Sorry that I've been MIA the past month! My keyboard on my laptop stopped working, and I had to ship it out to get it replaced. I just got it back today, so here's your update! I hope to get more interest in this story, so please follow/fave/review, etc! Much love to all of you sticking through this! 3
The Shadow Wars
Chapter 9: Not Top Gun
Songs:
Part 1: Arms - Christina Perri
Part 2: She Sets the City on Fire - Gavin Degraw
Part 3: Yes - Demi Lovato
arms – Christina Perri
"I feel like this relationship is a series of you dragging me places and me asking where we are going." Jace just sniggers, his fingers interlocking with her as they shuffle barefoot down the hallways of the bunker. "We don't have to sneak around, Jace. We're married." He shushes this, claiming that half the fun is attempting not to get caught. She has to admit, the cold cement on her toes is invigorating as Jace guides them blindly through tunnels he's long ago memorized. There are flickering floodlights that cast silver pools at their toes but do little to illuminate where they are headed. "Jonathon Christopher! Just tell me what we are doing!" In addition to his fingers around hers, he now claps one hand over her mouth, muffling any other questions she can fire at him. She knows he can't see her, but she rolls her eyes dramatically, slipping into silence as Jace kicks open the door to the hangar.
"I think it's about time you learn to fly."
"I know how to fly," she says flatly, but the awe in the stars reflecting in her eyes gives away her true feelings.
"Having a droid do all the work does not make you a pilot, Mrs. Herondale." She hates the butterflies she gets when he calls her that, like her stomach is betraying her. Her blood proves to be a traitor too as it rushes to her cheeks, a visible representation of what this man does to her. For once, Jace makes no smug remark about her blush and uses his fingers to encircle her wrist.
He's bouncing in excitement as he weaves between the fleet of black ships, leading her to the black sheep—or, rather, gold sheep—of the pack. Church beeps a cheerful greeting at the pair, opening the hatch for them to climb in. "No touching my ass this time," she hisses, but no venom pierces her words.
"Such harsh language for a fair lady." He chuckles lightheartedly at her dark expression but stands back with his arms crossed over his chest as she clambers inelegantly in through the hole, finding the bird just as shiny and pristine as the last time she'd been in it. Jace hoists himself in with much more grace, somehow landing and rising from a crouch just as she turns to look at him. He straps a sword across his back and tosses a seraph blade in her direction, nodding approvingly when she deftly catches it, her reflexes much fast than when she'd begun training.
"Alright, Princess, you take the pilot's chair." Her jaw drops, but she quickly snaps it shut, slipping into his rightful seat and splaying her fingers across the control panel. Jace's ship means everything to him, and everyone with two eyes and a set of functioning ears knows as much. Even a simple scuff could send him into a frenzy of cleaning and repainting. It was simply unheard of that someone would drive his beloved machine.
He ignores her surprise and slides into the chair beside her, pushing a purple button that closes the hatch. "Okay, Clary…I'm going to need you to push the buttons in the exact sequence that I tell you and when I tell you to." She nods, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest. "Green button starts the engines." She hits it, and it roars to life around her. "This blue button lifts us into a hover," he inclines his head toward a button in the upper right side of the control panel, blinking expectantly until she realizes she's supposed to push it. No sooner than her index finger punches the button flush with the panel does she feel her body pressed against the bottom of the seat. The ship hovers ten feet above the ground, awaiting next commands. "White to turn on the radar." This one clicks into place as she presses it. "And orange for shields." This one is actually a switch, but Clary doesn't feel very sassy when Jace is teaching her to control his prized possession.
"Now I want you to put one hand on this wheel, and the other on this lever." She does as instructed, accidentally nudging the lever a little. The ship lurches forward. She gasps. Jace laughs. "That's actually the next step." With widened eyes, she pushes the lever forward, driving the ship to the opened gate. "Now as you exit the hangar, you need to pull up on the steering wheel as you push this lever forward."
Aside from almost wrapping them around a tree, she gets the ship into the air safely. "This is the easy part," he tells her. "You use the keypad to type your coordinates into the radar, turn the ship in the right direction, and sit back."
"Where are we going?"
