Chapter Text
life or death
at the touch of a woman.
gasp for breath
or release your last.
but oh who could mind death
if it meant feeling the gentle caress
of my lovely valkyrie?
In the midst of it all, Clary was silent.
Silent, not for the fear of being heard or for a lack of things to say, but out of somber respect. Her business was a grim one, one she had never taken lightly. Some of the other valkyries didn’t see it as she did. For them, it wasn’t personal. The names of the fallen were ink on papyrus and nothing more. They wouldn’t have even cared about the names if they were not responsible for their fates, if the angels had not given them very specific orders about who was to see the next day and who was not.
Clary didn’t understand how this work couldn’t be personal. How was it not personal to lay your hands on someone and decide if they got to live or die? How was it not personal to stare into their pain-stricken eyes and then decide if they would get to go home to their families after the clanging of swords came to an end?
Clary was a valkyrie, a winged woman who served the angels during battle. The angels could not directly intervene in mortal affairs so they sent the valkyries to do their bidding. Her touch had the power to revive the wounded or to push them into death’s unforgiving grip. She was not permitted to participate in the violence, only to walk through the carnage and dole out fates to those struck down by their enemies.
Long ago, Clary had stopped letting herself care about which side the fallen were on. In the beginning, when she’d allowed herself to become invested, to have an opinion on mortal matters, she had felt like an angel of justice when she condemned a guilty man to death and an unwilling executioner when the man was innocent. This battle within herself, this dissonance about what role she truly played in war, ate at her for decades. Eventually, she came to realize that death was simply death, and death was an angel’s mandate. No matter what side the warrior was on, no matter who was in the wrong, it did not matter what Clary’s thoughts or feelings were. The angels decided who had to die and what the angels decided was all that mattered.
It was for her own good that she didn’t let herself have an opinion. To have an opinion, especially if it was not shared by the angels, would be to rebel. It would be saying that the angels could sometimes be wrong.
And the angels were never wrong.
So Clary was silent.
The battle she had been assigned to today was between two nations that bordered the northern sea, Idris and the Downworld. The angels had not told her what the battle was about, but from the whispers she’d heard in the moments leading up to it, Clary had figured out it was over a border dispute. Idris had been slowly crossing the border and occupying Downworld territory. This was the Downworld’s retaliation.
Clary knelt down over the body of a man. His hair was graying near his ears and frown lines had been etched deep into his pale face. Blood stained his torn shirt. Clary instantly knew his name, just as she knew the name of everyone who’d ever walked the planet. Valkyries had to know everyone’s names if they were to adhere to the angels’ death lists.
This one was named Gannon Mathison.
He was on Clary’s list.
Gannon stared straight through her, but of course he would. Mortals were incapable of seeing valkyries unless the valkyrie decided to show herself. It was necessary to ensure they did not disrupt the battle. Clary knew why it was not allowed, but she wished that Gannon could see her. In his final moments, she wished he could know that he was not as alone as he felt.
“Ave atque vale,” Clary murmured before placing her hand softly on his forehead. She listened carefully as his breathing slowed and then ceased.
Clary rose, inhaled to steady herself, and then moved on to the next fallen.
A girl who was barely of age with dark brown skin and curls shorn so short that you could see her scalp. A dagger was lodged in her side, just above her hip. Josephine Olivier. The angels had not put her name on this battle’s death list.
Clary smiled just slightly as she settled beside Josephine.
“It is not your time,” she whispered, taking Josephine’s hand in her own. Clary released her healing magic into the girl’s young form. She used the energy to maneuver the dagger away from the vital organs and repair any damage that had already been done. If it had been up to Clary, she would have removed the dagger completely and totally healed the girl, but it wasn’t up to Clary. The mortals would become suspicious if she performed a miracle so it would have to be enough. Still, the wound was no longer life threatening and Clary could be satisfied with that. Josephine would survive this fight.
The girl’s shoulders relaxed a bit and her breaths became fuller and more even. Clary’s heart warmed at the sight.
“You got one of the good ones, Clary?” a voice said from behind her.
Clary stood and turned to the other valkyrie, Isabelle, working the battle with her.
“Yes, I did. Thank the angels for allowing her to live. She’s so young,” Clary replied quietly. She cherished when she could save a life rather than take it.
“Yes, thank the angels,” Isabelle drawled, ruffling her wings behind her. Clary pressed her lips together to keep from letting out a bitter laugh.
Isabelle, like Clary, was not always so pleased with the duty given to her by the angels. She knew what it meant to question their judgement, to long for a day when her opinion was the one that mattered. Isabelle was the only valkyrie that Clary had ever confided in about her own rebellious feelings. Isabelle had spoken out of turn in front of the angels on more than one occasion so Clary knew that she would understand. Without Isabelle, Clary may have torn herself apart centuries ago with guilt. When the work felt suffocating, Isabelle was there to help the air find its way back into her lungs. Isabelle’s friendship made everything easier to bear.
“How much longer do you think the fighting will last, Iz?”
“Not much longer,” Isabelle said, entangling their fingers as they walked. She squeezed Clary’s hand comfortingly. “Only fifteen names are left on today’s list. I’m sure they will fall within the next few minutes, we can heal the rest, and then we can return to Heaven.”
