(nightmares and introductions)

I STAND ONCE AGAIN ON THE STEPS OF the London institute. The freezing wind whips my pale blonde hair into a frenzy. My father bends down to kiss my head. ''Be kind gracious and serving'' he says, ''I hear Charlotte Fairchild is rather traditional.''

It all seems to happen in slow motion. I know him, know how this story ends. I know that days will turn into months which will turn into years. He will never come back. Sophie once again stands at my side although in this nightmare I am not as I am now. I am back as my nine year old self- afraid and frightened. ''Don't go'' I want to plead. ''Please don't go''.

My mouth stays frigid and shut. Its almost as if someone has laced bloody string through my lips as the silent brothers have. I raise a small and unfamiliar hand to my lips. To my horror there they are, greasy embroidery crisscrossing my lips in an unsightly way.

I open my mouth to shriek yet can't. I'm choking. I'm choking.

As my father walks away without a look back I want to rush forward, catch him before he mounts his steed. I'm screaming and screaming yet he nor Sophie can hear me. I will my legs to move- even an inch, yet they stay glued to the floor, as if someone has cemented me in place. As much as I writhe and twist to get free my body doesn't move. I'm paralysed, immobile, with no way to ask for help. My mouth is sealed shut.

Here comes the part of my nightmare that I dread the most. The one that jolts me awake in cold sweat. Gradually the iron grip on my limbs recedes. The stitches across my mouth dissolve into a salty paste. I stagger and topple onto the bottom step of the institute. I can taste the tang of blood from where my tooth has gone through my cheek. Wait! I try to shout. Wait for me!

Despite the stitches dissolving, when I open my mouth to scream out no sound escapes me. Only a hoarse whisper. Even my movement is still limited. I feel as if I'm wading through thick honey, the weight pressing down unimaginably heavy on my legs. My footsteps are sluggish and slow.

Why can't I go faster?

Make me go faster dammit!

My father mounts his horse and plunges a swift heel into it's flank. The mare rears and canters off. Silent tears carve their path down my face. I claw my way through the air as if it can stop me from moving so slowly, as if I can tug myself out of the thick invisible liquid trapping me.

Wait. Wait for me.

I slump to my knees and wrap my cold hands tightly around myself. They provide little comfort. I know what Sophie is going to say before she speaks. These words have replayed over and over in my nightmare. The same one, all these years. Sometimes I can move yet my father is much faster. Sometimes there is no horse, only his quick footed speed. There are always the stitches though- and Sophie. I always gag on revulsion when at this point in the nightmare they snake their spindly way down my throat, choking me once again.

I move to clutch onto Sophie's skirts, beg her to help me. I'm dying. She seems oblivious and merely grabs a hold of my hand to tug me inside.

No. No! Take me back! Get your hands off me.

I writhe once again yet her grip is biting and holds my hand so tightly her nails leave crescent moon marks on the back of my hand. The bloodied strings tangle together in my throat. They entwine in each direction. Some form small balls whilst other simply flay my throat dry. My cheeks are icy from the shed tears.

'Now, you look positively blue!'' Sophie exclaims, she only seems to take in my blue lips, not the red rimmed eyes or bloodied cheek.

''I'll take you to your room and we can call up a bowl of steaming hot soup. Agatha's leek and potato broth will warm up your frail bones in a tad!'' She hums to herself as I am dragged along. As I struggle in silence her nails only dig deeper and deeper into my hand. They are- they are growing.

As Sophie nonchalantly carries on, tugging me behind her to the kitchen, I try to scream. Hoarse whisper after whisper leaves my strangled throat until they aren't hoarse anymore. I am screaming. Screaming. Sophie ignores me.

My screams reach breaking point as the pent up frustration in me peaks. My screams evaporate into choked sobs as I tug again and again on my hand, trying to get it out of her clawed grip.

''Where did you go.'' I sob.