"Anywhere you'd like, my dearest wife." She hides her surprise well this time, pondering the infinite possibilities of soaring through the galaxy. But in her heart, she knows there's only one place she really wants to see, one place that has fed her curiosity for as long as she could remember knowing the boy beside her. "Alicante." Jace arches an eyebrow but doesn't hesitate in giving her the coordinates, helping her guide the ship in the right direction.
"It should take about three hours, give or take." He adds no further comment to the fact that out of an entire universe, she chooses to visit his homeland. It kills her inside to admit her curiosity about this man's past. It's almost like a plague, consuming her with the desire to understand why he is the person he is today. She wants to see the kinds of dust he kicked up beneath his booted feet as he sprinted races with his friends. She wants to touch the thick leaves of the trees he's talked so much about, the ones that turn orange and yellow and red as temperatures vary. She wants to meet these feral ducks he babbles about, to know the terror he feels toward them, to decide if it is valid.
His eyes are on her when her thoughts disperse into awe at the stars. His golden gaze sends heat wherever it touches, warming patches of her skin to a pink flush as he takes his time drinking her in. Jace brushes her curls away from her cheek, foiling her attempt to create a veil with her hair. He uses his thumb and index finger to grip her chin, directing her fleeting gaze against his. "Why do you hide your beauty?" His question is not snide or fueled by mischief. His usually rough voice has a soft undertone, his expression confused rather than smug. "Why do you not share it with the world?"
She tried to capture a flicker of her reflection in the glass above, see a flash of here unruly auburn hair and darkly encircled eyes. Her beauty is nothing special, certainly nothing that would change the world around her. Jace's eyes are flickering between both of hers, awaiting a response she cannot give. It would be cliché for her to tell him that she is not pretty, a disguised cry for more compliments. She couldn't honestly tell him that she feels beautiful, so instead, she inclines her chin, leveling her gaze on him. "Warriors are not measured in beauty." She expects him to quip about his own attractiveness, to turn his head from side to side so she may gaze upon his likeness and know that Shadowhunters can and are beautiful. Instead, he cups her cheek, his calloused hands surprisingly gentle against her skin.
"You have a strength and a beauty that could inspire armies to march to their certain deaths for you, Clarissa. You should not hide that kind of power." Her teeth capture her lower lip as her brows pull together, a foreign tightness in her chest. She wants to tell him that she is merely mediocre, that she does not want to lead her armies to slaughter. Jace continues before she has the chance to. "Yet you are intelligent enough to guide these men away from danger. Truly remarkable." He's almost musing to himself now, his eyes lost in faraway stars as he mumbles softly into the small space between them.
His flattery stirs something in her, has her leaning forward and crashing her mouth to his still moving lips, has her fingers sifting through the soft curls on his head. He is slow to respond, but when he does, it is full force. His hand slides around to cup the back of her neck tilting her head to draw them closer together.
When they break apart, Jace rests his forehead against hers, his eyes dancing like a candle's flame as a crooked smile breaks out across his face. "You have no idea…" he begins, breaking off with breathless laugh, "how long I've been waiting for that." Clary smiles lightly before settling back into her seat, allowing Jace's hand to engulf hers as they speed through the stars. The white noise of the engines lulls her into a dreamlike state, and when Jace kisses her temple and insists she rest, sleep finds her easily.
X.O.X.O.X
She Sets the City on Fire – Gavin Degraw
The full moonlight reflects in her jewel-toned eyes as her feet sink into the mossy underfoot, her arms spread wide and head tilted toward the heavens as she twirls. The cloak Jace had packed for her billows like a ball gown, her peals of laughter playing the melody of his soul. "The stars are dancing, Jace!" she squeals in childish delight, spinning faster and faster until her hair creates a crimson halo.
Wordlessly, Jace shifts the bag on his shoulder, dropping it onto the damp ground with a dull thud. His hands enclose gently around her wrists, engulfing her fingers as he leans back, building momentum to dance with her beneath the winking stars. Her cheeks are stained with pink, joy radiating from every surface of her as her gaze drifts from above to him, her eyelids slipping shut as he controls the motions, twisting her around endlessly. The silent forest, the glinting ship, the scurrying animals—the world melts away as he drowns in her, losing himself wholly and completely in her innocence, in her purity. He'd give his life for this woman and say thank you to the man that took it. He'd cross oceans and galaxies. He'd chase the ever increasing boundary of infinity if she were on it.
