Welcome to Chapter Two! Does that mean you liked the first one?! Please tell me you liked the first one! I worked really hard on it. I NEED VALIDATION!
Whoops.
That wasn't supposed to come out.
Okay, okay, what are you doing reading this A/N!
On with it already!
The Shadow Wars
Chapter 2: The Princess Bride is a Fraud
Songs:
Part 1: Scars - Papa Roach
Part 2: Shot Me Down - Skylar Grey, David Guetta
Jace casts his empty carton aside and reclaims the controls. "Z4, how are the radars?" Z4 beeps the all clear, and he smiles to himself. Flying is almost his favorite part of being in the Shadowhunter Elite, second only to battling enemies for the good of the galaxy. Life for Jace began when his training did, when Robert Lightwood, then a Shadowhunter trainer took him in as an apprentice.
He was ten at the time, old enough to remember every gruesome detail of the tragedy that brought him to Idris. He could conjure up an image of the fear in his mother's blue eyes as she told him to run, of the pride in his father's as he brandished the rusty sword of his grandfather and protected his family. He remembers the screams, the blood, the stomping of boots above him as he hid in the crawlspace beneath the bathroom rug. That's where Robert found him, covered in his slain parents' blood on his home planet of Alicante. He would later learn that an invasion of Circle members had nearly wiped the entire planet.
Robert sensed the presence of angel's blood in the young boy's veins, and Jace vigorously threw himself into his studies, preparing to avenge his family and overthrow the Circle. He shakes his head at his naivety at that age, believing that strong Shadowhunters fought for vengeance rather than justice is a rookie mistake, one often preyed on by the circle. Emotions like anger and betrayal make soldiers weak, clouding their minds until they are blindly throwing punches at the enemy. Robert took him in as his own child, taught him how to meditate, how to recognize just reasons for fighting, how to keep a clear and calm mind, how to strategize and stay one step ahead. In the process, Robert also gave Jace a new family to protect, directing his thoughts as far from revenge as they could get.
Robert's wife Maryse birthed three children—two boys and a girl. Jace had been there when Max was born, standing in line beside his adoptive brother and sister for a turn to hold him. Small and fragile with fingers that couldn't even wrap around his pinky and big brown eyes that blinked curiously upward at him, the newborn just confirmed what Jace already knew. He wouldn't let anything happen to the Lightwoods, that he would succeed where in the past he had failed.
Alec and Jace performed the parabati ceremony later that spring, creating a bond between the two warriors to aid in battle. During it, Jace voiced his vow to protect Alec at the risk of his own life, making a more permanent form of his secret promise. Isabelle, a strong warrior, rarely saw action. Well-trained and beautiful, her value falls in her ability to produce greater Shadowhunter offspring. Max, at the ripe age of 10, was just learning to handle a blade, getting comfortable with the motions.
"These are your tools," Jace had told him in the sparring room earlier that day, displaying an assortment of sharp, deadly items on a table. "But you are the weapon." His chocolate eyes had widened, as if Jace had said the most poetic thing he'd ever heard. Jace had ruffled his hair, telling him one day he'd be a master of those weapons.
His eyes drift toward Clary, as they always do these days. She slumbers quietly beside him, the occasional snore slipping from her mouth. He smiles to himself, remembering that sometime she snores too loud and startles herself awake, a hilarious sequence to witness. What will it be like having a wife to protect, to eventually have his own children to ensure are safe and happy? The thought terrifies him endlessly.
Throw a hundred demons at him, his confidence flares. Send even the idea of commitment in his general direction, he is waking up with cold sweats in the middle of the night. The thought of a blood family, his family—something he hadn't had in years. He sighes, clutching the controls tighter to not brush the curl from her face. He blames his lack of a maternal figure of his mild attraction to Clary's insults and expansive vocabulary of curse words. Sure, he doesn't exactly want to marry her.
At the ripe age of 21, he is just coming into his prime of infantry, a war veteran primed for battle. But how is he to protect anyone if he is off fighting wars, if he is dead? And yet, he can't give it up, not now, not ever. The Lightwoods are one thing. As purebred Shadowhunters, they have the ability to hold their own, to throw down just as much as he can. But a defenseless princess who has to spray bullets before her in hopes of getting a hit in lies at the complete opposite end of the spectrum.
