SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE SO LONG FOR EVERYTHING LIFE IS CRAZY AND MOST OF THE TIME I JUST WANT TO SLEEP! Ugh. Never aspire to become a chemist...okay if it's what you want than do, but it is seriously hard work. Anywhooooo I got legit the best review ever..."YOU ARE EVIL. I SWEAR TO HOD IF YOU DONT UPDATE I WILL FIND YOU AND RIP YOUR UN-BLONDE HAIR FROM YOUR HEAD. why did you confuse and abandon me by telling me the almighty ballin' blonde isn't blonde? please, please update your story. I swear to god it's the only one on this site with plot and meaning. I love you so much. UPDATE BITCH." Thank you arubyredpendant because this literally made my day, and I forced myself to update just for you. (P.S. I'm blond again, sorry for my confusing hair colors) I think you and me would be great friends, bitch! ;) Okay, anyways, enjoy! I hope to update more often now that I'm on summer break, just please don't hate me because I LOVE YOU ALL :D
Clary propped the pencil between her teeth, another one stuck behind her ear as yet a third scribbled furiously across the page. Bedrest had its benefits, she couldn't help but think as her eyes drifted toward her muse, the raven perched on the branch outside her window, preening as the forest stretched out behind it. Her fingers were edged in silver as the shaded and smudged her drawing in the right places, staring as the miraculous image appeared beneath her hands. She was clothed in thin nightgowns, rather than laced into itchy corsets. She'd been able to paint the sunrises instead of spending her mornings stiffly walking through the village at Sebastian's side, pretending the very thought of him didn't repulse her. It was enough having to act oblivious to her father's murderous plan to secure his power. She saw the way he looked at her as she drifted through the drafty hallways of the palace, shivering in her cloak. His eyes always got distant, not with guilt but rather confusion, like he was seeing a ghost. She knew he has probably wondering why she hadn't succumbed to the dark hell inside of her yet, why she was still able to carry her body down the stairs for a cup of tea. She found herself often questioning the same thing. How much time remained for her? When would her soul finally collapse in on herself leaving her as nothing more than a demonic shell?
She let her sketchbook fall to the side as she fell back against the pillows, her eyes tracing invisible patterns on the ceiling. Her eyes fell on the dagger resting on her bed stand, not an unusual object in the home of a shadowhunter. She hadn't trained since the illness, hadn't performed even the simplest of combat moves. She picked up the knife now, the familiar weight balanced perfectly in her palm as she began to twirl it on her fingertips, remembering the man who taught her this trick. She hadn't sparred in years, not since her partner had disappeared, slipped into the darkness between the secrets that filled this castle like ghosts. The pain was as fresh as the morning she ran into his room to find the patch of blood in the space where her brother used to sleep. She'd darted around the castle as quickly as her little legs would carry her, screaming his name so loud it echoed off the walls, waking every villager within a three-mile radius. She remembered her father saying he'd run away, not explaining the significant amount of blood staining his white sheets. She remembered the hollowness of his voice, the way his face was devoid of any emotion. Her young mind had chalked it up to grief, but now she knew her father was incapable of feeling any human emotion.
Jace had told her Jon was injected with demon's blood at birth, that it had slowly devoured his soul and taken away his humanity, but she still couldn't see it. She had so many memories within the four walls of her the training room, victorious bellows radiating off the walls, drowning out the cries of defeat. Never had he gone easy on her, but she always saw the look of pride in his eyes when she managed to disarm him, the hesitation before he pressed the blade to her throat. He had never hurt her, never laid a finger on her outside of sparring. He was the boy that used to read her stories of the fae from faraway lands, the boy that snuck her cookies from the kitchen when her stomach growled at midnight. He was her brother with hair as white as snow and eyes as black as night that watched over her like a hawk. He loved her. He was not a monster. She'd spent her whole life believing he'd run away, that he'd left her alone in the big empty palace, but now she was forced to believe that her father found Jonathon as a threat, that her brother had been eliminated the same was about to be.
Her head jerked toward the soft thud sounding from the window, spotting the halo of Jace's hair in the silvery moonlight. He stood there, looking more like a finely sculpted statue than the boy she knew so well. His eyes were the only thing that moved, mapping her body the way they always did when he saw her. His inventory took longer this time, his eyes narrowing on her middle as if looking for any tentacles spouting from her abdomen. "Still human," she finally laughed, watching his eyes snap to hers at the sound of her voice. His golden eyes hardened, telling her she wasn't as funny as she thought she was. "Oh, come on, Jace. You of all people should see that I'm looking better." It was true. The color had returned to her cheeks. Her curves once again had soft, womanly edges, and her hair fell in luscious waves down her back.
