#melizzy

[cowardstiel]

i couldn’t care less about the timdawn/jimpam relationship but i care a LOT about melizzie

oh my god i desire that freak lizzie from the australian office…

[half-bakedboy]

no longer temporary

Pairing: Isabelle Lightwood/Trans Meliorn Rated: Gen Prompt: Downworld Cabinet

“What is she doing here?” Izzy whispered to her brother as she tugged sharply on his shirt.

“With the Seelie Queen’s unfortunate passing, the realm had to send someone in her place. Fae politics are a lot more contrite than ours if you can believe it, so in the meantime, Meliron has stepped into her role. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?” Alec asked, knowing full well that it was at least a little bit of a problem.

Izzy hadn’t seen Meliorn since their Edom rescue to save Magnus and she couldn’t say it was with regret. She realized, after seeing Meliorn risk everything to save her brother-in-law, that the torch she had held for so long was not as distinguished as she thought it had been.

read on ao3 or under the cut

“What is she doing here?” Izzy whispered to her brother as she tugged sharply on his shirt.

“With the Seelie Queen’s unfortunate passing, the realm had to send someone in her place. Fae politics are a lot more contrite than ours if you can believe it, so in the meantime, Meliron has stepped into her role. That’s not going to be a problem, is it?” Alec asked, knowing full well that it was at least a little bit of a problem.

Izzy hadn’t seen Meliorn since their Edom rescue to save Magnus and she couldn’t say it was with regret. She realized, after seeing Meliorn risk everything to save her brother-in-law, that the torch she had held for so long was not as distinguished as she thought it had been. Unfortunately, Meliron was as beautiful as ever. The familiar flower on her cheek only accentuated her perfect bone structure, the color bringing out the green Meliorn would deny speckled her eyes, and Izzy could practically feel the leather that covered her from head to toe.

It wasn’t that long ago that Izzy would strip it off of her until both of them were down to nothing. She shook that thought aside just in time for Meliorn to make her way forward, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Ms. Lightwood, it’s lovely to see you again. Will you be joining in on the Cabinet meeting today?” She asked, holding out her hand. Izzy almost didn’t take it, knowing that when she did, that familiar chill would race through every inch of her skin and threaten to leave her breathless.

“Welcome again, Meliorn. We were deeply sorry to hear about your queen but are eager for this new partnership moving forward,” Alec said. His voice was so professional and for a moment, Izzy wondered if she could ever be like him. He nudged her and she was reminded that soon, she would have no choice but to be.

“Yes, my brother is correct. The future of the Seelie Realm is in good hands, that much we’re sure of,” Izzy agreed, allowing herself to be proud of the professionalism in her own voice. “I think you’re the last to arrive, though.”

“Well, then let’s not keep the others waiting. After you, Mr. Lightwood,” Meliorn instructed, bowing ever so slightly as she waved Alec forward.

They followed after him and with each step, Izzy could smell the familiar earthy scent that plagued her dreams, the subtle hints of sage wafting through the air even when they took their seats on opposite sides of the table. Izzy was sure that her heartbeat was racing and if she wasn’t, the stern and confused looks she received from Maia and Simon respectively.

“You okay, Isabelle?” Magnus asked in a whisper, resting a gentle hand on her knee.

“Nervous,” she said simply. If it wasn’t enough of an answer, Magnus didn’t have time to question her because Alec cleared his throat at the head of the table.

“There’s been a substantial amount of change over these past six months and I thank you all for taking the time out of your day to join me today,” he began, smiling over at Izzy, “but this isn’t just a regular meeting.”

“Has something happened?” Maia asked. She was as fierce as ever now that she had fully accepted her role as Alpha of the New York Pack and was always on the lookout for a fight.

“Yes, but nothing that impacts the pack in any way, nor the clan or the realm,” Alec reassured.

“Seems a bit suspicious that the shadowhunters and warlocks weren’t mentioned,” Meliorn supplied unhelpfully, earning a slight glare from Izzy. She just winked back in return.

“Not suspicious,” Magnus said sternly. “It’s simply… well, wonderful–for all of us.”

“You’ve got us at the edge of our seats, guys,” Simon said with a light chuckle, obviously sensing the tension in the room and attempting to relinquish it as best as he knew how.

“Magnus and I have been asked to take on new roles in Idris. I have been promoted to Inquisitor while Magnus…” Alec gestured toward his husband as if asking him to continue.

“I will be taking on a newly established role; the High Warlock of Alicante.”

There was no sound for a moment, simply all of the Downworld leaders sitting in stunned silence, pondering what that could mean in the future. Simon looked like an excited puppy, bouncing in his seat like he wanted to get up and pull the couple into a tight hug while Maia had barely looked surprised by the information. (She had always had faith in what they could do for the Shadow World.)

Of course, Izzy couldn’t stop herself from glancing over to Meliorn. She was expecting the Seelie's eyes to be on Alec and Magnus so when Izzy met her heated stare, her stomach fluttered and her heart jumped into her throat before she could stop it. Meliorn had connected the dots more easily than even Izzy had, but there was something more there, something that Izzy couldn’t let her thoughts linger on.

“In our absence, we have appointed two temporary members of the Cabinet.”

“Do we get a say in this?” Maia asked immediately. Alec nodded and raised his eyebrows at her like he was challenging her to doubt him more. She sat back in her chair.

“These temporary members will be in place until the Cabinet as a whole decides to keep them. Isabelle Lightwood, my sister, will be taking over my duties as Head of the New York Institute and will take my place on the Cabinet while Lorenzo Rey has graciously accepted the duty of High Warlock of Brooklyn once again.”

“He has a vested interest in this Cabinet and does truly believe in what Alec and I had started all those months ago. Both of them are fine choices and we believe that even in their temporary status, will be the most suitable replacements as we take this next step in our journey.”

