Letters of Ty Blackthorn

Second: Note of Rooks and Herondales

Kit Herondale

'"When you least expect it, that will become a moment when you are your most unprotected and vulnerable to your own mind and emotions.''

Entry 591

-Even when it seems like the most impossible thing, I can't stop seeing people as him. Every single day. In the streets, I walk down, in the stores I enter, in the dark alleyways of my missions or nighttime musings. Black hair shining and soft, striking grey eyes, headphones white and bold. 

They only need one of these qualities to make me freeze. Part of me praying that he will just pass me by and forgot everything we had done and my presence. 

And the other part, impatiently trying desperately to reach out with my whole body, to have him notice, to feel, to know I was standing right there. In his life. Like I still wanted to be a part of his life.-

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These days, I felt like there were two sides to my existence that fought for control over every instinct, decision or reaction I went through. Fights that could last for hours and were as bloody and painful and anything I had felt. After a while of this suffering I underwent, I decided to call them The Herondale and the Rook. Two sides to my life.

Herondale was very predictable, I only had to open the Shadowhunter history books, or listen to any Shadowhunter talk about Jace to Will, or James. We stood alone to protect others, tried to hide weaknesses, and screamed about our problems in silence. Self-sacrificing, scared, lonely. Ingrained into our very natures. It's in your blood.

I thought about it sometimes, that if I had just gone through my life not knowing anything about what being a Herondale meant, I could have had the strength to stay. If only being part of the Shadowhunters, the Shadow World or even the First Heir lineage, hadn't come with the crushing weight of honour and dignity of the path that came with the family name, I might even have enjoyed staying.

 I certainly couldn't argue with that point and that's why I still half hated myself for deciding to become a half baked emotional wreak of a Herondale.

Before I knew I carried just a family name, my thoughts and feelings had been more powerful and easier to express. After I went over all the stories of my Shadowhunter ascendants, I started to feel that it was our curse to burn alone. To be better alone. To avoid further heartbreak and rejection. To be unloved.

So I wished with all my heart to go back into the persona of the Rook and die with that soul etched into the history of my life. A risktaker. A con artist. To give in to desires to take what you wanted, whatever the cost. To sacrifice on a chance. To play every last card. Have them as your own. To treasure someone to that extent, making them worthy to be named as your own was all that you needed in life.

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Then that moment faded when recognition went away. Always a fault or a flaw suddenly appearing in the other person, releasing me from the spell he had cast upon me. All my pain, hurt and humiliation coming back in a rush, with no chance for healing.

For despite all the running and escaping, I still longed to have some recognition that I was... Someone to him. To be that special part of his life. To understand and see him like nobody else could. Even if he had become a Rook in mine.

I believe now that I intended to forevermore be tied and entrapped by Ty Blackthorn.

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