Jace closed the distance between them in two long strides, cupping the back of her neck to bring their lips together in the softest of kisses. His caresses were always so gentle, his kisses light as feathers, as if he thought he would break her, as if he thought he might unleash the beast. "You do look much better, Princess," he whispered, an odd note in his voice. Clary couldn't place it as he stretched out beside her, jostling the bed lightly before pulling her into his arms. Her head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck as his fingers wove through hers, an unnatural silence settling over the both of them. Jace filled it by busying himself with making sure Clary was comfortable. Infinite thoughts flew through her mind as her pillows were fluffed and blankets drawn up around her shoulders.
Why was she suddenly feeling better? When would she have to fulfil the prophecy? How would she fulfil it? But the one that nagged her the most was where is my brother?
Jace finally spoke loud enough to overcome her thoughts, his eyes flitting around the room but never landing anywhere. "Magnus thinks he has a way to cure you." She sat up quickly, rumpling the blankets Jace had just smoothed.
"When can we start?" Jace sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to finally look at her.
"Soon," he whispered quietly. "It's going to take a little less than a year to complete, though." She nodded. If she was going to get better, if she could be with Jace, it was worth it. "What were you drawing?" She handed him the sketchbook, looking away as he flipped through the drawings. In it were pictures of Isabelle, Isabelle and Simon during their engagement party, her brother and her when they were young, her mother, but the most recent entries were of Jace, his face hovering as if her were laying above her, his muscles flexed and face open with emotion. She could hear him running his fingers over the drawing. "This is amazing." She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, feeling more like a child than a lover. She didn't say anything though as she burrowed into the blankets, ignoring Jace as he told her goodnight.
X.O.X.O.X
"Jace?" she gasped out, her fingers seeking his in the darkness. Sweat beaded down the sides of her face, loose tendrils plastered to her neck from where they'd slithered free of her braid. "Jace?" she repeated, hating how desperate her voice sounded, how vulnerable she felt. She laced their hands together just as she felt him roll over. He collected her soaked body in his arms, groaning lightly as he was pulled from slumber.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he breathed, his voice brimming with concern. She could imagine the softness in his golden eyes as he assessed her, checking for demonic and human qualities alike. Jace was peppering lazy kisses across her bare shoulders, and she fought the urge to pull away. He must not have found any disturbing signs of her being fully consumed by the demon inside of her. It was a strange feeling, going to sleep praying to the angel that she wouldn't wake up with paper-thin wings sprouting from her back.
"I just had another nightmare," she sighed, rolling over so that she was now facing him. It was true, but this nightmare was new, vivid, even scarier than anything the demon had shown her before. She'd watched her mother die over and over again, watched her brother's head explode several different ways, seen Izzy sliced in half by a demon, but she knew those were not real, that her mother had already died and her brother was already gone and Izzy was by far one of the best Shadowhunters she'd encountered. This recent dream, though, was all too real, turning her into a sweaty mess in the tangled sheets.
Jace murmured soft words into her ear, but they were lost in the white noise. She vaguely felt his fingers moving across her back, working out the tight knots like every night before, gentle but strong as they glided over her slick skin. He's here, she had to keep reminding herself. You can feel him breathing. You can hear his heartbeat—
"Here," he said softly, reaching around with one arm to tug his shirt over his head in the sexy way only boys can. She bit her lip, still avoiding the heavy gaze of his eyes as he helped her peel off the nightgown, replacing it with the warm black fabric. She burrowed into it as if she could disappear within it, get away from the tawny eyes that looked at her with so much compassion. "Do you want to talk about it?" She whimpered quietly, hoping the sound was absorbed by the cotton over her mouth. He asked that every time she woke in the middle of the night. No matter how exhausted he looked, he'd always hold her, wipe away the tears streaming down her face and tell her he'd listen if she wanted to talk. She never did. It seemed so trivial, reliving something that wasn't even real. She knew that dreams were somehow connected to both inner desires and future events, but that was when a demonic presence wasn't altering her subconscious.
She looked down at her hand shaking in his, watching his calloused thumb stroke calming circles on the back of it, stopping every so often to play with the ring on her fourth finger. She wore it at night only, missing the weight during the days when maids flitted about attending to her needs. She reveled in these moments, when Jace was hers and she was his, when there were no demons or princes or evil kings to ruin true love.
Sadly, this wasn't a fairytale. It was just life. She breathed out heavily before finally meeting Jace's eyes, the question hanging on his lips. "It was about you, Jace. About us." She shook her head. "About the prophecy." Jace quirked any eyebrow, his mouth moving as if he were about to say something, but she silenced him with a question. "Do I have to marry the Prince of Alicante?" Her heart was in her throat, eyes dancing between his. He slowly nodded, and Clary let one, lone tear slip down her face.
