Title: Eternally Bound

Summary: He was only three when his parents died. Now he's a servant of the Morgensterns, bound to their secrets more tightly than any could imagine. Breaking the ties and finding the truth before his life runs out is only the beginning of his struggle. AU Malec

Note: Hiya, people! Are you still reading this? Really? After what happened to Alexander last chapter? Wow. I'm surprised I'm not dead yet. I have gotten some scary reviews, though, so... I'll remind you that if I'm dead, Alec can't be saved. (My persuasion skills need some brushing up on). Anyway, I'm astounded by the response I got for the last chapter and hope you guys like this one even more. I'm currently up to Chapter Five in the planning process, and we've got a bumpy road ahead of us. Enjoy! Things are looking up!

Another Note: Yeah, I know I messed up a little with ages and birthdays. Cassandra Clare made a Twitter post a little bit after I posted the prologue telling me the exact ages of all the kids and when Alec turned eighteen. And I placed it in the completely wrong place. So. We're going to twist some things and assume Valentine lied about others. Thanks :)

Disclaimer: I do not own MI. Cassandra Clare does.

Chapter Two

Valentine always preached that Shadowhunters were the most angelic beings in the world. Alexander didn't doubt this was true. Angel blood certainly gave them that boost towards the heavens.

However, this led him to question what "angelic" really meant.

It was hours until anyone had allowed him to sit and his knee was certainly worse for wear. The Shadowhunters scoured the house again and again, paying no respect to any part of the fine home. Rugs were thrown aside and locked doors knocked right off their hinges in an attempt to find clues towards the missing man.

Alexander remained silent after giving his name, but the relentless questioning continued. He honestly wasn't sure what he was permitted to tell. The agonizing sensation of burning blood was an experience he wanted to desperately avoid. Tobias, at the very least, tried to buffer the harshness of the woman he called the Inquisitor, but there was little he could do. Alexander didn't blame him. After all, it was a dangerous thing to disobey your employer.

It didn't take long to figure out what they thought of him. He was obviously under arrest – not so sheltered as to not recognize what the handcuffs meant – and under suspicion of aiding Valentine in stealing the Mortal Cup. Alexander wished he actually knew what the Mortal Cup was so he could deny the accusation.

All in all, it wasn't what he had imagined as his rescue from hell.

Nor was his venture to the outside world.

Alexander had lived his life with only short bursts of fresh air from cracked open windows. The front door was locked from the outside, effectively keeping both boys in their prison. Alexander vaguely recalled the feeling of soft grass and wide open skies with enough room to fly. He had long ago given up his hopes of ever visiting his fantasies for real.

The reality wasn't as pleasant as he'd hoped. Tobias had to all but drag him across the threshold. He was paralyzed by the space, the muggy summer air he'd never actually breathed in. The sky was cloudless and pure, but Alexander wanted to simply turn back and hide in his safe, familiar confines.

However, the carriage was only a few yards from the door and Tobias ushered Alexander into the seats, holding onto his shoulder with a light touch.

"It's all right," Tobias had said when the carriage started its wobbly journey away from the mansion and Alexander felt a panic attack coming on. "We're not going to let you get hurt. We're taking you somewhere safe. You're free from there now."

Alexander had given him a shaky, still silent smile and turned away from the window.

Safe was clearly a relative term to Tobias. Alexander laid on his cot, reminiscent of his bed in the dungeons, and sucked in a deep breath of dank prison air. They had called the edifice the Gard when they arrived, and promptly escorted him down to the dungeons. He had a small window of bars high on one wall and a miniscule bathroom that actually looked bigger than his one at home. Bars blocked him in.

As long as he was alone, Alexander could relax. He was content. He was safe.

But now others intruded in his space, hollering their demands and questions again. Alexander felt trapped as a mouse in a cage. He couldn't think, he could barely register what was happening. It was all too sudden. He wasn't used to people, and he decided that he didn't think he really liked them all that much.

The light haired boy Alexander had become fond of so quickly pushed through the swarming crowd of seven or eight and raised his voice above all the others. "All right, everybody step back seven steps!" Nobody listened and just came at Alexander more urgently. Alexander sank back against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest as he huddled on the mattress.

"You all need to give him some space!" Tobias kept his stance and hollered at the others. "I swear, if you don't step back, I'll get the Inquisitor to kick you out and we'll do the questioning alone!"

Alexander's skin crawled at the thought of the woman. She had given him dirty, somewhat disbelieving looks that he simply couldn't comprehend. One second she looked nearly happy. The next, she looked like she wanted to squash him under her boot.

The other black clad Shadowhunters retreated immediately, much to Alexander's relief.

