Clary took the stairs two at time, no hesitation in her gait as she made her way to her mother's chambers. She needed to see her again, at least one more time before she might never see her at all. It was today that Magnus Bane would be coming on his monthly visit to see to Jocelyn and attempt to procure a remedy for her. He had never been successful thus far, but Clary trusted him. He was a skilled warlock. She reached the top of the stone steps and pushed open the wooden door which swung forward to reveal Jocelyn.

She was lying ethereally upon her bed, as she had done for the past seven years, her eyes closed and unmoving. Magnus was at work assessing her condition, he glanced up when she entered.

"Hello, Clary," he greeted her, setting down the vial in his hand.

"How is she?" Clary asked, apprehensive as she always was concerning her mother's condition.

"Same old, I'm afraid," he told her, a sympathetic smile on his lips. She nodded and came to sit next to her mother on the great queen side bed. It seemed as if her mother had never aged, kept in a constant state of paralysis, maybe forever…

"So, any news?" Magnus enquired, "I'm afraid I missed the ball yesterday, it was terribly untactful of me. Now I will be behind on all the gossip,"

"I doubt you missed much,"

"Oh I don't know," he disagreed, "Lady Pomfrey has still never finished telling me the story about her cat. A fascinating tale-"

"Magus I'm sorry but Lady Pomfrey's spoilt cat doesn't really spark me as an exciting tale."

He rolled his eyes.

"If only you showed a little more interest in political affairs."

"Gossip is not political affairs, Magnus,"

"Ah, but it does involve affairs,"

Clary huffed in exasperation.

"I do actually have something I wished to speak to you about," Clary informed him, "You see, my friends' the lightwoods have a brother and he's really very ill and-"

"The Lightwood's meaning the guy with the blue eyes?" Magnus interrupted.

"Well, yes, Alec, but his brother-" Clary tried to continue.

"Clary I will visit them as soon as I can." Magnus assured her, "Think of it as a favour, in exchange for you to listen to the story about the cat."

Clary groaned.

"And then Mr. Pickles got into a little spot of bother with the officials in Peru. I've frequented Peru myself, although between you and me, I was kicked out," Magnus tapped his noise.

"For what?"

Magnus sighed.

"Because apparently yodelling in the chapel is seen as an offence, it made all the Llama's migrate."

Clary laughed loudly, shaking her head and Magnus' whims. Just at that moment the door creaked upon and Magnus scrambled to his feet from where he was lounging about with Clary on the bed. King Valentine stood in the doorway with a look of disapproval adorning his face. Magnus bowed extravagantly and Clary bowed her head in respect, wiping away her smile.

"Bane, have there been any signs of improvement?" Her father asked, voice betraying no emotion.

"The Queen is stable although I do not perceive any signs of improvement."

Valentine nodded and his eyes flitted to his wife and his daughter.

"You may leave," he dismissed Magnus, "I wish to speak to my family alone."

"Of course, sire." Magnus said and made his exit, sweeping his way out of the Queens's chambers.

Her father made her way over to her and stopped at the end of the bed to brush a piece of hair away from her mother's face. She watched him, unsure what to do.

"Seven year is a long time isn't it?" Valentine said, his eyes finding Clary's-the same colour as his wife's were.

"Well yes, I suppose so," Clary replied, caught off guard.

"It seems a bit odd, doesn't it?" he questioned. She frowned.

"S-she is ill, so…"

"Is she?" he countered. She was so confused.

"What else are you suggesting? Magnus has tried all he can."

He studied her closely, adding to her discomfort.

"I cannot say I still believe that after seven years, Magnus is biding his time don't you think?"

"Magnus is a good, honest warlock he-"

"He has lived a long life, has had lots of experience and yet he cannot procure a cure for my wife? Who is seemingly only ill? Does that not arise as suspicious to you?"

"Father, Magnus is not to blame. He should not be the subject of such accusations-"

"What then, do you suppose is wrong with your mother?"

"Illness-"

"One is not simply ill for seven years." Her father counteracted, "It must be something else. Where would your mind turn to upon this information? Who?"

Clary realised what he was insinuating.

