So I was reading Throne of Glass by the amazing Sarah when this idea popped into my head. So you could say some bits and pieces are based on it. Like Existence was based on Sarah Rees Brennan's 'Unspoken' and Untamed is based on Maggie Stiefvater's The Scorpio Races. Ahhh I usually hate books on assassins, but hell it was amazing! You should all certainly check it out anyway.

So yes, this is AU as usual. This is just the prologue for a start. And Clace! Gotta love some Clace eh? And it's M for a reason. You know… blood, blood, language, sexy times and Jace's hot bod. I hope you all like this and drop reviews! If there's enough, I'll carry on and away we go! Thanks and enjoy! x

Hunted.

Six years ago

Summer that year was harsh. The rolling hills that were usually green were baked and yellow.

Lake Lyn was tempting with its deep sapphire waters, but the dangers the water held were too great for any man, woman or child to jump in. A reprieve from the agonizing heat.

The kingdom of Idris was in shambles. A total state of disarray; with no rain falling, no food could be grown. And the springs and lakes that were safe to drink had vanished, leaving the ground cracked and with no rain either, they would stay that way for months to come. Animals died. Crops failed.

People were starving.

People died.

The boy with the hair like the purest gold slipped through the crowded streets completely ignored. The market was in full swing, stall holders yelling at passing people to buy their wares, desperate for money. Why would they look twice at a dirty little boy in a torn tunic, no shoes and a rigid leather belt around his waist? There was a knife tucked in it, pressed against his side. But who didn't wear a knife these days?

And none of them around him would think that same grubby little boy would be attempting something quite so suicidal.

The castle was gigantic. It stood there with its adamas towers all around it, encircling almost. An impressive and awe-inspiring sight to all who beheld it. But inside, the tyrant king sat atop his throne. They said in the stories that it was made of adamas too. The throne repelled demons, and yet, in the boy's eyes, a demon sat atop it.

He didn't care about his kingdom. No. He sat in there lording over everyone, not knowing what hunger did to a person.

Jace was starving. More than starving; he knew he was going to die. And soon. His stomach was past the point of empty, and he felt so terrible about stealing from others that were close to death. He had to make a difference, or things would never change. The king's influence and cruelty would spread to every point of Idris.

The boy figured that if he was going to die, he might as well go out with a bang. Attempt something that would shock even the king. He certainly wouldn't imagine a twelve year old plotting a way into the castle, right into the throne room to kill him.

Jace was skilled with a knife. When he'd been even younger, his father had taught him everything he'd known. It felt like a natural, deadly extension of his arm. The boy knew he was good. Far better than most of the sleepy guards on duty. None of them looked even half attentive. They were obviously under the impression that the stone walls and reputation of a seemingly impregnable stronghold would be nigh impossible to sneak into.

The boy stopped at the East wing of the castle, staring at the grate, the river running through and under the place. There was a bar loose enough for him to squeeze through and no guards around. An adult would never in a million years be able to fit through. But a boy who was undernourished and thin as a rake? He slipped through with ease, shivering as the freezing bars brushed his skin. The water around his bare ankles was cooling and a relief since the sun had been particularly hot that day. But there was no time to waste. He had to hurry or his window of opportunity would be gone.

For ten minuets he walked until he came to the end, a passageway that was so dark, he had to feel around with a hand to know where to go next. He slipped into the next tunnel, the ground hard under his feet. Dry.

Jace paused, a shiver running down his spine- if he did this, there would be no turning back. This was treason. He was going to be killed on sight, or it would be drawn out and agonizingly painful. Maybe even hung before the crowds of Alicante.

Desperate people were dangerous. And Jace was desperate.

There was a clatter at the end of the tunnel. The boy yanked out his blade, heart pounding in his chest. It wasn't fear, strangely enough, but something else. An emotion that Jace couldn't name. It made him want to smirk, twirl the blade around between his proficient fingers before raising it and letting it loose at a target. But he saw no one through the dim light of the tunnel. When it came out, it led to another tunnel. One that his father had told him about-

"You see, the king always needs an escape. A secret passage directly from the throne room, known only to him and maybe the captain of his guard. This one comes out behind the throne itself… he wouldn't even see you coming."