Clary nodded thoughtfully as they approached the woods lining the battlefield. The valkyries leaned against the wide tree trunks restfully, eyes closed, taking a moment to breathe away from the thick smell of blood that had filled their nostrils as they stood amongst the struggle.
Suddenly, Clary’s attention was drawn from the back of her eyelids to a war cry to their left. Clary was used to the sounds of war, but this was different. The voice was so clear, so penetrating, so unimaginably furious. It was a cry of righteous passion, convictions converted to pure sound.
Clary’s head snapped towards the sound. She squinted at the throng of soldiers, trying to locate the owner of the voice. Three soldiers from Idris were circling a shared target, a single Downworld girl. Despite the clear advantage they had in their number, the girl was fighting so skillfully that the foes were matched evenly.
Maia Roberts, Clary thought to herself as she watched her fight, thoroughly entranced. Clary’s eyes lingered on the toned muscles of her arms, revealed by how Maia’s sweat-soaked shirt stuck to her skin. Her dark curls, soft and shiny in the midday sun, bounced with every lunge and parry. Her chest heaved with life. And despite all of the beauty that clung to her bones, that was not what had truly captured Clary’s attention.
No, it was the way that the girl fought. It was so much more than swordsmanship or strength. Something about her movements felt like a scream into the silence, shattering the world around her. Maia wasn’t fighting like a mercenary, impersonal and devoid of all feeling except the desire for survival and gold. She was fighting like it was an expression of herself, a dance made of wrath and pain and resistance. She had a cause, a devotion to something bigger than herself and she actually believed in it. Clary’s heart pounded in her ribcage, recognizing a stifled resemblance within itself. Maia was fighting like Clary has always dreamed of fighting. Clary’s wings twitched as a feeling somewhere between jealousy and wonder gathered in her shoulders. Oh, how beautiful and thrilling it must be allowed to feel anything that deeply.
Clary wanted to see her up close, wanted to be near enough to feel if Maia’s body emanated the same fire that was in her eyes. She stepped away from the trees. Her eyes could not pull away from Maia for even a moment.
“Clary?” Isabelle called, opening her eyes when she finally sensed her friend’s absence.
Her only response was to wave her hand absently. She would be back in a minute. Clary just needed to look at Maia.
She was just a hundred yards from the mortal girl now. It was magnetic, the way she pulled Clary forward without even trying. Clary felt like she was in a trance, moving without thinking about it, acting on instinct alone.
Until Maia saw her and Clary stopped in her tracks.
It shouldn’t have been possible, but Maia was seeing her. Clary knew. The shock was clear in the way her jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide. She saw it all: the black wings, the shining silver breastplate of the valkyries, Clary.
In that instant, they were frozen. They marveled at one another, each girl equally foreign and confounding to the other.
The moment was only broken when Clary saw the sword catch the sun.
“No!”
It took a few seconds before Maia fell to the ground, but when she did, it felt like thunder shaking the earth beneath Clary’s feet.
And, once again, Clary was moving without thinking. She had to get to Maia. She had to heal her.
“Clary, wait!” Isabelle yelled, her voice growing louder as she chased after Clary.
Clary beat her wings to force herself forward faster. She skidded to a stop when she reached Maia and dropped to her knees.
“You’re going to be okay,” Clary reassured in a shaky voice, pulling the bloody shirt away from the wound. Maia squirmed away from her fearfully and her face contorted with pain.
“Wha– Who– I don’t– ” Maia choked out.
“Don’t be afraid,” Clary soothed, pushing a stray hair out of Maia’s face.
“Clary, stop,” Isabelle ordered as she reached the pair of girls.
“Isabelle, I have to heal her. It was my fault she got hurt. My glamour must have dropped or something without realizing it and I drew her attention away from the fight. Oh, angels, how could I have let that happen? I distracted her and now she’s hurt. I have to fix this.”
Clary tried to reach out to the fallen warrior, but Isabelle grabbed her wrist and jerked her away.
“I’m sorry, Clary. You can’t. Maia Roberts is on the list,” Isabelle said sadly.
Ice trickled down Clary’s spine.
“Iz, no. That can’t be right. She’s–” Clary’s throat closed before she could finish. She’s too full of life to be killed like this. She’s too intriguing to stop existing before Clary could know her. She’s too beautiful to die for Clary’s mistake.
“You don’t have to be the one to do this if it’s too difficult. I can do it,” Isabelle offered. “But you know someone has to do it. She must die. It is the angels’ will.”
Clary looked at Maia. Her brow was furrowed and her breath came in aborted huffs. No one’s death had ever been Clary’s fault before. All the people on her lists in the past were injured before Clary came to them. She was simply sending them away to a place they were already going. But this– this was Clary’s doing. If she let Maia die, she’d feel like a murderer, even if she hadn’t been the one to drive the blade into Maia’s back.
But could she defy the angels? Could Clary risk their anger for a girl she didn’t know beyond this indescribable pull she felt towards her? Not even Isabelle had disobeyed them in this way. Her defiance was in arguments and remarks that earned her a slap across the face. In the end, not even Isabelle had ever let a condemned mortal leave the battlefield. Clary could be destroyed for this.