"Father she is only ill!" she cried, refusing to agree with her father. Valentine gave her look that could only be acquitted to pity.

"I will find a way to wake Jocelyn up," he stated, "and you don't have to agree with my methods,"

Her eyes flew wide.

"Father, no!" she protested, "Magnus is a friend, he would never-"

"This is the work of a powerful Warlock over a long period of time. Tell me, Clarissa, is there any other Warlock who has been allowed access to Jocelyn all these years?"

"No," she said, "but-"

"You're loyalty is commendable." He said, "However, Downworlders are never to be trusted, whether they wear the face of a friend or not."

"Magnus is not Luke." She muttered. Her father's face darkened and he grabbed her wrist.

"You do not bring up that subject," he seethed. She nodded meekly.

"I'm sorry, father." she apologised, hoping to defuse the tension. She was not in the mood for her father's aggression, she had much more pressing matters to think about.

He nodded and slowly let go of her wrist. He turned to the Queen and kissed her forehead.

"I will find a cure," he stated with a lot of conviction and stood up, she rose to her feet as well.

"Go see to the ladies of the court," he father ordered, "I'm sure they are missing your presence,"

She nodded and didn't try to protest, even if she hated spending time with all the other ladies sewing and talking about their glorious husbands. It was a waste of precious time. Her father put a hand under her chin and softly tilted her head to meet his eyes, startling Clary by his small show of affection. He smiled a little, before nodding as if pleased and left the room.


"Magnus!" Clary called out after the fast walking warlock. "MAGNUS!" she yelled. He turned around finally and she sped down the stone steps toward him, skidding to a halt.

"What?" he asked, irritated.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," she gasped out, out of breath. He cocked his head.
"Well then?"

"Not here," she said and dragged him by the elbow towards the stables.

"Really, Clary-" Magnus started once Clary had hidden them in a nearby stall.

"The King is suspicious." She told him.

His face turned grave.

"Be really careful. He thinks you're not trying to heal my mother. I think he suspects you're using some kind of magic to keep her in her coma or something-"

"I take it your father is desperate for your mother to wake?" he asked.

"Well, yes but Magnus-"

"Don't worry Clary. I'll be fine." He assured her.

"But the King-"

"I am going away to visit a few friends for a while, you mustn't worry about me,"

"But Magnus!"

He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her fully.

"I will be fine. I expected this,"

"Magnus…"

"You take care of yourself, I hear you have a husband to annoy."

Clary rolled her eyes but didn't shake her worried expression.

"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern, I have lived longer than this very castle. I think I can handle one idle threat from a monarch. I am going away. I will be safe."

"…okay Magnus. Just…take care,"

He smiled.

"Oh I will. I have some business to take care of," he said, his eyes gleaming.


Clary sat underneath the beautiful oak tree, parchment balanced on her lap supported by a book as she scribbled her letter to Isabelle. She absentmindedly dipped the quill in the ink and turned back to the letter, only to be startled by an unknown symbol branded onto the paper. She frowned and studied it. Did I draw that? She thought. It looked like a rune and yet….it was not one she knew. How strange…

"Head's up!" someone yelled and she reacted just in time to catch the bow staff flying toward her face. She studied it in shock and looked up to find the Shadowhunters who had been sparring all stopping to stare. She stood up as one of them jogged over to her to reclaim his bow staff. It had was Jace, of course it was, he probably threw it as an excuse to talk to her.

"Ah Clarissa, we meet again," he said.

"Were you trying to decapitate me?" she asked, twirling it behind her back. It was one of her most favourite weapons.

"I would never try to harm a woman," he replied.

"Right…." She said, he had already broken her wrist and she was a woman!

"Can I have the weapon back now?" Jace asked, clearing his throat.

"Mm, I don't know…" she said, twirling it deftly in her hands.

"Princess, the men need to fight."

She jabbed him with the end sharply in his shoulder.

"Woman are just as capable,"

"I'm sure." He said, although his eyes showed humour.

"Maybe you're just insecure because-"

"Oh for the Angel's sake, hand over the bow staff!" Jonathon said, coming to join them. Clary smirked.