Jace ran his finger over the H set into his dagger, heart heavy. His father was gone. Mother too. There was an ache in his chest at the mere thought of them. The boy cleared his throat, taking his blade into his other hand while he peered around the corner as carefully as possible. There was nothing there but for dust, dust and even more dust. Decay was rife down here.

There. Up ahead, Jace saw the door his father had described. It was a dark red in the faint light, but it was there. It was real. Jace took a deep breath as he shifted the blade into his left hand, muttering to himself, "You can turn away right now and no one would even know you'd been here."

He didn't turn away as he felt with blind eyes for a handle, or anything. A way to open it. There- a hollow with a small bolt in it. He carefully slid it open, pulling it open with his eyes stinging at the light coming in through the holes in the hanging tapestry before it. Jace crouched down, peering through a bigger tear in the dark blue fabric.

As his eyes adjusted, he saw more. Jace saw that his father had been telling the truth; the door was indeed set behind the throne. He just stared for a moment at the sight of the adamas throne. The stories had been true. It was inlaid with symbols, and from the back, there was a gigantic crest of an M surrounded by stars. Morgenstern, Jace realized. And those symbols made him frown. His father had had those symbols all over his body. Tattoos. Runes. Marks, he'd called them. Jace wasn't allowed to talk about them. And yet, when he turned twelve six months ago, a week before his parents murders, his father had taken out a slim wand of sorts and told him he was special. Destined for greatness. That he was a Shadowhunter in the making.

Jace had researched discreetly about Shadowhunters after receiving that rune on the back of his left hand. What did it mean?

He found that Shadowhunters were a race of people that had been eradicated by the king ten years ago. At least, free Shadowhunters. The king was a runed monster, and yet, he'd destroyed them all? His own kind? It made no sense.

Especially since his father had once been Captain of the kings guard. Made a Shadowhunter for that position. He was of noble blood, the Angels blood flowing through him he'd said.

Jace had so many questions, but they would never get answered. How would they be when he was hanging before the crowds by his neck for attempting to kill the king?

There was a mystery surrounding these Shadowhunters. And lies too. The king had tried to cover it up for sure, but parts had leaked through.

Jace could see the back of a white blond head upon the throne. Him. He clenched his teeth, aureate eyes sweeping the room- there seemed to be no one else in there. All that could be heard was the light scratching of a pen upon paper. He was alone.

Perfect.

The boy pushed past the tapestry, raising the blade. This is for you my mother, my father. The people of Idris.

There was a blade resting against the edge of the throne. Jace crouched down and carefully tugged it towards him. How fitting would it be that he die by his own sword. But just as he was about to unsheathe it-

"I really wouldn't attempt that."

Jace almost dropped the sword from shock. How had he-?

And then he saw the gigantic mirror at the end of the throne room. From where the king was sat, he'd have a perfect view of the… shit.

With a cry, the boy launched himself at the throne. There was no fear, only determination. One chance. He had one chance, one shot at this.

And he missed.

The king was up in a flash, the small blade the boy had thrown catching his side, slicing it neatly. Not fatally, but just enough to draw blood. He unsheathed the sword, the light glinting off it.

Valentine, the king, really was a monster. Jace had never seen anything like him. With his ragged white blond hair and midnight eyes, it was like he was light and dark personified. He wore not finery, but a hard leather outfit that was overlapped in places like armor. He was tall too, and broad. More than imposing.

He looked like he was dressed for battle.

The doors banged open and guards poured in, but to Jace's shock, the king bellowed at them, "stay back!" they looked uncertain. The king's lips turned into a sneer it seemed like. "I am Valentine Morgenstern. Not just that, a king and a warrior. This is a… boy." He said the last word like it was amusing to him. Jace launched himself again, but with one smooth movement, the king had grabbed him by the front of his tunic, causing the blade to fall from his hand and clatter onto the floor.

His feet left the ground as the man lifted him up, narrowing his eyes. "And why would you want to kill your king?"

"People are dying," Jace spat, meeting the man's charcoal eyes. He wouldn't show his fear, even through it was trying to creep into him. "And here you sit doing nothing."

