In a world in which one fated action or rather, the lack of one, where a single change in history means that the Uprising was successful, Clary lives like a princess in a world of shimmering wonder and blood that her father spilled to turn the world on its back for her. Jocelyn never raises her hand against her husband, and so there is no forces to save the Clave during the Great Uprising. Sometimes all that separates a loss from a win is three simple words. Valentine has won. Darkness is Coming. The only question is from where? Sebclace threesome pairing, Incest. Will also have other pairings, but the main couple is ClaryxSebastian/JonathanxJace. Will probably have hurt/comfort later as well.
"If you won't give me answers," Valentine hissed, "you can give me your blood. It will do me and mine more good than it will you."
Jace had always known he had only one role in life: serve. Any and all other uses came second to laying his life before his lord, his master, the only father figure had had ever known. His father had been killed early on in life, leaving him orphaned with no where to go. Valentine Morganstern, the leader of a group of rebels that systematically took down the existing regime known as the Clave, had taken responsibility for his father's demise, as it had been on one of the Circle's mission that his father had been killed on, specifically assigned to him by Valentine himself as his right hand man. His mother had been driven insane by grief and had killed herself shortly after, regardless of the fact that she still carried him in her womb.
Valentine had ordered another member of his inner circle cut him out of his mother so he too wouldn't be lost. After all, there's was a dying race.
And so his very existence was owed to this man and his cause. He tried his best, growing up, to be everything Valentine wanted. His life belonged to Valentine for so many countless reasons after all, and despite being raised off grounds for several years, he was grateful. He learned, as he got older, that Valentine had made a habit of raising his children in separate households, and spending only allotted time with each, rotating through them on a daily basis so that their habits were unique in them and had no outside forces to dictate their personalities. Two days a week he saw him, and on the seventh day that didn't belong to one of the children belonged to Valentine himself.
On occasion, Valentine boasted to him the successes of the others; Clarissa was growing up to be a very bright child and was the subject of many household conversations. She was attractive to him, even if he hadn't actually ever met her. Her brother, it seemed however, found her the bane of his very existence. Jace just couldn't wrap his mind around that though. She seemed perfect.
As they grew older, that seventh day became a day of fraternization between Valentine's actual children, and he had heard stories about how the other boy and girl interacted. Jonathan, the eldest, had a distasteful habit of antagonizing his young, sweet sister into a bitter rage that often ended in blood; the two seemed polar opposites and he couldn't understand how they could act that way, when he would latch on to anyone that came to visit him- no one was safe from his affections. It was shortly after his sixth birthday that Valentine alluded that he may have had ceased his children's interactions with each other; Clarissa, the daughter, had apparently nearly killed her brother somehow. Their parents had been out of the room, and he had done what he always had, and when they came back, he was laying in a pool of his own blood as Clarissa gave it to him
It was then that he began begging for any scrap of affection more that he could receive. Despite knowing that he was nothing of real importance to Valentine, he wanted, needed the touch of another human being in his life. He longed for companionship, wished to breath it in, and clung when ever the man came around. 16 hours a week just wasn't enough.
What he got was hardly what he wanted. Valentine decided to pit the boys against one another, and used the excuse of socialization to make them strive to out-man the other boy. They fought, weekly, going at each other like their life depended on it, trading physical blows and mental ones. Their prize most days was hardly even worthy of the damages they each took. He eventually stopped putting forth the effort, knowing that the end result was never worth the risks involved, which drove the other Jonathan crazy because he enjoyed the vicious chase he ran far more than the actual prize of winning.
Jonathan always was most dreadful to him. Always blood thirsty, he'd come at him from any side he could, just to get the upper hand. Valentine reprimanded him offhandedly, and the boy would smirk like his father had acknowledged a strength in him and would turn on him again.
Spinning on his heel, Jace dropped down and shoved upward abruptly, taking his opportunity and momentum to drive his fist into the other boys face.
Jonathan only smiled at him, wiping the blood from his split lip.
He rushed him then, all fury, only to get caught up in Jace's long limbs as he flipped his brother and slammed him into the ground with a loud crack. The boy's black eyes widened as he sat beneath him, watching the wiry boy that stood threateningly before him. A noise at the doorway had both children's attention, and Morganstern's son summoned up every ounce of pathetic nature he could master and wailed out false agony, playing his mother like a puppeteer, large crocodile tears streaming forcefully down his cheeks as his face turned pink from the effort.