"Why don't you fight me for it?" she challenged.

"Oh stop being stupid," Jonathon scolded and wrenched it from her hands.

"It's not my fault that you know you'll lose," she jibed. Jonathon shot her a very dark look as his hands fisted at his sides.

"You are walking on thin ice young lady," he warned. Jace watched the exchange in bemusement. Clary shrugged.

"Aren't you meant to be gossiping in the castle?" Jonathon growled.

"I have been!" she exclaimed. "For hours! Do you know how painful it is to sit and listen to the same story over and over?!"

Jonathon only glared at her. She glared right back.

"Go," he ground out.

"No," she said, defiantly.

Jonathon snarled.

"Are we really going to argue about this?"

"Evidently,"

Jonathon grabbed her wrist and dragged her a good few metres back to the castle.

"Now go," he said, "We have training to do,"

"And I was writing a letter before that idiot threw a bow staff at my head!" she retaliated.

Jonathon ground his teeth, but Jace stepped in before it could go further.

"Just leave it." he said, the only voice of reason. "Let her finish her letter."

Jonathon shot her a venomous look before storming back to the sparring court and grabbing his sword. Jace followed behind, although Clary didn't miss the wink he sent her way.


Clary climbed lithely up the ladder and spied the thick book ahead of her. She bit her lip and stretched out as far as she could, smiling triumphantly as her fingers latched onto the edge of it. It was one of her favourite things to do: climb to the upmost high shelf of their expansive castle library and pick out the most random book she could. She was examining the dusted and worn cover when someone cleared their throat beneath her. She was so startled that she fumbled with the heavy book and it slipped through her fingers, tumbling down to the floor.

"Ow!" A male voice grunted and her eyes flew wide. She scrambled back down the ladder, almost falling.

"I am so, so sorry" she apologised, racing down to the floor "You startled me!"

She flustered about coming to a stop in front of the man cradling his head in his hand. She pried his hands away to examine a new forming lump.

"Do you need an irratze?" She gushed, face flustered from injuring them. They chuckled and she finally realised who it was. Jace was staring back at her with a look of both pain and amusement. Her hands fell from where they were examining his injury.

"Oh, Jace," she said, now feeling slightly awkward.

"Princess Clarissa," he replied, "Were you trying to decapitate me?"

"Well no, you startled me," she defended her herself, "and it's Clary actually," she added, a little annoyed now. Couldn't it have been anyone else?

"Okay then, Clary," he corrected, smirk on his lip. She repressed the urge to thwack him again, grateful that she at least got a second chance at that.

"What we're you doing here anyway?" She asked.

"Well what else does one do in a library besides reading?" he replied, one eyebrow raised.

"Shouldn't you be play fighting with the other 'Shadowhunters'?"

"Shouldn't you be spending time with the ladies of the court?" He retorted. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Maybe I have already spent enough time with them?" she responded deftly, plucking her book off of where it had landed on the floor.

"Maybe I don't need to train anymore? I am one of the best," Jace said arrogantly.

Clary snorted. He raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe you should train more," she remarked. His face darkened.

"What's that meant to mean?" He asked, his voice guarded.

"Nothing," she said brightly and smiled before stepping around him to her favourite comfy spot by the fire. She could feel Jace's eyes on her as she made herself comfortable. She had just go to page 2 when Jace came behind her chair and placed him arms around the back of the armchair, caging her in with his arms. She determinedly kept reading, but when she reached out to turn the page Jace swiped the book out of her hands. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, dangerously close.

"What was that meant to mean?" He repeated, voice low in her ear.

"Nothing," she also repeated. His hands tightened on the arm rest.

"What rumours have you heard? Because I assure you, I do not need more training."

"What rumours may I have heard?" She asked innocently.

He growled.

"Just remember, princess. I could squash you like a bug."

"Is that a threat or challenge? Because if it's threat I'd have to alert my father."

Jace laughed.

"Go ahead," he said confidently and his hands left her chair as he stalked out of the room. Clary wasn't sure whether she should be celebrating or very worried indeed.

Ah! This story is so much fun to write!