Clary closed her eyes, gulped, and made her decision.
“I’ll do it,” she whispered, pulling her wrist back from her friend. Isabelle frowned sorrowfully. Clary turned to Maia.
Maia was struggling to elbow her way backwards away from Clary. She clearly must’ve heard the conversation between the two valkyries and knew what was coming with Clary’s touch.
“Shhh,” Clary sighed. “It’s best not to move. Everything will be alright, I promise.”
Clary reached out to place both of her hands on Maia’s wound. The blood was hot as it stained her fingers.
Clary let her magic weave its way through Maia’s muscles. Maia began to relax, her heart rate slowing down after the fear it felt as Clary had approached her. Sinew stitched back together and organs became whole again. Color began to return to Maia’s cheeks. Healing like this was exhausting. Usually, she healed just enough to keep the person alive. A little bit of magic to nudge the mortals in the right direction. Healing Maia completely was draining like healing twenty other mortals all at once. Clary’s hands began to shake, but she was determined. She pushed on.
Isabelle inhaled sharply behind her, finally realizing what Clary was actually doing.
“Clary, no! The angels will damn you! You could lose your wings for this!”
“Then let them damn me,” Clary said through gritted teeth as she forced a final swell of magic and bravery into Maia’s body. Maia gasped as the entry wound vanished, leaving nothing but a pale scar in its wake.
The valkyrie fell back from Maia, her energy depleted and her vision cloudy. Isabelle was saying something, but Clary felt like her head was under water. The words were muffled and nonsensical in Clary's brain. She was so tired, but it was worth it.
She was pulled from her daze by fingers wrapping around her forearm. Clary flicked her eyes upwards to see Maia staring at her. Clary’s heart pounded against her armor. This mortal had the most breathtaking eyes she’d ever seen, dark as night until the sun pooled in the amber specks throughout her iris.
“Who are you?” Maia asked, breathless.
“I’m–” Clary started, but Isabelle’s bruising grip on her shoulder stopped her. Clary was roughly pulled to her feet.
“We have to get out of here now,” Isabelle said, her voice not hard enough to hide the panic.
Clary didn’t even have time to take one last look back at Maia before Isabelle began beating her wings, sending the two valkyries soaring into the air and away from the battle that might have just cost Clary her life.
.
Raziel was circling her.
Her eyes were turned to the ground, but she could feel his boring into her back, scorching her feathers and sending fire up her neck and into her cheeks. The eyes of the other valkyries and angels alike were all trained on the two of them. No one had ever disobeyed Raziel, the highest of the archangels, in this way. No one knew how he was going to react.
“Do you believe you are more knowledgeable than me, Clarissa? Do you, a valkyrie, believe you understand the workings of our world better than me and the other angels?”
Raziel flicked his large white wings quickly, letting the edges cut at Clary’s skin. Despite their soft, smooth appearance, angel wings were razor sharp at the edge. Dark red blood ran down her arm, pooling between her clenched fingers.
“No, my Lord,” Clary answered quietly, ignoring the sting.
“No?” Raziel laughed but it was hollow and frigid. “What was your reason for defying our orders then? What made you think it was the right decision to keep that mortal alive when we told you she was meant to die? Surely, you must believe yourself more capable than the angels if you felt so compelled to go against our judgements.”
And what was Clary supposed to say to that? She really wasn’t sure at all what she believed. In the moment, she had been so consumed by desperation that she didn’t even spare a thought as to why the angels had put Maia’s name on their list. All that she’d cared about was saving Maia’s life.
Clary cleared her throat.
“My Lord Raziel, my actions today were not a reflection of my feelings towards you or the other angels. I have always trusted that your will was based on knowledge, truth, and justice. When I saved Maia’s life, it was out of passion and out of guilt because I believed her injury was my fault. I was upset, but I did not heal her to rebel against you, I swear. I would do anything to prove my faith and loyalty to the angels.”
The words were carefully practiced, if not entirely true. This was not the first time Clary had questioned them, just the first time she’d acted on it.
Another flick of Raziel’s wings had blood trickling down her collarbone. It felt deeper than the first wound. Clary just set her jaw. The angels hated weakness almost as much as they hated disobedience.
“You have always been a loyal soldier, Clarissa. You have served dutifully for centuries. I remember the few decades after your creation. The other angels and I saw the potential in you as you went through your training. We knew you were spirited, but you never gave us any reason to doubt your commitment to us. Until today. The cost of such rebellion is usually a valkyrie’s wings.”
Murmurs sounded around the room. Were they about to witness her the worst fate a valkyrie could ever endure? Losing her wings was meant to be the most painful thing a valkyrie could experience and most died soon after the loss. If they didn’t die, they would lose their minds with grief. A valkyrie’s wings were the most personal part of her body. Without them, she was nothing.
Clary shifted her wings nervously and let her eyes find Isabelle’s in the crowd of observers. Isabelle could only nod to her, but it was enough to help Clary steel herself for whatever punishment was about to be dealt her way. She tried to find the bravery she’d felt when she’d healed Maia this morning, but she must have used it all up. It took everything she had just to keep herself from trembling.
