"You wanted to speak to me Father?" Jonathan said as he entered the training room later that day. Valentine was standing in the middle of the ring, dressed in sparing clothes and gloves. He looked up as he heard his eldest son's voice.
"Go get changed." Valentine said. Jonathan came to a stop outside the ring, his face, so like Valentine's, slipping into a confused frown.
"But sparing is over for the day." Valentine looked down at him, his black eyes glittering.
"Well I thought since you wanted to fight so badly today you wouldn't object to another round. With me this time." He said smoothly.
Jonathan could only stare up at him. He couldn't help the blossoming regret and trepidation that began to unfurl in his stomach. He shouldn't have gotten so carried away while teaching his pathetic brother a lesson earlier. But he deserved it…the voice in his head whispered with venom. He thinks he's better than you. He deserves much more than what you gave him earlier…Jonathan tuned out the voice as his father slowly began walking towards the ropes in front of him.
"You have five minutes to be ready and in front of me in this ring, Jonathan." Valentine said softly. Jonathan met his eyes for a second before turning to the adjoining locker room; his father was never more dangerous than when he spoke quietly.
Somehow, Jonathan had forgotten quite how large his father really was until he was standing in front of him, preparing to fight him. He stretched out his arms and legs as he eyed his father's broad chest and hulking shoulders and arms. Valentine was easily twice his size, if not more, and the entirety of his bulk was all muscle and experience. Jonathan's eyes slipped closed for a second when he saw his father clenching his fists and staring at him with a very controlled rage. The blossoming feeling in his stomach came back, only stronger this time, making Jonathan's pulse pick up.
They stepped up to each other in the center of the mat and touched the knuckles of their gloves together. Jonathan made sure to meet his father's eyes as he did; at least he could act like he wasn't already regretting his attack on Jace earlier. Thinking about Jace seemed to chase away the apprehension, and Jonathan felt a darkness running through his veins that he recognized as the feeling of intense hatred that he felt for his younger brother.
Valentine and Jonathan began to circle each other and Jonathan let the darkness inside him be directed at the man who protected Jace from him.
Valentine sensed a change in his eldest son. His dark, pit-like eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened as he stared back at him, waiting for an opening to strike like the snake he was harboring inside of him. Valentine couldn't help but feel paternal pride at the look of hard determination on Jonathan's face; it reminded him of himself when he was seventeen, thinking he stood a chance against forces greater than he. What a pity that in Jonathan's case…he was wrong.
Valentine feinted left and Jonathan blocked but wasn't quick enough to stop Valentine's right fist from connecting hard into his ribs. Jonathan gasped and staggered back a few steps, his hand pressed into his side. Valentine let him retreat, knowing that his side was aching after the hit it took. The boy would have bruises for weeks…Valentine's eyes narrowed and a patronizing grin tugged up the corner of his mouth.
"Mmm." He murmured sympathetically, "That hurt didn't it? You don't want me to do that again do you?" Jonathan stared up at his father, anger making his black eyes even darker. Then Jonathan dropped his hand from his side and straightened up, barely wincing as he did.
Again, Valentine felt pride swell inside him; Jonathan was the perfect soldier. Well not quite…perfect soldiers had a lot more discipline than his oldest son had. Ah well, nothing he couldn't teach him to have…Valentine waited for Jonathan to strike first this time, already knowing which moves he would make.
Valentine blocked the boy's fast jabs at his face but allowed the kick to his stomach, simply tightening his abdomen to take the edge of the blow. Valentine caught his ankle and swept his foot at the back of Jonathan's remaining knee, sending him down to the mat hard.
"Ah, Jonathan…you're so predicable." He taunted. Jonathan rolled to his feet with an agility that would best anyone of his age…except maybe Jace. But then again, like Jonathan, Jace wasn't an ordinary Shadowhunter. Valentine had made certain that their lives would be far from ordinary before they were even born…they were his living, breathing weapons; and it was all to serve his greater purpose.
Valentine smiled again as he saw the anger on his son's face. He had taught them to control their emotions better but it seemed that Jace was the only one who had learned that particular skill. Valentine felt a thread of anger weave through himself. It sometimes seemed that Jonathan learned nothing; that his pride and arrogance burned out everything else, including the boy's humanity.
Valentine had seen the malicious smile on Jonathan's face as he choked Jace earlier. He had enjoyed it, had enjoyed causing his brother pain. Valentine had also seen Jace tap out and Jonathan should have released his illegal choke hold immediately but he hadn't. Instead, he had tightened his grip mercilessly. If it had been any other boy besides Jace, who was just as good a fighter as his brother, Jonathan would have killed him.
Much more than a thread of anger coursed through Valentine as he stared at his son. Now he felt a paternal pride for Jace and a strong desire to punish Jonathan for his cruelty.
Valentine easily brushed aside Jonathan's punches before grabbing his wrist and pulling him into a complicated move that slammed him back down onto the mat. Jonathan's chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. Valentine stood over him.