But the choice isn't his.
When the king approached him in front of his entire squadron and presented him with the honor of marrying into the royal family, he was unable to turn him down, unable to speak in general. His stuttering rendition of something along the lines of okay earned him a hearty clap on the back and a round of congratulations.
It is not a secret that she radiates beauty. Women of Idris both envy her and aspire to be her. Men seek her attention, though she rarely even gives him the time of day. His grip tightens on the steering wheel to refrain from running his hand through her long hair.
Her auburn curls are splayed over the back of the chair, her good cheek pillowed in her hand. The cut on her face is more pink than red now, the skin slowly knitting itself together with the power of the cream. He really wishes he could heal her with his stele. An iraze would have left no trace of the cut on her creamy complexion. She possesses so many qualities of the top Shadowhunters, it's truly a feat that she is not a child of Raziel. She is brave, independent, and strong. She stands for her beliefs but is able to take orders.
Maybe he should have offered her some of his pork. Maybe he should have offered her some other form of food. She is probably starving. He scrubs his hand down his face, casting a sidelong glance at the serene look on her face.
He'd watched her take a pilot droid and leave the hangar. He'd tracked her all the way to Starkweather's ship. But he'd held himself back, waiting until the last second to swoop in and ensure her safety. He knew she would hate him for it. He knew she wanted to have credit all to herself. He'll let her have it. He just wants her to be safe.
With a longing sigh, he gets up, reapplying cream to her face smoothly enough to allow her to sleep. "I'll protect you, Clary. I'll let you go out and be brave, but I'll always protect you."
X.O.X.O.X
Jace's hand on her shoulder rouses her as the ship comes in for a landing. She's noticed he always wakes her before they land in the underground hangar, allowing her to take in the seas of green forests kissed by golden sunshine before once again being surrounded by concrete and artificial light. This is one habit she is grateful for, hating how little she is able to see outside the base.
She notices he is uncharacteristically silent during the landing, only asking Z4 to commence the sequence. He grabs his seraph blade, sliding down the ladder without a single look in her direction. Peering down the hatch, she sees him waiting for her, arms extended. She concedes, dropping into them only to have him set her upright almost immediately. Usually he'd have a cocky comment about women falling into his arms, but his eyes won't even meet hers.
Her brow furrows as she watches the muscles of his back ripple, heading in the direction of the military barracks, opposite to where their adjoining suits are. Her arms are still bound in his shirt, and she tries to ignore the way her body reacts to his scent.
Shaking her head at the concerned paramedics, she stalks over to Maia—her royal personal assistant—who is waiting at the edge of the hangar, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her look is made more severe by the way her brown curls are pulled into a neat ponytail at the back of her head, her eyes downcast as she scribbles ferociously in a planner propped in her hand.
"Princess," she chastises sternly as Clary reaches her. "I have been on the phone all day explaining your absences to—"
"Maia," Clary greets curtly, cutting off the lecture before it can start, knowing her father will jump down her throat the moment he sees her. She continues to walk past, forcing Maia to match her pace if she wants to get a word in edgewise.
"King Lucian has called for you to meet him in his office the minute you land." Clary rolls her eyes, tying her curls into a knot at the top of her head as she traverses the familiar underground pathways of the bunker. To the left sits the Academy, and to the right, the town square. It's a thriving community located beneath the surface, earning the Idrisans the nickname of the Ant People. Rather than attempting to survive the harsh winters on the surface, they'd burrowed down, living in underground tunnels. Sometimes it really pisses her off.
If she increases her speed, she can probably outrun Maia and lock herself in the sparring groom before she can catch up. Though her shoulders are aching and screaming for rest, her mind begs for a release from the thoughts about Jace creeping up. Why was he so quiet? Why had he been so gentle tending her wounds? Why hadn't he picked arguments like they usually do?
Maia, perceptive as ever, wraps a strong hand around her wrist, guiding her to her father like a royal prison guard. Clary can easily break her grip but chooses not to, not wanting to draw attention to her unusual strength for a princess.