“However, with your record of obedience, the archangels have chosen to be merciful. You will keep your wings. We could have easily made an example of you, Clarissa, so I advise you to not take our decision lightly. One more misstep and we will not hesitate to revoke that decision. Understood?”
Raziel stopped in front of her and Clary knew what she was meant to do. She dropped to one knee and bowed her head. Strands of her loose hair brushed the granite floor and surrounded her like a curtain, hiding the hot tears in her eyes from those around her.
“Thank you so much, my Lord. I will not forget the angels’ clemency,” Clary sighed, relief pushing the air from her lungs.
“While we will allow you to keep your wings, we will not allow this offense to go without reprimand. We have not yet decided how you will pay for your actions, but be assured that it will happen when we come to an agreement. Until that day, Clarissa, you are to return to your duties in the field. You are dismissed.”
Clary let her other knee fall forward to the ground and put her hands on the cool stone to steady herself. She would keep her wings, but the angels were not done with her yet. She had to live her life with today’s events hanging over her head, continuing on as if the angels weren’t about to punish her at any moment. You’re alive, she tried to remind herself. Be thankful for that. It didn’t wash away the dread in her stomach though. If it wasn’t death, then what was it? Could it be worse?
She didn’t know what could be worse than death, but she never wanted to find out.
.
Clary knew she shouldn’t be doing this.
It was a bad idea. The angels definitely wouldn’t approve. She’d just barely escaped death the first time and here she was risking it again.
And for the same mortal girl she’d risked it the first time.
Clary was outside Maia’s house.
It had been a week since the battle on the Idris-Downworld border. Since then, Clary had been trying her best to move on and put herself back in the angels’ good graces. She’d taken on extra shifts, covering as many battles as she could. She worked hard and carefully, being sure to follow every protocol that had been ingrained in her during her training. She healed so many soldiers, and sent even more to the afterlife, that she barely had the energy to fly herself home at the end of the day. Despite that, she still struggled to sleep at night. She’d toss and turn for hours before getting maybe an hour’s worth of rest before returning to her duties. It was more than anxiety about the angels’ threat, though that did play a part.
It was Maia.
Clary couldn’t stop thinking about her. As she laid in her bed each night, she would remember the girl’s lean body and the way her curls flew through the air in time with her sword. She thought about how it had felt to brush her fingers along the girl’s face and how intimate it had felt to explore every single one of Maia’s cells with her magic. The memories made something tingle in her fingers and ache in her stomach. No matter how much she tried to push away thoughts of this mortal, she couldn’t do it when everything she did reminded her of Maia. She was working harder because she had to make up for saving Maia. When she tended to the wounds from Raziel’s wings, she thought of how she’d earned them for refusing to let a wound remain on Maia’s body. Everything led back to this girl that Clary didn’t know but that she still couldn’t stop thinking about.
Eventually, it became too much. Clary just had to see her. She didn’t really know why. Was it to make sure she was okay? Was it to scratch the itch enough to hopefully move on and leave this whole ordeal in her past? Or was it because of the draw Clary felt to Maia, something indefinable and cosmic that Clary would never really understand? It had felt like that before, on that first confusing day. It had felt big.
So here Clary was: lurking in the woods outside Maia’s small cabin in the woods. It was secluded, but Clary found it after searching for an hour or so. The wooden slats were old and dark, but a warm fire inside made the house seem more inviting. The cabin was nestled amidst green pine trees that looked almost black in the dim dusk light.
Clary stepped out of the trees and towards a window on the side of the house. She paused for a moment to ensure her glamour was up. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she’d made before. She wouldn’t be seen this time. It would be a quick stealth visit and then Clary would be on her way.
She pressed herself up against the glass and looked in.
Maia was laying on a couch, her feet dangling over the edge. A book laid open on a table beside her, but Maia’s gaze was trained on the dancing fire. Her brow was pulled into a tight crease and Clary felt an urge to reach out and smooth it with her thumb. Maia’s shirt was rucked up and her palm laid flat on her stomach, right over the scar Clary had healed. A mug of tea, no longer steaming, sat next to the forgotten novel. Everything about her seemed pensive. What could Maia be thinking about? Had she forgotten what had happened last week or was it sticking to her brain like it had stuck to Clary’s?
If only she could go inside and ask her. Clary put her fingers on the windows and imagined what it would be like to actually talk to this mortal. Clary would ask her so many things. What made her fight like the world depended on the swing of her sword? What did freedom taste like? Why did she live alone in the woods instead of with her compatriots at the war camp a few miles down the road? Clary wanted to be reminded of how her voice sounded. After so many days, Clary could never quite grab the memory of its melody when it flitted through her mind. Yes, she’d like to hear Maia’s voice again. She imagined how different it would sound laughing into her hands or whispered directly into Clary’s ear. Clary pondered on how physical Maia was when she talked. Did she speak like she fought, animated and sweeping? Or was she still, settled enough in her thoughts that words were enough to convey them?
