller than his brother, which he also may or may not rub in his face from time to time. Oberon isn’t arrogant, but will take any opportunity to humble Luc when it arises.)

One thing that sets Oberon apart from his faerie family members is his wings, which he also inherited from his father, Ash. At age ten, a pair of black-feathered wings sprouted from his spine, taking permanent purchase between his shoulder blades. It was only a matter of time before Oberon — and Luc, for that matter — found that these wings were integral to his way of life. As a result, he is very skilled in the ways of flight, and utilises his higher vantage point regularly during battles and patrol.

Oberon is a deeply, deeply loving young man, a gift who keeps on giving even when his heart has been scraped dry, trodden on, broken and put back together again. His open, forthcoming kindness and friendliness may seem quite startling to most people when they first meet him, but it can also be very deceptive — because underneath that warm, loving teddy-bear that Oberon so often is, lies a dark, determined warrior who isn’t afraid to stand between anyone and anything if it means protecting those he loves. He is a very intelligent young man with a gift for strategy and deception. If it weren’t for his heart, for the fact that he loves and is loved by his family (and his boyfriend, Aaron Longford, who you will meet on another post), Oberon would make for quite the terrifying enemy.

Oberon is protective of no one more than he is protective of Luc. He and his brother have a very special bond, unlike no other. They are seldom seen apart, and when they are separated, it’s cause for concern. Their connection transcends the waking world, so much so that if they’re found sleeping side by side, they’ll often sleep-talk to each other. Oberon loves Luc so much that is causes him a lot of pain and heartache, especially as the narrative grows thicker, deeper and darker. Oberon hasn’t known a time in his life without Luc, and will do everything in his power to keep it that way. Wherever Luc is, Oberon will never be far behind. No matter how far Luc falls from grace (because, believe me, he can be ungraceful sometimes) Oberon will be there to catch him. Oberon and Luc were born into a social climate where people are still wary of the Morgenstern name, and as a result, the boys have always believed that, in part, it’s been them against the world. Oberon made it his mission to change the Council’s perception of the Morgenstern name. This means keeping both himself and his brother in line.

Oberon’s weapon of choice is Phaesphoros, the first of two Morgenstern family swords. Though the ‘normal’ world’s Phaesphoros was destroyed along with Sebastian Morgenstern during the Dark War, it is said that Ash brought both Heosphoros and Phaesphoros back from Thule with him (at least, in the TWIPALverse he did.) When the boys turned 10, and were old enough to bear marks and start their formal Shadowhunter training, Ash laid the two swords before his sons at let the blades choose their bearers. The connection was almost instant: Phaesphoros chose Oberon, Heosphoros chose Luc. It only made sense, after all, for the twin brothers to have twin blades.

Oberon’s biggest weakness, his fatal flaw, is his tendency to self-sacrifice. Whilst he might be a gift that keeps on giving, this doesn’t always work in his favour. He is quick to throw himself under the bus or in front of a train if it means preserving the wellbeing of those he loves most in the world. Whilst he performs these grand, sweeping gestures of self sacrifice under the pretence of nobility, he’s rarely met with the reactions he was expecting to get from them. It’s actually Eleanor, during a late night conversation in TWIPAL’s epilogue, that expresses how Oberon’s selflessness concerns her. There is a fine line between selflessness and not valuing your own life, after all. But, for all the conflict it causes, Oberon is steadfast in his decisions, as he is in everything he does, and firmly believes that every sacrifice he makes, no matter how big or small, is for the better of those he loves: of Luc, of Aaron, of everyone.

Even if Luc disagrees.

6. Lucas ‘Luc’ Morgenstern

‘… a whirlwind of memories rose before his very eyes: Luc falling out of bed the first time he and Oberon had slept in their new bunk bed, and Oberon being the one to help him up off of the ground. Oberon being unable to sleep the night before they got their first marks, and Luc being the one who sat awake with him until he lulled himself to sleep. Luc crafting matching bracelets for himself and his brother with teardrop-shaped agates as the centrepieces - agates, because they symbolised safety and security, and there was nowhere Luc felt safer than by his brother's side. Oberon throwing himself into Luc's arms, sobbing, when they finally reunited in the labyrinth.

The deluge of memories struck Luc like many punches to the gut, leaving him doubling over and gasping. He had always thought that he needed Oberon more than Oberon needed him, but watching his life laid out before him now, Luc realised that he was wrong, so very wrong. Because Luc was half of Oberon just as much as Oberon was half of him. Together they made a formidable warrior, in which Luc was the sword and Oberon the shield. But what good was a shield without a sword? A sword without a shield? Without one or the other, they were incomplete.’

