He was a Herondale.
Before that, his last name was Wayland but he had been considered to be part of the Lightwood family. Before all of that though, and even now, clutching this family heirloom in his hand, he was a lost boy.
Sure, before he'd come to the New York Institute, he'd had a family. He had some memories of a time before, but not many. And those he had, were not necessarily the fluffy, comforting sort. They were the sort that he would rather forget.
Jace was still a lost boy.
A new last name did not change that. No matter how much he wished that it would. Or maybe it could change everything.
The Inquisitor had told him that he was about to see what being a Herondale meant, and he couldn't quite figure out if it was a promise or a warning. In their world, it could be a mixture of both.
Jace couldn't stop the fissure of hope that started in his chest though. He'd been through so much pain the last few months, the last year….and he'd put people through even more pain, but besides the Lightwoods and Clary…there had been no one else to claim him; to call him family.
Valentine didn't count, never had. After all had been said and done, he would have denied Valentine as being family until he died. Yes, in the beginning he had wanted nothing more than to believe Valentine was his father (he had just wanted an actual father), despite the issues that had caused with him and Clary, but he liked to believe he was no longer that desperate.
No, now that he'd seen behind the curtain, knew who Valentine really was, Jace would never claim him as family. He would also help brunt the impact of that familial connection to Clary as much as possible, she didn't deserve being "Valentine's Daughter" any more than he had been "Valentine's Son." Then again, there was very little he wouldn't do for Clary.
Maybe, besides the Lightwoods, he could possibly call The Inquisitor family, call the Herondales family. He didn't know who they were, but knew the last name carried some heavy weight. Jace almost didn't want to meet them because of that weight, but rarely did Shadowhunters avoid confrontation so he wouldn't start now.
Right now, though, Jace didn't know where he belonged. The Lightwoods, the Waylands, the Herondales….which last name was his? He had connections to all of them, but didn't know which ones were the strongest. He would always claim the Lightwoods, they'd taken him in without question. Alec had once said that he'd never been a stray, but, that hadn't been the truth. Because of Valentine's actions he had been a lost stray, but now…he didn't know. The lines were all messed up and with this new revelation, they were only slightly less messed up.
So, who was he exactly? Jace Wayland? Jace Lightwood? Jace Herondale? Jace still didn't know. He still felt like that lost boy that had come to the New York Institute, who was closed off and defensive, slightly cocky. Maybe though, with the Herondales, with Alec and Izzy, with Clary….maybe he didn't have to stay a lost boy.
As Jace continued to stare into the Inquisitor's eyes, he thought that maybe, just maybe, now he could finally be a found man.
Maybe.
Author's Note: You guys! Thank you so much for your support of all my stories. Everytime I get a new notification, I smile and, if in public, have to restrain myself from squealing. You're all so wonderful and supportive! I know I said I would be working on Dangerous and Transmitting...but I recently watched the latest episode of Shadowhunters, and the ending scene with Jace and the Herondale Inquisitor(?) was begging to be written...so I decided to write out what I thought would be going through his head. It's a short piece, but sometimes that's all that will come out. Once again, thank you so much, I love you all! Again, all mistakes are mine and I own nothing.