Maia stood up inside and drew Clary from her thoughts. She picked up the book and headed towards the front of the house and out of Clary’s view, likely to put it back on the shelf. It seemed so warm to be able to relax like this in your own space. Clary rarely did anything for herself and she lived in barracks with the other valkyries. There was never alone time to do anything that wasn’t in service of the angels. Clary didn’t even know what she would do if she had a spare moment to herself. She could see herself reading like Maia. She thought she might like art too. When she was a young valkyrie, she had enjoyed doodling on the edges of her papyrus during her lessons.
Clary tried to peer inside and see if she could catch a glimpse of Maia and what she was doing. Her line of sight was too limited and there wasn’t enough light to see where the girl had gone.
“Looking for someone?”
Clary jumped backward, her hand flying to the dagger on her hip instinctively.
“Don’t try it,” Maia warned, her longsword pointed at Clary’s throat.
Clary raised her hands in surrender.
“It’s okay, Maia. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Maia smiled mirthlessly.
“Oh, really? You expect me to believe you when you’re spying on me and carrying a dagger? Is that not supposed to be threatening?” Maia asked.
“You weren’t supposed to be able to see me,” Clary replied, a realization settling in. She checked and her glamour was definitely still up. And Maia could see her anyway.
Maia raised her eyebrows. “How could I not see you? You were literally close enough to see your breath on the glass.”
“You can see through my glamour. Only mortals with the Sight can do that and there hasn’t been such a mortal in almost a hundred years. So, that’s how you saw me before. My glamour didn’t drop. You just have the Sight.”
It all made sense now. Clary’s glamour had never dropped without warning before, not after so many decades of practice. It was a relief of sorts, to know that what happened wasn’t really her fault. She still regretted being the distraction that nearly cost Maia her life, though.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maia started, “but I don’t care. All I care about is why some angel lady with a knife is outside my house.”
Clary snorted at the misnomer.
“I’m not an angel,” she chuckled. “I’m a valkyrie. And my name is Clary.”
“Same difference. That does nothing to convince me that you aren’t here to kill me, Clary.”
Clary tilted her head. Maia was distrustful of her and it upset her for some reason.
“I promise, I am not here to do you harm. I saved your life just one week ago. You must remember that. Why would I save you then just to kill you now? Think about it,” Clary reasoned.
Maia’s blade wavered between them. Clary was getting through to her.
“Your friend said I had to die, that I was on some sort of list. For all I know, you changed your mind about letting me live and you’re here to finish the job.”
“I couldn’t kill you even if I had changed my mind, which I haven’t by the way. I am not permitted to harm mortals. The angels forbid it. I disobeyed them once when I healed you. I’m not about to disobey them again.”
Clary’s fingers drifted over to the cut on her neck. Her healing magic was useless against a wound from an archangel and this one was particularly resistant to even normal first aid. It had started to close but was still violent red and tender to the touch. She knew she’d have a scar. Maia assessed her closely, clearly understanding what had caused the injury. A flash of sympathy crossed her face.
“And do these angels know you're here? I get the feeling they wouldn’t approve.”
“No, but they never expressly told me not to come so does it really count as disobedience?” Clary smirked.
Maia laughed despite herself and lowered her sword. Clary took a breath and let her hands fall to her side.
“Then why are you here?” Maia questioned.
Clary still didn’t have an answer for her. If she’d only come to check on Maia, then she could simply leave now since the girl had clearly healed just fine. If it had been a simple concern for Maia’s wellbeing, why was she still not ready to leave? If she knew what was good for her, Clary would let this be enough and go home, but she still felt unsatisfied. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she knew that she hadn’t gotten it yet.
“I– I don’t know,” Clary admitted.
A contemplative sigh passed through Maia’s lips. Clary had the feeling that Maia had no idea what to make of her. Clary was unfamiliar, and probably quite visibly shocking with the wings and all, and yet she could tell that Clary’s intentions were good.
Maia shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes.
“What the hell,” she muttered to herself. Then to Clary, “Do you want to ‘not know’ inside at least? It’s freezing out here and I have no intention of getting hypothermia just to talk to some… what did you say you were?”
“A valkyrie,” Clary said easily, a smile blossoming on her face. “And yes, that would be nice.”
Maia eyed her warily one last time before turning back toward the front door. Clary scurried after her and into the warmth of the cabin.
It smelled like cinnamon. That was the first thing Clary noticed upon walking inside. The home felt even cozier being inside than it had when she was simply looking through the window. The heat made her bones feel softer, like she could settle on the floorboards and sink down through them until she reached the clay beneath the building’s foundation. The kitchen was to the right of the entrance and jars of dried fruit and spices lined the countertop.Pots and pans were stacked precariously in the corner. Further into the house, separated from the kitchen by a modest dining table, was the living area that Clary had looked into during her spying. There was a single leather chair next to the window she’d been peering through.
“Your home is lovely,” Clary said, wholeheartedly meaning it. It was so different from the barracks, in the best way.
“Thanks. It used to be my brother’s place,” Maia answered, busying herself with some dirty dishes on the counter. She piled them on top of one another and gathered stray utensils. Her movements seemed anxious, like she was only cleaning so she had something to do with her hands.
“Used to be?”
Maia’s hands stilled.
“He died in the war seven months ago.”
“Oh,” Clary gasped, her cheeks going red. She closed her eyes and cursed herself for pressing on a sensitive matter.