"Father," she says as she pushes through the door, Maia closing it behind her and disappearing on the other side. She forces an air of confidence into her voice, a trait the king himself had taught her years ago. She seats herself across from him, his back turned to her. Unexpectedly, he whirls around, his fist slamming against the desk. She startles, breaking her calm composure.
"What the hell are you doing going rogue three weeks before you are to be wed?!" Spittle flies from his mouth as he seethes, his anger having risen both her and him from their chairs.
She levels her gaze on him, all pretenses of poise forgotten. Her breaths are slow, dragging air in through her nose and releasing it through her mouth, desperately trying to bring back the serenity she had before, hoping not to bring this to blows. Like in most situations, she fails. "I'm sure as hell not sitting behind a desk as other people fight my wars." She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth. They are not true. Luke is anything but a bystander. "You know I hate being a player in one of your games." King Lucian, who had previously been bracing his weight on his desk, keeping him even with Clary, rises to his full stature. A gentle man at heart, he is stern and stubborn when it comes to traditions and orders.
"This is not a game, Clarissa. This wedding, though strategic, also serves as a morale booster, a sign that Idris puts its people before all else—"
"Then marry me to a Lightwood!" she interrupts. "They are a family of noble Shadowhunters!" Her father's face softens as he realizes what this is really about. Her wedding to the most promiscuous member of the Idrisian army has been a common topic among her and the advisors. He rests a gentle hand on her shoulders, the quiet blue of his eyes calming the storm in her chest as her breathing settles. She'd grown up to those eyes showing her pride, empathy, and love. Now they hold sorrow but no apology. They are strong, unwavering in the decision.
"General Herondale is a renowned war hero, Rissa. The people adore him. He gives them hope."
Clary rubs her forehead, careful of her wounds. She is beginning to realize how little she knows about this man, how her father plans to wed her to a stranger.
"Why not appoint him as duke? Why not just give him the throne? The will to fight runs through my veins, Father, and if you think I'll become compliant simply because I am wed, you are sorrowfully mistaken." Luke sighs, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"I know nothing can tame the angel in you, Clary. I've been afraid of this your entire life, afraid of when the world must know the truth about their royal family." He reaches over and clasps her hand. "But this wedding is not about you settling down. This is about restoring the faith of the planet, to unite the people and overcome the tragedies we've suffered." He seats himself again, effectively ending the subject as Clary is left to bite back any further comments. "What did you discover about Valentine?"
She slips back into her chair as Luke appraises the wound on her cheek. She accepts the stele he offers her from his desk drawer, using it to apply irazes to all of her wounds. "Valentine is using lycanthropes to retrieve information and recruit people he believes to be important to the Uprising." She slaps her father's hands away, a bit of annoyance eating at her calm again. Healing herself is meditative, empowering. She doesn't need someone else to take care of her. "You didn't have to send, Jace. I'm not going to fall in love with him just because he swooped in to save the day."
"I didn't send him." Her father doesn't miss a beat with his response. "I didn't even know he'd left the hangar until his droid radioed in for a landing." Inwardly Clary cringes. Jace can monitor her comings and goings better than the King can monitor his. "I must say, though, I am quite pleased. He will make a fantastic husband." She ignores his hopeful smile and splays her fingers on the table.
"Valentine's minions said they're looking to fulfill a prophecy and that he thinks I'm the perfect fit." Her father's eyes widen imperceptibly, but she catches it. He's keeping things from her, nothing out of the ordinary. "I don't have the slightest idea what it is, though. I was millimeters from becoming a werewolf." Her father nods, standing to kiss her cheek.
"I am very thankful to have you home in one piece." He calls for Maia, who opens the door and hovers at the threshold. "Go and get cleaned up. Dinner is in two hours." She nods, dropping in a polite curtsy she'd mastered in etiquette class before striding from the room. She waives Maia off, not interested in hearing about the week of wedding planning ahead of her.
As always, leave me a review if you liked it and want more! Also tell me what your workout is because I need some exercise inspo, summer bod rush is so real right now. Also who in their right mind would be upset that they're marrying JACE HERONDALE? Ugh, Clary, Clary, Clary...I swear with all the AUs she's in, she'd learn.
All My Love
~BallinBlonde21