''Why did you go!'' I scream once again. ''Why, why, why!''

Strong arms are suddenly shaking me, I beat them away.

''I hate you. I. hate. you.'' Even I can hear the deadly venom in my tone.

''Darcie!'' A voice cries. Faint, yet still audible.

The arms reach to grab me again. They cradle me against a warm chest.

Sophie and the nightmare shimmer away as the voice becomes louder and louder. No longer a figment of my torturous imagination.

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''Darce-''

I jerked up, my hands instantaneously closing around my throat, there was nothing there. My hands slammed against my lips, feeling the supple skin there free from stitches.

Now aware I was behind held I swiped at the arms, pushing them away. It had to be Sophie, her and her filthy long claws, marred with dirt and my blood. ''Sophie! No-''

''Sophie? Raziel, Darcie open your eyes. Open them.''

The voice was gentle and coercing, familiar. I didn't want to open my eyes. I squeezed them shut tighter instead.

''Please.''

I knew that voice.

I opened my eyes tentatively, it wouldn't be possible for Sophie to cleave them out if I only peeked a few seconds.

However, it wasn't Sophie that cradled me in her lap, it was Will. My Will.

His room lay opposite mine in our corridor, it made for a most practical escape whenever I had nightmares like this. The same went for him. When one screamed for help the other ran over there to smooth their hair back and reassure them they were fine. That it was nothing but a dream.

Neither of us had ever asked what the others nightmares entailed. I certainly wasn't brave enough to empty the contents of mine out for all to see. Our wing in the north tower of the institute was farthest away from the other rooms. No one else needed to know about it apart from the two of us. It was our little secret.

Will smoothed a callused hand over my wet cheek, brushing away the stray tears that traced their way downward. I said nothing and merely curled into him crushing his linen shirt into my fists as I sobbed. I sobbed for my father, and I sobbed for myself. My father had told me to be kind, gracious and serving. Out of spite I'd become the exact opposite. I'd become wicked, bitter- Just like Will. He had his own reasons though. I'd never pried and in return he'd granted me the same luxury.

Nullas quaestiones quaerere, amen dico tibi non est mendacium

Ask no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

''Your fine.'' Will whispered, running a sleepy hand through the fine strands of my hair. I looked up at him, ignoring the wet patches I'd left on his shirt. Will's eyes were bleary with sleep it looked as if he'd just woken up, not just made a dash across the corridor.

I cast a glance to the chair by the side of my bed. On it lay a pillow and blanket, both rumpled. Will followed my gaze. He didn't stop tracing soothing circles across my cheek as he did so. My breathing was still erratic and sobbing hiccups left me every few seconds.

''When I saw Henry carrying you-'' He started, glancing down at my collarbone and tracing a delicate finger over the bandages.

The iratze was visible through the thin, gauzy material of my nightgown. I ought to be ashamed, being seen by Will in such underdress. I was a lady, it didn't do to be improper, yet it was different for Shadowhunter's. It was different for Will and I.

''Darce, you just lay there- limp. '' He'd blanched.

''It scared me half to death. Mrs Dark even got in a swing when I'd paused. Believe me when I say it hurt terribly.''

Will wasn't one for sympathy nor pity. Neither was I. We'd always resort back to comedy or sarcasm when the conversation became too deep. It was a defence mechanism. ''Poor boy.'' I murmured as I pushed his black curls off his forehead.

''Yes, grant me attention, for I am wounded!'' I expected him to dramatically exclaim. Will did nothing of the sort.

His deep blue eyes of glass normally so alight with excitement were dulled with worry.

''What, no monologue about the hardships of battle or how in Lawrence Nowell's Beowulf didn't have to contend such vile opponents?''

The look was gone so fast I doubted whether it had been there in the first place. Will opened his mouth to dutifully quip something out in response yet caught sight of the bandages swathing my collarbone again.