Their joined hands should have made Izzy smile but instead, she found herself yearning. Meliorn was only a few feet away from her, separated by only a table, yet she felt so far away. She had always been at a distance, Izzy reminded herself, when they were together, when they were apart, on good terms and definitely on bad. It shouldn’t have been so shocking to her that Meliorn might not want a professional relationship with her after everything they had been through.

“Does anyone have any objections to Ms. Lightwood and Mr. Rey taking over the Downworld Cabinet responsibilities starting at the next meeting?” Alec asked.

Izzy held her breath as Meliorn stood, both of her hands resting on the table so Izzy could see each and every vine that lined her tanned skin.

“It’s been an honor for the seelies to work with both of you and I speak for all of us when I say that Isabelle was the best and, as far as I’m concerned, the only person for this role. I wish you well on your journey and expect great things from whom I now consider friends.”

Seelies cannot tell a lie, Izzy knew that, but they were excellent at skirting the truth. She analyzed every single word that left Meliorn’s mouth and found no way to minimize how it made her feel. Meliorn trusted her and as she smiled at Izzy, that trust was evident in her gaze. Trust was the first step to any relationship and Izzy had no doubt she was being given another chance.

Izzy wouldn’t let her get away again.

[shadowhunterspolycule]

meliorn: seelies can't lie. to double-cross would go against our very nature

izzy: ok but consider this *has very big eyes*

meliorn: shit cant argue with that

[normal-thoughts-official]

Isabella, meeting Meliorn for the first time and flirting bc they’re cute: I’m bisexual, by the way:) Mel (who for the purposes of this hc hasn’t interacted with non-Seelies for a while and doesn’t remember much abt them): oh, what’s that? Isabelle: oh you know, I like people who have the same gender as me AND different genders than me. Mel: oh nice Mel, internally: what the FUCK is a gender

UDBDIDNDIDN THE WAY I LOVE THIS

izzy: yeah so basically people with all kinds of genders :)

meliorn, looking at their inventory: im sorry i dont think i have any

izzy: that... also works..?

[thesorrowoflizards]

guys. im sorry, i have to say it. i have to. isabeliorn is a superior ship name to melizzy

[bytheangell]

I’ll See You When the Violence Ends

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Enemies to Lovers for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Meliorn/Isabelle  Rating: Mature – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags:  Enemies to lovers, alternate timelines, background character death, canon-typical violence  Summary:   With tensions rising between the Nephilim and the Downworlders, Isabelle finds herself inexplicably drawn toward the enemy... or rather, one in particular.  -------------

The first time Isabelle comes across a Downworlder on her own she’s ten years old. She sneaks out in the middle of the night, long after her parents’ normal second round of checks on her and her siblings to make sure they’re actually in bed and not ignoring curfew by going up on the roof or to each other’s rooms.

She’d seen plenty of Downworlders brought into the Institute by the older Shadowhunters - ones who were caught breaking the laws. She often wonders why they can’t just listen, like she does, and stay in line. They’re sentiments she’s heard voiced by her parents: the Downworlders simply don’t know their place, if they’d fall in line they wouldn’t be hunted, wouldn’t be hurt. Isabelle believes that because she doesn’t know any better. After all, she follows the rules and knows her place, and she’s just fine.

Isabelle is too young to be out alone, fresh off her first rune ceremony the week before, but she goes anyway. She’s curious. She doesn’t intend on being seen, she just wants to see, to catch a glimpse for herself of a Seelie just out and about, doing whatever it is they do when they aren’t… well, in trouble.

“You shouldn’t be here,” comes the voice behind her.

Isabelle spins around with a gasp. She hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her, how--

It’s a Seelie Knight. She sees the way he looks down at her, though despite the tone of warning behind his words he looks… amused.

“Aren’t you a little young to be out claiming victims alone at night?” He looks around then, as if expecting someone else to come out of the shadows behind her. “Or is this a set-up? You scream for help, I get taken in for attacking a poor, defenseless Nephilim child?”

“What?” Isabelle manages, confused by his reaction. “No. Why would I do that?”

The Seelie only shakes his head.

“You’re not going to, are you? Attack me?” Isabelle asks uncertainly. She didn’t take any of the weapons because she didn’t want anyone to notice one missing, but now she regrets the decision because the Seelie’s description is right: she is defenseless, at least against someone like him.

“No,” he says. “Contrary to what your people may want you to believe, we aren’t all monsters.”

Isabelle feels relief at that. Seelies can’t lie, so he has to be telling the truth.

“Why are you here?” The Seelie asks her curiously.

Isabelle wonders if there’s an answer she can give that isn’t going to get her into trouble. “I wanted to see for myself,” she admits, a bit cryptically but better than nothing.

“See what?” The Seelie prompts.

“Magic,” Isabelle nearly whispers the word, foreign and taboo. 

The entrances to the Seelie realms are meant to be a sort of magic, as are the wards guarding them. And she knows the Seelies themselves are capable of magic too, usually involving nature… she hoped if she saw some of them, and they didn’t realize she was watching, she might get to see some of it herself and know what all the fuss is about.

She expects him to be angry, but he surprises her again by laughing.

“Magic… like this?”

Isabelle watches as he bends over the smallest bud of a flower to the right of where they stand, cupping his hands over it with so much tenderness and care, then pulling them away to see a new, full bloom.

Her first thought is that it’s beautiful. Her next thought, as sharp as a mental slap, is that she shouldn’t think it’s beautiful. The magic the Downworlders have is a threat, the demonic blood it’s born from an abomination.

Isabelle turns without another word and sprints back to the Institute, checking behind her every so often half-expecting him to be in pursuit.

