I've been trying to publish this story for so long it's not even funny anymore... I swear to God, first it was written but I had to transcribe it and it was sitting on my desk for months... and then it's been weeks and I just can't seem to get a hold on my to-do list...

Anyways, I want to give a huge shoutout to Writeslott, who was kind enough to beta this... something. Thanks, sweetheart!

Alright, moving on to the story... I don't want to spoil you anything, but I will say this is kinda weird... In my defense... there's nothing I can say to make this better...

What Could Have Been But Wasn't

For as long as he could remember, Jonathan Morgenstern had been compared to who some referred to as his brother. He could not find it within himself to think of Jonathan Herondale with any kind of filial fondness and perhaps, just perhaps, that wasn't his fault, as it had been his father ―their father― the one to teach him to perceive Jonathan as a rival instead of as an ally.

However, while it could be blamed on his father that he felt no affection towards his so-called brother, neither did he feel any trace of fondness towards Valentine Morgenstern himself.

It wasn't that he was incapable of feeling emotion. Far from it. He felt, and he did so strongly―hate, despair, rage, wrath. He was willing to admit that he was even capable of feeling jealousy. Towards whom, that was yet to be seen.

When Valentine died, Jonathan hadn't felt anything, not because the grief had numbed him or because the monster he was couldn't do something as human as mourn the loss of a loved one. Rather, he simply hadn't cared.

On the other hand, when he heard that the one who had killed his father had been Clarissa, a taunting smile had curved his lips.

Now, of course he'd been dead at the time, but he was slowly getting to know all the gossip he'd lost while he'd been gone.

Speaking about gossip, it was a good thing Lilith had chosen Jonathan to be connected with Jonathan. It was hilarious, having Valentine's precious son at his feet, ready to carry out his commands.

Oh, Jonathan, sweet, brave, caring Jonathan Herondale, Valentine's favorite son, the son that wasn't his but that Valentine had learned to love as his own, more so than his own flesh and blood, even. More than he'd ever loved his real son. Despite the blood bonds they shared, Valentine had loved his golden boy more than the one he had fathered.

Jonathan, silly name, wasn't it? Jonathan Shadowhunter and all the other Jonathans that had followed. Silly name, silly that he shared the same name with his so-called brother.

And Jace, Jace sounded even sillier, didn't it? But then again, it made sense that Jonathan wanted to forget, to bury the past he'd shared with Valentine along with the Michael Wayland he'd called father.

Jonathan had entertained the thought that, perhaps, Jace and he were not so different after all―Jace wanted to set his name ablaze just as much as he'd craved to see Idris burn.

And no, he wasn't Jonathan Morgenstern any more than Jace was Jonathan Wayland ―or Morgenstern, for that matter. No, he was Sebastian Morgenstern and he was going to make the whole world remember that name―his name, not the one that Valentine had given him.

―*―*―

Jace wasn't such a bad company Sebastian learned after a few days of living with him. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that Jace was under his control, which meant he wasn't acting as egocentrically as he usually did.

It gave him a sense of contempt, and maybe even of relief―for once he was stronger than Jace, for once he was better than Valentine's golden boy.

It had been almost fun―until Clarissa had arrived.

He knew his sister ―and with her there was no need to add a 'so-called' to her title. He was well aware that she could be impulsive and reckless. However, he hadn't expected her to actually go looking for Jace like she had. Perhaps he'd wanted her to recognize his power and respect it, wanted her to recoil and stand back.

Perhaps it was more than that.

Perhaps he'd wanted to gloat about the knowledge that, for all her words and reckless acting, for all the times Clarissa had claimed that she'd follow Jace to hell and back, now that it came down to it, now that he needed her the most… she failed him, the strength of love, nowhere to be found when it was needed the most.

It would have been a pleasant discovery―to learn that love wasn't so durable after all, to prove that it could be broken with the same ease with which one could break human spirit or snap someone's neck. It would have been gleeful news for him to find out, that, for all the big talk about family and companionship, Jace was just as alone as he was.

Unfortunately, it seemed this was not an area of common ground.

Clarissa, against all odds, had indeed followed them to Valentine's house.

For the longest of years, Sebastian had thought that the only thing he shared with his father was their last name. Sure enough, he had some of Valentine's blood in him, but just like Jocelyn's blood running through his veins, it could have been demon blood, for all he cared.

At the time, coincidentally, he was discovering that perhaps he had Valentine's scientific strike as well.

He'd been… experimenting, for scientific reasons, of course. He could, if not share Valentine's views about the importance of experimenting with demon blood, at least understand what had drawn Valentine to do so.

It started because he wanted to test how deep Jace's love for Clarissa was. He wanted to know how strongly whatever was left of Jace would fight against doing something that would hurt Clarissa if she ever found out about it.

The first step was physical touch, which of course Sebastian wasn't fond of, but he complied for the sake of science.

Jace, on his side, had practically leaned into the touch, and more often than not, he had initiated it―a hand on Sebastian's shoulder, a pat on his back, an arm thrown over Sebastian's figure, a nudge to call his attention.