Whatever he's been about to say had been swallowed as he nudged back down onto the bed, lifting me gently out of his lap and down onto the creme coverlet.

''I think you'll find I'm not a child'' I snapped. The nightmare was still fresh like a gaping cut in the forefront of my mind. How I was trapped as my nine year old self, helpless and alone. ''I can lift myself'' I repeated indignantly.

''I know'' Will grinned.

I'd always made a point of proving I could do anything without help. After all, the only thing people did was disappoint you will empty promises and lies. Not Will, though. It was comforting to know I was far more than capable of handling a situation without the help of others. It made you self reliant- A characteristic that I displayed regularly.

''Sleep, wench!'' Will declared, brushing a hand over my wide eyes to close them. As I had done in the nightmare I batted his hands away, tugging him down beside me instead.

''Stay,'' I said. It was an unspoken question. Stay and comfort me. Stay and chase the nightmares away until daybreak. Will curled an arm around my waist and tentatively held me close- aware that I was still injured. I leant into his comforting warmth, closing my eyes. I revelled in his company now, yet I knew just like clockwork he'd be gone in the morning. The only trace of him being the faint indent on the coverlet next to me.

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I woke for the second time that morning, alone, to the sound of pattering footsteps rushing past my door. My head felt heavy from the night before. Memories swum. I remembered Will and the nightmare but everything else was tinged with blurriness. It was too early in the morning for such bothersome thoughts.

The clop of horses hooves sounded outside and I turned to glance out of the window. I immediately recognised the Silent Brothers carriage pulling to halt in front of the great doors of the Institute.

It was pulled by a pair of skeletal horses who's black ribs stood out starkly. I swallowed down a wave of revulsion, there had always seemed something rather off about the Silent City and it's inhabitants. They were unhuman- that was for sure, yet there always seemed something dreadful about their eerie silence, their constant contemplativeness.

As much I wanted to dart out of my room and investigate the kerfuffle downstairs I wasn't dressed. And as fine as it may be to stand in front of Will in my nightclothes, it certainly didn't do to be seen by representatives of the Clave in such a state.

Without Sophie here to lace up my corset and skirt hoops it would undoubtedly be a bother trying to tie myself into one. Alas, the things one had to do as a lady in modern society.

I no longer feared the young maid. After about the seventh nightmare where she'd sprouted ungodly claws I'd quickly realised that in real life the quiet woman was rather sweet and gently natured. She most definitely wasn't the monster my nine year old self had conjured up.

I sighed as I gazed at the dark cherry-wood armoire. It sat opposite my bed in the large stone room stuffed to the brim with embroidered petticoats and lacy undertops. The one and only good thing about my father was that he'd left me with an insurmountable fortune- my mothers fortune to be exact.

Actually, come to think of it the money was never his to give in the first place. My mother had come from an extremely wealthy family- the Highsmiths. She'd not only taken with her a dowry when she'd married my father but her fortune too.

My mother had untimely passed of influenza when I was barely a child. I didn't remember much of her. Only rare snatches of a kind woman with sweet eyes and a soft spoken tongue. I liked to imagine she looked rather a lot like I.

When my mother had passed it had almost driven my father to insanity. He drowned in an ocean grief and drink. He'd started attending taverns and brothels by the time I was seven, and eventually decided to run away with one of the women by the time I was nine.

My plump lips set in a firm line as I gritted my teeth and headed towards the dresser. If I didn't fuel myself with anger I'd crumple into a heap of sorrow and that did no one good. When I'd first found out about the two's marriage I'd been beside myself. Locked myself in my room and cried myself sick in the corner. I'd given myself an hour. One hour to let it all out, all the grief, and then bottle it up once again.

Even to this day Will was the only one who'd ever seen me in such a state. I'd made it so. No one needed to see a broken and bitter girl rotting from the inside out with agony.