"Now," Tobias said pleasantly to the serious men. "We're going to do this humanely, not screaming like he's some monster. Because he's not. His name is Alexander and he is a person who has obviously been through a lot of shit."

"Carstairs, who do you think you are?" one of the men spat. "You're two years younger than Anthony's littlest."

"You haven't got the right to be telling us what to do," another added, likely Anthony.

Tobias crossed his arms casually. "Alexander, would you rather me asking you questions or them?"

Alexander frowned. He'd never been given an option to anything before. He glanced at the fierce Shadowhunters backed against the bars to his cell. They were all different sizes, shapes, and colors, but the image sharply reminded him of Jonathan. Their confident stances and thick gear with sharp weapons hanging from their belts all looked the same. He averted his eyes and shrugged noncommittally.

"The truth, please, Alexander." Tobias was patient, but urging. "If you'd rather talk to them, that's fine."

Alexander hesitated before shaking his head. "I'd like to speak with you, sir," he murmured. If the cell hadn't already fallen deadly silent, his words would have been lost. "If… if you don't mind, sir."

Tobias grinned crookedly. "'Course not. The only thing I mind is being called sir. Is that all right with you?"

Alexander shut his eyes and choked on nothing. He didn't mean to, he didn't want to have that sort of reaction to what the boy said. But the only time Jonathan ever permitted formalities to drop were in anger and lust. He knew he was oblivious to much of life, because he just knew the world wasn't as he was raised, but there was no way to escape the thought that Tobias meant the same as the Morgenstern.

"Or you could call me sir," he added in a rush. "If you want. That's fine. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Sir is fine. Can I start the questions?"

Alexander nodded.

"All right, good. The rest of you, pay attention. Someone is keeping a record, right? Oh, and if you want to ask something, tell me first."

Alexander didn't look at the men again, but could feel their disconcerting stares at both Tobias and himself.

Tobias turned around to face him. He stood tall, but not authoritatively. Though he also wore the thick, dark gear, his uniform was wrinkled and the sleeves were pushed up casually. "Alexander, I know you can't tell me much, but try to answer my questions as fully as you can. For the record, can you state your name?"

"Alexander Lightwood," he said as clearly as he could. As far as he knew, records needed to be accurate and he didn't want to mess it up, just in case they got angry. His voice cracked and he felt his palms break into a cold sweat until it was clear no punishment would be inflicted. It seemed information on himself was allowed.

"Do you have a middle name?" Tobias pressed.

Alexander shrugged. "Not that I know of, sir."

Tobias nodded to one of the Shadowhunters, who was scribbling rapidly on a paper. "Alexander, I need to record your fingerprints. Do you know how to do that?"

Alexander bit his lip and stared at his palms. If he squinted hard, he could see the little lines that marked him as an individual. He shook his head.

"That's all right," Tobias said and ushered the recorder forward. He laid out a pad of black ink on the bed and a clipboard of paper. "We need this for the file and to make sure you are who you say you are," he explained. "We've had some impersonations lately, and I don't think you're lying, but you might, you know, not know that you're not telling the truth. Here, spread out your fingers."

Tobias guided Alexander through the process of inking his hands and carefully staining the paper. He handed him a wet towel when he was done.

"Thank you, sir," Alexander murmured and wiped off the black tarnish.

Tobias looked down at him in a patronizing way and Alexander couldn't help wincing. He knew what pity was, though Valentine wasn't fond of it. Pity was directed to the weak.

Alexander knew that's what he was.

"Okay, so those were the easy questions," Tobias said. "I need to ask some difficult ones. Are you ready?" He didn't wait long for a response. Carefully, he asked, "What do those runes on your wrists do?"

Alexander immediately tensed. He traced the design nervously, scratching his nail against the skin. He couldn't tell, but he wanted to, so badly. He just didn't know, couldn't know, what would happen if he disobeyed an order and couldn't take it back.

Fear tingled at the back of his mind. It could mean never ending pain, that flash of torture never ceasing. It would kill him, for sure. A body couldn't withstand the pressure. He was positive of that.

"Alexander, please tell us," Tobias pleaded. "I can't help you if I don't know what it does."

Alexander looked towards the other Shadowhunters again. Several were now holding knives that gleamed in the dim prison witchlight. He thought of Valentine's unyielding order that none shall be revealed. There was no way for him to win. "They'll kill me." He wasn't sure which enemy he was speaking of, just that he was terrified.

"I won't let them," Tobias said. Alexander knew he was referring to Valentine and Jonathan. Tobias had no reason to fear his colleagues. Tobias must have sensed his hesitation, because he firmly said, "I won't let anyone hurt you, Alexander. I promise."

