Sorry for having disappeared the past two weeks. My computer recently broke on me so I had no way to write chapters, and I've also been without internet since LAST Saturday. I'm also going to be without internet for a further week or so (until about August 14th) so updates will be sparse, but I promise I'll update every chance I get. Thank you for supporting the start of this story, it means the world to me!
Chapter Two - The Lies, the Love, and the Loss
"Mom, I can explain." Clary immediately bounded to her feet and wiped the dust off from her workout pants, making a step towards her mother with open hands. Jocelyn lifted a finger in silence, halting her progression towards her mother.
The elder woman sighed, her eyes skimming the room before settling on her fallen son, who was still passed out between various pieces of wood. "Make sure he's okay, Starkweather." She instructed with a firm yet not unkind voice. "I'll send some people to clean this up. As for you," her voice changed from the diplomat to the scolding mother, and Clary diverted her gaze to look down at the floor as she felt her mother's eyes piercing through her soul. "Follow me. Now."
The air was silent and awkward as Clary walked alongside her mother through the castle, having to practically jog to keep up with her long and powerful strides. Everytime she opened her mouth to apologise, or say something, her mother would raise a hand to silence her. Eventually she gave up, deciding instead to brace herself for the world of pain she was in for when her mother finally stopped.
They walked into one of the far back rooms, one that Clary knew not many people knew existed - not even her father. She walked obediently into the centre of it as Jocelyn hung back, shutting and eventually locking the door. That wasn't a good sign.
Clary spun around on her heels to face her mother, opening her mouth to start the longwinded spiel of apology she'd prepared on their walk there. But she was immediately silenced by her mother throwing her arms tightly around her daughter, pulling her in for a warm and loving hug as she buried her face into the crook of her neck. Clary was wary at first, and confused, but nonetheless returned the gesture.
"I'm glad you're okay." Her mother whispered into her hair, kissing her temple before pulling back to look down at her daughter. "I heard the crashing and I thought something terrible had happened. I knew you were training with Hodge, and I thought maybe somebody had broken in and attacked you, or something else might have happened."
"I'm fine, Mom," she laughed softly, furrowing her brows in slight confusion as she retracted her arms from around her mother. "It was just Jonathan and I sparring. Why would someone have attacked me?"
She could see her mother's lips twitching at her words, a clear sign that she was withholding some sort of information. Her mother just smiled innocently, cupping her cheek as she peered down into her eyes. "They wouldn't have, dear." She said, swallowing hard. "I was just being a paranoid mother. You know me."
"Yeah, I do know you." Clary said with an accusing tone as her mother released her from her grip, walking to the other side of the room where a grand ornate fireplace stood. It wasn't lit, and she had a feeling it hadn't been lit for decades, judging by the collecting of dust inside and around the wooden blocks. "Which is why I know you're keeping something from me."
Jocelyn had her back to her, though even from this angle she could see her mother visibly tense around the shoulders. She placed a hand on the fireplace, idly skimming a finger across the golden framework around the marble top. She was acting different, almost somber, Clary thought as she slowly walked towards her. She saw her mother freeze the moment she got close to her, and so she stopped her advances.
They were quiet and still for an immeasurable time, until finally Jocelyn turned to face her daughter. She had a sad downturn to her eyes that Clary hadn't noticed before, and there were deep purple marks beneath them, almost as if she hadn't slept in weeks. "Mom," her heart instantly broke at seeing her looking so distraught, and she stumbled forwards to wrap her arms around her. Despite being half a foot taller than her, it didn't stop her from completely enveloping her in the comfort of her embrace.
"Oh, Clary," her mother sighed with a heavy heart as she rested her chin on her daughter's shoulder. "You are too pure for this world. You never should have been forced to live the life you lead." Clary's eyes narrowed in confusion as she pulled away from her mother, though kept her arms around her.
"What are you talking about? My life is fine, my life is good." She smiled, though the confusion was still in her eyes. "I have a mother who loves me, and a father and a brother. I'm happy. What's wrong with that?"
Jocelyn shook her head desperately, placing a hand on either of Clary's cheeks. "You don't know what happens beyond closed walls, Clary." She said desperately. "There are dark things in this family, things no seventeen year old should ever have to experience. I don't want you to experience them."