I yanked open one of the draws by it's carved handle grabbing a pair of underthings and a few pins to set my hair with, before pulling open the main doors. Dress after dress lay inside, some glittering with exotic jewels and others simple and pretty. I had a dress collection to rival Jessamine's though I doubted she'd ever admit it. I had an affinity for beautiful things, they often seemed to be the ones concealing the most turmoil.

There were two dresses that immediately caught my eye. One of deep purple and the other of a gauzy baby blue. I'd only recently worn the blue one and thus immediately pulled the deep purple dress of the hanger. It's beading had been sewn immaculately. The bosom dripped low enough to show off my ample chest yet the sleeves hung just below my shoulders somewhat modestly.

Now, how to get this thing actually on?

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After half an hour of pulling tirelessly on the corset's strings I'd managed to lace up the back of the dress and slip the petticoats over the top. I'd left the skirts hoop out. It wasn't worth the extra effort, and anyways I was sure the Silent Brothers would show no care if I'd chosen to dress for comfort rather than spectacle.

From then on it was only the rose pins that had been left to do. I slipped all four one after another into my hair, lifting curl after curl up until my entire head had been neatly arranged into a half up mass of flaxen locks.

Satisfied with the quick job I'd made of it, I slid my feet into the matching pair of slippers and headed out the door.

I didn't have to walk further than the East Wing before shrill shrieks escaped the farthest room down the corridor. If I wasn't mistaken that sounded like Miss Gray.

Raziel, I'd almost forgotten we'd taken her with us after the Dark sisters' ambush.

Holding up my skirts to hasten my pace, I rushed towards the room.

When I reached the room I noted it's door had been left ajar. I peered inside. Two figures- Charlotte and one of the many Silent Brothers, hovered over the bed. Miss Gray lay inside it, covers drawn up to her chin, still unconscious.

''Not human?'' Charlotte asked quietly, concerned as always.

A beat of silence passed where the Silent Brother seemed to speak directly into Charlotte's mind.

''Well- If she isn't human Enoch then what is she?''

Miss Gray wasn't human? I puzzled over the thought. She seemed human enough. Pale skin, simple brown hair, normal enough build. How could she possibly be any different. Warlocks had their marks and Vampires- well, fangs.

''What do you mean you don't know?'' Charlotte asked. Her voice had gone cold as she whispered ''everyone's something. This girl can't be nothing at all!''

I leaned further into the doorframe, straining to hear Charlotte's next words. Unfortunately I'd leaned to far and the door creaked. Quietly, yet still audible.

Charlotte and Brother Enoch froze- well the Silent Brother was always frozen, he merely stood still.

''Darcie- come out, now'' Charlotte said. Her voice carried the strains of exhaustion. ''And bring Will with you if he's there too-'' She added

I dreaded to think of the hours Charlotte must've spent last night puzzling over the strange girl now lying in front of her.

''The two have an unbecoming knack for eavesdropping'' Charlotte murmured

''I'm sure you'll be disappointed to find it's just me'' I said, stepping out from behind the doorframe. Shame pinked my cheeks yet I reasoned I had just as much right to know what was going on as anyone else in the institute.

Just as Charlotte opened her mouth to chastise me another shriek sounded from the bed. Miss Gray tossed and turned, in the sheets, her brown hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. The girl had awoke and immediately set eyes upon Brother Enoch. The shriek was more than understandable.

Miss Grays arms thrashed against the invisible hold Brother Enoch had placed upon her. I instantly rushed forward knowing all too well how that sort of imprisonment felt. ''Stop- Stop it!'' I shouted. Brother Enoch ignored me, seemingly speaking to Charlotte once again.

''Can't you hear you imbecile- I said stop it! Can't you see your doing far more harm than good?

Charlotte gasped at my outburst. ''Darcie! You must forgive her sharp tongue Enoch, she was injured yesterday too-''

''I'll say, I'm perfectly fine Charlotte, see?'' I rolled my shoulders to demonstrate I had use of my collarbone once again.