It was silent for a moment before Maia let the dishes clatter into a washbucket. Clary heard footsteps and opened her eyes again. Maia was over by the fire hanging a black kettle over the flames.
“Yeah, so I’ve been living here since then. I’d been wanting to leave my parents’ home for a longtime anyway and I’d been dying to get involved in the effort since he enlisted. It was either move here and fight or stay home until my parents found some middle-class boy to marry me off to. Guess which option I picked.”
Maia gestured to the couch, inviting Clary to sit. Clary obeyed and tried to relax back into the worn-out cushions. Maia sat in the chair. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes travelled all over Clary’s body, her scrutiny making Clary go even redder.
“You seem to be handling this fairly well,” Clary commented. She had been expecting a bit more disbelief from the mortal. One didn’t see valkyries very often.
Maia chuckled. “Well, to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure I’m not stuck inside some purgatory dream and this isn’t some death-inspired figment of my imagination. I’ve decided to just go with it.”
Clary exhaled sharply through her nose.
“This is real,” Clary said.
“That’s exactly what a purgatory dream would say,” Maia countered teasingly. “For all I know, I could reach out and you’d disappear into thin air.”
Maia extended her hand towards Clary’s wing where it was pressed against the arm of the couch. Clary jerked it away instinctively, pulling it as tight as she could against her back. Her heart pounded suddenly. The only person she’d ever let touch her wings before was Isabelle, and that was only once to allow her to bandage them after Clary had been injured while flying in a storm. She was protective of them, even more so after coming so close to having them taken away.
Maia pulled her hand back sharply, comprehending that Clary did not want that touch. A faint blush tinted her cheeks. Clary hadn’t meant to embarrass her; she knew Maia had only been joking around, but she couldn’t help it.
Maia got up to tend to the kettle, working in silence for a few minutes. Once it was boiling, she prepared tea for the two of them in the kitchen. When she returned with the tea, Maia offered Clary a mug and a smile.
“So,” Maia started again, clearing her throat, “if this is as real as you say it is, I’m going to need an explanation of what the hell is actually going on. I’ve been trying to figure it out all week and I’m lost.”
Clary appreciated that Maia moved on so easily so that Clary didn’t have to explain her reaction. It was much simpler to explain what had happened that day on the battlefield.
Clary told Maia about how the angels had created the valkyries as the initial defenders of Heaven and soldiers for the angels' wars. Back when it was just a bunch of deities fighting over the world and its mortal inhabitants, the angels needed someone to crush their enemies. Once they had staked their claim over pretty much everything, they no longer needed the valkyries to defend them. The angels realized that the valkyries were so suited to war it just made sense to have them act as their hand in mortal wars as they had in the divine ones of the past. Clary explained how the valkyries had lists of who would die in every battle and how they used their magic to abide by these lists.
Maia sipped her tea slowly and listened intently to every word that Clary said, only interrupting with questions every so often. Clary couldn’t remember when she’d talked this long before and someone other than Isabelle had listened to her. The angels never asked for many words from her and there were only a handful of other valkyries who made any kind of effort to have a conversation with her. Maia made her feel heard, like her words actually held weight. It was exhilarating to have a voice for the first time in a long time.
Clary finished her explanation with what had happened in that fateful battle, how she had chosen to defy the angels and save Maia’s life. Clary felt self-conscious as she spoke about this bit. She tried to talk around her reasoning as much as she could. The thought of Maia listening to how entranced Clary had been by her made the valkyrie want to throw herself into the roaring fire. A majority of this part of the story was said to the floor rather than Maia’s face.
When she concluded, Clary chanced a glance at Maia’s face. Her mouth was pursed and she was tapping her thumbs together. Unlike Clary, who could barely get herself to look at Maia, Maia still hadn’t removed her gaze from Clary.
“I should be dead right now,” Maia whispered, her eyes latching onto Clary’s.
“But you’re not,” Clary assured. “You’re okay. You survived.”
“Only because you were there. If it had been some other valkyrie assigned to that fight, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
“Don’t think about that. I was there and you made it out alright. It won’t do you any good to think about futures that did not come to fruition.”
Maia shook her head. Clary had more sympathy for Maia than she probably realized. She too had almost lost her life that day and yet somehow she had made it through. It was a scary thing to think about and Clary wished she was better at taking her own advice. She felt that weight of survival on her shoulders just as Maia did.
“I don’t get it,” Maia sighed.
“Don’t get what?”
“Why you did it. You told me how the lists work. You told me how strict the angels are, what you risked to heal me. So I don’t understand why you would save me when you don’t even know me.”
Clary swallowed roughly. She’d been hoping to avoid this subject, but she couldn’t think of an excuse to replace the truth.
“There was just– there was something special about you, Maia. I was impressed by your skill, but it was so much more than that. You fought with purpose and passion and everything I wished I could find in myself. I’ve taught myself to push those feelings down within myself because the angels wouldn’t approve. I was afraid– I am afraid. But you weren’t. You were surrounded by people trying to hurt you and you were fearless. You fought like your cause was more important than anything else. There was such conviction inside of you. It moved me more than anything has moved me in a very, very long time and I couldn’t push that down like I had done with my feelings in the past. When you got hurt, I just couldn’t let that conviction leave the world. I wanted to see more of it and I wanted the world to see it too. In my mind, the only way to ensure that was to save you, no matter what the angels thought.”