"What are you-" the door behind them flung open then, and a determined Valentine stormed through with a steely gaze. His jaw was set as his eyes scanned the room, further defining his cheekbones, before his gaze finally landed on Clary.
She shrunk back slightly upon seeing her father's furious expression, knowing better than to provoke him when he was like that. He threw the doors closed behind him and barreled across the room towards where she stood in front of her mother. Without missing a beat he grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her to the side, her back and head smacking hard against the wall there.
"What did you do?" He shouted over her cries of terror as he placed an arm across her shoulders and chest, effectively pinning her to the wall while he held her arms firmly to her side. She cringed into the wall, flinching away from him as she kept her eyes clenched tightly shut. "What did you do to Jonathan?"
"Valentine, leave her alone!" Jocelyn practically shrieked at her husband, clawing at his arms to try and drag him off from Clary. He swatted her away like she was just a measly fly, his furious glare never leaving Clary's face.
"It was just a rune," she spluttered through her tears that were freely spilling from her closed eyes. "It was just supposed to knock him unconscious. I didn't know it would destroy the Training Room, please, you have to believe me. I'm so sorry, Daddy."
Clary clutched desperately at the tight grip her father held against her chest, all the while never looking him directly in the eye. This wasn't the first time she'd feared for her life from her father, and she was certain it wouldn't be the last either. He had a temper, especially when it came to matters concerning Jonathan - the golden child. Valentine was ruthless, and overprotective when it came to his eldest child.
But when it came to her? It was like he didn't even care.
He huffed to himself as he pulled his hand away from her, letting her drop limply to the floor, not bothering to ease her fall. He turned on his heels and stormed out the way he came without another word, ignoring his sobbing daughter he was leaving behind.
Jocelyn instantly dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around Clary, pulling her into her lap with soothing words. "You're okay, sweetheart." She whispered into her ear as she stroked her hair, holding her as tightly as she could against her with her arms wrapped around her. "We'll get you out of this place, I promise. You deserve so much better than this."
"Why does he hate me so much?" Clary said, sounding pathetic as she looked up at her mother. The tears had eased off now, but her eyes were still red with stains down her cheek. "How can a father treat his own daughter like that?"
"He doesn't hate you, sweetheart." Jocelyn whispered with a sad expression as she cupped her daughters' cheek, flicking her gaze between Clary's eyes. "He's just scared of you. He doesn't know how to act when it comes to you."
Clary choked a laugh through her tears, wiping at her eyes. "Why would he be scared of me?" She huffed, looking down at her lap. "I'm not exactly terrifying."
"You are to him." Her mother told her, tucking Clary's wild red curls behind her ear. "You're the only thing that can take him down."
Clary spent most of the day by herself, avoiding both her brother and her father at all costs. She really was sorry for hurting Jonathan, but at the same time she couldn't help but think he deserved it. He'd knocked her on her ass more than she had in return, so it was about time he was taught a lesson.
By early evening she was back in her bedroom, having just finished taking another shower to wash away the sweat of her training and work out sessions from the day. She wrapped a towel around her waist and let her damp hair hang loosely around her shoulders as she took a look at herself in the mirror, idly looking her body over.
She'd learned to be more comfortable in her body over the past year or two, having finally developed from the childish, skinny figure she'd been her entire life, to the more developed, womanly figure she had today. She had a body most people would die for, with slight hips and gentle curves. She was still short, as she'd been her entire life, but she didn't care.
Clary stood to the side and ran a hand across her covered stomach, feeling the taught muscles there. Having Jonathan as a training partner was at least somewhat beneficial - he knew how to work her hard. The years of fighting and training had built her up to have more muscle than she had body fat, but not in the extreme body-builder type way. It looked natural on her, somehow, as if she was meant to be like that.
She sighed softly to herself as she gave her reflection one final once over, before letting out a small chuckle. She grabbed her stele from the windowsill and made her way back into her bedroom. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts as she placed her stele besides her bed and headed to grab clothes out from her wardrobe that she didn't even notice the silent footfalls of her brother entering the room. What did alert her, however, was the clicking sound of the lock on her door being hooked into place.
Clary gasped in surprise and clutched the towel desperately close to her body as she spun around, leaning her back against the wardrobe. Her body relaxed slightly as she saw Jonathan sauntering into the room, keeping his head ducked low so she couldn't see her face. "You scared the hell out of me." She huffed, frustrated, as she turned back to her clothes. "Why did you lock my door?"
