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Marcus Herondale was twenty years old when his grandfather died.
His father, being the only surviving son of James Herondale, asked for the funeral rites to be a private affair. The Silent Brothers compiled, one more so than the others, he noted.
And so he and his parents grieved in private, often approached by his father’s cousins, the Blackthorns and the Carstairs and even some distant Lightwoods, to offer their condolences. Marcus felt helplessly numb through it all, as he had during his grandmother’s funeral the year prior.
After burning the pyre, the Silent Brothers took his grandfather’s ashes to the Silent City. However, one stayed behind. Marcus recognized him. It was Brother Zachariah. His grandfather always said he would always be a friend to the Herondales. Zachariah was speaking with his father and, without really meaning to, he overheard their conversation.
I’m sorry, Owen, Zachariah’s voice said in his head. He didn’t know if Zachariah was aware that his thoughts reached Marcus, but it was most likely not since he kept hearing his voice.
“I knew she wouldn’t come. She hasn’t come back not once since Grandpa Will died. I shouldn’t have expected it to be any different this time. You don’t have to apologize to me, Uncle Jem.” Owen sounded less frustrated than he probably meant to. In fact, he looked like he was on the verge of tears.
Brother Zachariah must have also noticed. He put a comforting hand on Owen’s shoulder, and Owen pulled him into a tight hug, few tears escaping. I’m sorry you’re hurting, Owen. Your grandmother is hurting as well. She wishes she could be here for you. Seeing you would remind her so painful of Will and now of your father. If I were not with the Brothers, I believe I’d feel the same.
Marcus thought it strange to see a Silent Brother act so human . It was something he was not used to, but humanity on Zachariah only seemed natural. The strangeness from earlier turned into a feeling at ease.
This is the last time you’ll hear from her, but she will never stop looking after your family from afar. Zachariah let his father compose himself before drawing attention to him.
“Like a guardian angel,” mumbled Marcus, but he was not quiet enough to go unheard.
Marcus , he said, I’m glad you’re here. Your grandfather left some of his belongings to you in his will .
It turned out James left Owen his house and weapons and some poetry books. Owen was always more fond of poetry more than stories, so Marcus was left with his grandfather’s old novels and some other items. They became his most treasured possessions. Marcus came to wish he had spent more time with his grandfather. He would have liked to have known more about the man who left witty annotations on the pages of his books. The man who was the only Shadowhunter in existence to use a runed gun to kill demons. The man who had golden eyes, which many would scorn him for looking like his demonic ancestry.
Marcus thought they looked nothing like demon eyes. They were as golden as the sun, and those golden eyes would stay burned into his memory for a lifetime.
2007
Marcus was remembering the day of his grandfather’s funeral when he heard the news. Valentine is alive. His son lives. His wife hid his daughter from him. And now that daughter and son of his are at the New York Institute and they let Valentine get away.
Of course, that’s only what he hears. Marcus would never fault the children for Valentine’s disappearance. They’re only children after all and can hardly be held accountable. The Clave, on the other hand, could care less. They claim the Valentine’s children let him get away, that they were conspiring with him, and now they’re demanding to have them arrested in the Bone City.
Therefore, making it Marcus’s problem to solve.
As Inquisitor, he was responsible for determining the innocence of Jonathan Morgenstern, which the Lightwoods claimed he was. Clarissa Morgenstern’s innocence was much easier to believe. Apparently, the girl had been raised by her mother Jocelyn in the mundane world and was introduced to the Shadow World for only a short amount of time. She would have been clueless to the whole affair and honestly, Marcus thought she might be shocked or traumatized by the whole ordeal. That meant he would be making Jonathan his priority.
Arriving at the New York Institute, he was met by Maryse Lightwood. She and her husband ran the Institute because he exiled them here when the punishments were being laid out for former Circle members. If Marcus was honest, he punished most of them harshly, not just for breaking the Law, but because Marcus was a grieving man who lost his son, his wife, his daughter-in-law, and his unborn grandchild all in one fell swoop. Valentine was responsible for his son’s death when he corrupted him and got him into his group of Downworlder hating fanatics turning him into one. Forgive him if he was being biased because Marcus would not be apologizing.
