Summary: Darkness looms over the Shadow World now that the Greater Demon Lilith has broken free of Edom in a bid to resurrect her 'son', Jonathan. And while the Shadowhunters bend over backward trying to identify the Owl-faced demon which has been attacking mundanes on the streets, Clary and Jace face the ramifications of their secret. As Jace becomes more and more disconnected from himself, the weight of Clary's secret grows heavier on her shoulders; especially after she discovers that she's going to bring a child into the chaos.

This chapter picks up during the Hunter's Moon party following Jace's resurrection and will take place through 3A onward. It's mostly clace-centric but will also include elements of Malec and eventual Sizzy.

There may be some changes as to how some events play out during the season.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shadowhunters or The Mortal Instruments Series.

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Heir Of Angels

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Chapter One: Nightmares

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X.X.X.X

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Beneath the night, the city of Manhattan dazzled in all of its technicolor beauty, mirroring the blanket of glinting constellations above. And on the corner of Hester's Street, music filled up the Hunter's Moon. The cozy bar was packed with a plethora of guests, Shadowhunter and Downworlder alike, all gathered together in the same place to celebrate Valentine Morgenstern's downfall.

Strings of bulb lights were hung from the ceiling, bathing the establishment in a warm saffron glow, the Nephilim color of victory. And there was a peaceful ambiance accumulating throughout the room as Vampires and Werewolves, Shadowhunters and Warlocks all clinked their champagne glasses together in triumph.

Observing everyone from his natural post at the bar, the celebrations roared around Jace Herondale. To say he wasn't in a celebratory mood would not do the anxiety stirring in his gut any justice, for the night's previous events were eating away at his brain.

Not to mention he was so bone-achingly exhausted that not even his stamina rune had proven to be particularly effective.

He almost didn't bother showing up. But after Alec had practically cornered him with questions, Jace decided that he couldn't afford to arouse even a whiff of suspicion. His brother came so dangerously close to finding out the truth that it'd left him reeling.

"For the last time. I didn't die," he'd told Alec as he dragged his fingers through the tub of hair gel on his dresser. He was standing by the door in Jace's room, arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes burning with suspicion. "I came close to it, and maybe that's what you felt, but–"

"My Parabatai rune disappeared," he dismissed. "You know perfectly well that the only way a Parabatai bond breaks like that is if the other's heart stops beating."

Jace sighed, working the gel into his hair. "I don't know what else to tell you. I have no idea why it happened, but as I said, Clary healed me somehow."

Alec cocked a doubtful eyebrow. "I understand that you guys have these special abilities, but I find it difficult to believe that they stretch as far as raising the dead. Not even lesser Angels have that power. Only Raziel was ever thought to..." He trailed off, his words dying on his lips as it dawned on him.

"Jace," he began trepidatiously. "Please tell me she didn't use the wish."

Closing the lid on the hair gel, Jace bit back his panic. His eyes locked on his reflection as he applied his best poker face before turning away from the mirror.

"No. It was all Clary," he lied, pulse quickening as he tried to piece together a believable explanation. "I remember waking up and her hands were on my chest, right where the dagger had been. The agony I felt before I blacked out was gone. The cold too. It's hard to explain but it was as if she was channeling the life back into me."

A long silence stretched out between them until Alec's accusing stare faltered and he gave an understanding nod, flooding Jace with relief. Had he stuttered or messed up in any way, it would have put both Clary and Alec at risk. But Jace had a strong feeling that his brother was just choosing to believe him over his own conclusion. For stupid was one thing Alec was definitely not. He, like Jace, was all too aware of the implications of using Raziel's wish.

Though she didn't know it, Clary had broken the Accords. And as Head of the Institute, Alec would be legally required to report that to the Clave. Failing to do so would bring extreme repercussions.

And that, Jace could not allow.

His gaze swept over the clusters of people to land on a certain redhead. She was standing in the far corner chatting to Isabelle, their conversation concealed over the lively music playing from the Jukebox.

She laughed at something Izzy was telling her, an authentic Clary giggle that cut through the song and the surrounding chatter to find his ears. A sound that he hadn't heard in so long, not since he stole that bike from the Vampire bar some two years ago. It made his heart soar.

He loved her so deeply. That fact had never been more clear to him than it had tonight as he'd clung to the fading image of her tear-stained face, inching closer and closer to never seeing it again.

After everything, the mere thought of her being dragged off to the Gard made his chest feel painfully tight.

Knocking back the remaining beer in his glass, he tried to shove the notion out of his mind and was just about to order a second when he realized the tight feeling in his chest was more than just psychosomatic.