Jocelyn rushed to her son, shoving Jace off balance and to the ground away from her weeping child and pulled him up into her arms, embracing him close as he sniffled, the back of his hand rubbing dramatically at his eyes as the tears came easily enough. Mothering came so naturally to the woman, as she rocked her baby boy to silence, easing his pains and fears alike. He longed for a moment like that, to have someones' worry consume them so like hers did time and time again that all they could do was rush to help them. Jace was sure he had hurt him, but not enough for the show the boy was putting on.
Jocelyn Fairchild was a hauntingly beautiful woman, and for every part of her doll-like delicacy, she had three parts fierceness. She turned her verdant eyes on him, the narrowness cutting him like her son's blade. "Valentine, you must keep control over your play things. You alone are responsible for our children's safety when you expose them to such a... fiend."
"I agree that someone should have kept an eye on him. But it should have been Jonathan's, not I."
"What if something had happened? What if it had been Clary and not Jonathan? What then, if your precious daughter was hurt-" The woman's arms visibly tightened, and he heard a muffled noise in her breast as the elder boy let out a wash of air across her corseted bosom, his hand tightening at her back.
"What of Clarissa, indeed..." Valentine approached now on silent feet, and Jonathan noticeably straightened, his sniffling silenced immediately as he pulled back from his mother's embrace. He watched his reigning father, the strength in his taught muscles with a similar affection that he himself felt, and when he spoke he found that both lingered on his voice.
A smile played at his lips, as he addressed his wife fondly, his hand brushing the columns of waves in her hair lovingly, "You still think her so weak that she couldn't take out her own Adam? Do you really see that much of yourself in our lovely daughter, Jocelyn, that you can't believe she could ever protect herself from the likes of him?"
Jocelyn turned away from him, her glance darting to Jace momentarily, taking in the small boy who quaked in fear of the King and Queen of this new world with all of the respect he could muster, with a burning passion for love and compassion from the only people he had ever known. Jace watched her as her mouth opened and closed quickly after, before pulling herself from son and husband and storming from the room, her wide gait making her hips snap as she moved, the echoing crack of her heels echoing in the room as she made her escape, intent not to let Valentine see how he had won.
But Jace saw, he saw everything, and as she passed him, a look of disgust passed her face. Not because of what he was, but what she feared he would become, Jace understood.
"Come, Jonathan Christopher." his father called regally, "attend to your mother, remind her of her role in all of this, while I see to your sister."
Silently, the boy nodded, seeing himself out of the room after his father.
On her seventh birthday, Clarissa had asked her father for more time. She had intended it to have taken another meaning, Jace figured, and thought herself most clever until she actually was given her gift, but what she received brought her more joy in the long run, at least that was how Jace saw it. Their interactions then became a three-way battle, one weekend out of the month. Jace began to live for this weekend, as he could pretend that he had a real family for once, complete with a mother that came along with the complete package. He watched the woman that mothered his siblings with interest in the way she attended her children; her affection seemed to all reside in Clarissa, and eventually that kind hand began to be offered his way as well, but to her actual son, she avoided, making a palpable distance that told him that neither really wanted to cross the void.
Regardless of the awkwardness and the intention behind the interactions, it was nice to have this family dynamic, and he tried to ignore the elder child's antics and focused on the girl's. Jonathan gave all the punches, but Clarissa dealt them out just as hard and rough. Despite her angelic features, he knew that she was like a viper ready to strike when provoked fairly quickly, and decided that her wrath would never be his, and moved to always be on her good side.
His favorite memory came from the first morning he had saw the young angel's face for the first time, and even though he had so few to count through, Jace was fairly certain it would have still been his favorite regardless of a larger quantity he could have had.
This house had to be the grandest of all three Jace had ever been in. All of the floors were marble, gold inlaid and leafing so much on the walls. Painting hung in the hall of beautiful places and people. Despite its well-to-do appearance, the stark walls left him cold, and he wondered if everyone felt that way here. Opening a door which had previously been shut, Jace peeked in to watch the occupants within, a boy and a girl, in a spat.
The girl had her hair in a loose side braid, the long curly hair sticking out defiantly from the delicate spinning design, making her look a bit wild despite the amount of care people gave her. She looked like a fairy tale princess to him, with a flowing dress to match her intricate hairstyle. The blue cotton sundress had smudges all over it, like she had been rolling in the dirt, and a splotched smear beneath her right eye.