The Seelie doesn’t follow and Isabelle doesn’t tell anyone about her encounter, not even Alec.

-------------

Isabelle sees many Downworlders after that, sometimes with others but sometimes alone, and every time ends the same: with her target in custody or a trophy in her hands. She doesn’t think twice of it: her training ensures that any sympathy she has for those with demon blood is wiped away entirely, her success as a Shadowhunter depends on it.

There are expectations placed upon her as a Lightwood. They are, after all, second only to the Morgensterns in terms of family legacies. There are a lot of benefits to being a Lightwood, but only if she earns them.

And earn them she does. She and Alec are forces to be reckoned with. Alec and his parabatai, Jace Wayland, are nearly unstoppable soldiers in the field. Isabelle and her parabatai, Clarissa Morgenstern, are just as deadly. The four of them are the top of their class, easily surpassing their peers and earning assignments of their own as early as thirteen years old.

Isabelle is 15 when she sees the Seelie Knight again.

She faces him in a dark corner of a park where the Seelies Clarissa is meant to be tracking will run towards to flee back to their realm. He’s the first to cross her path.

“You’re not alone tonight,” he says simply, eyeing her fighting stance and activated runes. “And no longer defenseless.”

She remains silent. For a moment she remembers his kindness before but instead of softening her eyes narrow.

Isabelle tenses as he shifts his position to be near a large tree, and she wonders if it’s to draw magic from it. She knows Seelies can call weapons from the earth and she pulls at the bracelet around her wrist, the adamas shifting into a whip in her hands.

 “What? Don’t you want to witness my magic again?” he asks, a harsh edge to his words as a vine drops down from above her, pulling her feet out from under her as it wraps around her ankles and tugs. Isabelle gives a shout and falls, watching him move easily past her. Using his magic to access the Seelie Realm he vanishes from sight while she dangles upside-down by the tree.

He could’ve killed her.

She would’ve killed him.

Isabelle is more than a little confused and has a lot of time to stew in her thoughts before Clary comes to cut her down and take her home, keeping the particulars of how the Seelies slipped away from their follow-up report .

------------

Isabelle is sixteen when she sees the Seelie Knight again. The altercations between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders turn more frequent - reports of another start coming in almost every other day at this point. She can feel the small encounters building in tension and severity, wondering when they’ll turn to battles, and when those battles will turn to a proper war.

She’s part of a raid that will serve to be a turning point for all involved - one on the Dumort itself, staged at midday so the vampires had little chance to flee. She doesn’t like it - something about the whole set-up doesn’t sit well with her. They’re told the building is harboring fugitives to the Clave, but they’re given no specifics on who or what crimes they’ve committed. They’re not told who inside may be innocent, or given specific targets, and no one asks.

It isn’t a raid - it’s a slaughter. The vampires fight back, because of course they do, and the few who don't flee through secret exits and underground tunnels die bloody.

There’s so much going on that even those who get kills don’t have the time or opportunity to stop and take their spoils - but Isabelle comes across the dead body of Camille in her attempts to find her parabatai in the wide expanse of the hotel, and stops to slide the ruby necklace off the vampire’s neck and hold it delicately in her hands.

When she looks up the Seelie Knight is there, staring at her with just a hint of surprise underneath his otherwise neutral expression.

The vampires must’ve called backup. And if the Seelies are here, to help the vampires of all Downworlders, Isabelle doesn’t like the implications of that for the Nephilim in all of this. Keeping them divided and equally at odds with each other as they are with the Shadowhunters was always a strategy hammered into them from a young age.

It takes Isabelle a second in her panic to realize that his look of surprise isn’t at her, however.

“Camille...” he says the name softly, sadly, almost like a goodbye. Then his eyes catch on the necklace in Isabelle’s hands and he’s across the room before she can blink, the blade of his spear pressed against her throat.

Isabelle’s eyes widen. “It wasn’t me,” she says instinctively. She doesn’t know why - she’s here, after all, she’s a part of this whether this particular life was taken by her hand or not.

It has the desired effect, however, and the Seelie hesitates.

A voice calls from the hallway, shouting “Meliorn! In here!”

The Seelie Knight looks Isabelle over, considering her finally, before lowering his weapon and turning to follow the call out of the door and down the hallway.

On her way to warn the others to retreat she slips the necklace into her pocket and files the name away in her mind for the future.

Meliorn.

---------

Isabelle is out on a routine patrol when she sees the warlock child. She knows the girl is a warlock because she’s seen her with the others on occasion, both on and off the battlefield. For a split second Isabelle considers following her to a less public area to kill her - one less warlock to kill the Nephilim later, after all. Except this isn’t a battle, and while there are no strict rules governing chance public encounters - and while Isabelle knows that many others would certainly seize this opportunity and judge her for allowing it to pass - she can’t bring herself to kill in cold blood.

“Hey,” Isabelle says instead, making her presence known and approaching the warlock with her weapons sheathed. “It isn’t safe for you to be this far alone. Do you know your way back home?”

The child nods.

“Head that way. And travel with a friend next time.”

“I can take care of myself,” the girl states, magic flaring at her fingertips, and for a second Isabelle wonders if she hasn’t made a mistake in judgment. But then the magic is gone again after the quick display, and Isabelle relaxes.

“I’m sure you can,” Isabelle says, and turns to head back to the Institute.

A few moments later she hears footsteps behind her, and then a voice.

“Why did you do that?” Meliorn asks.

“Do what?” She questions, though she already knows.

“Try and warn her?” He clarifies.

Isabelle frowns. “She’s a child, and she’s alone. You really think so little of me to think I’d kill her where she stands? She’s done nothing wrong.”

 “She’s been in the battles. I’ve seen her,” Meliorn points out.