— That Which Is Precious and Lost, Chapter Forty-One: My Sword, Your Shield (written by @julescarstairs )

Luc Morgenstern is the firecracker to Oberon’s lit candle. Despite being twins on paper, Luc couldn’t look any more different to his brother in terms of colour palette. He has Ash’s platinum blonde hair, which manages to stay stylishly spiky as Oberon’s stays stylishly wavy, and the signature Blackthorn Blue eyes, which give him the appearance of a high-brow Snow Prince. But despite his difference in hair and eye colour, both he and his brother share near-identical bone structure. There’s no mistaking that they’re twins, no matter how different they may seem at first glance. Both Luc and Oberon (which I forgot to mention above) have faces full of freckles, a trait brought out by many of their days spent outside in the Los Angeles sun. Like Oberon, Luc has a pair of silken black wings, which sprouted from his back at the ripe age of ten. He has mastered the art of flight alongside his swordsmanship, rendering him a highly skilled and agile opponent (something Luc himself will tell you, even if you didn’t ask.)

Luc has a loud personality.He’s proud, cocky, obnoxious and dramatic in the best possible way, to the point where it’s charming — because as confident as Luc is in himself and his abilities as a Shadowhunter, he never actively puts anybody else down in order to make himself look good (unless you put him down first, in which he will engage in verbal combat, but don’t take any of it to heart.) Luc can be quite hotheaded, a stark contrast to his brother’s colder, quieter anger, and struggles to curb his temper, especially when people challenge his pride. He’s got all the witty, sarcastic comebacks, something he shares in common with his older cousin, Eleanor. Luc is also the self-proclaimed President of The Disaster Blondes, a group consisting of three people — Himself, Eleanor, and Skylar, Celeste’s girlfriend — who have banded together for two reasons, and two reasons alone: one, they’re all blonde, and two, they’re all down to try any batshit crazy scheme under the sun, even if it’s to their detriment.

But despite Luc’s loud, self-assured exterior, he is actually very self conscious, deep down. He cares deeply what people think of him, and how they perceive him as a person. He worries, often, that he is seen as a bad person, and doesn’t believe that he is able to be loved. He experiences a sort of imposter syndrome, where he believes that he shouldn’t be among these people who love him so much, that he doesn’t deserve the good things that come his way. This is a trait that develops more in the latter half of TWIPAL, but a trait that presents itself all the same. It interferes with his relationships regularly, both past ones, present ones and future ones.

It’s Oberon that keeps Luc in balance, even when he isn’t actively trying to. Luc depends on Oberon more than he realises, sometimes, and often feels like he needs his older brother more than Oberon needs him, even when this isn’t the case at all. Luc would die for Oberon, just as Oberon would die for him, but he would also kill for his brother, get his hands dirty, if it means that Oberon is safe, well and happy. It terrifies him, how much he is willing to do for Oberon. He wants nothing more in his life than to be Parabatai with his brother, to reinforce the strength and power of their bond with an oath signed in blood and fire.

(Luc can also be found third-wheeling on a lot of Oberon and Aaron’s dates, but Oberon doesn’t really mind. Nor does Aaron, who has just accepted that his brother in law will be down to hang at any given opportunity.)

Luc’s weapon of choice is the shortsword Heosphoros. Like Eleanor, he has a very personal connection to his sword, often talking to it and reminding it (yes, the sword) how much he loves it. Luc trains ruthlessly, with the desire to be one of the best Shadowhunters of his generation, if not the best. Combat is also a release to Luc, who can be found decompressing and letting off steam in the training room of the L.A. Institute, just as often as he is found formally training.

Where Oberon’s greatest weakness is his tendency to self sacrifice, Luc’s is his tendency to self sabotage. Luc is fast to deny himself good things and positive outcomes purely because he himself doesn’t believe he deserves them. Aside from his tendency to self-sabotage, his only other weak point would be Oberon himself. If not for Oberon’s bottomless love and faith in him, Luc would tumble into an irreversible darkness. As much as Luc desperately wants to rewrite his own legacy, independent of his family’s sinister history, if Oberon were to give up on him, Luc fears that he, too, would be the one to light a match and watch the world burn.

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There you have it! After nearly 3,000 words of ceaseless rambling, you’ve met the core six characters of @tsc-reader and I’s TSC fic, That Which Is Precious and Lost. Whilst the story in full is accessible on our Instagram accounts, we are more than happy to reformat and repost the chapters here on tumblr if there’s enough interest in them 🤭💗 (so, if you would like to see TWIPAL make an appearance here on Tumblr, let us know! )

We would also LOVE to hear your thoughts on the main six! We’re always open to feedback, and will take any opportunity we can to talk about these silly little guys 🤭🥹💗)

Also going to tag a few peeps down here who I think might find this interesting:

@princeash

@bookishjules

(Also, there was one person here who posted a whole post about their fanon kids of the TSC gangs but I CANNOT find you. I am so sorry. If you’re seeing this please, give me a sign.)

And, of course, my best partner in crime @tsc-reader who I have already tagged copious times in this post 🤭🥹💗 love you, girl!

