"You're teaching our three year old to hold a seraph blade?" Clary asked with raised eyebrows. She heard the clatter of steel only moments ago and sprinted into the weapons room to find Jace hovering over their son as little Jax tried again-and failed-to hold the heavy blade for longer than a few seconds. Jace looked up at her and flashed a loving grin. He was in the early stages of thick blonde stubble. She should remind him to shave, but…it wasn't a bad look.
"Yeah, I thought he should get an early start, if he's gonna be the best." Clary rolled her eyes and picked up the seraph blade and put it back where it belonged-out of Jax's reach. She pulled Jax into her arms and kissed him on his little carrot-topped head, darker than hers, a color that reminded her of her mother. He laughed as she snuggled him, his green eyes lighting up like beacons. Those eyes made her so happy. They were just like hers. Absolutely identical.
Jax didn't look much like his father, but that didn't bother him. He spoiled that child rotten, loved it so much he couldn't bare the thought of ever being away from him for more than a day. Jax was only five, far too young for mastering the art of killing-well, anything-but especially demons. But it gave Jace so much happiness to teach their son what he knew. And Clary wasn't worried about Jace endangering him. She trusted him with Jax more than anyone in the world. She had never seen fatherly love like that before. And so much pride, as well. So much pride that she knew he wouldn't really care if Jax decided to throw-out shadowhunting and instead go into a mundane profession, like art (which he had already mastered, thanks to Clary), because Jace would still think he was the best at no matter what he did, as long as doing it made him happy. If Clary thought about for too long, how much Jace loved and cared for her son, and how much she did, too, she almost always cried a little.
So she put her mind onto other things: mainly, the new little Lightwood that would soon join the family. Isabelle had rushed over to their home about three weeks ago in hysterics-sobbing and panting and right on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Clary had ushered her in and retrieved a cup of coffee, which Izzy promptly tossed away and demanded a beer. Clary had agreed reluctantly and after watching her friend finish the bottle in about four bug swigs, Isabelle finally broke the news-that she'd taken about eleven pregnancy tests and they all said the same thing: that there was a thing inside her stomach.
Clary had let out one thrilled scream before lecturing Izzy on drinking while pregnant, which made her burst into tears. She made a promise not to tell anyone-not big-mouthed Jace, not overactive Alec and Magnus, and especially not Simon. Clary agreed but made her promise she wouldn't have to keep it a secret for long.
"Just give me a week." She'd said tiredly, black eyeliner smeared down her cheeks as she left. That had been the deal. One week and it was out.
Izzy still hadn't told anyone. Clary was getting more and more irritated every day, while Izzy was getting more and more anxious. No one had suspected anything yet, Jace hadn't questioned her sudden increase in Isabelle visits, but it was only a matter of time. Why wat until she was showing?
Clary wondered if it would be a boy or a girl, which one Simon and Isabelle would prefer, and what they might name it. The name 'Jax' was short for 'Jaxon'-'Jaxon Lewis Lightwood Herondale',' Lewis' and 'Lightwood' for their parabati and 'Lightwood' also for Izzy and the rest of the family, and 'Jaxon' because they liked the sound and its similarity to 'Jace'. Some selfish part of Clary thought she and Jace should have some symbolic part in the name of the child, but she wasn't sure how it might work. Still, surely they could think of something creative…
No, she thought, they are under no obligation to name their child after us. She was just so excited for another kid with a new personality to join the family. Max was already too old to play with the little kids, but he loved them like they were his little siblings. He would be ecstatic when he heard the news.
Thoughts of Izzy disappeared when the most beautiful music in the world overwhelmed Clary's senses-and then the most terrible. Clary grinned. The piano lessons were not be missed under any circumstances. Clary silently crept into the living room to find Jace and Jax seated before the grand piano. Jace's long, gentle fingers caressed the piano keys with almost as much love and care as when he touched their son. Jax poked the piano keys in a choppy fashion, and when he got exited he balled his tiny hands into fists and struck as many keys at once as possible to create an earsplitting sound. But as Clary winced, Jace only brought one small knuckle up to his lips and kissed it, and again told him not to be so violent with the piano. But Clary could detect a small amount of pride in his eyes, as she always saw when Jax did anything forcefully that showed any small amount of strength. "He can be whatever he wants, sure Clary, but I'm telling you-he's got shadowhunter blood in him and it is very clear that should he choose this life, he will be incredible." Jace had once said when Jax snapped his first paintbrush in half. Clary had gently scolded him but Jace encouraged to break as many things as he wanted. Clary lost a lot of paintbrushes.
Clary looked into the future and tried to picture her son, tall and muscular, slicing heads and piercing hearts. And she thought of him painting on big canvases that took up entire rooms beside a wife and kids. No, Clary again decided, it didn't matter. And right now, the future of their three year old was a silly thing to think about. All that mattered now was this. This moment before her, the one she'd seen a thousand times, the one that made her heart soften as she watched the two loves of her life playing that old piano. She needed to capture it, for she knew there would be a time when Jax didn't want to play, or Jax was away killing demons, or Jax was somewhere else with his family, or maybe, just maybe, Jax was playing so well there was no need for his father to guide his hands. She felt her eyes mist at those thoughts. She needed to be able to see this forever, and not just in a memory. It had to be saved, and kept. So for the first time in a couple of long, busy months, Clary silently began to paint.