Alexander gazed into the boy's eyes and frowned. They were wide and missing something that Alexander couldn't quite put a finger on. At the same time, they seemed like a locked door, blocking everything but this emotion Alexander had only experienced second hand. He trusted it, for some incomprehensible reason.

He now outlined the dark, bruised finger shaped bruises and looked away.

"Alexander," Tobias began to prompt again, but he cut him off.

"They're binding." Tobias snapped his jaw shut and Alexander couldn't meet his eyes. "Binding runes, Valentine said. They make me… loyal to the Morgensterns. I… I haven't got a choice but to obey them." Alexander's voice was monotonic and factual until the whispers began and glares intensified. He pleaded desperately. "I can't tell you more. I'm bound to them. I have to do what they say and I can't give any information on them. I… I really wish I could, sir."

"The boy is a soldier for Valentine!" one of the men accused. An uproar followed and Alexander buried his head in his arms. He heard Tobias's shouts join the others. He yelled to stay back, shielding Alexander from what he was sure were murderous intentions.

They didn't quiet, but Tobias turned and grasped Alexander's wrist. He cringed, but Tobias paid little attention now. "Are you sure that the runes work? That he wasn't lying?" he asked in a low voice.

Alexander felt a cold dread fill his stomach more completely than any actual substance had in days. The unspeakable anguish followed by unwanted hands he couldn't even report surfaced to the forefront of his memory and he shivered. "It works," he mumbled into his arms. "If I don't obey, they torture me."

Tobias's grip tightened not enough to hurt, but enough to make Alexander pull away anxiously. "Does 'they' mean Valentine and his army? Or –"

"The runes," Alexander said quickly. He'd never even met the so-called army that Jonathan claimed was strengthening. "It must be them. He – he didn't even touch me and – and I don't think he could have hurt me that much that suddenly. It… it was torture." His voice broke off and he trembled. "Please don't kill me," he begged. He hadn't yet looked, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the knives were still aimed. "I don't – he never – I'm not trained, I'm not a soldier, he doesn't need me anymore, please don't –"

"We're not going to kill you," Tobias said quietly. "Put away your weapons, all of you." There was a pause and Alexander peeked up from his huddle. Not a man moved. "Now!" The metallic scrape of knives entering their sheaths sent goose bumps up Alexander's back, but he was overall relieved. "Alexander, we're going to try and get rid of those runes, and at the very least, those orders you're held under. I know it was hard to tell us, and probably very scary, but we can help now. Thank you."

Alexander curled into his ball tighter, still waiting for consequences to hit him. Tobias walked over to the man with the papers and whispered for a few moments.

"Alexander?" Tobias returned to his side and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "I just have one more question. Do you know what happened to your family?"

Alexander lifted his head a few inches. "They're dead, sir. Since I was three. They died in a fire. I… I saw it. And Valentine told me about it."

Tobias raised his eyebrow and sat down on the edge of the lumpy cot. "Alexander, I'm assuming that Valentine lied," he said slowly, each word more enunciated than usual. "Because the only recorded Lightwood death in the last fifteen years… Kid, that was you."

Sometimes, Isabelle Lightwood thought that life would be simpler if nobody had a family.

It wasn't that she didn't love her brothers and parents. Max was still innocent and Isabelle took pride in being his role model. Secretly, she wanted to take pride in corrupting that innocence as well, but Jace seemed to have that under control. Her parents were loving, if somewhat absent and workaholics. And Jace, as a foster brother, was annoying, aggravating, arrogant, and obnoxious, but made great company and always did the right thing when it mattered.

But sometimes, the connections were just a little too much.

Being the oldest could be a pain, even if Jace was born three months before she was. It didn't matter – she had been there first, so she was the eldest. She had to set a good example for her brothers and pick up the slack when their parents were too busy for anything more than a kiss on the forehead.

It also meant she had to live as the replacement, trying to fill the void the real oldest Lightwood should have occupied.

Isabelle didn't know much about her brother Alec. Her parents told her vaguely of the baby boy's demise in Idris, around the time of the Uprising. They had evidently clashed with Valentine Morgenstern and he had gotten his revenge. One night, when the Lightwoods were attending a party in the city, he snatched the boy who had drifted off in a corner and brought him back to the Lightwood manor. By the time anyone had realized the normally quiet child was missing, the house had been up in flames. The few salvaged, charred edged photographs that were saved were the only remainder of Alec's short life.

Except, apparently, that wasn't so.

Isabelle had never felt so confused.