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julescarstairs · 4 months

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That Which Is Precious and Lost: Chapter One

Chapter One: Pure Distilled Horror

Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs seldom ever found her home empty— at least, not without a note on the kitchen bench, or a text from her Mom or Dad letting her know they were going out. But when she returned to Blackthorn Hall from patrol, she found the vast home dark and so silent you could hear a pin drop, and there was not a single text on her phone. Maybe some teenagers her age wouldn't mind their parents stepping out without saying anything. Maybe some would savour the quiet ambiance: the faint chirping of crickets out the window, or the hum of wind as it blew past the curtains... but this was not a comfortable sort of quiet. And Eleanor's parents never stepped out without letting her know.

"Mom?" Ellie called, wiping her feet on the doormat (an old housewarming gift from Aunt Dru, marked with the letters “ENTER, IF YOU DARE") just inside the Hall's large doors. Her voice reverberated off the walls, leaving only her own echo to offer a reply. After that, there was only silence again. "Mom, Dad. I'm home!"

Eleanor strained her ears, listening for a hint of her parents presence anywhere. Still nothing. Only silence and darkness welcomed her home. Not a single candle nor light was lit in the house, it seemed — not even the kitchen was lit, and there was no light upstairs, or under the doors. Strange.

In the shadows surrounding Eleanor now, she could see the eerie old manor home her parents had been greeted with when they first arrived to fix it up years ago, long before she was born: the one that had been haunted by a restless ghost. She could only navigate the halls by the infrequent moonlight coming in through the windows. Eleanor stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, tipping her head back to look up at the landing above.

She forced herself to laugh, but it sounded more nervous than she'd intended it to. "Listen, if you're trying to freak me out, it's... well, it's working," she admitted meekly, but her voice didn't lower. "You can come out now!"

Maybe Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs had been overthinking that night. Perhaps it had only been an oversight on her parents' behalf. Perhaps it had been something urgent that they needed to leave quickly for. But even then, they would have told her. They would have brought her along if it was urgent. They wouldn't leave her alone in the house in pitch darkness with not so much as a text telling her where they had gone.

Would they?

Indeed, perhaps Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs could have been overthinking that night, if not for the fact that her father's gorgeous paintings that adorned the walls of the main foyer had been absolutely mutilated. Eleanor sucked in a gasp, and staggered back against the wall behind her. Paintings of her mother had their eyes gouged out — one even had a clean slice right down the centre of her body - and family portraits had been slashed with ‘X’ shapes across each face. Even the smaller portraits of Eleanor herself, as a baby, had been sliced at the neck, leaving her looking like her little head had been severed from her shoulders. The implications behind each tarnished painting were enough to make the back of Ellie's throat taste sour.

Something was very wrong.

"Dad!" Eleanor tried to shout, but it came out as more of a cry, and hurried down the hall to where her Father's studio was located. If he wasn't upstairs— if he was anywhere — he would be in his art studio. Her mother might even be there, too, watching him paint. As Eleanor drew closer to the room, as her trembling hand gripped the doorknob, she found herself hesitating. Her heart was pounding so heavily in her chest that it hurt. Her head felt insanely light as her mind raced. What if she saw something beyond the door she didn't like? What if they were in there, but they were...

No. She couldn't afford to think like that. Couldn't afford to hesitate. She threw open the door to her Father's studio, and nearly doubled over as her chest lurched with pure distilled horror.

Before her was the image of her nightmares.

To say the studio was a mess would be an understatement: an unfinished painting was wedged partway through a window, the canvas torn where shards of glass cut into it. An easel lay snapped on the ground, a small craft table in the corner broken clean in half. The small paintings that hung on the walls here had been mutilated violently, too, and Eleanor's childhood drawings were torn to shreds under her feet. She couldn't even imagine how livid her Dad would be if he found the studio in the state that she did.

Paint had been upturned; there were smears of a dark colour, like blue, on the floor. There were stains splattered up the wall. But those looked humble in comparison to the handprints on the walls, on the floors. Ellie's blood ran cold — so cold that she shivered.

She dropped to her knees beside two of the prints on the ground, and tentatively put her left hand over one of them. Eleanor had always marvelled at how hers and her mother's hands had been the same size and shape— but now the thought only made her feel sicker as her hand fit perfectly over the handprint on the ground. Looking over at the other print in her dizzy haze of panic, Ellie noticed it was slightly larger, longer fingered: one of her father's hands. Whatever had happened in here, they had been together. Of course. She withdrew her hand, and it came away wet. Not a thin kind of wet, like watercolour, but not a thick kind of wet, like oil paint. It was an in between, sticky sensation.

Like blood. Another wave of nausea roiled over Eleanor, sending her head spinning further, as she raised her hand to the moonlight. Bright red. Eleanor almost choked as a guttural sound tore from her throat, partway between a cry and a scream. She got to her feet and ran back up the hall so quickly she almost staggered. She clambered up the stairs to where her parents' room was.

She threw that door open — so harshly it almost fell off the hinges — and found that the bedroom, too, was in shambles. The bedsheets were ripped from the bed, the bedside drawers pulled out of their cabinet. Her parents' personal belongings were strewn across the room. The wallpaper was torn to shreds, and barely clung to the plaster. To her dismay, her mother's family ring laid on the ground under the windowsill.