"I didn't want anybody disturbing us." His voice sounded distant and strained, despite the fact he was just mere metres away from her. "I didn't want to be interrupted."
"Interrupt what?" Clary turned around with clothing in her hand and narrowed her eyes at him. He'd made himself at home and was perched at the end of her bed, his shoulders slouched over and his head still ducked down to look at the floor. He didn't answer her question, and she huffed once more, before retreating into the bathroom to change.
When she emerged in comfy grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top, she immediately looked towards her bed for her brother, and was confused when she saw it vacant. She placed a hand on the door of the ensuite and called out warily as she shut it behind her. "Jonathan?"
Hands grabbed her from the side, and she let out a small scream in surprise. She saw platinum blond hair as she was pushed firmly against the wall, a hand across her mouth and one on her hip, plastering her fully to the wall. She looked up and into Jonathan's pitch black eyes, sighing in relief. Clary wrapped a hand around the wrist of the hand against her mouth, pulling it away so she could talk. "Twice, now." She complained. "Twice in five minutes you've scared me half to death."
"Sorry." There was an amused glint in his eye and a mischievous smirk on his lips, two telltale signs that showed he wasn't sorry in the slightest. He twisted his hand around so he was grasping her wrist instead, sliding her arm up the wall so it rested high above her head. She swallowed hard, feeling very vulnerable as her brother held her firmly against the wall.
Jonathan moved his other hand from her hip to grab her other wrist, placing it alongside her other up above her head. He held both her wrists in one of his large hands, bringing his other down to stroke her lightly along her cheekbones with an almost curious tilt of his head. "You're very adorable when you're nervous." He whispered with a low tone, his eyes darting all across her face. "Your eyes go all wide, there's a pretty pink blush across your cheeks. Does your big brother make you nervous?"
"He does when he's in my personal space." She said hesitantly, tugging at his iron grip around her wrists. He wouldn't budge, which only made her even more concerned. "What are you doing, Jonathan?"
"I'm just... making sure my little sister knows how much I love her."
"If this is about training," she started apologetically, looking up into his eyes, "I'm really sorry. I didn't realise what it would d-"
Her words were cut short by Jonathan crushing his lips to hers, catching her completely by surprise. His lips were hot and rough and forceful, pressing her head against the wall so she couldn't move. She tugged furiously at her wrists as she tried to push him away, even using her legs to try and shove him off from her. She felt simultaneously confused and disgusted by her brother, wanting nothing more than to just slap him silly.
He growled against her lips when she refused to respond to his kiss, wrapping his free arm tightly around her back to pull her impossibly close to his body. They were pressed flush together, and Clary could feel the want through the fabric of their trousers, immediately feeling even more violated. She opened her mouth to his only to bite down as hard as she could on his lower lip, hoping that would stop him.
He shouted in either surprise or pain, Clary wasn't sure which, and retracted his lips from hers. His grip around her wrists faltered, giving her enough leeway to tug them out from his hands. She grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and pushed him away from her with as much force as she could muster, making him tumble away.
"Jonathan, what the hell?" She screamed, wiping her lips as she stormed to the other side of the room, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. "I'm your sister!"
"Exactly," he laughed incredulously as he stepped towards her again, not being phased by her near cowering form against the wall. "You're my sister. My sister - nobody will ever love you as much as I do." He tried to weasel his arms around her waist again, but she was quicker to act, spinning out of his grip and escaping to the other side of the room again.
"This isn't right." Clary shook her head sternly as she ran her hands through her hair, spinning around to face her brother with a terrified expression. "You can't say things like that, you can't do things like that!"
"Why not?" Jonathan shouted, his anger becoming as prominent as the vein in his forehead. "You're mine, Clarissa. Nobody else deserves you - you belong to me." He made his way over to her in two swift strides and grabbed her by her arms pinned to her sides, forcing his lips upon hers once again.
She struggled against him and kept her mouth tightly shut, screaming out as best she could through closed lips. This only angered him further, as evident by the defiant growl echoing low in his throat, and he threw her roughly to the bed besides them. She landed on her side and she tried to scramble off the bed, only to be stopped short by Jonathan climbing deftly over her.
She screamed out as he turned her onto her back, pinning her arms above her head with both hands and placing his knee firmly between her legs so she couldn't kick out very hard. His red hot lips found their way back firmly to hers, effectively cutting her screams off.