Maia’s thumbs had stopped twiddling and her mouth had fallen slightly open.
“You saw all of that in me?” she asked, her voice more breath than sound. It seemed harder for her to believe that someone had seen something so magnificent in her than it had been to comprehend the existence of the angels and the valkyries.
“Do you not see it in yourself?” Clary asked, thinking Maia’s spark must be obvious to all who met her. Did she really not recognize her own power?
“I’m just a soldier, a person who loves my nation. Yes, I’m passionate about what I believe in. I can’t deny how invested I am in the war against Idris, but I’m not the only one. I’m not special, Clary.”
Maia pulled her arms closer to her chest and ducked her head.
“I think you underestimate yourself, Maia. I have seen thousands of battles, hundreds of thousands soldiers rising and falling in the tides of war. I’ve seen revolutionaries and messiahs and heroes. I’ve seen ordinary people, people who ‘weren’t special,’ fighting for a better world for the people they love. Not one of them has affected me like you have. I think that must mean something, don’t you?”
Clary reached out and settled her hand on top of Maia’s. Her skin was warm against Clary’s palm. Maia’s fingers twitched upwards.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think,” Maia admitted.
This girl had seemed so strong in battle, but now she was vulnerable. Clearly, there was so much more to her than the strength she’d displayed on the day they met. Clary had been emboldened by Maia’s spirit that day. She’d set something inside Clary ablaze, made her feel wild and intoxicated. Now, Clary felt something softer unfurling inside her, something that slowed her heartbeat yet made it pound with more force. Each pulse felt more sure than the last, each beat humming with a balmier sort of awe.
Seeing Maia with her defenses down felt like a gift. Maia’s strength was for the world, but this moment felt like it was just for Clary. Very few things had ever been just for her and she intended to bask in it.
“That’s okay,” Clary replied. “You don’t have to think about it now. Can you tell me something though?”
Maia nodded.
“What are you fighting for? I’ve been wondering that since the last time I saw you. Valkyries are discouraged from immersing themselves in mortal conflicts so I’m afraid I don’t know much about what is happening. But I feel like it must be important for you to care so deeply about your cause.”
Maia sighed and turned to look into the fire.
“I’m fighting for my brother and for everyone that Idris has hurt on its quest for power. I’m fighting for the people like him who were trying to lead simple, honest lives but lost everything because of Idris’ greed. The things they’ve taken from us… I can’t stand by and watch them take even more.”
From there, Maia went on to detail how the war had started. It started as a simple border conflict, as Clary already knew. It was political at first. No one got hurt but the two countries’ leaders were at each other’s throats as they argued about lines on a map. There wouldn’t have been a war if Idris had been patient, but they were arrogant and unwilling to wait until negotiations had concluded. After a month of diplomacy, Idris decided they’d had enough talking and chose to have their troops simply occupy the territory they claimed belonged to them. They took a Downworld town using force and began to settle their own people there. They pushed the Downworlders from their homes and commandeered their resources.The Downworld sent its own troops to take back the town, but they weren’t strong enough. They retreated.
After that first battle, officials in Idris realized that they could simply keep taking Downworld territory for themselves. They were older, richer, and far more militarily skilled than the Downworld. Idris had all the advantages and they wanted to make sure that the Downworld knew that. They took town after town, sending residents fleeing and filling the gaps with citizens from Idris. Idris took control of key fishing towns and mining sites that had been cornerstones of the Downworld economy. The Downworld was crumbling and it was all they could do to stay afloat long enough to hopefully defeat Idris. Two years later, they were still holding on, but just barely.
Maia’s brother had been a traveling merchant and he’d been visiting that very first town on business when Idris had captured it. He had been forced to flee with the rest of the Downworlders. He had seen firsthand the horrors of what Idris was doing and he knew he couldn’t just stand by. He enlisted almost immediately, much to the disdain of his and Maia’s parents. He made his way up the ladder and fought in numerous battles to push back Idris. According to Maia, he was a brilliant fighter and war strategist, and there were rumors he was going to be promoted to a colonel for the Downworld army. Unfortunately, he was killed in a surprise raid by the Idris forces before that could happen.
Maia enlisted six days after her brother's funeral.
“Do you understand now?” Maia asked eventually. “They took my brother from me. They took our safety. We never know if it’ll be our town that gets taken next. There were times when we didn’t even know if we’d have food on our plates the next day. Innocent people are being destroyed by Idris. That’s why I’m fighting so hard. I can’t let them keep hurting people, not if I can do something to put an end to it.”
“Yes, I think I do,” Clary answered.
And it was the truth. She understood Maia’s pain and her anger. Maia and her people had lost so much to Idris. She understood the desire to do the right thing. And maybe somewhere deep in her heart she was beginning to more than just understand Maia’s anger, maybe she was beginning to feel it herself. It was a hesitant feeling, a bit of heat that hadn’t yet burst into flames. Clary was still remembering how to let that particular emotion back into herself.