Ellie sobbed into her fist as she sank against the door frame. Her mind was still racing, with all the worst-case scenarios. There was a pillow, still intact, at her feet. Eleanor sank down on her knees without thinking and swept it up, hugging it close to her chest. She gripped it so tightly in her trembling hands that her fingertips hurt. She inhaled its scent, an odd mixture of cloves, soap and rosewater. It was the smell of home: of her parents, of her rocks. Of her sanity. And she clung to that scent, let it clear her head, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Now was not the time for weeping. She had to try and make sense of the situation. She kept the pillow hugged close to her, occasionally burying her nose in it, as she pondered what to do next.

Focus, she told herself. She carried the pillow from the bedroom, and drew the door shut behind her. She paced the halls, up and down, back and forth, until an idea finally came to her. She hadn't tried calling them. She hadn't gotten calls from them, but that didn't mean she couldn't try ringing out. It was worth a shot, anyway.

Eleanor drew her phone from her pocket, and dialled her mother's number, lifting the phone to her ear. "Please, Mom," she whispered int the silence. "Please, pick up.."

But it was no use: Eleanor was only greeted by a loud, screeching static noise that pierced her eardrum and made her teeth grind painfully against each other. She cursed, and used all her energy to not fling her phone out the window beside her. It was a weird noise, one that she didn't think phones were capable of making, but she didn't have time to dwell on that. Maybe her Dad would answer, Ellie thought, and dialled her father's number. That, too, was futile: she was only greeted with ear-piercing static once again. Hugging the pillow close, Ellie sobbed.

Where are you? She asked inside her mind, staring out the nearest window. What happened? Are you even alive?

Her frantic thoughts were quickly interrupted at a loud thump downstairs. Tears forgotten, Eleanor scrambled for the landing, stopping herself short. She watched, silently, as a silhouetted figure crept about the halls below. They seemed to be staring up at the tarnished portraits, with their back to where Ellie stood. Admiring their handiwork, she thought bitterly. Cold, sharp rage built up inside her as she slid down the handrail of the stairs. She threw herself at the figure in the hall, drawing Cortana from its sheath on her back as she did. The figure turned, and —

"Ellie!" A feminine voice shrieked as the figure scrambled back into the moonlight, revealing her face. "Ellie! It's me! I'm safe!"

Eleanor's shoulders slumped with relief as she staggered to a standstill. “By the Angel, LJ,” she wrapped her 15-year-old cousin in a tight hug, her breath coming out in a woosh. “You shouldn't creep in like this.”

Livia (commonly referred to as her cousins as LJ, or Livvy Junior) wrapped her wiry arms around Eleanor, clinging to her for a moment. She could feel Livia trembling under her arms, and the sensation only made dread unfurl in Ellie’s stomach. “I didn't know what else to do,” LJ admitted, before pushing herself away. “Or where else to go. I was looking for Uncle Jules, but all the lights were out. I didn't know if him and Aunt Emma had been attacked too, so…”

"Too?" There it was. Exactly what Eleanor had been fearing. She rocked back on her heels as a wave of nausea sent her into a head-spin. “Uncle Kit? Uncle Ty? They're—"

"Missing," LJ's hands shook as she gripped Eleanor's. Ellie listened intently as LJ recounted the events of her evening, her panic levels only rising with each new, frightening detail. Her family's apartment on Baker Street had been trashed, too, and Uncle Ty and Uncle Kit were nowhere to be found. No sooner had LJ finished, Elli's phone rang out into the silence. Eleanor scrambled for her phone, and her heart only grew heavier as she saw the name on the phone: her older cousin, Arrius.

She answered. "Ari. Thank the Angel—"

"Eleanor, something's terribly wrong," Ari said before Ellie could finish.

"You're telling me."

"Are they gone too? Your parents?"

"Yes," Eleanor briefly recounted hers and LJ’s experiences. "What about Uncle Mark? Aunt Cristina?"

It was the same story again. Arrius and Celeste's parents were missing, including Uncle K. But not only that — their youngest cousins, twins Oberon and Lucas, had arrived at Ari and Celeste's family's apartment in New York as they spoke on the phone: Aunt Dru and Uncle Ash were missing, too.

It seemed that all their parents were.

~~~~

@tsc-reader

#tsc fanfic #the shadowhunter chronicles #the dark artifices #the wicked powers #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #ty blackthorn #cristina rosales #kit herondale #mark blackthorn #ash morgenstern #that which is precious and lost #twipal #eleanor blackthorn-carstairs #ari blackthorn-kingson-rosales #celeste blackthorn-kingson-rosales #lj blackthorn-herondale #luc morgenstern #oberon morgenstern

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julescarstairs · 4 months

Text

That Which Is Precious and Lost

Chapter Three: Eye of the Storm

~~~~~

Everything was happening too quickly.

