Chapter One: Primus

Alexander Lightwood had been nearly eighteen years old when he killed his first demon. Since then he had killed more then he could count. More than he cared to remember. His headcount paled in comparison to Jace or Isabelle's. But he had done his share of damage too. He was a great Shadow Hunter; a cold blooded killer. When he was protecting the people he loved.

When he was alone, he didn't have to worry about Jace running head first into a fight without any thought, or Izzy being just a tiny bit too slow to get out of the way from an attack. He didn't have to worry about them getting hurt. About them dying.

Like Max.

Max, who had never even fought a real demon. Who had only just started his training. Max, his sweet, innocent little brother who was alive one moment, and gone the next because he had trusted someone he shouldn't have.

He knew it wasn't his fault. Not really. That didn't change anything though. It wouldn't bring him back. He also knew Isabelle and Jace both felt them same. The same guilt and despair.

They could all die at any given moment. A freak accident or maybe even a Greater Demon ending the thin thread of life that kept them going. He could accept that they took those risks without a thought. But Max had never been in a fight before. Only the ones in his head and in his books.

He should have never been hurt.

Alec sat now, on his horrible little bed with it's horrible, rusty springs, and cried for the third time in his life.

The first time he had cried, he had been about seven years old. He had started combat training a bit earlier than most children. He had begged his mother and father to let him train with the practice steels and swords. He had a little sister and there were big bad demons out in the world out to hurt her. He had to grow up fast so he could protect her.

His parents allowed it.

He was training with his father instructing him. A rare occurrence through out Alec's life. Trying to lunge like he told him, feint when he was told, and perry as best as he could against an invisible enemy. He had grown frustrated, as children do.

"I want to fight someone for real! This is stupid!" He had muttered, slicing the air a bit harsher than before.

Robert Lightwood, clad in typical Shadowhunter black, stood tall and overbearing as he always did. He was a fairly quite man, but his stern personality overshadowed the unusual silence he tended to keep. His black hair was cut short enough that it didn't get into his eyes, and was combed back out of his face.

"Until your sister is old enough, you'll be training just like this, Alexander." Robert had replied crossing his arms. "You could train on the mannequins, but for now this will do just fine."

"But how can I learn to fight if I'm not fighting anyone!"

Alexander was like a miniature version of his father. His own black tresses were showing signs of needing a cut and his Shadowhunting gear was just a bit loose on him.

Robert didn't bother replying, but he had smiled just a tiny bit at the boy's outburst. Alec was a quite child usually, but nonetheless straight forward, something he had learned from his mother, Maryse.

"You need to learn how to hold the sword properly if you even intend on sparing with another person. At this point, even if I picked up a sword and fought you, it'd be pointless. When you get used to the weight of the sword, and holding it, and striking with it, then you can learn how to block real attacks. However, if I tried to teach that to you now, you'd just get hurt." The older man countered.

"But it seems so pointless fighting the air. I can't picture it trying to kill me. My imagination isn't that wonderful." Alec pouted, stabbing said air with a vicious jab.

"Then after a little while, you can try out a bow, how does that sound? You can at least shoot at targets with them I suppose." His father considered.

"Can I? I wont have to dance around with it for a week beforehand, right?" He asked, a scowl darkening his young eyes.

"No, you wont have to dance around with it Alexander. You will however, have to learn how to draw the bow, aim the bow, and actually hit the targets." Robert outright laughed, knowing the likely hood of the boy actually hitting the targets was slim to none. Alec paused for a moment, his father rarely laughed, and even though it was at Alec's expense, he was unsure what to make of it.

About an hour later, Alec picked up a training bow and a quiver of dull arrows that were barely sharp enough to stick in the battered targets of the training room.

"Watch me, as I draw the bow and aim. You do it simultaneously, with your left hand gripping the bow like so-" Robert gripped the flexible wood, pointing his index finger out. "-and aim the arrow like so-" Lifting up the black feathered arrow, he lined the nock up with the bowstring, using the first three fingers to keep it steady, he drew back on the arrow and bowstring. "While aiming, bring up your bow arm-that is the arm holding the bow, so that your aim is at eye level." The eldest Lightwood demonstrated as he brought his arms up, his left taught and straight and his right elbow bending outward and upward.

"Draw it back until your hand is touching your face and the string is touching your chin and nose-" He said, brushing his jaw with his hand, the tightly drawn bowstring just barely grazing his nose. "-and align your arrow with the target." Robert focused on the round, poorly patched target across the room.

"When you feel you are steady, release the arrow." The fingers gripping the arrow opened, the string snapping and as fast as he ever seen, Alec stared in awe as the arrow closed the distance with a quiet whistle to pierce the center of the target.

Alec eagerly ran up to his father to take his place. Alec was tall for his age, but he was still a few feet shorter than the older man.

"Now remember Alexander, keep your back straight and your feet apart. When you release the bowstring, all of your fingers have to let go at the same time, otherwise the entire shot could be lost."

Alec did as he was told, his dark brows knit as his concentration took over the task. He stood tall, with his feet just so, and nocked the bow like Robert had said, resting it against the bow rest as he pulled back on the string. He aimed the arrow at the target as he pulled the string against his chin, and let go.

The string snapped back and the arrow smacked into Alec's face with a sharp sting. Letting out a cry, the boy fell to his knees, dropping the bow in favor of gabbing his face.

It was the first time Alec had ever experienced real pain. His face felt like it was on fire, and he knew it would leave a nasty bruise. Alec could hear his father quietly laughing behind him, trying to choke back the sound. Tears welled up in Alec's eyes and fell down his cheeks, but the only sound he made was an angry growl.

Alec stood back up, and took the bow into his hands. Picking up the offending arrow, he tried again, not even flinching when the arrow once more snapped back. This time it didn't hit him in the face, and simply clattered to the floor.

Alec picked it up again. And again. And again. Over and over, not once breaking his concentration to complain, and when the arrow finally took off toward the target, his face lit up as he turned to Robert for approval.

Robert smiled back, nodding for him to continue. After all, the arrow had missed the target entirely, and now lay forlorn near the wall it had collided with.

Alec had fallen in love with the graceful weapon, and spent weeks trying to shoot it properly, and months trying to hit his targets. Within the years growing up, and meeting the Silent Jace for the first time, and Isabelle finally being allowed to train with him, he perfected his technique, even as he picked up swords and began to learn them once more.

XXX

So, a lot of people seemed to like my Valentine's Day story. I think one of the scariest things about writing a fanfic is getting the characters correct. I love Alec and Magnus so much, I was really worried about writing them. But because you guys were so positive in your reviews, I decided I'd go ahead and write some more.

I'm not sure where I'm coming from with this exactly. It may just be in three parts, however I may continue it. I can say though, that I wanted to focus a bit on Alec's feeling's towards Max's death, because it seems like such a taboo subject within the MI universe. I've noticed it's rarely brought up in the books, and that may be just because there's already so many things transpiring that it's too difficult to fit it in properly, but it's a subject I personally can relate to, in my own way.

I don't go terribly in depth into the relationship with Max and Alec, as much as I wish I could. Max was rarely in the story, so it's hard for me to properly build his character at this point. I feel that Alec was always training and hunting and probably didn't get to see his brother much more than anyone else did, and I feel like that would add to his guilt and his sorrow, which the Shadowhunter rarely expresses, as he's more keen on anger and love than any other emotions.

In any case, I hope you enjoy this story, I'm sorry for all the rambling I've just done, but I hope it was interesting and a bit insightful to how I'd like this story to feel.

Please R&R! It makes my day~