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Pokemon67 is sorry for any grammatical errors.
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Sleep Without Dreams
…..
''A weapon?
A monster?
A child.''
…..
For as long as Jonathan could remember, he had had problems sleeping. And as he was a demon with a terrific memory, he remembered everything.
Even as a baby, he would stare up at the ceiling for hours, watching as the moonlight made patterns in the dark. It took him a long time to realize the reason he was left alone in his room so long at night was because his parents thought he was sleeping. He didn't know you were supposed to sleep all night.
The few times he slept most of the night had all occurred during the two month period he spent at the Herondale's when he was three years old. He would pretend to sleep until they went to bed so he could sneak to the window, looking down at the path that led to his parents' home. Part of him would wonder why they didn't come for him. The other part dreaded when they would.
He would look out the window for hours. The Herondales would wake up and- upon seeing him missing- would come and get him. Wordlessly, Stephen would pick him up and carry him back to his and Celine's room. Jonathan liked being carried by Stephen. It felt very different to being carried by his father.
Celine would be sitting up in bed, watching as they entered. Stephen would place Jonathan on the bed and he would immediately go and curl up in Celine's open arms. She liked holding him, Jonathan realized. He wondered why Celine did and his own mother did not.
Jonathan would spend the night curled tight next to Celine, his arms around her neck and her hands on his back. Thinking Jonathan was asleep, Jonathan heard Stephen once ask Celine if he should move him. ''You can't possibly be comfortable,'' he had argued.
Celine's reply had surprised Jonathan. ''I know what it's like to want to be safe.''
Was that it? Jonathan had wondered. Was that what he was missing? The happiness that Alec and Aline and Jonathan Wayland had to them- was it because they felt safe and he didn't?
The Herondales made him feel safe. Being curled up next to Celine made Jonathan feel safe. But that hadn't lasted. No. Because father came.
After the Uprising came the cabin. Jonathan hated the cabin. Mostly because he was alone in it for so long. Father was constantly going back and forth to the other boy- Celine's boy. Jonathan often reflected on how strange it was for father to favor her child over him, especially since when Celine had shown such liking to Jonathan it had made father angry.
Father would be gone for hours. And then days. Jonathan couldn't sleep at all during these times. He heard things. He heard monsters whisper and demons call. Part of him wanted to talk back to these creatures. The other part wanted father to protect him from them.
Jonathan would stay awake until father came home. He wasn't sure if this angered father or worried him. Surely normal children couldn't manage days on end with no sleep? It was Jonathan's demon blood that carried him through. And every time he stayed awake it reminded father that he wasn't normal.
A few times, father had stayed away longer than he said. He would come home to find Jonathan curled up somewhere. On the couch, on the windowsill, in the study, on father's bed- but never in his room. Jonathan would be tired, yes, exhausted- but he would not be asleep. He couldn't just sleep.
Father would use spells and potions to help Jonathan sleep. He would make him drink them and then carry him to his room and put him to bed, regardless of the time of day. Jonathan wished he wouldn't. He wished father would just hold him. Maybe then he'd feel again the safety he had felt when Celine had held him.
He wished father hadn't killed her.
Then the day came when father was threatened. He had to fake his death. He had to hide. People knew he had two hide outs with two boys. They were closing in on him, knowing he would be at one of the places. He had to protect his sons and his mission.
He sent the other boy away.
Jonathan had expected it. He wasn't surprised when the people came into his cabin, looking for Valentine and settling for Jonathan. Jonathan knew father hadn't chosen the other boy out of love, he did it out of convenience. The other boy was a liability. Jonathan was stronger than him. Jonathan could take care of himself and would be much more equipped to fight enemies than the other boy. No, Valentine hadn't picked the other boy because he loved him more.
It hadn't been the reason. Jonathan knew it had just been a perk.
That moment- standing in the woods, surrounded by the four enemies he had managed to kill- that was the moment that Jonathan had stopped thinking of him as 'father'. He was Valentine. And he, Jonathan, was no more than a weapon.
Jonathan wondered if this was wrong. After all, he didn't exactly have anything to compare it to.
He still didn't sleep when Valentine was gone. But no longer did he wait to be given potions or spells. When he arrived home, Jonathan would simply slip into his room and lay on his bed, starring at the ceiling as he had for so many years. If he was desperate he would give himself a peace rune. But more often than not, he would just stare.
Sleep made his body more refreshed but his mind never seemed to turn off. It was always running, always thinking and planning and racing. As he grew older and bolder to leave the cabin while Valentine was away, Jonathan tried alcohol and all sorts of mundane recreational drugs to see if it had the advertised effects their media warned of. They all had little to no impact.
Jonathan gave up looking for things that would make him feel 'normal'. He would never feel normal because he didn't know what normal was. He was a demon. Demons didn't sleep and didn't stop thinking.
That was what he thought, until he met her.