The king laughed. "I cannot control the weather, you insolent child. The food stores have to last the winter months too. Do you think I should let people tap into that, then they all die as soon as the first frost falls upon Idris? You fool."

Jace hadn't thought of that. The king let him go, the boy crashing to the floor. His ankle hurt, but he scrambled to his feet. The guards took it as a cue to surge forwards. Two grabbed him under the arms in an iron grip, while another asked if the cut on the king's side was serious.

But he wasn't interested in that. Instead, he was staring at the back of Jace's hand. His forehead was creased into the lightest of frowns. "Where did you get that? The eye?"

A pause.

"My father gave it to me," Jace replied coldly. He'd failed. And this was the moment he was going to be thrown into the dungeons and forgotten about since he wasn't going to be murdered here and now.

Silence, then-

"Let him go."

The guards blinked. "My king?"

"Let him go or I'll run you through for questioning me."

Jace was let go, his ankle giving way as his full weight crashed down on him. He sat there on the floor staring up at the king, eyes following him carefully as he crouched down before his fallen figure. "And who," he asked quietly, "gave you that?"

"I told you. My father."

"His name, boy. Tell me his name."

Jace swallowed hard. "His name was Stephen Herondale."

There was silence, then the man muttered, "I was sorry to hear of their passing. Your mother and father, if you are who I think you are. Rebels never should have gotten that far into the city."

Jace looked down, refusing to cry. He wouldn't. Not before the bastard.

"We are not enemies, young Herondale. Far from it. For one thing, you bare the marks of the Angel himself."

"You eradicated them," Jace told him sharply. "Don't lie."

"That I did. The ones that were old. Too attached to the ancient ways. They allied themselves with mere animals. And monsters. They had to go. But you…" he paused. "You are new blood. Strong blood. I guessed that your father was one of the Angels children, and I was right when I put those Marks on him. You have power, I assure you. Great power if you truly are your father's son."

The words flowed together, but Jace didn't understand half of them. He just frowned. "What are you talking about? Aren't you going to kill me?"

The king laughed at that. "No boy. I'm not. I wouldn't kill such talent. In fact… I want to offer you something. A proposition."

Jace stiffened. "What kind?'

"Your parent's killers live."

The boy felt numb. "I know that. I even tried to find them."

An eyebrow went up. "You did? What did you find?"

Jace shrugged lightly. "Nothing. But I refuse to give up."

"Excellent. That's the attitude I need in this place-" he looked to the guards. "Get out." They obeyed instantly, leaving the pair alone. Jace was watching with his eyes narrowed. "I don't understand."

"I want to train you. You are heir to such an important bloodline. The last of your bloodline. It would be a shame for your talents to go to waste. You managed to sneak into the castle. Right into the throne room. A feat many have tried and failed. And how old are you-?"

"I am twelve."

"Twelve. And achieving that? I have no doubt that your father told you of that entrance?"

"Yes." Jace still didn't understand what the king was offering him. "I still don't understand what you want with me. Train me?"

A nod. "Yes. Train you myself at times too. You will be a god when you are older, I assure you. And my proposition is that you allow me to do that, and you become my arrow-"

"Arrow?" Jace was more confused.

"To be the one to take down my enemies. Discreetly."

Jace understood. An assassin. The king was offering him the chance to become a fully trained assassin… work for him.

"Why would I want to do that? Kill at your command?" he hissed, eyes mere slits. The king smiled. But it wasn't friendly, not at all. "Because… I can help you find the ones that killed your parents. The rebel group that slaughtered them. They are yours to kill."

Jace's world shattered. "W-what?"

"I want them dead as much as you," the king told him. "The Herondales were great friends and allies. Shortly before his death, Stephen and I came to blows over something petty. And I regret the last time ever seeing him was that moment." A pause. "You will have lodgings in the castle. Treated like a son. Do you accept?"

All Jace heard was the chance of revenge on the ones that murdered his parents in cold blood.

His eyes found the black runes all over the king's arms and peeking from under the collar of his neck. If the stories were true, the runes gave you powers. And that was what the king was offering.

He would never get another chance like this. Such power.

"I accept."

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