Archive of Our Own

“We’re here today for the trial of Camille Belcourt, former Leader of the New York Vampire Clan,” Inquisitor Imogen Herondale began. 

Her always stoic nature emanated throughout the entire room. There wasn’t a soul present who wasn’t at least a little intimidated by her, Clary included. Though, it was hard to focus on anything other than every rapidly beating heart that surrounded her. She tried to stop the thrumming in her ears and or the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed the saliva that built up in her mouth from hunger. Even her best friend’s arm around her did nothing to stop the thirst flooding her body. 

Simon squeezed her a little tighter when her fingernails dug into his thighs. She could barely control herself when she was alone, locked in a cage of Alec’s design, let alone swarmed by shadowhunters who smelled like heaven sent to earth just for her. She comprehended immediately why Camille had gone after her in the first place. 

“Alexander Lightwood, will you begin?” the Inquisitor requested. Alec stood and cleared his throat. 

“Camille Belcourt has been charged with violating the Accords through the act of siring a subjugate against her will. The subjugate in question is one of our own, a child of Raziel, with shadowhunter blood coursing through her veins. I am representing Clarissa Fairchild today to prove that, if given the choice that was violently manipulated out of her, Ms. Fairchild would not have favored this death for herself. Camille Belcourt has not only violated the sacred Accords, but she has also violated an innocent girl in the process.”

Violated, Clary repeated in her mind. She thought back to the night in question, trying to wrap her head around the intensity of the word. 

Was she violated? Was she… manipulated? Would she not have chosen the life she was now supposedly trapped in? She didn’t feel trapped by what Camille did to her but the more Simon’s arm tightened around her, the more Alec stared unblinking in her direction, the more sympathetic glances over shoulders she received from all the shadowhunters? That made her feel trapped.

When she was with Camille, she felt seen . For the first time in her life–mundane or shadowhunter–she didn’t feel like an outcast. She felt like she belonged; at the DuMort, with the New York Clan, in Camille’s delicate arms, and under her gentle touch. She locked eyes with Camille on the stand and everything in her shined brighter than the sun she could no longer feel on her skin. 

“Ms. Belcourt, you have a… reputation among the Downworld, do you not?” Alec asked, hands on his hips. 

“I’d like to think so, thank you for noticing,” Camille answered. Clary had to press her lips together to conceal a smile that matched Camille’s lips. 

“You’re known for fraternizing along the line of legality when it comes to the Accords,” Alec began, only for Camille to snort out a giggle. 

“I’ve heard I’m not the only one fraternizing against the Accords, Mr. Lightwood.” Alec froze, the tension in his shoulders obvious in the way the wrinkles in his suit jacket disappeared. 

“Ms. Belcourt, please don’t antagonize the prosecutor,” the Inquisitor commanded with a huff. “Mr. Lightwood, if you’re… relationships are going to affect your ability to examine Ms. Belcourt, we can call in–”

“No,” Alec decided as he stood up a little straight, “there is nothing that will interfere with this trial, Inquisitor Herondale.”

“Then carry on with questioning, and Ms. Belcourt,” she directed at the vampire, “you’d be wise to focus on the subject of this trial.” Camille nodded but her eyes never left Clary. 

“Ms. Belcourt, would you agree that an innocent life has been ended by your reckless decision to break the sacred laws of the Shadow World?” It was a loaded question and Camille knew it. Clary had told her about Alec’s immediate hesitance of her… well, existence , and there was nothing stopping her from airing that out. 

“I would argue that Clarissa’s life has just begun ,” she answered. Clary was sure her surprise was apparent on her face because the corner of Camille’s lip tugged upward. “The phrasing of the question, Mr. Lightwood, is quite mightier than thou, would you agree?” 

“How so?” Alec asked, his eyebrows furrowed more than it usually was. 

“You believe that the decision was reckless, not deliberate. You believe that Clarissa was violated, as you put earlier, that I broke the law by making her one of my own,” Camille noted. 

“Are you saying… that you didn’t break the law?” Alec asked. 

“I’m saying that I don’t deserve to be the one sitting on this ridiculously over-the-top stand right now,” Camille stated, eyes boring into Clary’s with so much heat, Clary didn’t know how to handle it. 

“And who does, Ms. Belcourt?”

