The first sound Jace heard when he opened his eyes was the constant ebb and flow of the sea, followed by his wife's soft breathing as she slept. Her back turned to him, long red hair messily tied at the crown of her head. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the salty air brought in by the soft breeze, the familiar smell that seemed to cling to each inch of this house, their house, and slipped carefully out of bed.

As he descended the stairs, hands brushing his long hair back from his face, Jace listened closely to the steady rhythm of the waves as they crashed gently against the sandy shoreline, hypnotic and sedative; it was a sound Jace had begun to link with love, and warmth, and safety. A sound that brought his mind back to his wife when on dangerous missions and long days away from her. A sound drilled deep into his heart.

His elbow pressed into the narrow window ledge as his feet shuffled lazily into the slippers left on the small landing separating the ground floor from their bedroom. Fingers gripping its edge, Jace let his eyes travel over the sea lavender his wife had planted over the grainy sand in front of their porch, long stems swaying under the whispering wind, splashes of purple blooming over light brown outside. A seagull dove sharply into the grey waters, ripples forming in its wake, foam-lipped and tumultuous.

Jace's knuckles brushed over his lids, and he crouched to find Clary's pair of slippers. He climbed back and placed them at the door, something for her to find when she woke up.

From the kitchen, through the large windows built across the opposite wall, he could glimpse the wide, empty sea. If he sat down on one of the wicker chairs, Jace would be faced with a dazing view of the open sky; open and tall, expanding as far as his eyesight could reach. He sometimes felt it would come down upon him and break into the sea, shattering on the quiet beach and taking their house with it. But the sky never did and, although the sea thundered ominously on some nights, they kept on living a happy life here, him and Clary.

Stretching, Jace walked over to the cabinets, eyes searching for the turquoise ceramic jar where they kept coffee, the one that Clary had found at the cheapest price at a street market. The machine started with a low buzzing sound, and he let his gaze wander around as he waited for the pot to fill, to the handmade frames holding the dearest of their photos, the rows of shells dangling slowly on a string beneath the white painted mantle. Clary smiled dazzlingly at him from one of the pictures, and Jace found himself smiling back in reflex, much like the slightly younger, photo version of himself, his arms wrapped around her waist.

Jace remembered they had taken it here, in their new home, the day they had moved in. It was still a house more than a home back then, more a space than a place; today, Jace felt, it was the home closest to his heart, the place where he had been the happiest ever - although, he reckoned, not being neck-deep into yet another war anymore did help with that.

He saw himself reflected into the small glass, over teenaged Jace and Clary kissing over and over. His hair had gotten quite long, in the last few months, he thought with a short snort, vividly remembering the displeased looks Maryse kept throwing him whenever some of his hair got in the way. Jace didn't care much about her displeasure and he was rather content with remaining a long-haired fool. His wife seemed to be of the opposite opinion, anyway.

Jace's thoughts strayed further as he stirred the coffee, guided by the lull of the sea and the constant murmur of the wind. They stopped briefly as his gaze found the next picture on the mantle. A young Clary and Simon posing for the camera on the first day of school. Jace exhaled, something bittersweet now clinging to his tongue. She was so innocent in her youth, as pure as any child should be - and as Jace had never been allowed to be. These kinds of thoughts came often to his mind, as of late.

"Good morning," Clary called softly, slippered feet slowly brushing over the stairs. Jace turned to look at her, smiling, and reached for a second mug; filling it with tea instead, a couple of spoons of sugar to sweeten the warm liquid, and he took it to her, kissing her warm lips as he handed over the mug.

"Thank you," Clary smiled sleepily and she allowed him to gently steer her towards the sofa, where Jace would wrap her in her favorite sky blue blanket as she drank her morning tea. Half-emptied cup in hand, he knelt before the fireplace, picking up the lighter. Soon the flames came alive in the hearth, the low crackling of wood now mixing with the world coming alive outside - birds, and the sea spilling onto the shore, and the wind gently dying down as the sun rose higher.

Jace's heart leaped violently as Clary's hand rested on her belly: she was just starting to show, but, to him, the baby was already there, with them. It was now the home of three.

"Alright?" he asked, kissing her temple.

"Mmmh," she murmured contently into her mug, leaning into Jace. His arms wrapped around her, gently pulling at the blanket so it better covered her. "I have an appointment today, after lunch."

Jace, of course, knew that. He had been ecstatic at the prospect of going with her all week, anxious to be told that it would be alright and perfect, to have what he already was so certain of validated. One step closer to filling the house with little baby cries and their voices as they would sing lullabies, the cradle rocking to the sound of the sea. Nothing like what he could remember of his own childhood, the long periods of loneliness, the constant need of seeking Valentine's approval, the weight of his expectations, and the fear of failure. Many times, since Clary had given him the news, he had sworn to himself that no child of his would ever have to suffer a sliver of what he had.

"I'll come back to take you," Jace told her, although he knew there was no real need for it. They had discussed and planned it many times already, but it still brought him joy to say it.

"I know you will," Clary said as she shook her head a little, scarlet hair flowing over her shoulders, escaping from its bun.

The sea, the wind rattling against the cottage walls, their children and her, that was how it would always be, a life worthy of her beauty, and he a man worthy of her love. With this in mind, he kissed her, holding her more tightly, drawing her to him, reveling in her warmth. It was bliss - easy, magical, thrilling bliss, and Jace couldn't wait to turn forever next to her.