Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I just don’t get it. How can she not care?”
“Her family must be so ashamed…”
“I don’t know, they use it to their advantage plenty. How else do you think Robert got the inside info that landed him Consul?”
“Filthy, the whole business.”

Isabelle hears the whispers, in no small part because no one really bothers to hide them from her, not anymore. They did at first, averting their glances and lowering their voices to murmurs whenever she would walk past. She knew what they were saying about her foray into being a sex worker long before they started saying it to her face, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

It certainly doesn’t help the shame she feels, not for herself, but for her family. She wakes up and willingly chooses this life every day, and that’s on her. She owns it and has no regrets, walking through the halls of the Institute with her head held high. Her family, on the other hand…

Her father only speaks to her when he can use one of her contacts for information. Her mother doesn’t speak to her at all. Only Alec and Jace stand by her side, defending her whenever someone makes the mistake of speaking ill about Isabelle within earshot of either of them. They help her the best they can but she can tell that it takes a toll on them, hearing the weariness in their tones and seeing the exasperation in their expressions no matter how supportive they try to be.

This is the sort of business the Downworlders are usually known for, and maybe if she was anyone else - if she’d grown up with any other last name - she could live out her decisions in quiet obscurity. But Isabelle is a Lightwood, and that comes with expectations and a spotlight.

So Isabelle decides to use both to her advantage.

“I’m here to propose a law to protect sex workers,” Isabelle says, sliding a piece of paper across the table to the Inquisitor. “...you mean to protect you?” Isabelle shakes her head. “No. I mean all of us. I’m not the only one, I’m just the only one who feels confident enough to work in the open. The others fear persecution, they fear retribution. They need to know they’re protected.” “They aren’t,” the Inquisitor says with a tone of clear superiority. “But they should be. And they will be because you’re going to pass this motion,” Isabelle states confidently.

“Why would I do that, Miss Lightwood?”

Isabelle pulls another piece of paper out of her bag and slides it across the table. “You’ll do that, Madame Inquisitor, because this is a list of every active Clave representative - at least the ones I have documented proof of - who hired sex workers within the Shadow World. The underlined names hired Nephilim.”

The Inquisitor looks like she wants to rip the paper up, or set it on fire with the power of her pointed glare alone, not that it would matter. Isabelle has copies, and she’s memorized the names of every person on that paper.

“For something you’re so quick to demonize and persecute, enough of you seem to enjoy the benefits of our skillset. This is your only way out. We get protection and better treatment, and your people get the same should these - or any future - purchases ever come to light.”

The silence that falls between them isn’t tense because Isabelle knows she has the upper hand. She has the benefit of being right on the moral scale of things and in the political game she’s playing right now. Isabelle is smart… too smart for “that thing she does” as she’s been informed on numerous occasions.

“Fine,” the Inquisitor sighs. “You understand this isn’t an immediate thing, it’s a process-”

“Oh, I understand. And I’ll be here to ensure follow-through every step of the way. I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out on this, Inquisitor. You’re definitely doing the right thing here,” Isabelle says with a smile.

Without even waiting for a reply Isabelle turns on her heel and leaves without another word, head held as high as her pride.