A/N - Holy shit! I asked for 7 and I got 9! Technically that doesn't seem like a lot more than I set the goal for, but 2 extra reviews always mean a lot! Thank you! It also should've meant that I uploaded this quicker, but life held me up for a few days.
So, I'm setting the review goal to one more than what I recieved, like last time - therefore, 10 reviews are needed for the next chapter!
"The foremost art of kings is the ability to endure hatred."
The breath was knocked out of her the moment she hit the floor, and she struggled to pull herself back up and continue fighting. What wounded her pride even more was the fact that this was not the first time she had been floored.
The first, which was arguably an unfair 'flooring' as she hadn't been ready for any kind of assault, was when she had refused to play her brother's game of "training" on the basis that it would be fruitless for as long as she stayed in his 'palace'.
He had an army - she didn't even have Jace.
It was her brother, of course, who had lazily feigned a punch to her face and then knocked her legs out from under her whilst she was distracted. He had laughed heartily; though, to her rising ire, not unkindly. It was as if she was a funny Shadowhunter child who was trying to be her mother or father in the battlefield.
She supposed, grudgingly, that she was.
After, he had helped her up from the floor and asked her to - or more like told her - to reconsider denying receiving training, he called over Jace to the centre of the training room to demonstrate further his point of it being useful. In the manner of a loyal friend, Jace silently walked over to his brother, who was selecting throwing knives from a nearby rack, and assessed the wooden targets on the wall, then the Shadowhunter-esque mannequins partially obscuring them.
"Dear Sister, do you remember when you were training with Jonathan in the New York Institute not so long ago, that he could hardly hit several consecutive targets on an object?"
There was a pause as she recalled it. "Yes," she said slowly, looking towards the boy in question for reassurance. She thought she saw a long-forgotten smirk on his lips.
"Of course you do. You see, Jonathan's strength was in physical combat - not in aiming at targets," he said seriously, as if he was now the instructor of his own combat school. "Unsurprisingly, he did not use a bow or throwing knives when in battle. However, after I gave our brother a few family tips on hitting far away targets, it was evident that despite your apparent love for the Institute, you needed the type of training that no one there could provide." He tossed four knives to Jace, who caught them effortlessly. Jonathon then took a stance in between Jace and Clary, half facing the targets in front of him, and halfway turned to continue informing Clary. "We are Morgensterns. You and I, Sister, we have Morgenstern blood - we would've taken to our family's training like a duck to water, if we had been raised differently, together. Yet, me and Jonathan have had snippets of Morgenstern training in our childhood, which would've been easily forgotten when we were abandoned; but it's also easily remembered."
As if this demonstration had been planned, Jace threw two knives from his right hand, two from his left, and did an elaborate spin before releasing the fifth. Each of them stuck in the inner ring - the bulls-eye of the target with deadly precision and aim.
Clary was amazed. Amazed at how Jonathon trusted Jace enough to equip him with knives and show him how to kill a long-distance target; amazed at how Jace accepted and improved drastically through this 'training' that her (their?) brother was supplying. Yet, she was both amazed and disappointed that Jace had upheld the trust and respect between the both of them, and hadn't thrown a knife straight for his heart.
"How?" Clary breathed. She didn't believe that her brother had welcomed Jace into his palace with open arms, and equipped him with weapons without gaining his trust. Surely, that must have taken a few weeks; Jace would've fought in his rule, wouldn't he? His aim and precision couldn't have improved that suddenly; he hadn't been captured for long, had he?
"Jonathon - our brother," Jace corrected, eyeing him out the corner of his eye as their brother fiddled with the knives in his hands. "He showed me a trick. He'd watched me train for a few days, and one day, he came up to me and said that there was nothing wrong with my technique - but that I didn't follow my shot through. He told me that fear binds a killer to its prey, and the knife that I'm throwing - or the arrow I'm releasing - connects us both as if by a silver cord. I am my weapon. There is no distance between me and the weapon."
" How...poetic," she sneered in the direction of her brother. She turned back towards Jace. Dubiously she asked, "And it worked, just like that?"