"It creates an alliance between the countries," he explained lowly as another tear fell from the corner of her eye. "If the king of Idris dies, the two countries will once again be united." She shook her head, curls brushing her arms as she let one ragged sob slip out. Jace moved to pull her into his arms, but she backed away, staring at the glimmering ring on her finger.
"You knew," she spat. "You knew I would never be able to marry you, but you gave me hope anyway. You gave me hope because if this demon devours me, your plan fails. Do you even love me?" She whispered the last words, but they were harsh, slicing through the air between them.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, "but—"
"No," she growled, slipping the ring from her finger and dropping it into his opened hand. He stared at it dejectedly, as if within it was the saddest picture in the world. "There is no excuse for what you did, Jace. As a princess, my first duty is to my country." She felt sick, and for once, it had nothing to do with the demon ichor churning in her stomach. "I love you, Jace. Everyone I have ever loved has left me." Her voice cracked, more tears spilling over onto the duvet.
"I love you, too," he murmured in her ear as she finally collapsed into him, his eyes warm and welcoming despite her hostility. "That's why I didn't tell you." She cried quietly into the muscled skin of his chest. "I wanted you to feel like you had a choice, like you didn't need to marry me just because of some prophecy my father told me on his deathbed." His words were soft as his fingers ghosted up her spine. "I wanted you to marry me because you loved me the same way I love you." He kisses her cheek then, sliding the ring back onto her finger.
Her eyes move to his face, seeing the small smile playing at his lips. It wasn't a smirk, the way it usually was when he flirted. It was a nervous smile, blurred through the tears filling her eyes once more. "You?" The loaded question hung between them as time seemed to still. She held her breath, watching his eyes roam slowly over her face, drinking her in as if this might be the last time.
"Me." She threw her arms around him, tasting her salty tears on his lips as she kissed the breath out of him. They fell backward onto the bed, Jace pulling her on top of him.
"When my father passed away, I became king. I've told you that you'd be my queen." He tucked a curl behind her ear. "I was hoping that you would catch on." She didn't reply, just crashed their lips together once more, feeling his smile against her mouth.
"I think you might want your shirt back." Her voice was low as she was hit by a burst of confidence, casting the shirt to the side of the bed and kissing hungrily along his jaw. His body responded immediately, flipping her over so she was on her back beneath him, a pile of creamy, naked flesh against rose-colored sheets.
His rough fingers drifted up her thigh, over her hips, under the curve of her breast, before finally settling on her cheek. His lips never hesitated, hot and silky against hers, making her eagerly open her mouth to him. "You don't need those pants," she growled, pulling them down his legs, exposing him to her. He took her mouth again, as he kicked them completely off, allowing them to join his tee on the floor.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured gently in her ear, his hot breath washing over her as his eyes journeyed the expanse of pale skin stretched out before him. His lips suckled lightly at the skin of her collar bone, making her gasp lightly as his chin brushed lightly against her raised nipple. "You like that?" He took the pink nub in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it expertly as Clary stifled her moans. His fingers worked the other one, making her writhe heavily on the bed.
"King Herondale," she moaned rather loudly, blushing at the noise she was making. Jace kissed her pink cheeks, still tweaking her nipples with his fingers.
"I love it when you call me that," he growled grabbing her hips roughly as he rubbed his erection against her core. She moaned, her eyes flying open to see his golden irises had darkened with lust. He was so damn sexy, he seemed to radiate sunshine as he looked down at her through thick, dark lashes. He kissed a pathway across her stomach, his fingers teasing her sensitive flesh until he pushed on in, eliciting a gasp. He chuckled against her clit, his tongue snaking out to play with her most intimate areas, leaving her to fist her hands in his soft curls and choke out his name.
"Jace." Her chest heaved heavily up and down as she panted. His eyes looked up at her from between her legs, making her want to come undone right then and there, but she held on. "Make love to me, Jace."
"Is that an order, Queen Herondale?" she didn't have time to blush at his remark because in one swift motion, he was sheathed inside of her, one hand in her curls and the other bracing his weight as he thrust in and out of her. She matched him thrust for thrust, her eyes slipping after a moment, only to open to Jace's nearly blackened orbs. Her fingers slipped from his hair to his back as she felt herself tumbling, her nails digging into the tanned skin. "Come for me, baby," he rumbled in her ear, his fingers sliding down to play with her sex, his mouth crashing down to greedily envelop her scream. He pumped a few more times before collapsing lightly on top of her, panting in synchronization. She could see his eyes struggling to stay open as she snuggled into his naked body.
"Jace?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you're the king."
Can I get a review? You can get King Herondale naked on top of you calling you his queen. I think that's a fair trade.
All My Love
~BallinBlonde21