Random Fandom Oneshots

A Man Loved His Wife (Julian Blackthorn)

I hummed softly to myself as I rearranged the trinkets resting on the mantlepiece. It seemed that Mark had been fascinated again. I smiled at the memory of the faerie boy the first time he saw them laid out. They had been a wedding gift from Aline and Helen since they didn't have much use for them nor the room for them, so we were the next best option. Julian liked them because they were so intricately designed and he would study them for hours. Mark, on the other hand, would hold them, searching for some semblance of his mother. Yes, these trinkets belonged to the late Lady Nerissa. Jules had objected at first, but Helen had insisted, so we accepted them. Now they are proudly displayed on the mantlepiece, showing another aspect of our family.

I move through the rest of the Institute, straightening things left and right, and making sure things are generally in place. I stopped outside the doors to the library when I saw that they were cracked open. Poking my head in, I saw my daughter, Zarina, sitting on the floor, her attention focused on the large wall mural. I silently walked over and joined her on the ground, my eyes beginning to follow the lines of the work. Each stroke was purposeful, each color the right shade to give the work life. It was a series of scenes, but each one had the same two people: a man with brown hair and eyes as blue as the sea and a woman with flowing hair and a graceful smile. Beautiful in every aspect of the word.

"Mommy?" The little voice beside me practically whispered, unwilling to break the serene scene. "Will you tell me a story? Maybe about this painting? I've never heard you really talk about it." I smiled wistfully to myself and nodded. "Do you know why this was painted?" I asked, drawing my attention away for a moment to look down at Zarina. She shook her head, her dark curls moving with her. "It came to be because a man loved his wife. He had a gift unlike any other; the ability to paint great masterpieces that even the most skilled artisans could not even come close to. He used this gift to paint his wife from time to time because he believed her to be the most beautiful thing in the world. He wanted the world to know of her grace and elegance. He cherished her more than any man could cherish his wife."

I stopped for a second, staring at the carefree face of the man on the wall, his eyes only for the woman. "Were they real people?" The little voice next to me asked. "Oh yes, very real.""What were they like? How did they meet?" I smiled at the eager questions before I continued on. "The man and the woman were both great shadowhunters. They were from ancient and powerful families; the man from the Blackthorn line, the woman from the Fairchild line. They were never destined to meet, until Fate took matters into her own hands. They were thrown together by a storm, the Institute of the man the only shelter around for the woman. They grew close in that time, and after many years, they married. They headed their own Institute and made it feel like home. The man filled it with art to bring it to life and the woman filled the home with life made by her. And they were happy for a time.

And then came a time, a very dark time, when a force unknown to any being came alive and attacked without mercy. It mauled every Institute it could get its hands on, including the one where the man and woman lived. They fought bravely, but it got to their little lights, extinguishing them one by one. And then it extinguished the man. Driven by grief, heartbreak, and love, the woman vanquished the dark force. She was left alone with only one little light left out of the many she had made. And she nurtured it. As she did, her husband's memory stayed alive through his art, each one now more dear to the woman. She was always proud of what he did and honors his legacy in any way she can." 

As I finished the story, I let my eyes fall down to my little girl beside me. She was staring up at the mural in awe and wonder, her eyes raking over the two faces. "Who were they, mommy?" She breathlessly asked. I kissed the top of her head and let out a soft laugh. "That is something you will get to learn when you are older. As for right now, I believe that it is time you go tidy up your room." Zarina sighed as she stood and left the library, leaving me alone to my thoughts. I stood slowly, my eyes never leaving the images. My hand moved of it's own volition and came to rest over the image of the man. "Oh Julian," I said, my eyes gazing once more into the blue depths of the man's eyes. "She will know it is you one day, and that these people alongside you are her ancestors. She will be proud to bear the name Zarina Blackthorn-Fairchild. Our little light."