Valentine just seemed to be screwing up her entire life, and she hadn't even met him. First his daughter barged into a demon hunt and almost cost them the kill. Then Jace developed this insane urge to protect her – something, Isabelle noted, wasn't necessarily a bad thing for the womanizing boy – and brought her home. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Mom scream so loudly. A mundie! In the Institute! Sure, she wasn't an actual mundie, but they didn't know that at the time.

And then – after he fell so hard for her! – then they found out that Jace wasn't who he thought he was, and they were siblings.

It was just insane.

To be fair to Clary, the poor girl hadn't had any more clue than they had. She was even oblivious to her own parentage until Dad and Hodge dug out the old history about the Circle and Jocelyn Morgenstern. Plus, thanks to Clary's mind-blockage, Isabelle had gotten into a pretty awesome party and acquainted herself with a decently attractive mundane that simply fawned over her. She wasn't going to complain about that, even if the fool managed to get himself turned into a rat.

And okay, fine, maybe it was partially her fault. But in the end, everything had worked out! Except she was pretty sure their short relationship was over.

Getting the guy changed into a rodent and abducted by vampires tended to do that, no matter how good that make out sessions were.

So, now her parabatai was moping about his unintentional incest and the unfortunate luck of being fathered by Valentine while she went through the motions of a hysterical probable break up alone. At one point, they had combined their pity fests and stash of junk food.

The teenage angst was literally radiating from the Institute. It was only a matter of time before the popular bitchy girls at school spread rumors about her, or something like that. Isn't that what happened in all the movies? She brushed aside the fact that none of the girls at the local schools even knew her.

When the phone rang, Isabelle had been watching Titanic for what Jace claimed to be the fifty billionth time, but was really only the third that week. She and Max, who had joined her curiously about thirty minutes in, hadn't thought anything of it. It was probably just normal business from Idris, checking up on the New York Institute. They had been calling a lot since Jace Wayland learned he was actually Jace Morgenstern. Isabelle was past a little annoyed by it.

So, instead of focusing on the phone call, Isabelle had directed all her attention to the TV. She couldn't help but feel bad for Rose. She lost her man, too, and she hadn't even transformed him into a rat.

Isabelle was avoiding Max's awkward questions by stuffing popcorn in her mouth ("Izzy, what are they doing in the car? And how'd it get all steamy? And why did she put her hand on the window?") when Mom had entered the room with red rimmed eyes.

It didn't take long to find out what was going on once Max was sent from the room. And, after Isabelle got over the shock of learning her dead brother was alive, it wasn't even that hard to believe.

After all, Valentine seemed out to screw with everything she knew.

Now they were going to Idris to retrieve this little brother. Sure, she knew he was actually older, but she had grown up with the familiar baby pictures that immortalized him as a toddler. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't configure the smiling chubby face on a teenager.

"Isabelle, what does Alec look like?" Max asked while she helped him fold clothes for his suitcase. By the time Max was born, Mom and Dad had mostly let go of their grief. They decided to wait until he was older to let the ghost of the past haunt him. He had been told the bare minimum of the story after the call and now wanted to know everything.

"I don't know, Max," Isabelle said and threw a few pairs of socks and underwear into the suitcase. "I've never met him. And Max, you don't need ten books for a few days in Idris." She removed a few and piled them on the night table.

Max pouted and threw them back in. "I read fast. And you've seen pictures. What did he look like?"

Isabelle sighed. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail while recalling the photo in her room. "He had black hair, like ours. Big blue eyes. He was a cute baby. Happy, I guess. That's really all there is to it."

Max was quiet, pondering. Isabelle took the opportunity to take out the extra books and shove them under a pillow. He didn't even notice.

"Izzy, Jace and Clary's dad took him, right? And he's bad, right?"

Isabelle bit her tongue. Max had been told little, but was unusually skilled at putting the pieces together. In addition, she had personally trained him in the art of eavesdropping. "It really depends on how you look at it," she said carefully. "And yes, Valentine took Alec."

Max nodded. "Do you think he's a really good Shadowhunter like Jace? Cuz they both lived with him?"

"Maybe," Isabelle said, but actually completely unsure.

"Do you think he'll be better than Jace?" Max asked, but it was clear he didn't think it was a possible feat.

"Of course not." Jace leaned against the doorframe with two suitcases dragging on the floor behind him. He smirked readily, but Isabelle could tell that it didn't have the same confidence that it did before he learned the truth about his father. "Nobody is better than me."

Isabelle rolled her eyes and zipped Max's suitcase for him. "You're so arrogant."

Jace looked thoughtful. "I don't think I am… It shouldn't be called arrogance when you are indeed better than everyone else. I'd call it semi-harsh truthfulness."