It was becoming more and more intense, building up gradually. Mimicking the sensation of an invisible belt tightening around his ribcage. Jace hissed, his panic climbing with the pain as it burned up his arms and clung to his legs, forcing him out of his stool.

He could barely hear the music now over the thrumming of his own pulse deafeningly loud in his ears.

Breathing heavily, he made quickly for the door and stumbled out into the night.

He fell back onto a nearby bench, fighting for breath that felt like a raging fire in his lungs. His vision frosted over until the bright headlights of passing cars faded to black and the sounds of the concrete jungle fell to complete silence. All Jace could do was endure in a body that was boiling blood and rigid muscles.

He slipped off the bench and onto his knees, roaring in agony.

Then, with all the suddenness of a recoiling rubber band, the pain vanished and Jace's senses returned to him all at once. Sagging forward and trembling in the wake of the aftershocks, he sucked in breath after breath as a strong sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

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X.X.X.X

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There was a tidal rhythm to her grief.

Most of the time the waters were calm. Lapping gently at the surface of her mind, subtle and tolerable enough to get her through the day. Other times, Clary need only walk past a street performer singing one of Jocelyn's favorite songs and it was enough to send those gentle waves crashing relentlessly over her, drowning her in grief.

Nothing, however, provoked those waves like the night.

By day she had work and training to keep her distracted, but as soon as she put her head to the pillow, she was completely at the mercy of her mind. A mind that tormented her sleep with images of her mom lying dead and mutilated on the floor, her bright green eyes that were once so gentle and full of love, glazed over, unfocused.

This time around, though, as Clary tossed and turned, chest heaving and eyes darting rapidly beneath her eyelids, it was Jace who haunted her nightmares. Jace, dying by that lake. The color in his cheeks draining as blood pulsed through the cracks of their intertwined fingers.

She couldn't stem the bleeding.

Freeing his stele from his weapon's belt, Clary dragged up Jace's soaking shirt. Keeping her other hand pressed firmly against the wound, she activated his iratze. But the sickly sweet smell of blood only grew stronger, and his eyelids heavier.

Deep down somewhere, she knew it was futile. Still, it did nothing to stop her running the stele across his flank a second time, she even applied a blood-replenishing rune on the blank skin above his navel.

It was no use. The rise and fall of his chest went abruptly still.

Wild-eyed and uttering a dozen 'no's' under her breath, Clary shook her head. Her eyes glistened with a mix of anger and bone-chilling, stomach-twisting, soul-wreaking fear that had her trembling all over. She brought her hand to his cheek, smearing the blood; It was livid red against his gray complexion and the metallic tang of blood was overpowering.

It was all she could smell, all she could taste.

With a retch, Clary jolted awake, the sheets twisted around her legs and her heart pounding. Her stomach gave another lurch, forcing her upright. She threw a hand over her mouth and scrambled out of bed, stumbling in the dark toward the en-suite.

Garish silver witch-light filled the bathroom automatically, striking her in the eyes like a blinding white-hot knife. She barely made it in time, dropping to her knees as the contents of her stomach hit the water in the toilet bowl with a highly unpleasant splash. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and she squeezed them shut, sending them spilling down her pale cheeks as she wrestled with the remnants of the nightmare which still had its claws buried in her wakefulness.

She gagged again and again. Her stomach heaving until it ached. Until stars swam around the room and there was nothing left to bring up.

With an exhausted sigh, she reached for the flush before slumping back down onto the shiny black tiles hugging her knees to her chest. She pressed her back up against the cool wall and gradually, the sickness began to ebb.

He's fine. Clary told herself, hand on her thumping heart. Jace is alive.

She waited until the nightmare lost its power over her before she got back up again. Until she was sure the queasiness wasn't going to come over her again the moment she got to her feet.

Blowing out a shaky breath, Clary pulled herself slowly off the bathroom floor and made her way over to the vanity. There, she stared a while at her disheveled reflection before gathering her hair into a ponytail and tying it in place with the elastic she kept around the neck of the soap dispenser.

Flicking on the faucet, she waited until the water was ice old, then after a few gasp-inducing splashes, turned it off. Clear pearls of water dripped from her chin to fall mutely in the marble sink as she braced herself there. After catching her breath, she straightened and attempted to brush away the coppery taste that somehow still lingered in her mouth, but to no avail.

By the time she trusted her stomach enough to leave the bathroom, it was gone 6:00 AM. She was already one step ahead of her phone's alarm. It had barely even begun before she dismissed it.

She threw on a shirt and some jeans, covered up the dark circles under her eyes and shrugged on her red suede jacket before wandering into the dimly-lit hallway, where the walls were lined with a series of antique oil paintings.