Marcus thought about what his grandfather, the son of a warlock, would think of Stephen, who died with the belief that all Downworlders should not exist. He wondered what his grandfather would think of him , the man who raised him. Sometimes Marcus would hate himself because if he could’ve done something differently, then maybe Stephen would’ve never let Valentine convince him to join the Circle. His self loathing never lasted though. His hatred always directed itself back to Valentine.
Especially now more than ever.
Maryse led him to the Institute’s library. She seemed a bit off and distracted like her mind was elsewhere. He pretended not to notice. Instead, his eyes wandered to the bookshelves trying to find an interesting title. He still read books, although he hardly ever had time as Inquisitor. Marcus learned to be appreciative of the imagination of mundanes. Most Shadowhunters would not admit to learning from mundanes, but Marcus was not one of them. He thought their innovations were something to take notice of and keep in mind. In some ways, they were more knowledgeable than Shadowhunters.
Marcus was about to ask Maryse where Jonathan was when a blonde haired boy burst open the doors of the library. The unspoken question answered itself.
“This is him?”
“Yes, Inquisitor,” Maryse replied. “This is Jonathan Morgenstern.”
Taking a step toward him, Marcus studied the boy, expecting to see a Valentine lookalike. Then he really looked at him and realized he looked nothing like Valentine. Sure they were both blonde, but while Valentine’s hair was so pale it looked white, this boy’s was golden. And his eyes were too.
Marcus gasped out loud. He’s seen those golden eyes before. He knew he’d never forget them. Jonathan’s eyes were the same as his grandfather’s.
But what the hell were James Herondale’s eyes doing on Valentine’s son?
“Bloody hell,” he spat at Jonathan.
The boy glared at him, and opened his mouth to say something, but Marcus stormed out of the library. It became too unsettling to be in the same room as him, to have those eyes on him.
There was another boy outside the library door. He had the Lightwood blue eyes and assumed he must be Maryse’s son, as the boy rushed in after his exit. Maryse herself went to follow Marcus.
“Inquisitor Herondale, wait!” she called after him. Suddenly, he realized how out of character his behavior must have seemed to her.
She was about to start talking when Marcus held up a hand. “Maryse, I apologize for my impulsiveness, but I must reschedule my meeting with Jonathan.”
Maryse looked uneasy, sensing something was off. “If there’s anything Jace— Jonathan did to offend you—”
Shaking his head, Marcus turned away. “Something came up.” A lie, but one vague enough she might not question him. Which, predictably, she didn’t. They agreed to meet again as soon as Marcus would get into contact with her.
Marcus found himself in the Silent City. Brother Enoch accompanied him into the city then gave him some privacy as he came to visit his late wife’s ashes.
Imogen Herondale nee. Whitelaw
1946 - 1991
She died of grief. Her heart couldn’t take losing Stephen and she quickly followed him in death. Marcus deeply sighed, wishing she was still here with him. Imogen was a cold woman, but never with him. She allowed herself to be vulnerable with him, and he loved her for it. He fears what would’ve happened to her if they’re roles were reversed. Would she turn into the coldest, meanest version of herself without him? Pushing the thought away, he’s glad he’ll never have to know.
Marcus wondered if this is how his great-grandmother felt when her husband died. He remembered the conversation his father had with Brother Zachariah about her despair. If this is the worst loss he’ll ever experience, he wondered how she could stand living with it. At that moment, he realized he did not know her name.
Tessa.
The sudden voice jolted him. No wonder they’re called Silent Brothers, Marcus thought as Brother Zachariah approached him, footsteps not audible at all. He hadn’t seen him much after his grandfather’s funeral. The last time might’ve been at his whole family’s funeral (except for Céline and her unborn child; they didn’t even get to have a grave at the cemetery in Idris).
“Tessa?” he echoed.
You asked what your great-grandmother’s name is. It’s Tessa. I never realized that no one told you , said Zachariah.
