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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

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So between a few fics I’ve read between various fandoms as of late, I came up with the cutest idea ever, with a hint of angst of course. I am gifting it to you because you’re an amazing human being!

So you know those fics where a character gets de-aged and sort of keeps their memories, but because they’re younger and *waves hand* magic, it’s mostly just impressions of the people around them? What if prior to TID, Will got hit with a potion or spell or something that de-aged him to like a 5-8 year old or something. And he doesn’t really remember his curse, but what he does know is that Fairwell have been raising him, so he thinks they’re his parents? And calls them as such? And he’s just the sweetest little boy, always chasing after them or Jem, wanting to be read to or picked up and cuddled. And then the potion or spell wears off after a couple of weeks of this, and they have to go back to dealing with normal Will, who claims not to remember anything of what happened, but totally does, and acts worse than normal accordingly.

Uh oh, I got carried away with a fic againnn. Thank you so much for this amazing request though! I would post it all here, but I’m not even done and it’s almost at the 2500 word mark, so I’m posting this chunk, and if you enjoy, you can look out for the second part! Here it goes:

Will Herondale De-age fic (part 1)

“Jem?” Charlotte asked, incredulously. “Why, may I inquire, do you have a toddler in your arms?!”

“Mama!” The toddler, who looked an awful lot like someone Charlotte knew, squealed. He began frantically squirming in Jem’s arms, and reaching out to Charlotte, desperate for her to hold him.

Charlotte took the toddler from Jem’s arms. He shot her a grateful look as the child ceased his squirming and put his head on her shoulder and promptly began playing with a loose strand on the bodice of her dress.

“Whose child is this? And why does he think I’m his mother? And why does he look exactly like Will?”

“That’s because he is Will.”

Jem must have gone mad. That was the only other explanation. “James Carstairs, there better be a good explanation as to why you seemed to have kidnapped a child from the streets!”

“I did not! That is Will, Charlotte. Somehow, he got turned into a—a child while we were patrolling.”

“What do you mean?! Who did this to him?”

“I don’t know! I was not present at the moment. All I know is that I went to go find him and there he was!”

Charlotte held the boy at an arm's length and looked at his face. Sure enough, the little boy had eyes the color of blue glass. His unruly raven hair curled in a pile on top of his head. He stared at her and she knew.

“By the Angel!” Charlotte exclaimed.

The child—Will— giggled.

“Oh, Will. What happened to you?”

“Lottie, have you seen my—” Henry paused as he came into the threshold and looked at little Will. “Whose child is that?”

“Ours, apparently.”

Henry looked at her, confused. “What?”

“It’s Will.”

“Will? But Will is sixteen. Why is he so tiny?”

“That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

“Papa!” Will exclaimed, opening and closing his fists.

Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not your father.” He said. Charlotte noted that he looked at her back, perhaps so horrified, he was hoping to hide from Will’s gaze by moving behind Charlotte.

“You’re not?” Will asked, his voice so small, Charlotte had to suppress the “aw” that was building up in her heart.

Henry seemed to think it was adorable too, and not nearly as frightening, because when he spoke again, it was softly. “No, I’m Henry.”

Will nodded. “Papa.”

Henry shot a look at Charlotte. The want to coo at Will was short-lived. She was about to pull out her hair in stress of what to do.

“Here, Henry. Hold Will for a moment, would you?” She said, putting him in Henry’s arms.

Henry looked tense for a moment, not knowing what to do, until Will wrapped his arms around his neck tightly. A small smile spread across Henry’s face.

“Who do we call?” Charlotte said, “what will the consul say? He’ll think we killed Will and tried to replace him with a Nephilim child. He won’t even try us with the mortal sword. This is so absurd, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Charlotte, I still feel our Parabatai bond; it’s peculiar and faint, but it’s still there.”

“Is it still on him?” Charlotte asked.

“I haven’t checked yet.” Jem said. “The first thing I did was come home, I–I didn’t know what else to do, Charlotte. I panicked!”

“It’s alright, Jemmy.” Charlotte said, patting his shoulder, “we will figure it out and fix this.”

Charlotte turned to Henry and Will. The latter was snuggled up against Henry’s shoulder and sucking his thumb, perfectly content to stay there for the rest of the day.

Charlotte walked towards them and moved his thumb and pulled his shirt down just enough to see the edges of where his parabatai rune began.

“He still has his runes.” Henry said.

Charlotte shook her head. “He has only his Parabatai and Clairvoyance rune. Whatever dark magic he’s under cannot break something as sacred and powerful as a shadowhunter’s first rune nor the Parabatai rune. Which is a relief for when we manage to change him back.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to change him back?” Jem said, a worried expression on his face as he looked at his parabatai.

Charlotte put her arms around him. “Of course we will, Jem. Don’t you fret.”

…

“He’s much more pleasant when he can’t talk much.” Sophie said, side-eyeing Will as he padded around the room. He stopped in front of her and offered her the cog Henry had given him to keep him entertained. Sophie took it hesitantly, and Will tottered away, in search of something else.

“He’s definitely more affectionate.”

“Well,” Jem said, “the innocence of childhood.”

“Right,” Sophie said slowly, looking around the room, before turning back around, saying she had work to attend to, but that she’d come back if her help was necessary.