“So have you and I, and yet here we are,” Isabelle counters.

Meliorn smirks. “So we are,” he says.

There’s a charged moment between them during which Isabelle’s fight-or-flight instinct flares within her. Allowing the child to walk away was one thing, but Meliorn?

He seems to consider the same thing, sizing her up, that casual smirk of amusement never faltering.

Without a word he turns to leave.

Isabelle hesitates, once more uncertain if she should allow him to so easily, but reminds herself that he’s doing the same for her. Should they come to arms she may very well lose, and she doesn’t favor the idea of dying alone in an alley on a routine patrol.

She watches him go, curiously, before leaving herself.

--------

Isabelle sees Meliorn more often after that, though she wishes she wouldn’t. As she feared, the occasional fight turns into the occasional proper attack, and though the Seelies stay out of it more than the vampires, werewolves, and warlocks, they can no longer stay entirely removed as their Queen would prefer.

Isabelle watches Meliorn pierce through the hearts of Nephilim - fellow Shadowhunters, people she cares for, friends - while he witnesses her take talons and pointed ears and warlock marks as spoils of her own battles won. Despite the times they met in the past and walked away from one another she has no doubt now, as their eyes meet in a fiery glare, that should they meet alone again it would end much differently.

And it does, but not in the way she expects.

It’s meant to be a fact-gathering mission: Isabelle is alone, intending on keeping a safe distance and following undetected behind the Seelies as they leave the meeting they had with Magnus Bane and return to their realm. She’s meant to find and report on the location of the entrance, as well as note how many of them attended and the sort of weaponry they seem to be outfitted with. Simple intelligence gathering.

Or at least, it should be.

She’s following behind when she notices that there’s one fewer Seelie in front of her than there should be. Almost instantly she feels hands grabbing roughly at her shoulders, pulling her into a shadow-covered side street.

“Why are you following me?” Meliorn demands - and of course it’s him, Isabelle thinks. Except… maybe this can work in her favor.

She doesn’t answer at first, her mind working in overdrive to plan her way out of this.

“I should kill you for this,” he points out. He could. They’ve both killed for less.

She can’t get to her weapons fast enough, or her stele to activate any runes. She’s at the disadvantage, so she either talks her way out of this (which seems unlikely) or…

“Why don’t you, then?” She challenges. It’s a gamble, banking on the fact that he let her live before and little else, but if it works it could buy her the distraction she needs to not just stay alive, but still get the intel she came for. The fact that he doesn’t react immediately is all the encouragement she needs to try.

Impulsively she leans forward, clearing the space between them to press her lips against his. He tenses but doesn’t move away. After a moment he pushes forward and she thinks, just for a second, that he’s going to kill her anyway. Instead he presses her against the wall behind her forcefully as he moves into the kiss. It’s a heated moment, over as quickly as it began when the sound of approaching footsteps reach them and Meliorn tears himself away as intensely as he’d surged forward.

“Go,” he says, and she pretends to, disappearing around the corner as he goes back to his people.

Except she doesn’t actually leave.

Isabelle waits, watching him go, and then re-activates a rune to quiet her steps to follow behind more carefully this time, watching him step into a tree trunk, vanishing from sight. Isabelle counts to 30, slowly, before following behind. She goes through the entrance and finds herself in the Seelie Realm, trying to take it all in --

--turning to see Meliorn waiting for her, looking disappointed.

“I thought you were better than this,” he says, lifting his hand up. Instead of raising a weapon he opens his palm and blows a powder… no, pollen… into her face. Isabelle barely has time to register what’s happening before she tilts to the side, drowsy, and then falls unconscious into Meliorn’s waiting arms.

She wakes up on the ground beside the tree, and when she stands to touch it the entrance is closed, the tree solid, and no trace of Meliorn or the Seelie Realm besides the slight itch of pollen in her nose.

Damn.

---

Shortly after, Isabelle is called into Valentine’s office.

“Put on your best dress, Isabelle,” he tells her. “You’re going to the Seelie Realm.”

Isabelle freezes. Did someone see her with Meliorn? Had he said something, and now she’s being turned over… as what? A bargaining chip? A trade?

A sacrifice?

“For what purpose?” Isabelle asks, keeping her voice steady.

“An act of goodwill. The Seelie Queen has information regarding a vampire den turning children, but will only give it to us on her terms, one of which is that we come to her for it, the other a temporary truce with her people in return for continued intel.” Valentine looks pleased, and she can see why. It’s a good trade for all involved.

“Why me?” Isabelle can’t help but ask. She’s young, inexperienced in the finer matters of political dealings. This is absolutely not something she’d normally be sent on. There are many more skilled than her, many trained for this very task, who should be going instead.

“You were requested specifically,” Valentine says, eyebrow raised. “Any idea why that may be?”

Isabelle shakes her head despite her very strong suspicions. Valentine hums in response but doesn't push the question.

“It should be straightforward. Give her our word for our end of the bargain, get what information she has currently, leave. We’ll brief you before you go, tell you what you can and can’t agree to… you know how their kind can be, playing games with their words. You’ll need to stay sharp, but you’re a fine Shadowhunter, Miss Lightwood. One of our best. I have no doubt you’ll be fine.”

Isabelle forces a smile and nods. “Of course, Sir. You can count on me.”

---

The next day, with as much training as they could cram into the short span of hours, Isabelle finds herself at one of the ever-changing entrances to the Seelie Realm.

Meliorn is there to meet her. She expected to see him, of course, but she also expected to see more than just him. A test, perhaps, of the Shadowhunters’ ability to be trusted with their promise of truce, to not have a full guard on her for the journey? Isabelle hesitates only a moment before following him into the water in front of them.

