Not sure how far I'm going to go with this, so let me know if you guys like it or not ^_^
The girl, no older than three or four, runs through the field, her hair flying behind her like a trail of flame. She is barely able to run in a straight line for her bright, unadulterated laughter that fills the meadow, as pure as a toddler's carefree joy should be.
Close on her tail is her brother, his arms outstretched to grab her. His white-blond hair is falling in his eyes, and he is slowed down by his futile attempts to push it back. Not that it matters. He is already going much slower than his maximum speed for the sake of his sister. She loves to play chase with him, and he is happy to comply, if only for the joy that fills him when he sees that he is entertaining her, that he is making her happy.
Though he is only five, he seems to give out a dark aura, making him seem much older than his actual age. But Clary does not notice this, a fact that he is so, so grateful for. Valentine, his father, has told him more times than he can count that Jonathan is a monster, a monster that could never hope to be loved, let alone have the capability of reciprocating that affection. But Jonathan refuses to believe this, as long as he has Clary. Clary is his tether, to keep him from falling into the blackness that his father insists is an inevitable part of him.
But he does not dwell on any of this right now. All that exists for him right now is his little sister, almost swallowed up by the neglected grass that chokes the valley they live in. But he can still see her, if only for her colorful hair, fluttering through the green like a scarlet butterfly, something so beautiful that to disturb it would be almost a crime.
He wraps his arms around her waist, and she squeals in delight and surprise.
"Got you now, little tiger." he whispers, and picks her up, something no five year old should be able to do. But Clary is too young to realize this, and she wriggles in his arms, pounding her chubby toddler fists against him. She is strong, but nowhere near as strong as him.
He drops her, not afraid that she will begin to cry at the impact. A child of Valentine rarely cries. Instead, she giggles and, leaping up, tackles him.
At the last moment, he catches her and holds her at arm's length away from him.
"Easy there, feisty." He laughs, his onyx eyes sparkling. Clary, though she does not know it, is the only person who has seen this side of him, the only one who will ever bring this out of Jonathan.
But then, Jonathan succumbs to her wildly swinging fists, and they tumble through the field like two puppies, utterly carefree for the time being. But, as even young Clary knows, this brief moment of joy won't last long.