Jem began reading the book in his lap, but he found that he was reading without processing the words, and he kept having to read the same paragraph over and over again. No matter how many times he read it, all he could think about was how the last time he checked his parabatai rune, it seemed to be getting lighter; a dark gray instead of it’s normal, stark black. He hadn’t told Charlotte yet, though.

Speaking of Charlotte, she was speaking, now. “It would need to be a trusted warlock.” she said, before she was interrupted by a tugging on her dress. She froze and turned her gaze downward to find Will, his blue eyes wide open, staring up at her. He put his hands up and Charlotte sighed as she bent down and picked him up. “As I was saying,” she continued. “A trusted warlock would be necessary. I don’t want to know what would happen if the Clave were to find out about our…situation.”

With Will’s head rested on Charlotte’s collarbone and his fingers playing with her necklace, Jem realized two things. The first was that Charlotte looked like the symbol of empowerment; she was a defender of the fact that just because women were mothers, it didn’t mean they were any less capable of leading a group of people, nor that they are, by any means, weaker. The second was that Charlotte was less of an older sister and more of a mother than any of them had thought. The same went for Henry. No matter how old they thought they were, they all still relied on Henry and Charlotte, and they needed them more than they cared to admit.

“Who can we trust?”

“That is the question of the century, Jem.” Charlotte sighed.

“I can’t imagine Ragnor Fell would say anything to the Clave. We could ask him.” Henry suggested.

“Except he never seems to be available.” Charlotte said.

It’s true; even Jem knew that Ragnor wasn’t very keen on assisting the Branwells for matters that he wasn’t forced to do.

“However,” Charlotte continued. “I will send a message to him regardless, as it won’t hurt to try, and there is nobody else I could think that wouldn’t report to the Clave.”

“It's a good thing that the only thing Ragnor hates more than us is the Clave.”

Henry frowned, “Ragnor hates us?”

“No, darling, he just hates helping us with our problems.”

Henry’s frown deepened, like the idea of not wanting to help people confused him greatly.

“Miss!” Sophie exclaimed, coming into the room, a little bit breathless, suggesting that she had sprinted there.

“Sophie, what’s the matter?”

“The Consul,” she gasped, “he’s here!”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “By the Angel!” She thrusted Will into Henry’s arms. “Hide him!”

She followed Sophie out of the room, putting on a mask of cool calmness. “And don’t look suspicious.”

She closed the door behind her and Henry whirled to face Jem. “Where do we put him?!” He asked.

Jem shrugged, and looked around the room frantically.

“You two are hopeless.” Jessamine said with cool indifference, as she slipped off her glove and examined her fingernails.

“What about here?” Henry asked, sitting Will down on a bookshelf. Will giggled, falling off. Henry let out a yell and caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Yes, Mr. Consul, right this way.” Charlotte was saying.

Henry’s eyes widened in panic. As the doors opened, he quickly hid Will behind he’s back.

“He’s right here.” Charlotte said, gesturing to Henry.

“Mr. Branwell,” Consul Wayland said. “I have to speak with you on matters concerning…” he frowned at the outstretched hand Henry hadn’t shaken yet and then he squinted his eyes. “Is that a child behind you?”

The residents of the London Institute held their breaths (well, except for Jessamine, of course) before Henry finally spoke.

“Er—yes. We’re playing hide-and-seek.”

“Hide-and-seek.”

“Why yes, it’s a game played by children for entertainment in which—”

“Yes, Mr. Branwell, I know what hide-and-seek is.” Said the Consul, annoyed. “Anyway, there is an issue with a group of werewolves from Bath, who are migrating to London and you’d do well to keep an eye on them in the next few weeks.”

“And why would we do that? Surely they haven’t done anything wrong in Bath.” Charlotte said.

The Consul ignored her. “It is of utmost importance you report any strange behaviors.”

“My wife asked you a question, Consul Wayland. I should think it’s important and that it should be answered.”

“Did she now?” The Consul asked, unenthusiastically.

“As a matter of fact, she did.”

“It’s alright, Henry. We’ll look into it, Consul Wayland. Thank you for the personal message.” Charlotte said, diplomatically, leading him away from the library and out the door.

The Consul paused. “Who’s child even is that?”

“A Nephilim family from Idris needed someone to watch over one of their children while they attended a funeral.” Henry said, without skipping a beat.

“Yes. Henry and I agreed to watch over this little one for the afternoon.” Charlotte said sadly. “It was the least we could do.”

“Oh, which family?”

“The Cartwrights.” Henry said.

“Oh. Well, best wishes.”

“Thank you very much.” Charlotte said. “Sophie will see you out.”

The Consul nodded and turned back around, striding out of the room with Sophie in tow.

Jem released the breath he had been holding in since Sophie brought the message about the Consul’s arrival.

“Why the Cartwrights?” he asked.

Charlotte took a fussing Will from Henry’s arms and smoothed down his hair. “Oh, yes! Henry darling that was brilliant! The Cartwrights have so many children that nobody can keep track of each one. And there actually is a funeral being held today, though I don’t suppose the Consul will look into whether they are actually there or not.”

Jem raised his eyebrows before asking, “Well, what now?”

“We keep working.” Charlotte said with a sigh.

...

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#will herondale #charlotte fairchild #henry branwell #henry fairchild #charlotte branwell #jem carstairs #sophie collins #jessamine lovelace #de-age #tsc fanfic #tid fanfiction #tid fanfic #fairwell #henry and charlotte #jem and Will #pre-clockwork angel

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