Disclaimer: I don;t own The Immortal Instruments Series
"Clary." The word was spoken so softly. Jonathan leaned over his sister's broken form. The chains holding up her arms and the support of the prison's wall were all that kept her from falling over.
She wasn't responding and his demon senses had to strain to hear her heart beat. However, when his breath whisked at her dirty, filth caked, red hair she jerked up with a sudden energy that impressed even him.
"Dear sister, here I thought you were dying on me." He told her casually. Clary shook her head over and over. No! No No!
"Have you decided to be cooperating today?" He asked her, pleasantly. He waited a few minutes for an answer, but when it became apparent that she wasn't going to speak or look at him for that matter – he lost his patience. His wrist took hold of her chin and forced her face into his direction. He smiled a little as she fought him.
It had been over a year and still her spirit was barely broken. He admired her for her strength, although he knew it that it wouldn't last.
"Answer me." He demanded coldly, trying to force his will on her mind. Still she fought him, refusing to open her eyes. His fingers dug into her jaw line. Clary whimpered and tried to pull away from him. The chains encircling her wrist kept her from moving far.
His fingers twitched slightly and her jaw cracked under the pressure. Clary cried out in pain,
"No!"
Jonathan sighed and pulled away from her. His father was going to be disappointed, not so much with his sister's refusal to cooperate, but more with the fact that he had lost control again. Valentine had entrusted him with her care.
Ignoring his sister's muffled sobs, he walked to a table on the opposite side of the small, dark prison. On top of the table rested a small collection of metal tools that ranged from tongs and knives to thin metal threads and scissors with claws.
"Too bad." He said shaking his head in sorrow.
Confidently he walked back over to her after picking up the metal thread. It made a nice, small but clean whip.
His sister brought her knees up to her chest, knowing what was coming. Jonathan flicked his wrist and the metal whip lashed out with a great hiss and sank into Clary's skin. He watched in satisfaction as a small but deep crimson line of blood drew on her arm.
"You're very brave to endure this in silence." He told her indifferently. Again he flicked his wrist. The whip slashed itself against her shoulder. Clary tightened up into a ball, long ago learning that protecting her face was the most important thing.
"I can see why father had you spared. When you do step forward to fulfill your destiny, our family we'll be unstoppable." He wasn't surprised when she didn't respond. Clary didn't like to talk. So he continued, searching his head for something that might interest her.
"The Lightwoods were finally brought in last night." He thought out loud. Bringing his arm back, the whip crashed down on top of her head with a particularity strong force. Clary shuddered, refusing to show her face.
"Father had hope that they would have been more opened to negotiations – don't worry dear sister you know I won't kill you." He interrupted himself when Clary started to fall into hysterics. He watched as she felt the wound on the top of her head. There was a lot of blood.
Enticed by her, Jonathan licked his lips and forced himself to continued.
The whip came down hard on her side, cutting through the fabric of her dirty gown. The whiteness of it had faded to a harsh gray. However, until she swore allegiance to the family – or was summoned by their father Jonathan saw no reason to have her garments replaced.
"Where was I? Oh yes – but no one wanted to listen. Father had them all executed. The younger ones died quickly." He added as an after thought. He smiled in satisfaction when he smelled her tears. Turning the grip of the thread in his hands, he forced the whip around her ankle. He tugged on it until he heard the bone and muscle tear from it's place.
Finally his sister screamed. And it was beautiful.
Satisfied with his work, he placed the whip back on the table and approached her.
"Once we hunt down that ungrateful werewolf there will be no more resistance. Then you will see. With no one left to turn to you'll have to join us." His voice took on an inhuman edge as he growled out the words.
He frowned when he realized that she still hadn't looked at him. And he did so like the color of her eyes.
"Would you look at me if I was more like your Jace?" He asked, placing a hand under her chin.
Clary trembled at the barest of contact with him.
"Please don't." She begged softly. He didn't respond.
Her pain induced mind was suddenly transported to another place in another time. Images began to bombard her...
Jonathon was fighting under an orange diseased sky. His power rippled with such magnitude that Jace was knocked of his feet...
"Oh, heaven's no!" Clary cried, squirming under the scene her brother was forcing into her head. Jonathan smiled. It never got old, he could show her Jace's death every day for the rest of her life and she would still act with such horror. He loved it.
The scene ended when Jace was run through with Jonathan's bare hands. Bare hands with black claws, that is.
Clary turned away calling out to her mother, to Luke and Jace begging for them to come save her.
"You're so pathetic, Clarissa." He hissed in disgust, even as he took pity on her.
Leaning over, he pulled the hysteric girl closer to him, so that she had to lean against him. With her mind shattered again, there was little to no resistance. He liked it when she was like that. It made it easier for him to get closer.
"But this isn't you're fault, my dear one." He told her softly. Clary stifled a cry when he kissed her forehead.
"Stunted by your teachings and moral. It will take some time to undo the damage..." He trailed off as his eyes settled on her jaw. His demon blood had some healing properties but that didn't include mending bone. He stared at her wistfully before his attention digressed to her other wounds. The blood smelled so delicious, his body began to react instinctively.
Clary cried out again, when her brother flipped her onto her back and pinned her there.
Her eyes opened in shock. Vibrant green eyes met lustful black. He was panting like an animal.
"If only you had the power to heal like I do." His word came out like an animal, making him sound more like the demon he was. His mouth lowered to her arm where she bled from the whip. He licked it clean, like some sort of predator.
"You know it will all be over sooner if you just surrender." Just surrender to me.
His sister shivered underneath him. There was no telling what he would do or how far he would go. He was getting bolder.
His hands skimmed over her belly and hips while his mouth sought hers out. Clary struggled against him but she was a lot weaker. His mouth dominated hers with pain as his tongue invaded her mouth and his teeth dug into her lips until he drew more blood.
He held her like that until she passed out from lack of oxygen.
"You'll see. Everything will turn out, sister of mine." Laying a hand on her temple, his powers forced health into Clary's veins. Her cuts closed over and healed. He circulated waste and infections from her system while he nourished her body with energy equivalent to that of food and water.
She was his responsibility, after all. It was the only way he knew how to show her his love.