Her brother seemed to be harassing her again, his tongue pointed threateningly towards her like he was aiming to lick off the mud on her pale, freckled cheek, his arms splayed across her shoulders as he anchored her down where she stood and he tried to wrench her torso around.
"GE'OFF ME, JONATHAN!"she cried, trying to unhinge the larger boy's hold. Her hands were grabbing at his arm, her feet lifting off the ground as she forced all of her weight into her arms, hoping to break his grip on his elbow.
Jace smiled fondly, thinking that perhaps this was what it was to have a family. Without thinking, he stepped into the room and approached the pair.
"Happy birthday, Miss Morganstern..." his voice betrayed him, cracking as he addressed her, watching her as she froze midair, her eyes like that of a doe as she put her slipper flats to the ground just in time for her brother to drop his hold on her shoulders.
Jonathan was violently angry, his cry sharp as a knife stabbing with each articulation as he pushed Clary behind him, glaring at the approaching boy. "Don'tcho talk to my sister like you know her, angel boy."
"But she's my sister too, Jonathan. Same as you. I deserve to wish Clarissa-"
Clary ducked beneath the protective arm her brother meant to protect her with, shocking the white haired boy as she approached the orphan boy with all the kept stillness of a typhoon, reeling back and slamming the boy in the face with her foot with an elegant spin-kick that threw him off kilter. He hit the ground with a crack and the red-haired girl clamored after him, straddling his chest to pin him with her knobby knees against the marble floor, defenseless.
For the second time in his life, Jace found himself looking up at a Morganstern woman and being subjected to her fiery wrath. It made him wonder if all men experienced women this way, or if something inside of him just rubbed this particular family the wrong way. He did, after all, impose on them constantly, and even now he found himself trespassing on a family occasion, unwelcome and unwanted.
The girl looked at him a moment, mistrust easily the foremost thing in her eyes as she observed him, leaning back onto her haunches atop his ribs as he struggled to breath after the hit he had taken, before she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Her hair fell like a crimson rope, tickling his throat where it swayed across, before she pulled hesitantly away, worried she had perhaps gone too far and turned her focus completely on the aftermath. His chest shook with every shaking breath and as she pulled away, she heard a silent groan of air washing over an injured lung.
Shifting off of him, her gaze didn't waver from his, and he found himself haunted by the bright green orbs that remained pinned on him. Her hand held out to him in a peaceful offering, which he took, before getting hauled up close to her tiny figure.
Jace supposed that perhaps some of the most amazing things came in small packages, as he watched the young princess seemingly at war with herself.
"Next time," Clarissa began softly, her hand clenched in his shirt as she kept him near. Her green eyes looked around the room, as if he weren't a worthy enough subject as her hand came upon his shoulder, becoming iron as she pulled him close and she leaned in to whisper threateningly, "You call me Clarissa, I'll bring you to your knees."
Her hand shifted and idled in his golden crown of curls thoughtfully, her eyes darting back to his, the look intense and shimmering brightly, before patting him affectionately, "You'll be mine now, 'kay? Jonathan won't hurt you no more. Not unless he wants me mad."
The rest of the day went uneventful, with the three children playing a sort of Mother-May-I meet charades, where you had to appropriately guess what kind of monster you were being attacked by before they got you in three turns, each child taking turns to be the beast.
Jace felt out of his league in comparison to Jonathan, especially when more children flooded into the grand room- a tall, lanky girl with pitch black hair and dark eyes accompanied by a boy with similar looks to him; siblings, Jace deduced, by the similar stance they walked in with, a closeness and fluidity to their movements born from years of close proximity.
The new presences made him feel off kilter; it was obvious to him that his siblings were close with the other two new comers by the way they responded. Clary dropped a ball, which she had been holding previously with a look of constipation on her face, a cry escaping her lips as she threw herself towards the door, a huge smile on her lips. She threw herself at the girl and was met with equal affection, the taller girl's hand coming to pet her ruby hair before they pulled away, brilliant smiles barely contained as they shook with excitement.
"Nice warlock, Clary," the boy called, dashing after the ball as it fell. He made a game of it with Jonathan as the girls occupied themselves with each other, bashing the ball across the room to each other.