One minute, Celeste and her brother and cousins were in her New York apartment, stepping over bloody shards of glass and stew that had been upturned on the floor, and the next they were all gathering in Blackthorn Hall’s Lounge — Ari, herself, Oberon, Luc, Eleanor and Livia — to try and puzzle together what was happening. Where all of their parents had gone. There were so many people hurrying about the room, gathering chairs and paper and pens, that Celeste felt quite overwhelmed. But at the same time, it all felt distant. Like it was all happening at a distance: like Celeste was in the eye of a storm that was raging on around her. She could see and feel the tension of her cousins and brother around her like it was electricity sizzling and crackling in the air between them all, but it felt very far away at the same time. She couldn't see the situation in front of her, not right now.

Her mind was still back at the apartment. She couldn't stop seeing horrid images of what could have happened to her parents. Bloody images of her parents hurt and burnt and bruised, being dragged away by whoever had taken them. The images had been made only worse when an acorn had dropped into her hands upon their arrival in London: a letter from the Courts. Celeste had opened it frantically, with fierce hope that it was her father, King Kieran, but found to her own despair that it was not him. It was General Winter. She had skimmed the letter with shaking hands.

"Young Mistress Celeste,

We hate to bombard you with such letters at this hour, but we demand that you return your Father King Kieran to the Courts at once. He has been absent for some time and did not announce his departure nor a time for his return. The court is growing quite unsettled. I, General Winter, understand how scarce and precious your time with King Kieran is. But unfortunately his priorities must lie with the Court, lest it falls into disarray. A message in response announcing when we should expect the King's return would be appreciated at large.

Yours, on behalf of the Unseelie Court,

General Winter.”

Whoever was targeting them had gone so far as to take her Father — the King of the Unseelie Court — and leave an entire kingdom without a leader. And now Celeste was expected to clean up the pieces, being the "only biological child" of the King.

No, Celeste wasn't in the eye of a storm. She was in the eye of a tornado, and the world was spinning frantically around her, too quickly for her to keep up with. Everything was spinning, spinning quickly and violently — so violently that her stomach heaved. Celeste hardly recalled staggering to the nearest window and shoving it open. She was only faintly aware of her family calling her name as she knelt on the window seat, gripping the windowsil, and leant outside into the open air. She inhaled deeply through her nose, despite the tightness of her throat, and took in the smell of dirt and trees and rain on the wind as it caressed her face. She let it anchor her to her senses. She swallowed bile, grimacing at the taste of it on the back of her tongue.

Celeste felt a solid hand come down on the centre of her back, gently, bracing her. "Celly.” It was Arrius, her older brother. Her shoulders tensed are the sound of his voice, but Ari didn't move away. Some distant part of Celeste was grateful for that. He drew gentle circles on her back, a soothing sensation. "Los vamos a encontrar. lo prometo."

It was something the two of them had learnt from their Mother: to speak Spanish. Arrius often only spoke like that when he was trying to comfort her, because he knew she didn't like being made a fuss out of.

It only really worked when the people around them didn't speak the language— which included now. "I know we'll find them," Celeste murmured, looking over her shoulder at her brother. Arrius's expression was soft — concerned, but soft. He leant forward to listen to her, his eyelids fluttering slightly closed as the outside breeze brushed across his cheeks. Despite her mood, Celeste couldn't help but smile a bit to herself. The two of them were always more content in nature, with the wind on their faces and the sun on their skin. "But," Celeste went on, her brief moment of tenderness dissolving in despair. She leant her shoulder against Ari's. "What if we don't find them in the way we want to?”

"We can't afford to think like that. None of us can. But, as long as we work fast, we should get them back before any more tragedy can happen," Ari pat Celeste's back once more, and his hand remained there — a steadying weight — for a moment. When Celeste nodded her head once, he stepped back, dropping his hand. She clambered back from the window, but left it open, so the breeze blew through the room lightly as they worked. She swung her legs over the edge of the window seat, and tipped her head back to really look at her brother.

She watched as he glanced over at the others, who were in hushed conversation over the table, and saw his face tighten as his eyes flickered to each face at the table. For a single, agonising moment, Celeste could see what their mother meant when she said Arrius sometimes looked uncannily like their Dad, Mark. The thought made her throat ache again, so she turned her attention to her cousins. Luc, white hair tousled as though he'd scrubbed his hands through it, was jotting down notes on a piece of paper, and Eleanor was looking over his shoulder, pointing and murmuring as well. Or she had been, until she looked up and met Celeste's gaze. Ellie offered her a comforting smile, and took their moment of eye contact as an invitation to come over. She crouched down in front of Celeste and took her hands gently.

"I'm just as scared as you are right now," she said quietly, her blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder as she tipped her head to the side. “We all are, I think. But really, you don't have to worry about what we're going to think if you show that you're not okay. If it's any consolation, I threw up on our way here, but LJ didn't judge me for it."

“Gross, Ellie," Ari simply said, crossing his arms.

Eleanor pulled a face at him.

Celeste smiled at Eleanor, but she didn't really feel it. Ellies smile didn't seem to reach her eyes, either, but Celeste couldn't blame her. They all had to hold each other up right now: they couldn't expect just one person to hold the fort in this mess. Still, she appreciated both Ari and Eleanor's efforts to try and cheer her up.