Jonathan had come across faeries a few times. He liked them. They inability to lie made them straightforward with their words and yet they could be manipulative. It helped Jonathan to learn to feign the emotions Valentine taught him. He just had to choose the right words at the right time.
Faerie drugs had disappointed him as much as the mundane drugs had, but he still liked their zeal and pursuit of all things. Their hunts and dances were so entrancing, Jonathan himself almost felt something.
Upon meeting the Seelie Queen, Jonathan figured she was the only living creature in the world who was as close to him in nature. She was ambitious. She was crafty. She was logical.
Jonathan was brought up to believe he couldn't feel love. The Queen wasn't the type to engage in romance. He wasn't sure what they had, but he was certain that he enjoyed every minute of it.
''You are more like the fey then you realize,'' she said to him once. ''You have demon blood mixed with angel blood, same as us.''
''Your angel blood makes you like the angels,'' Jonathan had countered. ''Mine makes me like the Shadowhunters.''
The Queen waved this aside. ''So you have the diluted batch,'' she said with a sniff. Then she smirked that smirk of pleasure. ''You are still half angel, half demon. As are we.''
Jonathan partially agreed. If there were any creatures he felt any similarity to, it was the fey.
It had first happened when Jonathan was sixteen. They were in her chambers, standing face to face by the bed. The Queen had long ago discarded Jonathan's shirt and ran her hands along his face, tracing them down his neck, down his collar bone. They kissed and Jonathan's own hands were on her back as his fingers went to remove the thin slip the Queen wore, so finely woven of silk it seemed to make her already pale skin glow. They had done this so many times before and yet Jonathan's fingers trembled. Valentine had not been home in days, and so Jonathan had not slept in days.
He closed his eyes as he grasped the Queen's face, kissing her harder. He hoped to get that buzz of energy he got every time they met like this, the closest thing he every got to feeling love or happiness. But the feeling never came. He kissed her harder, becoming desperate in his search.
She must've sensed something in his manner. She pulled away from him slowly, a strange expression on her face as she studied him. Jonathan felt irritated. He couldn't read her expression and he didn't want to stop kissing her.
The Queen raised her hand to his cheek. He raised an eyebrow at her. ''What is it?''
''You're tired,'' she said, frowning at him. ''Don't you sleep?''
Jonathan managed his smug grin. ''How could I possibly sleep when I have more important things to do?''
He kissed her again, tracing his lips down her face and onto her neck. ''Demons don't sleep,'' the Queen said thoughtfully. ''But you do, don't you?''
Jonathan sighed and stopped kissing her, laying his head wearily on her shoulder. ''I don't think you quite understand what I came here for.''
''It must cause a contradiction,'' the Queen went on. ''A dichotomy in your nature.''
''Are you trying to create a logical proof that angels require sleep?''
Jonathan straightened up and saw the Queen was smiling. She was pleased. ''So you do require sleep.''
''As do all living things. All living things require another thing, too-''
''So why don't you sleep?'' She paused to trace a finger across his chest. ''You can't possibly preform at your best when tired.''
Jonathan smirked. ''You have no way of knowing that.''
They kissed again, Jonathan hungrily searching for that feeling. ''You know,'' the Queen said between breaths. ''I could give you something.''
Memories of all of Valentine's spells and potions rang through Jonathan's mind. Some worked a bit, some didn't. And all gave a horrible feeling of being trapped. ''Nothing works,'' he snapped bitterly at her. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.
The Queen chuckled as if she knew better. ''You don't know fairy magic.''
''Actually, I do.'' Jonathan pulled away this time, looking at her angrily. She didn't seem perturbed. ''I've tried it all.''
''Not the good stuff,'' the Queen countered.
Curiosity rose in Jonathan, but he was too tired to consider it. He wanted what he came for. ''Stop.''
The Queen let the matter drop and they went back to their activity. Jonathan pushed her onto the bed and leaned over her, kissing her neck and running his fingers through her hair, his body desperate for touch.
They were rough as always, but Jonathan thought the Queen might have been right- he wasn't at his best. He ended up on his back, her laying on top of him. She stopped kissing his neck and sat up, studying him. Her fingers traced his lips. ''It would work, you know,'' she whispered, almost tauntingly.
Irritation rose in Jonathan again. ''It either would or it wouldn't,'' he admitted. ''If it did, I have no doubt it would work very well and I would be here far longer than planned.''
''My offer is sincere,'' the Queen said harshly. ''And I don't take kindly to the implication it is not.'' Her thumb brushed his cheek, coming close enough to make Jonathan close his eyes in reflex. ''Just try it,'' she purred in a gentler tone. ''It could be what you're looking for.''
''No.''
''It wouldn't knock you out for long,'' she continued. ''I don't have to give you a lot. What about two hours? Two hours of uninterrupted bliss?''
Temptation was getting the better of Jonathan. ''Two hours?'' he repeated skeptically.
''Not a moment more.'' She smiled as she bent to kiss his chest. ''Unless, of course, you ask for more.''