"Mum says we can stay for some time again!" the dark haired girl breathed with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "She'll be on another raid for some time and says its proper time Alec and I-"
Leaning to the side, the young girl cut off, her eyes catching sight of an awkward young boy standing on his own. Pointing towards him, her voice dropped, "Clary...who's that?"
Turning, half confused, Clary saw him standing off on his own, and gestured that it was alright for him to approach them, "That would be Jace... Father brought him and made him a gift for me."
The girl looked horrified. "So...No new dresses for me to steal this year?"
Clary laughed, smacking her friend playfully, "Izzy!"
A smile took them both, before Izzy shoved the girl towards the dueling brothers, and Clary rushed to restart the game. The dark girl remained, however, her smile fading to nothingness, until she simply stared at him with a calculating gaze.
She too was beautiful, like Jocelyn and Clary, a haunting gorgeousness that made him feel like he stood in the wake of an angel, cursed to have its wrath upon his head. "I know who you are, Jonathan Christopher Herondale, and now its only right you know who I am."
Her approach was silent, like the wind blowing leaves across the air, and she watched him with a gaze that did not waiver, dark chocolate eyes rimmed with indigo narrowing as she pinned him against the wall, "I am Isabelle Lightwood, the daughter of Commander Maryse Lightwood. And that girl, she's gonna be my Parabatai when were old enough."
Confusion washed over Jace and he tilted his head to the side, looking at her as if she had spoken another language, "Para bat eye?"
Isabelle looked at him as if he had grown a second head from his shoulders, a mild look of disgust in her eye. "Parabatai," she intoned indignantly, cross that she would have to explain it to him. "You know, soul mates, who we Shadowhunters choose to fight the greater evil with?"
"Why fight? Surely everyone can just get along without war..." he seemed genuine in his answer, looking to the girl his age with golden eyes, wide and pure with untouched innocence that the world hadn't gobbled up yet. Neither noticed that Alec watched them now, curious what kept them from joining the game.
Again, the boy seemed to just not be getting it, and Isabelle deflated instantly with shock, like a balloon being sat on, everything exploded in her head. "Wait a minute. Your telling me you don't even know what our mandate from god is?"
The blankness in his eyes was all the answer she needed. The dark girl backed away from him, smug and worried she had said too much. It was common knowledge in the Circle that Jonathan Herondale, named secondly Jace by her own mother fondly, was a captive shut in. It hadn't occurred to her how sheltered he might have been, locked away in his dead parents' home all alone.
Looking to the taller girl, Jace tried to stop her. She was an enigma full of answers to questions he had never known he should have asked. "Who is god?
"Why, I am." A dark shadow fell upon the children, and all within the room turned to acknowledge the thick man with ivory hair that stood foreboding in the doorway. As Clary turned, he saw the way her green eyes brightened, and she rushed forward, throwing herself at the man in heavy armor.
"DADDY!" The man in question dropped down into a squat to meet her, a smile playing at his thin lips as his large arms hefted the girl up against his chest as her smaller ones clung to his neck. With his daughter in his arms, Valentine looked fiercer somehow, as if all that could ever be precious to him was there in his arms, and he would tear worlds asunder to protect that which was closest to him. His attention turned, cold dark eyes fastening down on the Lightwood girl that spoke so freely.
"It's time you left off on the tales, don't you think, Isabelle? It would trouble your mother terribly to know that you speak so openly of things you know nothing thought you much smarter than that. Perhaps it was a mistake, bringing you here..."
"Yes sir." The once vibrant and sassy girl melted, leaving behind a skeleton in her place., shaking as she watched him with her wide dark eyes, "Please let us stay. Alec and I want a proper education that isn't knee deep in some Lycanthrope."
The room fell into silence, and tension in the air. Clary felt it too, and pulled away, her gaze softening the dark look in his black eyes as he saw the saddened look on her soft face. Even a cold man could not break his daughter's heart. And so he bent to her whimsy, instead. "To bed, with all of you. We will discuss such arrangements tomorrow."
The room dispersed quickly, much like cockroaches when a light was turned on at night, Isabelle bolting for the door with lightning speeds, and Jace saw a flicker of gold as she disappeared, her brother hot on her trail.