Marcus shrugged indifferently. “Why would anyone have told me? I’ve never met her anyway.”
Would you want to?
He raised a brow. “Why would I?”
I think you’re both very similar. You both lost your families. You’re the last ones alive. Tessa lost Will and her Shadowhunter friends and her children. You lost your wife, son, and daughter-in-law. But Tessa still has some friends, and me. Time passes, people die, and she’ll always still have me. If Silent Brothers could blush, Zachariah would have at this moment. Is there anyone else you have left?
He’s ashamed it took him a while to answer that. “I write letters to Amatis, occasionally. I even send her gifts on her birthday and holidays. She sends me things too. We talk about Stephen mainly, but other things as well.” A pause, then he shook his head, dismissing the thought.
Zachariah offered him a smile. What’s bothering you, Marcus?
He was so caught up in reminiscing about Imogen that he almost forgot why he came here in the first place. “I saw my grandfather’s eyes in the son of another man.
“It was Jonathan Morgenstern. He has the same eyes. Golden. Like the sun.”
Zachariah looked about as shocked as a Silent Brother can get. And what do you think about it?
That’s a question he never really asked himself. It’s a question that can change everything.
“I think I’m going to need proof of Jonathan and Valentine’s relations.”
One thing he learned about mundanes is that DNA testing exists. Marcus was forcing himself not to theorize anything until he got results. If he did, he was afraid of getting his hopes up. Jonathan’s golden eyes meant nothing, not without proof.
With Brother Zachariah’s help and connections, he was able to find a warlock who happened to work at the hospital where Jocelyn Fairchild was being held. That’s where the DNA testing will take place. After contacting Maryse, she confirmed that both Jonathan and Clarissa would go through with his DNA test. With Catarina’s magic, it would ensure that their seraphic Shadowhunter blood would not affect the test in any way that mattered.
Once both teenagers arrived, Marcus thought about the last time he saw Jonathan and felt ashamed. He was too shocked to realize how rude he must have seemed. That’s why he had to correct his mistake.
“Jonathan, Clarissa,” he began.
“ Jace ,” Clarissa interrupted loudly, then she flushed. Unapologetically, she continued without shame. “He prefers to be called Jace. You can just call me Clary… sir,” she added for good measure.
“Right, not a problem,” Marcus continued. “Jace, first and foremost, I’d like to apologize to you for my behavior last time we met. I insulted you and was impolite for no reason whatsoever, and I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
Jace looked surprised. Whatever cocky remark he was going to say disappeared. He’s probably not used to adults admitting when they’re wrong or apologizing. It made Marcus imagine what kind of parenting Valentine must have raised the boy with. Certainly nothing good. Additionally, being the son of Valentine meant Jace must not have been viewed as he once was. Now whenever people saw him, they only saw Valentine’s son and scorned him for it. Marcus was trying to treat him as objective as possible, and it made him upset to see the boy so unsettled by it.
Clary seemed to sense his unexpectedness, and moved the conversation back on track. “Why did you ask to meet us here? Maryse didn’t mention why.”
“That’s because I asked her not to. This is Catarina Loss. She’s a nurse here. She’s also a warlock,” Marcus added.
Catarina smiled slightly and waved a blue hand.
“Yeah, I noticed,” said Jace, sarcasm dripping in his tone. Clary only waved back and returned with her own smile.
“Anyway, the reason you’re here is because I’m not going to believe Valentine’s words. It would be irrational to automatically believe the words of a psychopath. If he says you’re his son, I’m going to need some goddamn proof. We’re going to perform a DNA test. Maryse already consented for both of you since you’re under eighteen and she’s head of your institute.”
“Wait, what?!” Both of them shout.
Catarina scowled at them and hushed them. “Quiet down. You’re in a hospital.” That only caused Jace to roll his eyes.
“Can you even do that? Will it work?” Clary asked skeptically.
“Yes,” Catarina answered. “The Inquisitor already tested it out with his own DNA. It’ll work for you.”