She still remembered the trouble he went through occasionally at the Institute, trying to perfect his aim, so that he could be an all-rounded killer. Alec, who was as good a shot as any Shadowhunter she had ever met, couldn't even minutely improve his precision.
"Just like that," Jace confirmed.
"You see, Sister? I don't wish to punish or hurt you. I only wish to teach you - as I am with Jonathan – the more effective styles of combat and techniques, as well as furthering your basic knowledge on Shadowhunter history. Especially since now, the three of us will be making it." He smiled excitably. "That's all your training is."
"Yes, but why? What is the purpose of this 'training'? What are you training us for?" Clary stressed, hating that she had no choice but to accept.
"For your friends, Clarissa," he replied patiently. He twirled one of his own three knives in his hand, fingering the tip of it. "When they do arrive, you will need to fight with my army for your lives - as will I, as will my demons. Your friends, Clarissa - how do I put it? While my army is still purging the land, so that I may start my kingship with a country that has been rid of the poisoned and poisoning individuals, you and Golden Boy have safe refuge in my palace. When they tear down my gates, they will only be thinking about how you left them out there, in their burning city, whilst you lived a life of luxury with your "evil" brother. They know that the two of you are here, and they know I'm not dead yet."
He turned around so that he completely faced the targets now, but he continued speaking. "There are three of us, the last Morgensterns. We have only each other; I know you don't believe me, Clary, but I don't need either of you dead - or at all - I want the both of you here." He threw the first knife all of a sudden, causing Clary to flinch; it spiralled in the air and struck the Shadowhunter mannequin in the head. "The two of you are going to help me by giving ideas and advice on what to do with our new kingdom. If all else fails and it is only one of us at the end, then, as my heirs, you will inherit this kingdom and rule it as you wish - which is why you will participate in training. So that, when the time comes, you'll be ready. But until you two- the meek - inherit the earth, it belongs to me and I will rule as I see fit."
He threw the next knife a second after he finished his sentence, and it landed in the mannequin's gut. "I don't want to torture either of you, but if you forget your place and the rules then I may see no other choice. However, I still see no reason to kill you if that should happen - I would only be ridding the Morgenstern line and myself of heirs. You see, Clarissa, we are the last of our line - and Jonathan, similarly, is the last of the Herondales. Quite the dilemma, isn't it?"
"Quite," she echoed hollowly, already knowing where his train of thought was going.
"With our respective fathers dead, I see no other way it could possibly continue without us." He ran the pad of his thumb up the last knife's blade, pressing hard enough to tear skin. A bead of blood, which Clary was mildly surprised to see was black, ran down the steel. "If we follow our father's original plans, then it should be you, Clarissa, and Jonathan to continue the Morgenstern line - and create a new, stronger breed of Shadowhunters. That, coincidentally, would also serve to make sure that the royal family - us - are superior to the others. Nevertheless, after collecting father's studies from his safe, I was able to further discover that you and I, dear sister, would have also been used to create a new Shadowhunter species."
"You're lying," Clary seethed. Her anger suddenly spiked as she realised what he had been insinuating. Their father was a sadistic bastard, a liar, and almost as psychotic as his son (his son, evidently, was the craziest) - but Clary was willing to bet that he would never have condoned or encouraged incestuous behaviour between his two children, even to complete his goals. "Valentine did not experiment on his children so that they could-"
Clary could hardly bear to finish her sentence.
"Our father, Clarissa, was a scientist in his own right. One of his investigations was behind finding ways to breed Shadowhunters and demons together, so that he could combine their more useful traits. However, it was already known that sexual activities between demons and Shadowhunters can cause particular diseases, such as Demon Pox, and anything created from it would be stillborn. However, I'm not a full demon, am I, Clarissa? Who's to say that it wouldn't work? And who's to say that it would be any less powerful or able that anything you and Jonathan might produce?"
"I would rather-"
"Whatever promise you're about to make, Clarissa, I hope to the Angel that you're prepared to follow it through. I don't particularly tolerate empty promises," he said teasingly, but Clary could hear the underlying threat to his voice. "And, by the Angel, I hope you aren't going to say what I think you are, because you're the only one who I will allow to bear the future sons and daughters of the Morgenstern Kingdom."
