DISCLAIMER: Of course, I don't own The Mortal Instruments, or the popular Christmas story this was (loosely) based on.
'Twas a night like any other,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse.
Shadowhunters lay,
Tucked in their beds,
While dreams of fighting demons
Danced in their heads.
One, however,
Still stayed up through the night.
His name was Jace,
And he couldn't sleep tight.
He thought of a girl,
With red hair and green eyes.
Who had come to him
And stepped in his life.
She had been a Shadowhunter,
Or a mundane with the Sight.
And Jace had felt,
She was in the dark a light.
She was special,
At least that's what he thought.
Like someone in a story,
Who was important to the plot.
A main character, even,
He told himself in the dark.
A girl who has something,
A girl who has a spark.
As he sat and he thought
In the dark of his neat bed,
He drifted off,
And said:
"Clary," he whispered.
And that one word,
Said in his room in the night,
Was heard
By himself and he smiled.
A sweet, small smile.
And he slept with good dreams.
At least for a while.