That much was ironic, but Sebastian could only blame Jace's pathetic need of physical touch on the excess of Angel blood that coursed through his veins.

Sebastian's silly experiment backfired not long after that, as the son of Valentine soon found himself craving Jace's touch as much as the blond boy did.

It started with small things that none of them noticed―Sebastian realized he didn't mind the way Jace brushed their shoulders together when they walked next to each other. He began to look forward to the way Jace patted his back after they slayed a demon, the friendly hand that the blond boy placed on top of his own as they trained.

When they took it to the next level, it came out as a surprise to both of them―to Jace because he was being controlled, probably; to Sebastian because he hadn't planned on it happening.

They were finishing off a pack of Shack demons, nothing too complicated, rather, some exercise to keep in shape.

Sebastian had turned to his right to stab a demon―which had stupidly thought it'd be able to catch him off guard if he attacked from behind him. Rolling his eyes at how imbecile these creatures were, he promptly turned on his heels, sword held high and ready to attack. Instead, he found himself staring in surprise.

Without him having willed Jace to do it the blond boy had moved forward, swiftly piercing through the creature with his seraph blade.

Sebastian felt his brow crease as he watched the demon disintegrate in a cloud of gray dust. Jace didn't even spare Sebastian a second glace, busying himself over another demon and, soon enough, Sebastian was doing the same. The whole display had only lasted a matter of seconds before they had to move on and continue fighting.

When there were finally no more demons coming, Sebastian sighed contently, watching Jace's every move from his peripheral view.

Jace didn't mention a thing. It wasn't as if he had saved his life and, perhaps the way the blond had acted had something to do with the fact that if, by any chance Sebastian was hurt, then Jace would suffer the consequences of it too. However, Sebastian was pretty sure that was not the case.

The movement had been too sudden, too automatic for Jace to have considered all the edges and possibilities before stepping forward to slash the demon. Besides, Sebastian's life hadn't been at risk. Everything had been under control.

Jace hadn't been thinking about Sebastian's wellbeing as he took out his own seraph blade and he hadn't been thinking about himself either. He'd simply stepped forward, as if it were something natural, unplanned, expected.

Sebastian had never had someone who threw himself into battle to defend him. And he sure as hell wouldn't have returned the favor.

After the incident, Jace hadn't waited for thanks, or even for Sebastian to look grateful―not that he would have received either, but still. In fact, Jace hadn't brought the matter up at all, and Sebastian wondered for the first time if that was how the other shadowhunters worked, expecting their partners to watch their backs, protecting one another, demanding no more than a second glance in return.

Grimacing, he decided to push those disturbing thoughts away.

―*―*―

It was a few days later that it happened.

They were in the armory, Jace endeavored to polish his sword while Sebastian named his seraph blades next to him, close enough to feel the heat emanating from the blond's body.

More often than he cared to admit, Sebastian found himself distracted with Jace's strong hands, his long fingers, perfect for playing the piano, painting leading a dance. Perfect like his would never be, too tainted with blood and despair to not soil the instrument he meant to play.

They weren't the hands of a fighter. No, those were the hands of an artist, and for the first time Sebastian understood what Valentine meant when he complained of having to break Jace's sweet nature and transform him into a warrior. Too bad that sometimes things broke beyond repair.

But Jace wasn't broken, unlike him, Sebastian caught himself thinking. And, if he was, it wasn't to the extent to which he'd been shattered.

Absurd thoughts, that's what was crossing his mind at the moment. Heedless, useless and yet―was it so scandalous that he wanted Jace's careful hands to roam his body, slowly, taking his time, chasing away the everlasting chill from his bones with his summery warmth? Was it so condemning that he wanted someone if not Jace to stare at him with the stupid affection with which Jace looked back at Clarissa?

He didn't know when it happened.

Later on he wouldn't remember ever giving his muscles the order to move forward, but the next thing he knew his lips were crashing into Jace's. Numbly, clumsily.

This wasn't his first kiss, for hell's sake, he wasn't even a virgin, but he had never kissed another guy and most importantly, he hadn't endured the millisecond between him initiating the kiss and his partner corresponding it with trepidation.

It wasn't a sweet kiss―it was rough, full of tongue and a burning need of recognition that Sebastian hadn't known he felt.

Jace followed his lead without a second's hesitation and Sebastian revealed in the touch, marveling at how unfazed Jace seemed when his hands ghosted over the ever hurting scars in his back, content with the docile way in which Jace complied.

Panting as he broke from the kiss, Sebastian stared into Jace's eyes only to gasp in realization as he remembered―the only reason the blond boy had reacted in such a way was because he was controlling him.

It was stupid, stupid, stupid. No, he didn't wish that all of his sporadic lovers did that. No, he didn't yearn to have a partner that kissed back without stiffening, that caressed him with no trace of horror as they discovered the memories of Valentine that he bore on his skin, a partner that agreed to follow his lead with no fear.

