Sacrifice
The scene in front of Jace was that of a nightmare. Valentine stood, gear filthy and war torn, under the cool stone of the archway, smiling behind the body of the raven haired boy held in front of him. While one hand pulled at the ebony locks on his head, the other held a blade to the soft spot at the young man's jugular, point resting where blood thrummed strong and fast under his pale skin.
"You never did learn your lesson about keeping pets Jonathan" the older man sneered, "to love is to destroy, or don't you remember?". Jace felt anger in the pit of his stomach, disjointed memories of cruel hands and broken feathers flashing behind his eyelids. His parabatai rune seemed to pulse with the passing of time, an echo of the quickening heartbeat of his brother stood trapped in the darkness opposite. "I was never one for learning from experience, takes the fun out of everything". Jace kept his voice light, but the words were tinged with malice. Alec stayed silent, alert behind the arms of his captor, surveying the situation as tension grew between the two men. "You'll come with me Jonathan, whether you like it or not. You're willing to give your own life, I know that, but you won't risk his". As if to illustrate the obvious threat, Valentine gave a sharp tug at Alec's hair, forcing his head backward and exposing more of the boy's venerable flesh in the moonlight.
Alec could see the hope fading from his brother's eyes, the first terrible indications of resignation to the inevitable. Unarmed and faced with the possibility of losing the person he was closest to in the world, Jace's options were slim. Alec cast his mind back to the time this had happened before, long before the war, when his parabatai was manipulated, tortured, lied to by his father, the look of utter despair on the blond boy's face as he had disappeared through the portal into nothingness. The guilt in Jace's eyes when one drunken night he'd revealed the terrible things he had done, the thing's he'd thought, lost and alone on the ocean, in the company of the devil. He thought about the pain that Valentine had caused in the war, the bloodshed in the streets, the cold unseeing eyes of his mother as she lay on the ground at his feet, sword still wet with her blood. Alec thought about the seraph blade swinging just inches from his fingertips, tied to the man's leather belt behind him. The pair were so close they were almost touching, Valentine's wet, warm breath clinging to the hairs on the back of his neck every time he spoke. Alec thought, and wondered.
Jace felt his heart sink beneath his feet. The future spun out before him like some kind of sadistic prophecy, forced to do his father's filthy bidding, the war, savage and endless, continuing until the opposition were too dead or too exhausted to continue. Alec, poor, sweet Alec, held as insurance of his co-operation. Used as the motivation of his success. The thought made him sick. Out of the corner of one eye, Jace saw Alec's fingers twitch and shuffle ever so slightly backward, almost brushing the hilt of a weapon that he couldn't quite make out. Distracted, dismissive of the insignificant shadowhunter being used as bait, Valentine didn't notice. Jace let his eyes dart to those of his parabatai, just as Alec's eyes shifted upward to meet his gaze.
Alec looked at him. That single, infinite look in his brothers shining eyes stole Jake's breath suddenly, and all at once. Those blue eyes held a sadness and love so heartbreakingly tangible that Jace could swear the air struggled under the weight of it. That look spoke a thousand conversations in utter silence, spoke the words neither had the time or ability to say. Through sapphire windows he saw the perfectly flawed second half of his soul and it's forever home in the most beautifully painful light he had ever known. Time seemed to slow as Alec drew the blade from it's fastening and clasped his hand around the hilt, the smile dropping from his captors face. In that moment, Alec thought of his forever defiant little sister, of his lost little brother, of the warm embrace of his parabatai. Alec thought of soft lips and glitter, of long nights in Paris, of the man who had stolen his heart. With that one look, he hoped Jace would realise why. Hoped his sins would be forgiven.
Jace opened his mouth to shout out but it was too late.
With a terrible speed and finality, Alec thrust the blade through his chest, and through the beating black heart of the man pinned behind him.
Drifting into darkness, blood spilling from open lips, Alec felt fingers brush his cheeks, and a tear trickle over the cold skin. Somewhere in the black he heard a broken voice.
"My brother, my Alec, please don't leave me, please God don't take him from me"
Alec wanted to comfort him, to let him know that he'd never truly be alone.
But it was too late. He'd already gone.