As the elevator descended, she braced herself against the handrail, squinching her eyes shut and hoping that this lightheadedness wasn't going to last all day. The sensation subsided, however, by the time the doors rolled open, revealing to her the deserted first floor of the New York Institute.

She heard him before she saw him, exerted grunts followed by the impactful sound of fists colliding with the punching bag. The sounds echoed along the hallway leading up to the vast training room. Which upon entering, Clary found was also practically empty.

Beneath the amber glow of the hanging lanterns, perspiration glistened against Jace's skin and clung to the strands of hair which had escaped from their usually gelled back position to fall damply across his forehead.

Something seemed off. She could see it on his face, in the tautness of his jaw. His usually razor-sharp awareness was also proving a little sluggish this morning for he didn't even acknowledge her.

Clary cleared her throat and Jace's head snapped up in response. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, a slight smile appeared on his lips, replacing the previous grim line.

"Hey," he greeted nonchalantly, his rune-decorated chest heaving.

Her green eyes were veiled with concern. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?"

Clary shrugged, walking over to him slowly. "You seemed a little tense."

"Tense? Nah."

"And you disappeared from the party last night."

Jace stole a cautious glance toward the training room entrance then looked back at her, lowering his voice. "I was just tired, I guess. Being resurrected takes a lot out of a guy."

A strong feeling of stupidity washed over, forcing her eyes to the floor. "Right. Of course, I'm sorry, Jace."

"Don't worry about it," he told her before frowning. "Anyway, what about you?"

"What about me?"

He reached forward and tipped her chin up, bringing her tired eyes to his.

"You look a little pale, are you feeling okay?"

"Fine."

He didn't look convinced.

"I'm a redhead, Jace. I'm always pale."

"Paler than usual, I mean. Seriously, you're competing with Simon right now." He told her, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead.

"I'm just a little hungover." She pushed his hand gently away. "I think I need to eat something, that's all."

"Then what do you say to an early breakfast?"

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, hoping some food might settle her churning stomach.

Jace smiled in response before stepping forward to kiss her on the forehead.

"Hang on," Clary warned, pressing a finger to his chin. "You're all sweaty."

He paused, a smug smirk flashing across his face. "Hey, I didn't hear you complaining the last time you saw me this sweaty."

Clary punched him in the arm, a blush staining her cheeks and an embarrassed smile appearing on her lips. "That may be true, but I can't say I'm digging the new uh...aroma you're giving off."

Jace turned his face toward his underarm. His grin disappeared.

"Right sorry. I'll uh, get right on that."

With a playful military-style salute, Jace swiveled on his heel and as Clary watched him walk away, her amused smile melted off her lips. A strong fear had come over her, a fear brought on by his mention of their night together several weeks ago. It caught her so off guard that she had to sit down on one of the upholstered benches. Cursing under her breath, she retrieved her phone from her pocket, scrolling hastily through the many icons in search of the little calendar.

When she found it, her thumb hesitated a moment.

Clary's heart skipped at the sight of the three clearly marked missed days but she swallowed the lump in her throat and reminded herself that Irregularity wasn't exactly a new thing. Especially when she was stressed out, and these past few weeks had proven to be nothing but stress.

But then there was the nausea...

"You coming?"

Clary startled, fumbling to switch off her phone. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, stewing in her own paranoid thoughts but Jace seemed to have appeared just as quickly as he'd left, only this time in jeans and his signature leather jacket. Though slightly damp, his undercut hair was now pristine, without a strand out of place and she could smell the earthy scent of his patchouli cologne radiating off of him. She gave a nod and fell into step with him in the direction of the dining room where she struggled to choke down her single slice of toast and keep her mind from wandering away from their conversation and onto that night—when the emotions had been running so mind-numbingly high that she couldn't recall taking her daily pill that morning.

She was just being paranoid, Clary decided. After all, she had been taking the contraceptive since she was sixteen—only then it was just to alleviate her painfully heavy cycles— and she had never missed a day. Ever.

"Clary."

The sound of his voice calling her name with that mix of confusion and concern was enough to make her blink herself out of her own stupor and remember what he was talking about. "Mm? Oh, right. The Rune Ceremony, yeah I uh...can't wait."

Jace's mismatched eyes were soft with concern. "Maybe you should get some more rest."

"No, no. I'm on assignment with Izzy this morning, anyway." She brought her cup of coffee to her lips. "I'll be fine after this."

"The magic hangover cure, huh?"

Clary's laugh had a slightly nervous air to it. "I hope so.".

X.X.X.X

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Let me know if you'd like a chapter two!

-florafleur