“I think the real question,” Camille began, finally glancing away from Clary so she could breathe again, “is who doesn’t ?” She and Alec stared at each other so intensely that Clary could feel it thundering under her skin. “If you’re going to put me on trial for following my– instinct,” she caught herself, the trip up not going unnoticed by Clary, “then you might as well convict every single downworlder in the Shadow World, Mr. Lightwood. But, well, we all know that doesn’t quite work out in anyone’s favor, now don’t we?” 

“Ms. Belcourt, you will answer the questions asked of you or so help me Raziel, I will–”

“No!” Clary didn’t realize it was her shouting until every eye in the room was on her standing form; Camille’s no exception. 

“Ms. Fairchild, so you have something to add to Mr. Lightwood’s line of questioning?” the Inquisitor asked. Alec shot her a look that Shadowhunter Clary would have never dared to challenge. Vampire Clary was, apparently, a different story. 

“I deserve to be on that stand, Mrs. Inquisitor,” she said, bowing her head as she shook off Simon and Izzy’s grip on each arm. “If I've learned one thing about shadowhunters, it’s that you wouldn’t believe a word Camille says even if she swore to.” The Inquisitor nodded reluctantly, waving Clary forward. 

“Clary, what are you doing?” Alec whispered-shouted at her as she crossed the threshold into his territory. 

“I’m– I– don’t know,” she answered honestly. 

Alec used the hesitation to his advantage. “I think it’s clear that Ms. Belcourt is further manipulating Ms. Fairchild, Inquisitor. There is no reason for her to–”

“You’re wrong, Alec. Mr. Lightwood,” Clary corrected, standing straight as she spoke. 

“About what, Ms. Fairchild?” the Inquisitor asked. 

“About… everything. I was not violated, I was not– am not–being manipulated. I am not innocent in this.”

“Explain yourself,” the Inquisitor demanded. Clary took a deep breath, sending a longing glance at Camille who sat back in her chair, a smile still gracing her face. 

“What Mr. Lightwood said is far from the truth. If given the choice again , my answer would be the same.”

“Again?” Simon whispered from his seat; though Clary heard him as clear as day. 

“Camille– Ms. Belcourt –gave me the choice; to live on as a shadowhunter under the Clave, continue on as a shadowhunter, and never see her again or…” Clary closed her eyes, her heart breaking at the mere thought. “Or to be part of her family for the rest of my life.”

“And you chose… her?” Alec asked, sitting down defeatedly in his seat. 

Clary nodded, and as she gazed back over at Camille, she said, “Without question.”

“Did Ms. Belcourt explain what that would mean? Did she clarify explicitly that meant turning you into one of them?” 

“A vampire?” Clary said, whirling toward the Inquisitor with heat in her gaze.  “You say them like Camille and her Clan are beneath you. You say them like someone couldn’t possibly make the choice against maintaining superiority and– What? Downgrading to the downworld?”

“Ms. Fairchild, you need to be careful how you speak to me,” the Inquisitor warned. 

“This is my decision, my life, my future that is under scrutiny, not Camille’s,” Clary turned back toward Alec as she finished, “so to answer your question; me. I’m the one that deserves to be on trial.” 

“Do you understand what you’re sacrificing here, Ms. Fairchild?” the Inquisitor asked like Clary was some child. “We cannot put you on trial for making a decision–albeit a childish one–but you will no longer be protected under the Clave that you speak so ill of. You will have one protector for the rest of your elongated lifespan. Are you willing to risk it all for a vampire?”

“I’m willing to risk everything for Camille.” 

At Clary’s answer, there wasn’t a closed mouth in the room. Gasps erupted around her and she could hear the unintelligible whispers echoing through the large space but she didn’t bother to glance around. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to the accusations and the harsh words directed at the woman that she loved, sitting only a few feet away from her. 

Instead, Clary stared at the person she would spend the rest of her life–however long it was–with and held out her hand. 

“We’re leaving,” Clary said. 

“Ms. Fairchild, if you leave , you will never be allowed back on this sacred ground,” the Inquisitor ordered as she stood. 

Clary glanced around at the people she had grown fond of the last few weeks–Isabelle, Jace, even Alec–before turning back toward the Inquisitor. 

“This ground is far less sacred than the ground Camille walks on.” 

Then, she left, Camille’s hand laced tightly with hers and her head held high.