"Get up."
Jonathan got to his feet and prepared for his father's next attack, knowing from the quiet tone of his voice that it was only going to get worse. Valentine advanced on him, throwing punches almost quicker than Jonathan could see. His fist slipped past Jonathan's defenses and struck his jaw so hard he was thrown backwards into the ropes.
Jonathan blinked sweat out of his eyes and ignored the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. Valentine struck him hard and fast in the diaphragm, knocking the breath out of him completely. Before he had time to recover, Valentine grabbed his upper arm and threw him roughly down to the center of the mat as easily as he would throw a doll. Jonathan gasped as air finally returned to his aching lungs. He pulled himself up onto his hands and knees, panting lightly as Valentine strode up behind him and grabbed his ankle.
"Now you're going to learn what it feels like to ask for mercy and be denied it." Valentine said in a low, dangerous voice. He locked his hands around Jonathan's ankle before twisting it hard to the right.
Jonathan yelled out at the sudden pain and tried to roll over onto his back to get out of the ankle lock. Valentine didn't let him. He tightened his grip and twisted his ankle even harder, holding it mercilessly in the twisted position.
Jonathan clenched his teeth to keep from screaming in pain and slapped his hand to the mat once in submission. Valentine twisted his ankle further in response. Jonathan groaned loudly and dropped his forehead to the mat, his eyes squeezed shut in agony. He knew Valentine wasn't going to let him go yet…that would be too easy. He dug his fingers into the mat so his father wouldn't see them shaking.
"Have you learned your lesson, Jonathan?" Jonathan winced at the sharp pains that were crippling his ankle and shooting up his leg.
"Yes." He said, breathless from the pain. Valentine twisted his ankle slowly this time, making Jonathan bite down on his lip so hard his teeth drew blood.
"What was that?" Valentine asked him. Jonathan's fingers dug harder into the mat.
"Yes, sir." Valentine's face remained blank.
"And what lesson did you learn?" He asked quietly.
"Don't fight dirty…and when your opponent taps out, let them go." Jonathan said through his clenched teeth. Valentine held Jonathan's twisted ankle tightly as he considered his son's answer. The wait seemed like hours to Jonathan.
"Wrong." Valentine said coldly before breaking Jonathan's ankle with a loud snap.
Jonathan's tortured scream of pain echoed throughout the training room. Valentine finally released his ankle before reaching down and grabbing a fistful of his son's white blonde hair. He pulled Jonathan up onto his knees by his hair before bending his head back so that he was staring up at him. His son's black eyes, identical to his own, were glassy with pain.
"The lesson is: No matter how big and bad you think you are, there will always be somebody bigger and a thousand times more bad. And that somebody is me, Jonathan. It would be in your best interest to never forget that." Valentine said as he felt his fingers tighten in his son's hair. "Do you understand me?" Jonathan stared up at his father, resisting the urge to wince at the tight grip he had on his hair, and felt his hatred for Jace grow even more; something he didn't think was possible until now.
"Yes, sir." He said quietly.
Valentine released Jonathan's hair before ambling slowly over to the edge of the ring. Jonathan gripped his broken ankle with both hands and watched him wearily, his ankle throbbing sickeningly. When Valentine returned to the ring, he was holding something in his hand that Jonathan couldn't see. His pulse picked up as his father approached him with the unknown object. He couldn't read the expression on Valentine's face and it frightened him. Valentine stopped in front of him and stared down at Jonathan.
"You don't deserve this." he said coldly.
Jonathan felt cold sweat trickle down his back and suppressed a shiver. He looked down at his knuckles; they were white with the grip that he had on his damaged ankle.
Suddenly, Valentine sat down on the mat in front of him. He reached out and pulled Jonathan's hands away from his ankle and curled his own big hand around it instead. Jonathan winced at the pain it caused him.
Valentine then pulled his oldest son closer towards him on the mat before raising the object in his left hand; his stele. Valentine sensed the relief emanating from Jonathan like a wave. He pushed up the edge of Jonathan's pant leg and began tracing a healing rune on the bruised skin of his broken ankle.
The pain of the Mark was nothing compared to the pain of his ankle, but the smell of his skin burning made Jonathan's stomach clench. Soon, he felt the soothing effects of the healing rune and sighed quietly as the pain left him and his ankle healed itself. Valentine released his son's ankle and stood, towering over Jonathan.
"I suggest you pay more attention to your lessons the first time you learn them, Jonathan. For I have very little patience for those who waste my time." He said as he left the ring and strode out of the training room.
Jonathan watched him go, his fingertips absently tracing over small crescent shaped dents in the mat. He looked down at them and felt his face harden stoically, the way his father had taught him to look whenever he was feeling emotions he didn't want to acknowledge.
Jonathan stood up and walked off the mat as well, stepping on the deep gouges his nails had made in the tough material when his father had snapped his ankle as easily and with as little effort as he would've snapped a dry and weather beaten twig.