If, as he stormed out of the room something that wasn't hatred burnt in Sebastian's eyes, then no one had to find out about it.

—*—*—

After that, it became something akin to routine―before leaving their base Sebastian would lean in and kiss Jace; as they trained; when they returned; as they discussed plans their plans to take over Alicante and the world.

Secretly, Sebastian liked to entertain the idea of Clarissa finding out. He liked to imagine her dejected face. He also liked ―even more so, perhaps― to entertain the idea of Jace willingly answering the gesture, instead of it being contributed to by their connection and the control Sebastian had over him.

Oh, Sebastian thought, but what a thing it was to have Valentine's golden boy at his mercy. This was the perfect proof of what he'd known all along―he was better than Jace could ever be, stronger, more powerful, more prepared for a leading role. And the fact that Valentine wasn't there to see it left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

—*—*—

That all changed once Clarissa caught up with them.

On one side, Sebastian was secretly glad that, at last, Clarissa could see what was going on between them. On the other one, it was hard to cling on to a stolen and technically forced kiss when he saw the way in which Jace's eyes beamed with recognition whenever they crossed paths with Clarissa.

He had already proven that he was better than Jace on the battlefield, but what about a more personal level? Clarissa loved Jace ―or that she claimed, at least― without any kind of coercion. Clarissa had fought tooth and nail to remain by Jace's side ―something no one, not even Valentine or Jocelyn, his so-called mother had done for Sebastian. She'd defended Jace when he'd been at his worst, and even now, against all odds, she was convinced that she'd be able to help Jace somehow.

Jace and Clarissa were the closest to actual love he'd ever seen although, as far as he understood, siblings were supposed to love each other too. Whether if there were different levels of love or if love was someone that was distributed equally among all the people you were fond of was something Sebastian didn't know, for he'd never felt even the slightest trace of affection towards anyone, but the idea soon stopped being a mere thought to smirk at, until it became something akin to an obsession.

Sebastian could take Jace down in battle, he could strip him of his sword―but could he take Clarissa's love away from him too?

Clarissa was attractive, that much was undeniable, with fiery red hair and emerald eyes, with the way she set her jaw when she threw her shoulders to the back to appear taller when she was in an argument. Under that criterion, Sebastian was also aware that both men and women turned to look at him as he walked, even when he had never paid much attention to it.

Clarissa also had an unyielding character―getting her to consciously feel something for him would be a thousand times more difficult than playing with Jace's mind had been.

Sebastian had always felt drawn to a challenge.

—*—*—

He tried to captivate her. He smiled at her, discreet and almost cynical. He tried to start a conversation with her. He stepped her in front of her to shield her when the demons attacked them.

He tried to make her look his way and force her to see something different, something more than what Valentine had made out of him.

—*—*—

But try as he might, that never happened.

Clarissa never learned ―she never aimed, either― to look beyond the demon-blood coursing through his veins. She didn't see Jocelyn's or even Valentine's blood in him, choosing only to focus on Lilith's heritage instead.

He insisted, going so far as to trap her in hell with him, but as she sat on the throne he'd especially prepared for her he knew she was looking down at him with barely concealed hatred, as if he were a repulsive crawly animal in her way. He knew this look because that was the same way in which Valentine had stared at him his whole life.

The only time she looked at him with something other than despise was when she saw the scars on his back, and even then he saw no fondness in her eyes, just horror and pity. There was a despaired gleam in her orbs that he'd seen on the faces of those looking down the mortally wounded, those with hours left to live.

It was even more enraging, knowing that the only emotion that he could provoke in the one person he'd ever wanted to be loved by was pity and revulsion.

Perhaps that was what he remembered most as he laid there, bleeding on the marbled floor of the castle he'd created, staring back at Jocelyn and Clarissa as the everlasting pain that he hadn't been conscious of feeling subsided, like lifting a weight not only off his chest, but off his back, his arms and his whole body. The relief leaving him weightless, exhausted, allowing him to see more clearly.

Only then, as the blood left his body in a fast bumbling did he recognize something else shining in Clarissa's eyes, something that wasn't pity or hatred or contempt.

It wasn't love either, it was more like pain―a long, throbbing grief for what could have been but wasn't, an open wound that would never fully heal. A look that was mirrored by Jocelyn.

That was a good way to put it, wasn't it? He thought, sighing as his eyes closed without him having commanded them to do so. What could have been but wasn't.

Oh, and if someone knew about daydreaming impossible scenarios, it surely was Sebastian Morgenstern.

Alright... so, I know this was weird as hell, okay? I know. A friend of mine who likes to play with my feelings gave me a prompt about Sebastian and Jace as a couple and I told him "No, that's twisted and strange", but then my mind started going through it and I decided that, actually, if it was properly played it could work out. I mean, it actually makes sense that Sebastian would want to prove how much better than Jace he is and he actually had "something" going on with Clary, so... Yeah, I know it's still weird either way, but the story wrote itself and I couldn't resist.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed nonetheless and if you did... please comment and let me know what you think about this little something!