Jonathan and Clary paused together, tightening like a knot as Valentine urged them to their own rooms, trying to force the two apart with his gaze alone, tightening their stances much like a real knot would under pressure, the pair standing close to one another as they took each other in with calculating gazes again before the elder boy leaned forth and kissed his sister in a way Jace felt off about, his lips gently caressing hers like the way one might kiss the most important person in the world to them. He only let her go when the girl sighed and pulled away on her own, her fluttering lids looking up at him with mild annoyance and something else. Sibling rivalry, perhaps? She stepped away, forcing his hand to fall from her face as she turned and walked briskly away, throwing her voice as she left to make her final demands.
"Be nice, won't you, Jonathan? We're all he has in the world. You wouldn't hurt me so, would you?" her voice seemed so regal then, a demand worded like a favor, and Jace wondered if Jonathan would humor his sister.
Glumly, the boy shoved his hands into his pockets, and glared at him momentarily before following her out with a steady elongated pace. "Come along, angel boy. It's time for bed."
Jace hurried after the other boy, refusing to be left behind and lost in such a large and wondrously cold place. As the boys ascended the spiral staircase, it occurred to the golden-haired boy that it wasn't the place that had warmed him, but Clary herself.
Settling into the futon thrown on the floor for him in Jonathan's room, Jace pressed his back against the wall, and felt the heat register through his body. Somehow, he knew that Clary must be on the other side of the wall, warming his very soul. He fell asleep thinking on Parabatai, and soul mates, and the identity of god, whoever he possibly could be.
Clary had been right with her promise too. Jonathan stopped all of his bitter attacks, replacing them with barely barbed ones. He soon found he might be able to befriend both, in fact. The brother seemed to be finally coming along.
The family outings came to an abrupt halt fairly quickly, however, and the children returned to their solitary homes, barred into the confines of the houses. None of them knew quite what had happened, but Jace eventually heard the accusatory whispers of the staff that made sure he had the means to continue living in his solitary confinement. Jocelyn Fairchild- Morganstern had been abducted from Valentine's home. Clarissa had been inconsolable, he heard, crying like the young child she was. The whole house spoke about it constantly, echoing hollowly through the walls to reach ears that they would rather they not receive them.
It had enraged him- how dare they speak of their masters like that? They owed everything to Valentine Morganstern, their very existence and way of life was because of him, and how he had seized control back from a corrupted government.
And then worry settled deep into his bones after his wrath had its way with him. Was Clary alright? He had no way of knowing, and the lack of contact with her, with Valentine, and perhaps even Jonathan, had him on edge.
He could be there for them, should be there for them. They were his family, weren't they? How could he just sit around and accept that they were in pain and not try to make his way to them, to alleviate what he could?
The Lightwood children came to live in his household as well. The loss of his wife turned Valentine wrathful, and those without reason in his house were sent away. From what the two had whispered to him under duress, he gathered that Clary was fine, physically, but she was inconsolable, mentally unwell. She and Jonathan both were barely eating, and neither left their rooms these days. It was for the best that they left for somewhere they would be given ample attention.
He supposed the same could be said about him. The only company he kept was when Izzy or Alec forced their way in with food and refused to abandon him. The two were loyal to a fault, and he wasn't even a close friend. At least at the time he wasn't. Now... now he couldn't imagine life without the two.
Regardless of the feelings that welled right beneath the surface of his flesh, like a pulse brought to life by his strife, Jace squashed down the worry and the guilt, and forced himself to live on without his adoptive family, becoming wound up and snappish as he bottled his urges and his worry, mindlessly shaking them as he went and ignoring the way they festered together, bubbling until they were ready to explode. He was thankful for those two surrogates that came to him with no where to go, because if he were in their shoes, he would have went running ages ago.
XOX
Somewhere faint in the distance, the bell tower tolled nine. It had been a source of constant comfort to him for years, the only way he had to mark how the day had passed him by and how long until he was allowed human contact again.
A hard downpour shook the shingles on the roof in a rhythmic pattern. Sometimes, when it rained like this, he could pretend that there were so many people in the house, that that was the commotion he heard was the sounds of their movement: dancing, running, playing. He closed his eyes, and let his fantasies run wild, clinging to the feeling of camaraderie. He fell asleep in this fashion many nights, and woke up in the morning depressed to find himself alone, and it was in this way that he had fallen asleep the night that everything had changed.