"Look up." He's acutely aware of her eyes trailing him as he abides to her commands, tearing his pupils from her and inclining his head. She's spinning him now, her small feet agile even against the slippery ground, her excitement overpowering any fear of falling. Each star runs a lap around another, creating millions of golden rings in the sky, like angels soaring high above Alicante, watching over them as they lose themselves in laughter, in happiness, in emotions he's starved himself of for so long.
"It's beautiful," he murmurs, though it dulls in comparison to the woman beside him. He pulls her to a stop, her chest heaving in her nightgown though her radiant smile shows no exhaustion. "You're beautiful." Years of training have made him deeply aware of people's mannerisms, so he knows exactly how Clary will react to his sentiment. Her breath will catch in her throat, her eyes shimmering in disbelief as she stammers a thank you. She won't negate his compliment, won't fish for further validation of her beauty. She'll nod thoughtfully, a small, confused smile gracing her perfect lips as if she's taking it in. Blood will rush to her cheeks, and she'll duck her head behind her hair, as if hiding could change the way he feels.
As if on cue, she opens her mouth. "Thanks…" she mumbles, trailing off as Jace reaches out and tucks her curls behind her ear, keeping her flushed cheeks on full display. He wants so much to pour his soul out to her, but instead, he slides both hands up her jawbone, hooking his pinkies behind her ears so she has to meet his eyes.
His footsteps are slow and deliberate, backing her against the rough bark of a nearby tree, her chest heaving once more, meeting his between their bodies. "You set my heart ablaze, Clarissa Herondale," he tells her, skimming his nose up the side of hers, her hot breath flowing against the cool skin of his exposed throat. He can hear her ragged breathing, but no words escape her mouth as his lips butterfly red-hot kisses across her cheeks, against forehead, down her nose. The things he wants to do to her, to do for her. The angel should strike him down where he stands for having these thoughts. Though about his own wife, they feel dirty, wrong as she stands frozen beneath his touch, heart hammering loudly even in his ears.
Until her voice breaks through to him. "Kiss me." It's soft but certain as her eyes flicker from his mouth and back, her teeth capturing her bottom lip. He smooths the pad of his thumb across it, releasing it from its confines. Who is he to deny this woman of what she wants? To make her wait with bated breath as he inches ever so slowly forward, weaving his fingers into her hair as hers slide around his neck, toying gently with the curls that rest there.
Her soft breaths fan across his face as he lets his own eyes fall shut, dusting his lips ever so lightly against hers—a ghost of a kiss—until her hands curl into fists in his hair, nearly sending them toppling to the ground as she pulls him hard against her. It's invigorating kissing Clary, sending electricity shooting to his every nerve ending, his toes tingling and his mind soaring high. They mold to each other, neither yielding but neither in full control. His arms glide down her sides, memorizing the curve of her hip, her backside, until his hands grip the back of her thighs, hoisting her up against the tree. Her legs wrap around his waist, his arms bracing either side of her as he surfaces for air. It's only momentary, though, as Clary brushes the curls from her forehead and reunites them.
Their hearts beat in rhythm, pounding out of their chests in unison, as close together as they can be, fighting to become one with each other. Her fingers slide from his hair and over his shoulders, feeling the rigid muscles of his back in their exploration. His hands find the hem of her nightgown, slipping beneath it to feel the silken skin of her legs.
"Jace." That's all it takes for him to pull away. Her voice is strangled, unsteady as he freezes against her, the only motion his beating heart. "I'm…I'm not ready." He can see it there, in her eyes—the insecurity, the fear, the confusion. It pulls a lump into his throat, to see the woman he loves so worried he might make her do something she doesn't want to. He smiles softly, smoothing her gown back down her legs and setting her gently on her feet. Her fingers twine into her hair, pulling in frustration as her head drops back against the trunk
"It's just that for so long, I told myself I wouldn't kiss you, that I didn't give a shit if you ran around with other women. Because this," she gestures wildly between the two of them, "was just another move toward checkmate. It was all politics and no emotions. And now," her eyes widen, shaking her head like she's in disbelief, "now I'm begging you to kiss me like some lovesick teenager, and all it takes is one compliment to let you touch me like I'm some common whore!"