The Seelie Realm is beautiful and Isabelle stares in wonder around her. The last time she managed to sneak in for just a moment it wasn’t long enough to get a proper look, but now her eyes linger on the trees and flowers, the bugs that seem abundant but never crowding or overwhelming. She’s so entranced by it that she nearly forgets why she’s here, with Meliorn several yards ahead before she starts after him.

Though they travel in silence, with Isabelle following only half a step behind Meliorn once she catches up she finds it’s less of an escort and more of a pleasant walk. His weapon is relaxed at his side, she notes, her own hand grazing over the holster she wears under her dress just in case.

The million questions Isabelle has all seem to die on her tongue as she realizes she’s more afraid of getting an answer she doesn’t want than being left to wonder.

She isn’t left to wonder for long.

Mere minutes later Meliorn directs her into a tent. It quickly becomes clear that this is a home, a bedroom.

“Why am I here?” Isabelle asks finally, unsure if she means ‘here’ in the Realm at large or ‘here’ in this room specifically.

“Because I wanted you here,” Meliorn replies simply. She sees the desire in his eyes, brazen and without pretense.

“The meeting with the Seelie Queen--” Isabelle starts.

“Is very real, as is the deal to be struck. This is simply a detour, should you agree. I thought it a shame to waste the truce between our people for however little time it may last.” Meliorn sets his weapon down in the corner of the room.

Isabelle takes a tentative step forward from where she paused by the entrance.

“But you can’t possibly like me…. Or trust me,” she adds for good measure. How could either of them after watching the other take the lives of their friends and family countless times? She’s surprised then, after a moment of reflection, to realize she doesn’t actually blame him personally - not when he’s in the same position she is, simply a soldier carrying out orders. There were many times she doubted her assignments, questioned her own actions, even regretted them… did the same hold true for Meliorn? Did he regret the Nephilim lives he took?

“I don’t have to trust you to make love to you,” Meliorn doesn’t bother with trying to ‘woo’ her or anything as mundane as that. “And ‘like’ and ‘desire’ are two separate emotions.”

She huffs out a breath of a laugh in disbelief. He isn’t wrong, it’s just the last thing she’d expected to be faced with after all the worrying and careful planning put into this trip, agonizing over her every action, her every word to the Seelies in their realm. And now…

...now, Meliorn stares at her, waiting patiently for her to give any sign of agreement of what he’d like to happen next, with a fire burning bright in his eyes. She feels it too. There’s been a spark between them since long before that encounter in the alleyway, something that sends a shiver down her spine every time they lock eyes and heat rippling through her every time he draws near. She wondered if he felt it, too, and now she knows he did. He still does.

“Alright,” she says finally, moving forward toward him, stopping just short of touching. They lock eyes again, those sparks mirrored in them, while slow, eager smirks spread across each of their mouths before they meet fiercely. There’s no slow start, no steady buildup before Isabelle pulls Meliorn with her as she takes several steps backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. He falls on top of her and, in the back of her mind, Isabelle is dimly aware of a muted instinct to panic at being crowded and pinned down by the Seelie.

It’s silenced by the waves of pleasure that wash over her with each brush of teeth, of hands, of lips and tongue. Could it be this simple, this black and white?

Isabelle never imagined any decision could feel this effortless… but she hasn’t made all that many decisions before, has she? It’s always been orders and protocol and expectations.

But not this. This is something different.

She isn’t a soldier here, or a sister, or a parabatai. There is no love demanded of her, no expectation or trust or devotion.

There’s only temporary truce and desire, a combination Isabelle’s growing more fond of by the second as she, for the first time in a very long time, loses herself in something entirely her own.

[enkelimagnus]

Power In Her Hands (Melizzy)

Izzy/Meliorn, Rated M, 1.8k words, Post Canon

Things have changed since the death of the Seelie Queen. Isabelle visits the Seelie Court, her Seelie King.

Written for @shadowhunterschallenges, Day 2 of the RarePair Challenge: Melizzy

Read On AO3

Things have changed since the death of the Seelie Queen.

Isabelle doesn’t walk into the Seelie realm through the back door anymore; she walks into it through the main entrance, the one that leads directly next to the palace. The one she never used to take before.

Leaves, the colors of sunset, gather at the foot of the great arched bridge over which a street has been built. The entrance is underneath the old, cream-colored stone, darkened by age and the constant pollution of the mundane world.

More leaves stick wetly to the lambskin of her thigh-high boots as she walks into the darkness under the bridge. She takes step after step, and every time the cluster of leaves stick further up her body. Soon, her legs are covered by leaves from the tip of her toe to her thigh. She can feel her body half into the Seelie Realm already.

Wind blows more leaves onto her. They stick now to her torso, to the dress she’s wearing and the jacket on top of that. Soon, the first leaf gets onto her cleavage, cold and wet and disgusting. It hasn’t rained in New York in weeks.

Isabelle struggles not to blink away the hand-sized red maple leaf that covers one of her eyes. Her mouth is covered by more of them, keeping her from breathing properly, a barrier from the air. She keeps walking. Once the last inch of her body is covered in leaves, she feels herself pulled into the Seelie Court.

Fingers pry the leaves from her eyes. She blinks open. A Seelie girl, hair braided with flowers, is standing above her. Isabelle doesn’t know how to describe the look in the girl’s eyes. Animosity? Curiosity? A mix of both?

Seelie-Clave relations haven’t gotten much better since Clary’s departure. Though the rest of the Shadow World has settled into a sort of peace, with some distinct improvements when it comes to Downworlder rights all over the world, Seelies have kept their gates closed, even more so than before.

Jonathan was a Shadowhunter, despite the demon blood. And many Seelies are still upset that he killed their Queen. Even if the new Monarch is much more to Isabelle’s liking.