In the dark of night, something had rattled his window loose, letting the vicious wind and rain into his bedroom, the wet seeping into the curtains and the rich carpeting. Waking up, Jace bolted upright just in time to see a small shadow move across the window's light. His eyes searched out a figure standing weakly shaking in the dark, sliding the window back into place, as it trembled with cold.
Jace would have known that small, doll-like figure anywhere, and despite his shock, he was excited to see his little adopted sister.
Clary stood, drenched to the bone in a sage colored night gown, the elegant pin-tucking the only thing that hadn't fused to her skin, and her arms crossed over her chest to try to warm herself futilely, running rapidly up and down the length of her biceps. She shivered in the dark, cold and afraid, and something in him tightened, calling him to action. He had to protect her, had to put her before himself. "C-clary?" his voice cracked, coming out like a rattling sigh like one might when they are ice cold. Something in him recognized that the warmth in the air that seemed to follow her was gone, leaving them both hollow, watching one another, "W-what a-are you doin here?"
The girl looked as if she had gone through the worst this night, and it wasn't just the rain. There was a deep terror in her eyes that clouded her vision, widening the large green orbs and dilating them so the brilliant irises were slivered. They cleared just enough for her to recognize him as his voice reached her, and she seemed to be grateful for his presence, even though she shyly stood away from him near the window.
Finally, after some time she spoke, and her voice would have broken him if he had let her. As it were, it shook him to the core, "My house is completely empty. Everyone's gone now, even father. The wolves woke me in the night and no one was there... no one was there..."
Being the youngest, her mother had coddled her, never leaving the girl alone in the house, and only attending her son Jonathan when her husband was present. With them both gone, she had no one to turn to when the night took its dark turns. She was abandoned, and she knew that deep in her bones and it had left her deeply shaken, enough that she had come here.
"You shouldn't be here, Clary. Your father will be mad. Let me call someone to come get you." He only took a step, maybe two before she seized him, wrapping herself around his stomach, her face buried in his chest, warm wet seeping into his abdomen.
She was crying. "Please don't send me away Jace. I just want to be here, with you."
It occurred to him that it was a several hour walk, perhaps five for someone of her height. There would be no sending her away, even if he wanted to. He couldn't send her back into this rain, not on the night of a full moon, not to an empty house with no one to look after her,and above all else not when she was so obviously shaken and clung to him like a last life line before she was caste out to an unforgiving sea.
Moving over to the squat dresser that housed all of his clothes, Jace pulled open the middle drawer and pulled out a knit wool sweater that was a little on the large size on him. He had gotten it for Christmas the year before, the first and only one they had shared as a complete family, thirteen months prior in fact, as he had been expected to grow into it and had not yet. He supposed he was just on the smaller side for his age, and accepted it with grace, packing the caramel colored sweater away for later use. Turning, he held it out to her, offering it up in exchange for her wet nightdress.
She took the thing timidly and held it out in her tight, white little fingers, her eyes looking for a place to duck behind for modesty. Jace, despite having never been taught modesty nor how to honor it, watched on, intrigued as she gave up hiding, and just slipped the overly large sweater over her head, struggling after it slunk around her hips to unbutton and slip the night dress off. It fell with a wet plop and her feet lifted daintily, stepping out of the large seeping puddle that was forming.
The sweater came to her mid thigh, right above the knee and the sleeves draped over her hands so that the fingertips could be barely seen. It was endearing, the way it slunk off her one shoulder to expose the soft freckled skin beneath. It made her look all the more fragile, like a pixie compared to his much larger size. Her hands were futilely pushing the thick fabric up around her elbows. She looked ready for bed now, much more than he, as weariness settled deep into her bones, stiffening her bones. The back of one of her hands came up and sleepily rubbed at her eyelids, a soft yawn pulling at her lips as Jace walked away from her and she stumbled along after like a little lost lamb.
Jace pulled the blankets back in the bed that he had previously been occupying and slid back into the cooling spot where he previously laid. He was busy smoothing the quilt when she scrambled up the mattress after him. Clary's slight weight came against his and her stomach molded to his as she curled into his side, her ruby head resting against his large shoulder.
Her hair now was all that was left that was left to tell the tale of her journey here. Reaching out, Jace innocently smoothed a wayward strand back into the wet mass. His hand came away sharply as the backs of his knuckles caressed her bare collar bone, and her breathing hitched, her lovely eyes searching his out as she blinked coyly up at him.