Jace doesn't know how to rectify the situation as her words subside, so he cups her cheek, using his thumb to soothe her. "You are neither of those things, Clary." He says it quietly, so quiet that he's not even sure she hears. This is his wife, his one and only for infinity, and that she doesn't know how to feel about their relationship—how to trust him—tears him apart inside. He doesn't know how to convince her he's been with no other woman since his promise to her the night he returned her ring, doesn't know how to evaporate the tears sparkling in her eyes. "Come on," he tells her instead, interlocking their fingers as he leads her away from the shrouded woods. No further words are shared as he retrieves his backpack, guiding her into an abandoned clearing, dotted with rundown homes.
He pulls her to one in particular, with the bones of a thatched roof and a room splitting off the left side. There are still a few rusted pots thrown haphazardly across the ground, like someone tore through the place, looking for something hidden. The windows are thick with grime, and Jace has to brandish a witchlight to even see down the hallways. He'd long ago returned and buried the decomposed dead at the edge of the prairie, small wooden crosses marking each grave. His father's sword still rests where he was slain, at the edge of the kitchen, above the crawlspace Jace had slipped into.
His heart stalls in his chest at the sight of it, hilt splattered with his father's blood, perfectly formed to fit the grip of his hand. It plays like a movie before his eyes, vision cut through the slats of the hidden hole, merciless killing and harrowing screams echoing from every direction. He can see his father in an attack stance, blocking the intruder's pursuit of his mother. This is what Jace knows true love to be, all-consuming and high-stakes.
And it's in that moment he realizes that for Clary to trust him, he must also trust her. And when she tentatively asks him about this place, he lets it all out. For the first time in his life, he tells someone of his parents' deaths, of his rescue, of all his shortcomings. The words fill from his mouth, unabated by fear of judgment, by fear of appearing weak, by fear of anything. His whole body seemingly exhales as he releases the weight he's been carrying for so long.
He doesn't shrug away when Clary puts her arms around him, doesn't shift her from his chest when she drifts to sleep, doesn't slip from the door as the sun returns from the depths of darkness. He just allows himself to be held and for once, he doesn't feel weakened by affection. He feels as if he can move mountains, empowered by the emotions raging through him.
The princess is slowly awakening him to all that can be experienced in this life, and he wants every bit of it.
X.O.X.O.X
Yes – Demi Lovato
She can hear Jace moving around before the sun has even risen, the familiar sound of the coffeemaker brewing a pot for them to share, the shuffling of the newspaper in his hand, the soft sifting sound of his feet against the wooden floor. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, clutching the blanket to her chest as she just listens. She hears him turn off the coffeemaker, hears him flip a page, write a note. The erratic beating of her heart is unnecessary, serving to mock her as unintentional feelings flood her.
They'd returned from Alicante late last night, stumbling almost drunkenly through the corridors, careless as to whoever saw them clutching hands, laughing until they were breathless, sharing secret smiles and inside jokes. She hears the door close and releases a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, finally able to cling to a coherent thought.
She's falling in love with Jace.
She may already love Jace.
A string of curses fall from her mouth, caught in her pillow as she rolls over, pillowing her head in the sleeve of the t-shirt she wears—Jace's t-shirt. That bastard has somehow managed to infiltrate every aspect of her being. Both her conscious and unconscious thoughts revolve around his golden halo of hair, his crooked smile and chipped incisor he despises so much. She finds beauty in his flaws, softness in his rough hands. She earns her joy from his happiness. She's linked so intricately to this man she once despised it scares her.
"Damn you, Jace Herondale," she growls, kicking off her covers and stalking grumpily down to the kitchen, finding the pot of coffee with a note in Jace's elegant script.
You nearly killed us last night.
It pulls a laugh from her chest she remembers the rogue meteor nearly blowing a hole in the side of their ship until Jace slammed the engines into reverse and flew them to safety. Her fingers are warmed as they grip her favorite, water-colored mug, her other thumb running over the indentations on the paper. Her curls brush her cheek when her head whips in the direction of the door, her giggling maids dropping into short curtsies when they realize her attention has turned to them.