Clary eyed Jace. Their eyes met for a second, but that was enough for them to decide. “Okay,” Clary rolled up her sleeve. Jace copied her.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Typically, it takes about at least three days for DNA tests to determine the results. With Catarina’s magic, it’s done in an hour.
Jace and Clary both refused to leave until the tests were done. They were almost as eager as Marcus was to see the results. With a sample of Jocelyn’s DNA, they compare Clary’s first, which came out positive. She was definitely Jocelyn’s daughter. When Marcus first saw the short, redhead girl with freckles, he immediately knew she was her mother’s daughter. There was no moment of hesitation or doubt like he had when he first saw Jace.
Catarina read his results next. She didn’t automatically say them, and the tension was so thick when she started to double check. “They’re negative,” she announced to three impaitant faces. “According to the test, Jace is not Jocelyn’s son. He’s also not Clary’s brother. Their paternal results are completely different.”
Jace and Clary are both silent with shock as they put together the pieces. Marcus felt relieved to know the truth. But there’s only one question left.
“If Jace is not Valentine’s son, then who is he?” Marcus pondered out loud.
Three pairs of eyes fell on Jace, who brushed off the attention. “Who cares? I’m not Valentine’s son, so does this mean I’m innocent?”
Jace’s eyes were pleading him, and Marcus couldn’t deny him. “You most likely are. Valentine must’ve taken you from your real parents and raised you as his son. He probably never saw you as anything but a weapon against the Clave. That’s why he lied to manipulate you.”
Jace’s face hardened, and Marcus heard how harsh his words sounded saying them out loud.
Slow enough to give Jace a chance to move out of his range, he carefully placed a hand on Jace’s shoulder, much like how Brother Zachariah did for his father many years ago. “But you’re not a weapon. You’re a person, Jace. I’m betting to believe that you’re a good one too.” He had a strong urge to embrace the boy, but Marcus had a feeling Jace wouldn’t appreciate a hug from him.
However it wasn’t long before Clary embraced him herself with a cheery laugh she let out in relief. “We’ve got to tell the others,” she said. In agreement, they dashed out the room.
Once they were out of his sight, Marcus faced Catarina. “I need you to compare my test with Jace’s.”
Catarina nodded and began to scan the tests.
When she finished confirming the tests, Marcus headed back to the New York Institute. He assumed the Lightwoods were now aware of the truth, that Jace is not Valentine’s son, that he never was all along.
Now, thanks to Catarina, he knew whose son Jace was, who his biological family was. It took all the theorizing in the world for Marcus to figure it out how it was possible. When he goes back to Idris, Marcus was going to have some words with a certain prisoner, one close enough to Valentine to know the details he wanted to uncover.
At the institute, the Lightwoods seemed to be in a tense mood, not what he had expected to be. That’s when he found out that the Silent Brothers in the Silent City had been killed by Valentine. There had been a survivor who lived to tell the tale. Marcus selfishly hoped Brother Zachariah survived, that he was alive and well. Marcus already knew he was going to be swamped when he headed back to Idris, but he’d have to stay until Valentine was taken out. That was a problem for Marcus to deal with tomorrow, for today he was determined to see Jace.
Maryse had her daughter Isabelle bring him to see him.
When Jace saw him, he smirked. “Can’t get enough of me, old man?”
Marcus didn’t care if he was being cheeky. He laughed. How did he not see it before? Marcus mused. Herondales were so infamous for their mischievous personality.
“Jace, do you have any birthmarks?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
Marcus pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal his own pale star shaped birthmark. He’s had it since birth. Every Herondale has had it since his great-grandfather is what he’s been told. Although, he never knew how the family got the imprinted scar. It’s a mystery, just like Herondales ability to see ghosts. His father had the scar, he had it, his son had it.
Jace pulled down his own collar, and Marcus can clearly see that he has it too. The very same star shaped scar. Marcus’s head is spinning. Everything added up from the golden eyes to the DNA test to the Herondale birthmark. It could only mean one thing.
“Jace, you’re my grandson.”