Isabelle smiled at her parabatai even though she wanted to glare. Jace had a way of making everything he said sound right, even when it wasn't. She made a note to not let him near her brother until she was suitably convinced that he wasn't gullible.

That grin, apparently, had been Jace's goal. "Glad that made you laugh," he said even though she hadn't made a sound. Despite his stoic expression, she knew that he meant it. "Are you over the mundie yet? He really wasn't that much of a catch, in my opinion."

Isabelle's grin fell immediately. "How's Clary doing?" she asked in retort.

Jace's face twisted as if he were fighting millions of emotions until it settled on none. "She's fine. She's coming with us, actually."

"Really?" Isabelle hadn't known that. She tugged the suitcase off the bed and handed it off to Max. "Honey, go take this down the elevator. We've got to go soon, I just want to finish talking to Jace about… older kid stuff."

Max gave her the stink eye at her last statement, but stalked off and Isabelle heard the ding of the elevator a moment later.

Isabelle plopped onto Max's bed and mussed up the covers. "Why is she coming?"

Jace fiddled with the ring on his finger. "They wanted the Morgenstern children. That's us, isn't it?" He shrugged. "She'll be here in a few minutes. She texted me."

The elevator dinged again and Isabelle got up from her comfy spot regrettably. "That must be her," she said and tried to give Jace an encouraging smile. It didn't work. She flicked off the lights. "I need to get my stuff, I'll be right – "

"I got it," Jace said and Isabelle looked down at the suitcases he was dragging. He was telling the truth – one actually was hers, and he even grabbed her purse for her.

She took it and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Aw, thanks. You do have a heart!"

"Are you sure?"

Isabelle twirled around to face the speaker and laughed. "Well, maybe not a full heart, but you haven't got one either."

Magnus Bane laughed in response and ran a hand through his glittering sparks. "Your parents would have to disagree based on the discounted prices I'm giving for this Portal. You're lucky I like you, Isabelle, this is a pain of a job." He glanced at Jace. "Carrot Top is downstairs with the rat boy if you're interested in saying hello."

Jace stiffened. "I can wait."

Magnus lifted an eyebrow but said nothing before turning back to Isabelle. "What is this I hear about the undead brother?"

Isabelle sighed and waved her hand. "Long story short, Valentine likes to abduct small children and fake their deaths. But we already knew that." She gestured towards Jace, who seemed to pretending to not hear. "Exhibit A."

Magnus nodded. "Ah. I see." He smiled wistfully and took Isabelle's suitcase. She let him take it without any argument. "Here, let me take this. You're having a rough week."

Jace snorted. "She's having a rough week? What about me? My week's sucked even worse."

Magnus's lips curled into a sultry smile. "Babe, I thought we were keeping that whole thing on the down low. And come on, don't be so hard on yourself." He winked at Isabelle with a sparkling eyelid. "You don't suck that bad."

Isabelle couldn't contain a giggle as Jace sighed and shook his head in dismay. She even detected a faint blush – and that took some skill to bring out. Even though her friendship with Magnus consisted solely of crashing a party and throwing up in his bathroom, she liked him. He seemed to know just what to say or do to make her feel better.

Even if it was at Jace's expense.

"Let's go. The Portal will only take a few minutes to set up." Magnus turned in his knee high boots and made his way towards to still open elevator. He paused halfway down the hall to pet the cat, who didn't seem fond of the colorful warlock. "Are you two coming?"

Isabelle took a deep breath and nodded, hurrying past him.

Her brother was waiting.

End Note: How's that for a happier chapter? Reveal of the runes, the Lightwoods, Jace, and Magnus! Props to Martyr, an anonymous reviewer, who contemplated the idea of Valentine being a stinking liar about the Lightwoods. You were right! I'll admit, I'm a bit nervous about Izzy's POV, since I've never really done it before, but hopefully tht came out decent. More concerning to me is this appearance of Tobias Carstairs (Yes, I'm a bit of a hopeful thinker, if you've read CA. I may be incorporating a few not-really-spoilery bits of CA due to that last name, but overall, I'm keeping away from it). I don't like to write OCs. But Tobias... He barged in last chapter and now has a firm place in the future story. He's an interesting one, I think... What do you guys think of Alec's first friend?

Trivia: Anybody catch another CA reference in the previous chapter? Go to where Imogen is observing Alec. She says that he looks more like a distant Herondale ancestor, or something of the like, than a Morgenstern. She would be referring to Will.

Thanks for reading and please review! Next chapter: Alexander is still starving to what would be a premature-premature death and the Lightwood siblings run into conflict when Isabelle considers the possibility that Jace was aware of her long-lost brother.