She sits up from where she’s appeared, right before the Seelie Palace’s gate, in the piles of leaves. The Seelie girl stares at her, awaiting something. Maybe a reason why she’s here.

“I’m here to see the Seelie King,” Isabelle says, not without snap in her tone.

The Seelie girl’s lips curl back on themselves to show long, sharp, villiform teeth. Isabelle sighs softly. She’s used to this now. She’s used to what it’s like to visit the King.

“I’m Isabelle Lightwood,” she continues.

The girl freezes and hides away her teeth. Good. Isabelle peels leaves from her long, flowing hair. She’s let it grow a little more now and it reaches down to her lower back. She likes the look it gives her. And the King likes it as well.

“The Queen of the New York Nephili Court,” the girl hisses.

She must be very young, Isabelle realizes. Only the young Seelies call her the Queen of the New York Nephili Court. They haven’t yet been explained that the hierarchy of the Clave is not the hierarchy of the Seelie Realm.

Isabelle hums in reply.

The doors to the Seelie Palace open as Isabelle steps up to them. She smiles. Outside, she forgets what it feels like to be powerful like she is in the Seelie Realm. Now, handmaidens buzz around her to take her jacket and take the leaves off of her clothing. They were wet and that water has seeped into the fabric of her dress, leaving it stained in places, almost see-through in others.

She shoos them away and they disperse like flies. Isabelle can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Is he holding court?” Isabelle asks the girl that met her at the gate.

The girl nods.

Isabelle starts walking down the corridor of the palace. It’s overgrown by vines and plants, flowers as large as her head blossoming around the pillars that keep the high, vaulted ceilings up. Isabelle doesn’t stop to look at the flowers anymore. She knows this place better than all other Shadowhunters.

She walks into the Seelie Courtroom. There’s a small warlock man, his antlers too heavy for his head, talking to the man that sits on the throne of the Seelie Monarch.

His eyes snap from the warlock to her immediately as she steps through the room. They’re dark, sharp, and they roam over her body, over the whip on her wrist and the seraph blade in her thigh holster. She’s the only Shadowhunter allowed her weapons in the court. Perk of being the King’s Consort, she guesses.

She’s earned that title, been through all of the trials of the Seelie Court, proved her value as his Consort. She’s been chosen by him and she’s been trialed by his people. They don’t really get to complain and demand anything of her, anymore.

The King smiles at her, a secretive smile only for her. Isabelle smiles back at him. The Seelie Crown rests on his head, hair strands wrapped and braided around his face and around the wood of the crown. The blue highlights he’s always worn peek through the darkness of the headdress. He looks beautiful.

The Court falls silent, everyone staring at her. She walks to the throne and stands in front of him. The warlock is entirely forgotten by everyone. He doesn’t dare speak up against her. No one does when they learn who she is.

The King stands from his throne. The robe he wears over his clothing unfolds around him like the leaves that covered her as she walked into the realm. He holds out a hand for her and she takes it. He pulls her to him, her body hitting his hard, his hands already leaving hers to grab at her waist and keep her close.

She tilts her head back. He kisses her. His lips are demanding against her and she lets herself be conquered just for this very public moment. They both know the dynamics aren’t the same once they’re in private. In front of the realm, she’s his Consort and he’s the King. Power is in his hands.

The last time she tried to take power in public, he took her on the throne, in front of every Seelie of the palace. He told her to watch their faces as he showed them, and her, that she was his Consort, not the Queen. She still remembers the stinging humiliation.

When he pulls away from her, she chases after him for more, pliant against him. Only for him. He smiles at her, a promise of later in his eyes.

The faces of the Seelies in his court are all scarred now. Now that he’s King, they have all cut out their plants and vines, sacrificing them and punishing themselves to emulate the way the previous Queen punished him. Isabelle presses a kiss to his cheek.

She sits by his side the rest of the audience, until he decides he’s had enough and he wants private time. She follows him back towards his bedchambers. The door slams shut behind them, and they’re alone.

“Isabelle,” he breathes, and she grins at him.

“Meliorn,” she replies. “That sure was a display of power, out there.”

“Hm,” is all he says, and his hands are already pulling at the zipper of her dress.

She swats his hand away harshly. “The girl at the gate was rude to me,” she continues, unzipping her dress and stepping out of it. She’s in her underwear now and the thigh-high boots that she’s still wearing.

Meliorn presses a kiss against her collarbone and she lets him. “You taste like humus,” he whispers. “As if you’ve slept naked onto the ground of the Wander Woods again.”

Isabelle chuckles. Her fingers untangle his braids and strands from the crown. She makes quick work of the hairstyle that keeps the crown on his head seamlessly.

“I’ll have to renew your connection to the Woods soon,” she hums, finishing to take the crown from him. “It’s fading.”

“Whenever you wish, Isabelle,” he speaks against her skin, kissing and licking patterns onto her cleavage, the swell of her breasts. Her nipples are still covered by her bra. He knows better than to try to take it off when she’s taking power from him.

She tosses away the crown, accentuating her carelessness for the symbol of his power. She knows he loves it.

“Not today,” she shrugs. “I have to go back to the Institute,” she hums. “They do need me to lead them.”

Meliorn smirks at her. “And you lead them so beautifully, my dear.”

Isabelle shrugs off the compliment. She pushes him back towards the bed.

“I’ll make sure no one is ever rude to you again,” he promises. “Unless you want to punish some of them, sometimes.”

Isabelle shakes her head. “I don’t get off on punishing. You do,” she reminds him.

Meliorn grins as he undoes his robe and takes off his clothes. He makes quick work of it, even if there are a bit more layers to his outfits than to hers. Her dress is discarded on the floor and so is his crown, laying sideways onto a bench.