She blinked at him, wide and like a doll in so many ways, and Jace longed to do as Jonathan had done. Tentatively his face lowered, lips pressing against her full ones as he drew out her small gasp, her mouth moving against his, igniting darker things in his mind than such an innocent kiss ought to.
They fell asleep in each others arms, dozing deeply.
The bell tower tolled midnight, and it sounded so close that it rattled the two children awake. Clary's hand tightened in the boy's pajama top and Jace jumped, waking them both.
His eyes blinked rapidly in the dark, trying to make sense of what just happened while the girl on top of him sat up on her forearms. She too was confused, but kept her facial expression in check, even though she looked to the window where the waning moon sat in the middle of the sky. A smile passed her lips, and she laid her head back down, snuggling into her bed mate's chest.
A soft, warm something brushed against his lips, startling him. His lashes fluttered shut, the long pale hair covering the dark gold beneath.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw the wide-eyed girl staring down at him innocently, as grand smile spreading over lips as she leaned forward, kissing him again and again, once, twice on the mouth, and again as an afterthought at his brow."Happy Birthday, Jonathan.
"What is your wish?" she airily whispered, her lips still only a moment always from his. Her loving eyes watched him thoughtfully in a way no one else ever had, a way he doubted anyone else's ever could, and he couldn't help but feel content, here in her arms, warmed by the light of her very soul.
His arms tightened around her, and his head cocked slightly to the side in a very Jace fashion, "A million wishes?"
Clary smacked him playfully, a growing smile taking over her entire face as she laughed, and oh, how he loved that sound, "That's not how wishes work Jace!"
In check now of her mirth, she leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes, and he felt his heart reaching for her, "You only get one, or else it makes the wishing meaningless. It's the same as having everything; if you have the world, you can't understand real happiness, because you can't understand why everything is so meaningful."
"I suppose I'll have to make this wish worth millions then." Jace sounded thoughtful. His golden eyes watched her, washed out in the moonlight that shimmered through the curtain across his face and dark still, because only one side of his head faced the window. The light illuminated one eye softly
"What'dyou wish for then?" Clary's voice dropped, her breath baited. He saw how red her lips looked, the way they parted as she looked up innocently at him.
Jace's lips moved foward, brushing against her cheek, his arms pulled her as close as he could manage without hurting her, and when he had finally absorbed the feeling of another human being, he held her there, her head craddled in the crook of his neck as his hand wove its way through the luscious, wet garnet hair, his lips at her ear. "My wish is to never be alone again. Especially not on my birthday..."
A meaningful smile appeared again on her lips, and she lowered her head enough that they pressed against the soft shell of his ear, "Then I'll be sure never to leave you alone, ever, again. Your wish is my command."
XOX
For once in his young life, Jace woke up truly happy. A halo of luscious, fiery hair spilled over his white pillows, framing the delicate face that had pressed itself into his chest. A noise had roused them, though neither were ready to move quite yet.
A door slammed and he forced his eyes to crack open, before forcing himself up and sitting, waking Clarissa entirely as he upset her from her peaceful place between half on the bed aand half on his chest, his eyes settling on their father who locked the door behind him and approached the bed with murder in his eyes.
To say that Valentine was unpleased was a major understatement. He was wrathful when he came into Jace's house and found his daughter in bed with him, even more so how she laid with her head on his shoulder, her body molded on top of him as his arms held her around her waist.
XOX
Author's Note: I do not own The Mortal Instruments nor its characters. They belong to Cassandra Clare.
Quote at the beginning sparked most of this. Blame Ithuriel. He put such things in my mind...
Helllllloooo again my lovelies. So this one began as a series of drabbles, about 10 pages worth now, and a theory of what if. The whole premise, the single irregularity here is that Valentine knew about Jocelyn's second pregnancy, which led to her never turned to Luke, and thus there were no allied forced to help the Clave. I also like the idea of the three amigos, with both boys pinning for her Adam thing may have confused many of you, but I will get around to explaining it in great detail. Any other questions, feel free to ask and I will try to answer them accordingly.
Anywho, so much more to come. I adore this series, and with the conclusion of the final book in the series, I present this Alternate Universe in which our favorite heroine grew up in a "happy" home, completely accepting who she is.
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'Till Next Time
TAORI