Jonathan breathed evenly. ''I know the rules regarding eating fairy food.''
''I don't want to trap you here.''
''Why do you want to help me?''
''Is it helping you?'' The Queen ran her fingers down his arms. ''I think my intentions are rather self serving.''
Jonathan knew he shouldn't. And yet… ''Two hours?''
''You will sleep for two and the entire drug will be out of your system in three.''
''You won't keep me here after?''
''Of course not.''
Jonathan licked his lips. He nodded. ''Alright then.''
The Queen smiled. She untangled herself from him to reach her cabinet next to the bed. Jonathan watched her open it and remove a small pastry. It looked like a pink crumb cake. She cut a bite off and turned to him, holding it out.
Jonathan sat up on an elbow and accepted it. It left crumbs sticking to the Queen's hand. She licked her fingers while looking at him expectantly, her green eyes laughing. Jonathan placed the food into his mouth.
It tasted very sweet and the texture was just as he imagined, all crumbly and tiny. The Queen smiled in delight and climbed back on top of him. She pushed him back down on his back. ''Now just let it work.''
She spread out, her weight pushing on him. He closed his eyes as she lazily kissed him. First his mouth and face and then moving to his neck. Her hands entwined with his above his head.
For a while, Jonathan felt nothing. It was only when he was staring into the darkness of his closed eyelids, focusing on the feeling of the Queen kissing his neck, did he realize he thought nothing too.
The realization was so startling he opened his eyes and let out a gasp, almost breaking the spell. The Queen lifted her head and put a finger to his lips. ''Ah, ah, ah,'' she chided quietly. ''Don't fight it.''
She removed her finger and lifted her other hand and ran them both along his face, pushing his head back down and mussing his hair. Jonathan let out another gasp, this one in relief. His eyes were fluttering, and he let them close and tried to give in to the freeing feeling of blankness that was his mind.
He was glad of the Queen sitting on top of him. He felt grounded, not as though he was free falling like so many other drugs had made him feel. He gave a shuddering breath as the Queen brought her hands back down. She tilted his face upwards and kissed his lips, her tongue licking his and finding specs of the pastry.
Jonathan felt her weight shift. For a horrible minute he wondered if she were getting up to leave. But she just unhooked her legs, moving to lay next to him rather than atop him. He felt her rest her head on his chest, her hand reaching for his and intwining their fingers. Her breathing changed to match his.
It wasn't safety, but it was the closest thing to peace Jonathan had felt in a long time. His mind wasn't racing, but was as relaxed as his body, thoughts coming slowly and one at a time. The Queen had been right- this worked. And Jonathan reveled in it.
…
The Queen dozed a little, not having eaten enough of the pastry for proper sleep. She never really needed such magical remedies. She sat up a little from Jonathan, rolling onto her stomach so she could watch him.
She felt a funny sort of pride that she had given him the thing he had been looking for, the peace he needed to get to rest properly. There was no doubt in her mind he would wake feeling better than he had been. He would be refreshed and pleased and would smile that twisted smile she loved so much.
The Queen had lived a long time. She had been with faeries, werewolves, vampires, warlocks, and humans. She loved her own kind, but humans were interesting. Vampires had given up on life, living quite literally with their minds half in their graves. Werewolves acted like primitive humans, evolving backward into their primal ways of tribes and killing. But modern day humans- they were all so varied and yet so similar. Their ideas that were so ingrained in them were so senseless to the logical mind and it amused her so.
But living as long as she had, she had feared becoming like the warlocks. Calcifying, losing interest in everything she enjoyed. Longing for the next adventure only to find out she'd had them all. But then she met him.
Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern was quite literally a different species. He was so different from her and yet so like her it made her angry. He was caught between two worlds, forever stuck between Heaven and Hell. Cast out of Heaven for being a demon, rejected by Hell for being an angel. It was a struggle that was so obvious to her, but she doubted whether he realized it was this issue that was the extent of his problem.
The Queen liked him. She knew he would do great things. And she would make sure her kingdom benefited from them.
But right now- now he was just a child. A mere boy. A boy who secretly hoped for his father's approval and his mother's love, a demon who longed to be human. Soon she knew, his pride would make him fully accept the role he was born to play. His anger would burn against those who refused him and he would be powerful. Unstoppable. The demon blood in him would dominate his angel side and whatever shred of humanity that he still had.
She couldn't wait.
But for now, he was a boy. A tired, scared to sleep boy. And he was all her's.
She smiled and touched his cheek, sliding her fingers gently down his throat. His eyes closed, his breaths coming easily- he looked beautiful. Like an angel.
The Queen laid down again, pulling her bed covers over them both before wrapping her arms around Jonathan again. He was her angel and demon boy. Her powerful warrior.
He was perfect.
Me: This was really fun to write. I hope you enjoyed reading it! If you have time, I would really appreciate a review!
Happy Writing!