She slides onto the bed, sighing softly. “Do you remember when I came to your home, that small tent at the edge of the wood, and we would fuck for information?” She asks, her fingers tracing patterns onto the sheets of the bed.

“I do,” Meliorn smiles. “It was a lifetime ago.”

She nods. He gets into bed as well, settles close to her. She moves, straddling him now. She can see the scars of his torso and the regrowing vines in his flesh. Sometimes she wonders if they hurt. She’s asked him before and he offered to grow some in her body, to see what it would be like. She refused. She’s not ready to be more of a Seelie.

With every time she renews her connection to the Woods, she becomes a little less of a Shadowhunter, a little more of a Seelie. She’s been told that, one day, she might not be able to use her weapons and stele anymore. One day, she will be too much of a Seelie for the Clave.

She dreads that day. She spaces out her renewals as much as possible and she always makes sure that she’s not fertile when she visits him. A Seelie King doesn’t need an heir and she doesn’t need to be even more of a fey from it.

She looks down at his face again and gently caresses it. Her King.

“I need information again,” she says quietly.

His grin is brighter than the New York sun in August.

[saltytransidiot]

Prompts, Asks, Anything

Hey! I’m a fic writer for two fandoms currently, The Witcher and Shadowhunter, and you can find my work here! I’m also going slowly insane because I’m not really doing much besides classwork + playing Animal Crossing during this crazy time. 

Send me some prompts, some asks, anything you want! Anon is on, it can also be about other fandoms (I’ve been involved in GoT, The Hobbit, LoTR, Harry Potter, some others I’m probably forgetting...) or anything you’d like! 

If you want to know more about me as a writer, go check out my AO3, where there are fics like Older than Life (The Witcher, Geraskier, Immortal!Jaskier) or A Curse Upon Your Name (The Mummy AU with Shadowhunters characters, Malec, Claia, Melizzy) or We Were Holy (Shadowhunter, Trans!Alec, Malec, Nephilim have powers). There are also more one shots! 

And if you want to just... ask me about myself, don’t hesitate. I’ll answer almost everything :D

[shadowhunterschallenges]

Meliorn/Izzy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23963416

Meliorn hated Shadowhunters.

[laufire]

Isabelle’s suitors: Bound by Blood (part III)

🎶 why the fuck you lying; why you always lying; oh my god-- stop fucking lying 🎶

[Caption: gifset of the tense scene in Shadowhunters between Raphael and Meliorn in the Downworlders Council, when Meliorn exposes Raphael’s relationship with Isabelle. Raphael first tries to deflect, but Meliorn says he recognizes Isabelle’s smell on him. Raphael says then Meliorn is no different, but Meliorn replies that although he knows her charms “better than anyone” (which makes Raphael glare a bit) his feelings never affect his judgment. Raphael ends insisting that his judgement is fine.]

[jewishshadowhunters]

Hanukkah/Yule Solidarity Moodboard, featuring Meliorn and Isabelle Lightwood (Melizzy)

I know Yule stopped on January 1st, but many celebrate New Years on January 21st. Here is the moodboard with a little bit of lateness. 

[banesboy]

if we’re getting izzy/meliorn for the alliance rune...my season 1 rights oh mygod

[shadowhunterspolycule]

last gifset really has me t h i n k i n g about izzy having a crush on aline and honestly i love that idea. i don't really ship them as i don't remember their interactions well so there's not a lot to build on here, but the way she was looking at aline was almost adoring and...

maybe aline was kind of a childhood crush or something, or just meaningful to her because she was out as a lesbian, or maybe she just thinks aline is really pretty and goes hmmm girll,,,,, and it's just a crush really, it's not like she's In Love With Her or even wants to pursue it, but she enjoys the feeling because sometimes just that feeling of infatuation is nice, you know? (as long as u dont put the person on a pedestal and respects them as a person and stuff)

and ugh at some point meliorn ends up seeing her looking at aline and they immediately have that wicked smile that brings izzy's own wicked smile out immediately and she's like "what?" and they're like "you're attracted to her" and she laughs and playfully swats at them like "stop!" and meliorn teases her for it A Lot

and then on like, polycule game night someone mentions aline and meliorn is like "ah yes. izzy's infatuation" and she's like "meliorn!" and they smile as they drink something like "i can't lie" and she goes "no one ASKED" and clary "doesn't notice anything" fray is like hang on you have a crush on aline??? and maia is like who tf is aline

and it's just a mess with everyone teasing her and being like "it all makes sense now!!" and they start asking questions and eventually izzy is just... gushing. about how nice she is, how pretty she looks, how fierce she is, that sort of thing. and she has that grin on and her eyes shine and she is just so cute with her little crush and everyone falls in love with her a little further

(it becomes a thing for her partners to ask, "so how's aline?" and she is always like "stop it!" but she doesn't really mind and besides, izzy can't really ask for others not to tease her when she does it all the time)

[normal-thoughts-official]

Thinking about Alec having an internal big-brother instincts struggle over wanting to give Izzy’s partners the shovel talk on behalf of Izzy but also A. Knowing Izzy would kill him if he did that B. Trusting most of its members (or not knowing them that well) and C. Realizing that he was not prepared to give the entire Polycule this talk. And even though he is loathe to admit that anyone is good enough for Izzy, he does trust/respect Maia and Mel and even Clary.

lmao you are correct. he can't give Clary the shovel talk because then he's acknowledging her, he has no right to give it to Meliorn, and Maia would obliterate him. his only choice is to reverse-shovel talk and tell izzy to take care of herself and let him know if she's ever hurt

izzy, lowkey offended: Alec, you know i can take care of myself

alec, eyes begging: just let me have this

[laughingunderthemurkywaters-666]

Secrets,Secrets- part 1

If anybody wants another chapter send me a message. and I always appreciate the feedback.