She felt tears well up in her eyes as she continued to fight against her brother - her brother - to no avail. She tried to shout out at him; Jonathan, please. No, stop! But she just couldn't. He was stronger than her, more powerful than her. She just couldn't do it.
"Clary!" A loud, fearful voice called through on the other side of her bedroom door, giving her a glimmer of hope. She felt Jonathan tense above her, his lips stilling against hers and his grip on her wrists faltering. "Clary, open this door right now."
Jonathan's face was a picture of ferocity and anger as he practically threw himself off her and the bed, rising to his feet in a huff. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled sharply at it, trying his best not to shout out in annoyance.
Clary doubled over as soon as he let her go, wrapping her arms around herself as she laid in the centre of the bed. She willed the tears to stop as she buried her face into the covers, feeling disgusted and violated all over. She heard Jonathan's heavy footsteps round the front of her bed and head towards the door. He unlocked it, and pulled it open.
"Jonathan," she heard her mother's startled voice. "What are you doing here? Is Clary in there?"
"Yes, she's here." He replied coldly. "And I was just leaving."
Clary heard Jonathan walk out from the room, and she felt herself physically relax into the bed, almost as if he took away all her fear the moment he left the room. Her mother's light steps could be heard walking into the room, though they stopped and she could hear a small gasp. "Clary."
She heard the door shut again and her mother quickly rounded the bed so she was on the side Clary was facing, dropping to her knees and leaning across the bed to hold her daughter's hands. "Clary, what happened?" She placed one hand on her cheek and smoothed the hair that had been plastered to her cheeks from her tears, tucking it behind her ear so she could clearly see her face again. "It's okay, you're going to be okay."
"I was so scared, Mom." She sobbed, pushing herself into a sitting position to wrap her arms around her mother. Jocelyn immediately acted, cupping the back of her head with one hand and rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other. "It was like he was a completely different person. It wasn't Jonathan, not the Jonathan I know. That Jonathan," she shook her head as she pulled away from her mother, looking into her eyes with fear. "That Jonathan was a demon. I-I know, he has demon blood in him, but... I've never seen him like that."
"It's okay," her mother whispered comfortingly, cupping either side of her face as she used her thumbs to wipe her tear-stained cheeks. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay? You won't have to see him like that ever again."
"What are you talking about?" Clary narrowed her eyes as her mother rose to her feet, walking over to the bedroom door. Clary sat up on her knees in the centre of her bed and followed her mother's path, watching as she locked the door. "And why does everybody keep locking my door?"
"We don't have much time." Her mother whisper-shouted in a hurried voice, scurrying over towards her wardrobe. Clary shifted to the edge of the bed before standing, watching as her mother gathered a few items of clothing. "Put these on." She handed her some balled up clothes and urged her towards the bathroom, before turning back to the wardrobe again.
"Much time for what?" Clary begged for an answer as she walked into the bathroom, keeping the door open so she could still hear and speak to her mother as she changed. "Mom, you're scaring me here."
She could see her mother grabbing a large duffel bag from beneath her bed and throwing it on top, before shoving some clothing inside of it. "Your father will be looking for you soon. He wants your presence at the meeting he's holding."
"A meeting for what?" She was getting beyond frustrated now, storming into the bedroom and throwing her old clothes in the washing basket at the end of the bed. Instead of sweatpants and a shirt, now she wore almost full battle gear, with tight black pants and a tight tunic tucked into the waistband, a matching black leather jacket over the top. "Mom, what the hell is going on?"
"Valentine is starting a war." Jocelyn threw the clothes in her hands down on top of the bag in a huff, looking up at her daughter with a strained expression. She was on edge, her eyes were wide with fear, and she looked incredibly tired. "He's starting a war with those in Alicante. He wants complete control of Idris."
Clary took a step back in surprise, furrowing her brows in confusion. "He's starting a war with his own people?"
"As far as your father is concerned, the Clave are not his people." Her mother laughed without humour as she continued to pack the bag full of Clary's clothes. "Yes they're Nephilim, but their friendship with Downworlder's make them no better than scum in his eyes."
Clary could sense the venom in her mother's voice as she spoke, and she folded her arms across her chest as she watched her. "And what do you think?"