“Thank you, Eleanor," she whispered, squeezing Ellie’s hands.

“Guys!" The library erupted with sound as Oberon rose from a crouch by a window just down from where Ari and Celeste were. His wings — large and black, like his father's — ruffled apprehensively as he lifted an acorn into the light. "It’s a letter from Faerie.”

LJ joined Celeste as she hurried over to Oberon. "You said you got a message from Faerie before, right? Asking about Uncle Kieran. Maybe this is a letter saying they found him? Or he came back?"

"Doubtful," Celeste looked at LJ with what she hoped was mild disappointment — only a fraction of the pain she really felt. "It's probably only General Winter again, demanding that my Father returns to the court." LJ looked a bit disheartened, and Celeste simply shared her grim look, before looking back at Oberon—

Who was reading the message. Celeste was about to protest, say that it could be confidential business of the Unseelie Court, but stopped short when Oberon lifted his head and frowned at her, at all of them.

“It’s not," he said. "General Winter. It isn't him."

"Well, who is it then?" Celeste demanded through her teeth. Her heart was pounding. Could LJ be right? What if it was her Father? Hope ignited Celeste's soul as she reached out to take the letter from him. Oberon turned, lifting the message out of Celeste's reach.

"Oberon, I swear on the Angel—“

"It's from the Seelie Queen," he said quietly as they all surrounded him. Luc had come to stand by his twin brother's shoulder, and was wearing an identical frown. It would have been funny if not for the tension of the situation.

"The Seelie Queen?" LJ did not sound pleased. "What could she have to do with any of this?"

Celeste's gaze shifted out of focus as her mind whirred. Suddenly everything began to make sense, like two puzzle pieces clicking together in her mind. She drew in a gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. Judging by the dawning look on Eleanor's face, and the way Arrius, beside her, had touched her shoulder, they, too, had come to the same conclusion as Celeste had.