His hair fell onto his face for an imperfect moment. It was the smallest thing. No one else would ever notice it. Isabelle Lightwood did. She has been watching Meliorn since the beginning of the meeting and she really needs to stop. She knows if she keeps this up someone will notice her lack of subtlety.  

She glances over at her friends and realizes with a start that they are all looking back at her, a range of emotion spread over their faces. Alec looks at her with an urgency that makes her step back in surprise, her heal catching on the dips in the marble floor. Clary looks almost sad, Izzy thinks to herself. Is she that obvious? She takes a breath and glances over at Meliorn one last time before walking over to them. The sounds of her mother arguing with Raphael drounding out the clicking of her red bottoms.

“You need to stop Izzy” Alec says grasping onto her arm. “If the inquisitor catches you looking at him like that, shell know theres something happening. What happened to your self control?” He says the last thing under his breath as he turns back to watch the meeting. 

“He did” It comes out as barely a whisper but Clary was close enough to hear her and she wraps her arms around her waist in reassurance

“I know it hurts honey but you cant be caught with a downworlder” Clary’s face is twisted into concern and sorrow. Isabelle knows Clary doesn't like what she's saying but they all know its true. A hot fire burns up through her chest and she feels the anger pumping through her veins. Meliorn is more than just a “downworlder”. How could Clary say that? She needs to get out of here. Every cell in her body is aware of the eyes that could be on her. There are 20 sets of eyes in here and she needs to get away from all of them. She turns on her stiletto and is out the room in mere seconds. As soon as the marble doors close behind her she makes a b-line for the training room. She burst through the doors and tries to calm her breathing as she wraps her hands. With a rapid strangled scream she turns and hits the punching bag with a crack of her knuckles. A pain shoots up her arm and twists into her chest but she doesn't stop. His face flashes into her mind with every punch and crack of her fists.

It just won’t work Isabelle 

Your people slaughter mine how am I to ever trust you

Leave me alone I owe my life to the fae not to you, as hard as it is we can not keep doing this

But do you love me Meliorn

The fae call me... please don't follow after. 

“AGHHHHH” Her scream comes out broken and unattractive. She can’t help it. Her pain and anger burn through her blood and she curses the angelic part of her. All she wants is him but she can’t ever admit that. Why does she have to build up these walls? Who made her like this? Her mother she supposes. The clave? She cant think right now. All she can do is keep fighting. Every though tis drowned out by the sound of flesh hitting the leather of the punching bag and she couldn't have heard him enter the room even if she was listening for it. She spins around as she feels a familiar hand grasp her arm pulling it away from the bag. 

“Stop, Isabelle” He brings up her hand to his lips and kisses her bruised knuckles. Blood drips from his mouth as he pulls back. He doesn't seem to care.

She cant take it. Every nerve in her body is fighting and exploding as she stares into his eyes. She can almost see an actual forest in the green of his iris. With a lurch of her heart she pushes him away. Tears burn her eyes and come out in hot streams

“No NO , NO , NO. YOU CANT KEEP DOING THIS. YOUR A DOWNWORLDER. YOUR SCUM.” The words come out in a scream. It’s not convincing. They both know she doesn't believe that. He holds her arms against his chest and gives a weak smile. 

“Im sorry I shouldn't have stopped hear. I should go. Nothing has changed i shouldn't have come.” He backs away from licking her blood from his lips. 

“Meliorn please no-” He closes the door behind him before she can get the rest out. Her knees buckle under her and she sinks to the ground. With a shaky breath she pushes herself up. She is Isabelle Lightwood. She breaks the hearts and comes out untouched. She is strong and she will get over this. A single tear rolls down her cheek and she walks out if the training room. A new layer built up around her walls.

[enkelimagnus]

The valentine/izzy question was one of HORROR not interest. Ur shipping Izzy with magic hitler? Seriously?! Holy shit, Whats next, shipping her with Asmodeous or Azazel or Lilith? How about just Satan? Jonathan at least has a depressing backstory that gives him potential for redemption in a Kylo Ren sort of way, but VALENTINE? His DAD? What is happening with this fandom?! Yall would seriously rather her be w/ Valentine, the antagonist who's literally just "racist & evil", than Simon or Meliorn?

Listen. 

Writing a ficlet where, in a complete AU, Valentine and Izzy have an unhealthy relationship, that is tagged as such and portrayed as such explicitly is not "would rather her be with Valentine rather than Simon or Meliorn". 

You would know that, if you thought for 5 seconds, and maybe like, considered that people aren’t as horrible as you think? You could have clicked on the link you so obviously saw, looked at the tags, and gone “ah, yes, tagged as unhealthy”. 

Writing fics with ships isn’t condoning, wanting that to happen in all universes in all circumstances and thinking it's perfect and pure and healthy. Far from it. 

I’m not shipping them. I actually don’t want them together in canon settings, or care much about them as a ship. I just made one fic with that pairing, in a complete AU, explicitly unhealthy, because it was very interesting for me to write, worked with the Ficlet Instruments prompts, and worked with the song that was playing on my spotify then. 

And I have written several Meliorn/Izzy fics that have FAR from the same tone as Lecture Hall, because well, people are interested in writing many different dynamics. A shock, I believe. 

I would rather her be with Meliorn, Clary, Maia, Aline, Helen, or Sebastian like in the fics I wrote. 

And you know what’s funny, anon? 

You ask: “What’s next, Lilith?” 

And on the very masterlist you obviously read and got offended by because of the Valentine/Izzy ficlet, there was an Izzy/Lilith. and that Izzy/Lilith is probably the hottest piece of smut I wrote this year. 

So please. Don’t get all “high horse” on me, okay, bud? 

The fandom is doing very well. And so am I.