"I would rather die, than bear your spawn, Jonathon," she finished, proudly.
He tsked unhappily. "I won't be the one to do it, Sister, when the time comes." He looked pointedly at Jace from the corner of his eyes. Jace looked as defeated as Clary felt in this hellhole. Yet, she still couldn't let herself believe that he could ever follow through with one of Jonathon's orders – king, lifesaver, brother or not. She couldn't let herself let go of the idea that Jace was only playing her brother, as he had once played them. And if it was because of a rune? Well, he had overcome it and she had destroyed it the first time – they could do it again. "Golden Boy will," he confirmed, as if neither of them understood what he had meant.
"I will never allow myself to be put in the situation where I am pregnant with your demonic offspring!" She said, outraged. "The time will never come! I will kill myself before you have the chance to lay one filthy finger-"
He laughed, and Jace looked uncomfortable. It was as if he wanted to interject, but he couldn't. Why couldn't he? "Do you want to die, Clary?" He asked humorously. She only glared at him in response. "It certainly sounds like it," he answered anyway. "If now is the time to be making promises, then I will make one of my own. I will never rape you Clarissa, as you probably expect me to do eventually; I need your trust and loyalty, and sexually assaulting you seems like a fine way of losing it."
Clary felt disgusted. "Are you implying - you sick bastard - that I will come to you willingly?"
He merely smiled. The king turned his head minutely to the side to address Jace. "And you, Brother, what is your promise? Perhaps we can help each other achieve their goals, like a supportive, functional family," he said mockingly.
"I hope..." he started, unsure of how to continue. " I hope..."
"Ah, a prayer in the world of promises," he commented.
Clary watched Jace carefully as he racked his brain for a way to finish his so-called prayer. It was as if he was trying to find a different - a new, better way of saying what he wanted to say, as if it might offend Jonathon. She pitied him a little; he must've been a prisoner here for a while, if he was tiptoeing around "the king" so carefully, when she was actively saying whatever she thought.
Jonathon, on the other hand, had shifted his body around to curiously wait on what his "brother" had to say. Clary could tell that he was only doing this to mock her and Jace further with their dreams, which they could never achieve, thanks to their new king, while in Idris. It was cruel.
After a few moments, Jonathon sighed dramatically and walked over to the targets to retrieve their knives and replace them on the rack. "Come now, Jonathan. The world is a clock winding down, after all," he said impatiently. "No promise is worth that-"
"I hope that I am the last out of this place," he said quietly, interrupting Jonathon for the first time. Jonathon was the first to react to his promise, grinning wickedly at Jace. He even walked back to Jace and Clary somewhat smugly.
"Oh, Brother, that is a vague promise you've made," he said slyly. "I hope that I'm still around to see the outcome of this promise."
Me too, thought Clary.
Without waiting for a response of any form from either of them, and threw the last knife. Clary gasped, having forgotten about his little game; Jonathon smiled wider in return. It struck the mannequin in the heart.
"Lastly, as you will soon discover, we are more than heirs to each other and family. Our own individual actions have effects on one another, and so now is not the time to be selfish. We must be one soul," he said. "I expect that to be understood." He bowed his head, careful not to let his crown - which was unnoticeably too large for his own head - to slip. "That is the end to your introduction to training, Sister. Your proper training starts in a week, with Jonathan, and I hope that you improve from how you were today. You are free to go back to your room, and are to stay there until I decide to allow you the freedom privileges. Jonathan," he said, turning to him. "I'll see you tomorrow. You're welcome to stay here and continue training - perhaps you'll overthrow me next time."
With a flourish, he walked out of the training room. Clary saw this moment to speak to Jace alone, and was so excited that she didn't give a thought about Jonathon wanting to segregate them, purposely. Before she had a chance to say anything to Jace, one of Jonathon's personal guards had come in and dragged her out.
Jace watched her go sadly.
A/N - 10 reviews for the next chapter, please! The reviews have been great so far, and surpassing every goal that I set! Thank you!