“A lot," Oberon spoke the exact revelation that had crossed Celeste's mind. "Because she's the one who took our parents.”

~~~~~

@tsc-reader

**Note from the Author: Please keep in mind that these early chapters are from over 2 years ago, and have been left unedited/revised for authenticity purposes (save for one continuity error in this chapter that I fixed up.) the length and quality of the writing in these chapters will continue to improve from here as we get more settled in with the narrative. Enjoy!***

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julescarstairs · 3 months

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That Which Is Precious and Lost

Chapter Seven: Deceptively Beautiful

Blind panic. That was all that LJ could feel.

She wasn't even aware that she'd started screaming until she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her. Her mind in a frenzied haze, she began to push, unseeing, away from them, crying out in protest. Manic thoughts, one after the other, riddled her mind: Aunt Livvy was gone without a trace. Where had she gone? She was in pain. The only reason she could have vanished like that was because something had gone wrong. Something had happened to her Dad. Her parents. This was bad. Very bad. She needed to find them. She needed to save them. They were in trouble.

“Let me go!" She screamed, but the arms only gripped her tighter. She fought harder, pounding her fists feebly against the back of the person who was holding onto her. Tears, big and hot, were dripping down her cheeks. They only made her more agitated. "Let go of me! Let-go—" she tried to pull away, tried to run, but it was no use. The more she tried to pull away, the stronger Eleanor's grip got.

“LJ," Ellie's hand braced the back of her head, pulling her close and whispering in her ear. "LJ, Breathe. Breathe. Breathe with me, okay?"

"But my parents!" LJ did not want to just breathe. She had stopped screaming, but her voice was still coming out in a thin cry. Her throat felt scraped raw, made worse by her frantic gasping and sobbing. She gripped Ellie's shoulders tightly, forcefully enough that she heard her cousin let out a low grunt. "My Dad. He's in trouble. The Queen is hurting them. I need —I need to go to them.”

"Shh," Eleanor simply whispered quietly, and pressed the side of her head against LJ’s. She rocked her gently, her arms still holding her fast. LJ supposed it was Eleanor's maternal instinct talking. "We are going to find them. All of them. And we're going to save them. I promise. But we can't do anything like that right now. So, I need you to breathe with me, okay?"

How could she be so calm? So sure? Her parents were being tortured some place they couldn't reach. All their parents were. Possibly being driven mad by their own imprisonment. Being hassled by white noise, tormented by their deepest fears, sickened by cold iron. They could be dying, and here they were, standing around waiting for Christmas to come. They were wasting time. They needed to do something. Now.

Except she couldn't breathe. LJ clawed at Eleanor's jacket, so deeply that her fingertips hurt, as she sucked in a gasp. It was near impossible to breathe against her heart pounding forcefully against her sternum. "Ellie, I can't—"

"You can. I know you can. Look at me," Eleanor's voice trembled, but was still laced with that same familiar, steely determination unique to her alone. Ellie gently held the sides of LJ’s face with shaky hands, forcing her to look up into her cousin's blue-green eyes. "Let's do it together, okay? Let's breathe together." LJ forced herself to nod, and focused all her attention on Eleanor. She mirrored Ellie's breaths, breathing in and out, slowly, just as she did. In and out, in and out, in and out. She wasn't sure how long they were breathing in harmony with one another before LJ’s heart was no longer shattering her rib cage, and her mind no longer a mess of frantic, unconfined thoughts. She still felt tense all over, like a rubber band pulled thin, but it was manageable for now.

She took one last deep breath, before stepping back on tired legs. "Thank you," she whispered.

Looking around, she noticed that Eleanor had drawn her into the corner of a room, shielding her from the rest of their cousins. Ellie rubbed LJ's arms and smiled grimly down at her. "Don't mention it. I needed it, too," she paused for a moment, as if taking her time thinking about what she was going to say next. When she spoke again, her words carried a tone of finality. "Uncle Ty is very strong. And Uncle Kit. Our whole family is. They've been through a whole lot, and we gotta remember that. We need to have faith that they'll be able to stay strong until we can rescue them. Otherwise we'll go to pieces before they do.”

LJ nodded, but before she could say anything more, Ellie had turned on her heel and returned back to where their other cousins were deep in conversation regarding the next steps to take. LJ followed, knowing Eleanor wasn't dismissing her, only anxious to move forward.

Arrius was looking at Celeste with an indignant expression, but Celeste seemed not to notice, and instead hurried over and wrapped LJ in a quick, brief hug. The gesture took LJ by surprise, seeing as Celeste wasn't big on physical contact. She murmured sympathetically as she squeezed her, and she let go before LJ could even hug back. "So, we have a plan," Celeste said, her hands on her hips.

"Great," Eleanor crossed her arms. “So what's the plan? We go snap the Queen's neck, get our parents, and then run like bats out of hell?"

"I wish," Luc muttered, and Oberon elbowed him.

Ari selectively ignored Eleanor and Luc's comments, and outlined the plan. Everyone pitched in their thoughts and opinions, and — after a few small bumps in the road, such as Celeste insisting she travelled alone — they all came to an agreement: Ari, LJ and Eleanor would go in search of Ari and Celeste's Great Aunt Nene to see if she knew anything of the Sage Scripts, whilst Celeste, Oberon and Luc would go search the Unseelie Court for information.

As they all gathered their things to leave, LJ found her hand moving to the Blackthorn locket looped around her neck. She gripped it in her hand, letting the sensation of the cool metal on her palm sharpen her mind, and temper the hot panic she had been feeling into cold, hard determination.

Yes, she was going to get her Dads back, she thought decidedly. She was going to save them — no matter what it took.

***

Faerie was deceptively beautiful.

As Eleanor and LJ followed Ari down a path through a forest of evergreen trees, LJ couldn't help but think that she was walking through something straight out of Alice in Wonderland: all the colours were saturated, almost impossibly intense. The green was so bold, the red so deep, the cobblestones underfoot so refined, the sounds so soft and sweet, that it hardly felt real at all. Probably, she contemplated, because it wasn't. Maybe none of it was real at all. After all, LJ could not be fooled by Faerie's beauty: she knew that somewhere in this place, her family was being held. Being harmed. Being tortured. It took all the energy she had to not run off in search of them at every little sound — a snap of a twig underfoot, a pixie fluttering overhead from one tree to the next.

The hardest thing LJ had done that day was pass by a revel. The minute she saw it in the distance — a blur of movement and colour - her mind had gone to one question: were her parents there? She felt irresistibly drawn to the revel, but not for the conventional reasons. She didn't want to be lost in the music, in the dancing, in the food— she wanted to save what she had lost, not get lost herself. She cared not for the festivities. Not in the slightest. All she wanted was for this nightmare to be over.