Miss Gray shrieked once again drawing our mislaid attention back upon her. ''Miss Gray!'' Charlottes loud yell cut through the room. I tensed, Charlotte never deigned to raise her voice. She only ever spoke in soft tones. When raised, I found her voice sounded horribly strict.

Miss Gray paused her thrashing momentarily to blink at Charlotte. The poor girl looked stunned. ''Miss Gray,'' Charlotte repeated, softer this time. ''I am sorry, It was not our intention to frighten you.''

''Please- call me Tessa'' Miss Gray said, her voice deeper than I'd expected. ''Miss Gray is rather formal and makes me sound like I'm an old woman''. I stifled a snort. Yes, 'Miss Gray' did sound rather old fashioned.

Miss Gray, newly introduced as Tessa, shot a cautious look around the room. After she'd sated her curiosity her eyes locked onto mine. They were the most unusual shade of slate grey. ''I remember you.'' Tessa murmured. She seemed to calm in my presence- a somewhat familiar face amongst the newness. I walked carefully to her bedside, careful not to knock over the pitcher of water that lay on the stand beside it.

''Darcie.'' I introduced. ''Darcie Thornton.''

Tessa nodded and swallowed thickly. ''What kind of monster is he'' she breathed. Her eyes swept over Brother Enoch suspiciously.

''I know there are monsters on this earth. I have seen them and thus you cannot tell me otherwise.''

''No one here would've told you otherwise'' Charlotte reassured. Her frail hands worried at the crude fabric of her dress. She always wore the simplest things. I'd have to take her dress shopping one of these days. She'd already refused Jessamine's many offers yet I believed my company was far more amicable.

''Mr Herondale- Will, he was with us too. Is he quite alright. He'd cut his hand and-''

Will's hand was fine now. Henry had patched him up within a matter of minutes. I suspected Will had complained about how anti-climatic it had been.

''He's here,'' Charlotte answered calmly. ''In the Institute.''

''Did he bring me here?''

''Apologies,'' Tessa added. ''Curiosity is my besetting sin.''

''I find curiosity to be a most charming trait, lest a besetting sin.'' I said absentmindedly.

Tessa smiled slightly .

''And yes Tessa, Will probably did bring you here. As you'll soon find out, he displays the most dreadful saviour complex when he thinks it'll l make him resemble Sir Gallahad. Soon enough he'll come through here demanding to know what you thought of his damsel rescuing skills.''

Charlotte sighed nearby, her head falling into her small hands. ''There is the small problem of dealing with the context in which we found Tessa.''

Tessa nodded dully.

''My dear, I am well aware that these past months have been nothing but a nightmare for you and I am sure my mind cannot even begin to paint a picture of what you must've gone through in that ghastly house. Cruel events like those become engraved in ones mind- but I need you to tell me everything that happened to you. Everything.'' Charlotte looked apologetic as she gazed upon the girl.

''Charlotte surely-''

''Not now, Darcie''

''But-''

I scowled. Charlotte was being ridiculous. If Tessa had gone through the horrors Charlotte talked about then whyever would she feel the sudden urge to share them? Getting information out of the girl would be like prying open a clamshell. If she didn't want to spill anything I doubted she would.

As I moved to leave Tessa's eyes turned to me, pleading.

I bent down and looked at her straight on. ''Try to be as open as you can. Any information that you can give Charlotte will surely be beneficial some point in the future, whether it be finding out what you are, or in what this odd Magister figure wants.''

I could tell I'd hit a nerve halfway through as the stubbornness is Tessa's face immediately extinguished. She turned away from me and looked towards where Charlotte and Brother Enoch stood.

''I'll tell you everything you need to know, but only if you promise to aid me in return.''

Charlotte nodded grimly.

As I pulled up a chair, Tessa began recounting the events she'd gone through in the Dark House.

I had to hand it to her. The girl sounded far tougher than she looked. 

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