Their conversation turned away from the war after that. Clary could sense that Maia was weary and wanted to talk about something other than Idris’ looming presence on the border. Maia told Clary about what her brother was like as a kid and a hilarious story about his run-in with pirates during his time as a merchant. She told her about the town she’d grown up in, about the lake she’d swim in on hot summer nights and the tree house her dad had built in their backyard. She had Clary hunched over in tears of laughter as she explained the pranks her and her brother had played on their cousins and as she recounted the many failed attempts her parents had made at finding a suitor that Maia couldn’t scare away.
Maia had so many stories and sometimes Clary felt like she couldn’t hold her own in the conversation. Despite living far longer than Maia, much of her life had been taken up by the routine of being a valkyrie. Time passed a little differently for beings her age so she hadn’t ever really felt the decades of monotony weighing down on her until that night when she saw how much she could have been doing instead. Still, Clary did her best to bring what she could to the conversation. She told Maia about how she’d snuck out of lessons with Isabelle one time when they were young valkyries to steal wine from the kitchens and spend the afternoon getting tipsy in the barracks. Maia smiled as Clary described the other valkyries she lived with and the little bits of drama that had occurred between them. Clary knew her stories weren’t as exciting as Maia’s, but Maia never expressed anything less than keen interest in what Clary was saying.
The hours passed before Clary could even register that one hour had faded into the next. Talking with Maia was so easy and Clary felt herself settling into the feeling. It was calming to be able to speak without really thinking about it. All of the anxiety she’d felt during the last week melted away more and more with every word Maia sent drifting into Clary’s ears. There were no more thoughts about the angels or their punishment. There was only Maia’s voice curling around her and nudging her deeper into the couch cushions.
Clary barely noticed when the week of sleepless nights finally caught up to her and her eyes began to close. The last thing she saw was Maia’s smiling eyes, lost in a memory she was telling Clary. Clary didn’t hear the end of the story, but she had a feeling it was a happy one.
.
When Clary woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of plates gently thudding against the wooden dining table and the patter of rain against the windows. She sat up slowly, ruffling the sleep out of her feathers. Her drowsiness was soft, so unlike the achey exhaustion she’d been feeling on recent mornings.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Clary stood up sharply and turned to see Maia in the kitchen, screwing a lid back onto a jar of jam.
Clary felt suddenly embarrassed, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. It hadn’t been her intention to stay the night at Maia’s home. She hated thinking she was imposing on Maia’s life.
“Yes, I am. I want to apologize for falling asleep. It was so rude of me to sleep in your home without asking when you hardly know me.”
Maia smirked.
“If I was opposed to you staying, I would have woken you up. You seemed like you really needed a good night’s rest and I honestly didn’t mind. Don’t worry about it, Clary.”
Clary blushed and walked towards the kitchen.
“Now,” Maia said, “I made a bit of breakfast if you’re hungry. Help yourself.”
On the dining table, two plates were loaded with toast and fruit. Steaming mugs of coffee let off a bitter smell that made Clary crinkle her nose. It was so nice of Maia to take such good care of her and Clary was very tempted to sit down and draw her stay out a little longer. She didn’t want to go back to Heaven yet.
“I really appreciate that, Maia. I wish I could stay,” Clary said.
Disappointment flashed across Maia’s features.
“Oh, right, of course. I understand,” Maia stammered, immediately reaching to clear away the plates. Just like she had the night before, she was trying to keep her hands busy to hide any nervous energy from escaping.
Clary grabbed the girl’s wrists before she could pick the plates up. Maia stilled instantly, her gaze dropping to Clary’s hands. Clary tried not to let the way her fingers tingled at the contact distract her from what she wanted to say.
“Trust me, I would love to stay. It was very kind of you to take me into your home and do all of this for me. I would much rather stay here with you than return to Heaven, but I’m on thin ice right now and I can’t be late to my duties. You understand, don’t you?”
Maia nodded and chuckled to herself. “Yeah, I get it. You wouldn’t want to upset the angels more than you already have, little rebel.”
Clary smiled at that nickname.
“No, I don’t.”
Maia pulled her wrists out of Clary’s hold and Clary found herself saddened by the broken contact. However, it didn’t last long because Maia then let her palms find their way into Clary’s.
“Is this goodbye then?” The unhappiness in Maia’s voice surprised Clary and stung her skin.
“I don’t want it to be, but it might have to be. I’m not sure what the angels would do if they found out I came here.”
Clary squeezed Maia’s hands. Maia gave her a half-smile.
“I understand. Well, if you ever need a couch to sleep on, or if you just need to get away from all that divine duty shit, you’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you, Maia,” Clary whispered.
“Thank you,” Maia replied.
Clary stepped away. Her hands were cold now.
As Clary flew back to Heaven, she realized she wouldn’t be able to stay away forever. The pull she felt to Maia was only stronger now that she’d gotten to know her. Last night, Clary had wondered if she had visited Maia to get her fill of her, to scratch the itch and move on. But now, Clary feared she had only dug herself into a deeper hole, that she had gotten another taste and only wanted more. Clary knew she’d lose grip on her resolve eventually.
Clary would go to Maia again. There was no question about that now.
There was only one question remaining:
When?