It had only been Eleanor's hand, firm, on LJ’s wrist that had stopped her from racing towards the revel. "Don't even think about it," Ellie had hissed, though her expression was pinched with concern, not anger. "You know it's only a trap. We aren't even in Seelie Lands."

Much to her own dismay, LJ knew Eleanor was right. They were in the lands of the Wild Fey, a region unclaimed by either Courts. None of their parents could be held there, because the Queen would have no power to detain them. And so they had continued on, into the thick of the forest. Eleanor didn't release LJ’s wrist until the music of the revel was completely out of earshot.

“Nene's cottage should be just up ahead," Ari looked over his shoulder at Eleanor and LJ, before ducking under a low hanging tree branch. "Hopefully she's home," he murmured, almost as an afterthought. Hopefully indeed, LJ thought bitterly. Otherwise the whole plan would have been a waste of time.

Soon enough, the trio emerged into a meadow which housed a small, humble cottage. LJ heard Eleanor, beside her, draw in a quiet gasp as she looked around at the meadow, at the brightly coloured flowers, at the sweet little box shape of the white-painted house, at the blue skies and golden sun overhead. She watched Ellie's fingers twitch as she grasped at the strap of Cortana's scabbard. LJ wondered if her cousin was itching for pencils and paints, or if she — like herself — was simply deeply uncomfortable with the location being so harmlessly beautiful.

"Arrius," a soft, lilted voice called, and all three children looked up to see a fair headed woman standing just outside the front door of the cottage. Nene. It had to be: she had the same fair hair as her Uncle Mark. Relief made LJ's shoulders relax a fraction.

"What brings you here? Miach didn't say you were coming for a visit." Nene stepped down from her porch, meeting Ari and the others halfway. She glanced curiously at both LJ and Eleanor, but said nothing to them directly.

Ar's expression grew apprehensive, even a little sorrowful, as he looked down at his Great Aunt. LJ couldn't help but notice the staggering difference in height.

Nobody knew where Ari got his height from, but it certainly wasn't Nene.

"Our parents are being held captive by the Seelie Queen, Nene. We need your help," he said lowly, and immediately upon the mention of the Queen, Nene looked around anxiously at the meadow.

“The walls have ears, Arrius. Let us speak more of this inside." She grabbed her great-nephew's wrist. She then gestured for LJ and Ellie to follow. “Come along."

Once inside, Ari continued to explain their whole situation as they all sat down at a small table. The whole house was remarkably small, LJ thought. Even LJ and Eleanor, who were at least a head shorter than Ari each, had to duck their heads as they passed under the doorframe. LJ giggled quietly as the three of them forced their limbs in impossible angles to sit down. Nene came around, providing each of them with a fittingly small cup of tea.

When Ari finished his explanation, Nene was frowning deeply down at the cup of tea in her own hands. "The Sage Scripts," she murmured, her eyes dancing around the room as she thought. "I’ve heard of them, but they haven't been spoken of in the Court in centuries."

"We got that impression," Eleanor said, ignoring the mildly irritated look that it earned her from Ari.

"Yes, but that is because they were hidden long ago, and the location they were hidden has long since been destroyed," Nene went on, lifting her chin. Her thumbs caressed her teacup. "They are unreachable at this point in time."

LJ’s heart sank. "What do you mean?" She demanded before she had time to think. Nausea roiled through her. If the Scripts were destroyed, inaccessible, then they couldn't fulfil the wishes of the Queen. They couldn't win. "If the place they're hidden in is destroyed, then doesn't that make reaching them easier?"

Nene shook her head. "It is in ruins. The Scripts, by now, have possibly become part of the lands. A fossil among the dirt under our feet. The location that the Sage Scripts were hidden has been long forgotten. If cannot be found on a map of Faerie. Its destruction lead it to vanish without a trace."

"So they were hidden hundreds of years ago, but do you know when the location was destroyed?" Ari asked.

Nene's expression was troubled as she placed her teacup down. She looked at each of them individually. "I will confide in you what I know, but you must not exploit me as your source of information," she whispered, sitting down across from the three of them at the table. Ari, LJ and Eleanor all leant forward eagerly to listen. "One of my fellow Wild Fey discovered the location only a decade or two ago, but when they tried to enter, it collapsed, and disappeared. I cannot tell you where the structure was, or what it was, but I can tell you its fall was only recently."

"Well.” Eleanor frowned. She was fondling with a bracelet on her left wrist, that looked to be made of sea glass. The shimmering hues of the glass reflected back on her chin when she propped it up in her palm. "The Scripts can't be gone, because the Queen is certain they're somewhere in the lands. She's willing to bet all of our parents lives on them being somewhere. That's a huge gamble for something that apparently can't be obtained."

Nene, despite her ethereal nature, looked wryly at Eleanor. “You are clearly unfamiliar with the nature of the Queen's dealings."

LJ’s eyes stung. She didn't want to believe anything she was hearing right now, but faeries could not lie. So Nene couldn't be misguiding them. In fact, she spoke more straightforwardly than any of the Fair Folk LJ had ever met. But there had to be a way. Something they could do. She was still hung up on Nene's words from before.

"They are unreachable at this point in time."

At this point in time.

What about another point in time? A different one? An idea struck LJ, so suddenly that her heart almost leapt out of her chest. It was like a lightbulb had switched on over the top of her head, and in its light, it illuminated a memory from only a few weeks before— a memory of an odd device her Father was working on, a small round thing that she had been told not to touch unless he told her she could.

Still, LJ had watched him for hours as he brought his creation to life, and her Dad even invited her over to watch more closely, and explain certain mechanics. Then she had asked what, exactly, the little round thing did, and when her Father told her, she had been stunned into silence for quite some time.

LJ had thought it impossible then. But now, it might be their only chance at salvation.

"Guys," LJ said, interrupting the terse rhythm of conversation that Eleanor, Ari and Nene had been swinging through. All three pairs of blue eyes peered over at her, each equally curious. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. “I think I have an idea."

#that which is precious and lost #twipal #LJ Blackthorn-Herondale #Eleanor Blackthorn-Carstairs #Ari Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales #Celeste Blackthorn-Kingson-Rosales #Luc Morgenstern #Oberon Morgenstern #TSC fanfic #the shadowhunter chronicles #the wicked powers #the dark artifices #fanfiction #Shadowhunters fanfiction

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