"Princess—"
"Good morning!" Clary greets, a smile growing on her face as she puts her empty mug down. One maid has a set of garment bags in her hands, the shadowhunting gear she'd had Jace request for her a few weeks ago. "Please, go enjoy your day," she tells her ladies as she drapes the bags over her arm. "I insist!" She ensures they shut the door behind them before throwing the bags onto her upstairs bed and texting the only girl who would know how to handle this situation.
"Tell me everything," Isabelle says before she's even through the door.
"Shhhh!" Clary chastises, casting a wary gaze at her guard before locking the door. Her hands grip Isabelle's as she drags her up the stairs, the ties on her robe loosening with every step. When they're safely in her room, Clary secures her robe and pushes her wet curls off her forehead.
"He kissed you?!" Clary blushes deeply, like it is the most scandalous thing, kissing her husband. "Was it good? Well, of course, it was good. I mean, it's Jace," Isabelle rambles, "but was it good."
"I think…" Clary starts, but falls off with a sigh, admitting it to herself is one thing, but to another person, let alone his sister, is another. "I think I'm falling for him." Isabelle releases a squeal so high Clary has to flick herself in the ear to ensure she's not deaf.
"I'm going to be an aunt before I know it!"
"By the angel, Isabelle!" The blush has crept down her chest. "Just, help me dress to impress him." Isabelle waggles her eyebrows a bit, her attention falling to the bags on the bed. She makes a show of undoing the zipper, her jaw dropping at the black leather suit before her.
"This will do it," she announces, ushering Clary into the bathroom where she dries and curls her hair into tame waves. Her fingers smudge smoky eyeshadow and winged eyeliner onto her face, and she turns her back as Clary slips into the suit. "Uh-uh," Isabelle tsks, grabbing the zipper in the front and pulling it down to expose Clary's surprisingly perky amount of cleavage. She tops it off with some high heeled boots and admires her work. "He won't be able to resist you."
Her window shows her a setting sun, meaning Jace will soon be done training. Clary bites her lip, suddenly uncertain. "Jace is crazy about you, Clary. My entire family is."
"Except your father," Clary points out quickly, plopping onto her comforter.
"He's just traditional, that's all." Isabelle rubs her hand down Clary's back. "You are stunning, and you don't need to dress like this to impress Jace. I think you're dressing like this to impress yourself."
"That doesn't make any sense, Iz." Isabelle stands up, heading for the door.
"Sure, it does. See you for lunch tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Clary watches her friend leave and summons all her confidence to slip past her guard down the hallway. Her feet carry her the now familiar path to the training room. She sees an entire class hanging onto his every word as he twirls a dagger before them, instructing proper technique. He's so at ease when he's teaching, so comfortable becoming the idol of all young boys. This type of confidence is sexy, alluring, pulling her through the door.
"General," she greets as he turns slowly in her direction at the prompting of excited glances and haphazard bows. These children look much too young to be training for war, but the giddiness in their step, the way they hang on to Jace's every word tells her they enjoy this, that they were born to be warriors.
"You're dismissed!" he tells the kids over his shoulder, his words followed by the clumsy scuffle of kids given freedom. Clary smooths her shaking palms over the front of her outfit, lifting her chin to meet Jace's eyes. "Do you need something, princess?" Her heart falters in her chest at the way the pet name rolls off his tongue. She can see his eyes drinking her in, though the rest of his exterior shows no effect.
"Yes," she breathes before hooking her hand around the back of his neck and dragging his mouth down to hers. She captures his surprised gasp in her mouth, her confidence growing as he responds to her, tangling one hand in her curls and sliding the other around her waist, using it as leverage to pull her closer. His lips move fluidly against hers, no space between them as she feels her back pressed against the wall.
Her fingers pull at his hair, his sliding across the leather. His dagger had clattered to the floor and now lay feet away, the rest of the world lost to their lust. When they break apart, they're both panting, struggling to catch their breath. Jace toys with a wave by her ear, looking down at her through his lashes, his lips swollen.
"The things you do to me." His voice is low, soft as his arms box her in, his eyes so dark they're almost like glowing embers.
"I think," she whispers as he waits with bated breath. "I think I'm falling for you."
We're getting there. Slowly but surely. Clace will soon make a steamy appearance ;)
All My Love
~BallinBlonde21