Jocelyn sighed, dropping a pair of shoes into the duffel bag. She closed her eyes and dropped her shoulders, gripping the sides of the bag tightly. "I do not agree with your father, Clary." She admitted quietly. "I never have. All those years ago, during the Uprising, I stood by his side for your sake. I knew I was pregnant at the time, and I knew that if I betrayed your father he wouldn't of hesitated in torturing me or even killing me." She looked up to the side at Clary with sad eyes. "If I'd of known what would have become of you, I never would have stayed."
"What do you mean, 'what would have become of me'?" She shifted to sit beside the bag on her bed, looking up curiously at her mother. She took her hand for comfort and support, urging for her to continue.
"Your Runes, Clary," she explained almost urgently, moving to sit besides her daughter, "the gift bestowed upon you by the blood of Ithuriel. Those Runes are the one thing that can stop your father and his army of Demons and Endarkened. He wants you on his side, because your power is so immense, he can win the war in a matter of days. And that terrifies him. If I'd have known that you would have these abilities, and he would use you just for his own benefit, then I would have never let him near you."
"I'm the only one who can stop him," she murmured to herself in realisation, looking down at her lap. Her head darted upwards as her own words set in, and she jumped to her feet and spun to face her mother. "If I don't stop him then he's going to kill thousands of Nephilim and Downworlders. Maybe even millions!"
"Which is why you cannot stay here." Jocelyn explained, zipping up the bag and grabbing Clary's stele from her bedside table. She also grabbed the witchlight from the top drawer, before handing her both of them. "You need to get to Alicante and explain to them what is happening. They can only win with you by their side - they need you, Clary. You need to make them realise that."
"How am I supposed to do that?" She ran her hands through her hair, flustered as she watched her mother run around the room like a chicken with it's head cut off. Her mother knelt down in front of her wardrobe and slipped up one of the wooden planks there, revealing a stash of Shadowhunter weapons. Clary's eyes widened in surprise - she never knew that was there! Sixteen years in that room and not once had she concerned herself with searching for secret weapons. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm only seventeen!"
"You're one of the most fantastic seventeen year olds I've ever met." Her mother laughed genuinely this time as she placed the large box of weapons on the bed, opening it up. Several seraph blades were there, as well as throwing knives, whips, and half a dozen other types of weapon. "Clary, you are one of the greatest Shadowhunters of this age. The Angel's blood runs through you, more than anyone else in this world. It's a gift you must embrace."
"What if I'm not ready?" Jocelyn picked up two seraph blades and a holster, wrapping the holster around Clary's waist as she spoke. "I'm not trained to fight in a war."
"Of course you are." Her mother holstered the blades in the leather material, making sure they were firmly in place. She then passed Clary a pair of thick combat boots to put on that had a couple throwing knives slid inside the ankles of them. "Your father has been planning this war for almost a decade. You and Jonathan are both trained to be the most lethal killing machines our world has ever seen."
The room was spinning as Clary ran her hands through her hair, gripping it nervously into a bunch at the nape of her neck as her mother ran to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the wall opposite the bedroom door. Everything was moving all so fast, it was hard to comprehend it. One minute she was living her normal life, the next her brother was confessing an unnatural love for her, and now she was being told she was going to be sent to war.
Her body was tired, and her mind even more so. It felt like the world was going to collapse in on her, but she refused to let it win.
"Clary, help me with this." Her mother was pushing on one side of the bookcase, but struggling. Clary ran to the opposite side and began tugging it with her mother pushing, and eventually it began sliding out of place noisily.
With one last final huff and heave, they stopped shifting it, a huge oak door being exposed in the wall. Clary stepped back in awe, looking it over and over several times. "How long has this been here?"
"Since before the Uprising." Jocelyn explained as she grabbed the bag full of clothes on the bed, handing it to her daughter. "This place used to belong to the Clave, and several of the rooms contain hidden tunnels leading to the Forest. They were made as a precaution, in case the Council needed to escape from an attack or a threat. Your father doesn't know about this one."
She opened up the door and urged Clary through, gesturing for her to use her witchlight to illuminate the dark and dingy tunnels. She did as told, taking the enchanted object out from her pocket to light it up. It shone brightly, and Clary could see her mother's fearful expression. "If you follow the paths as they go, it will take you to the edge of Alicante. Keep heading North and you'll hit the city - search for a man named Lucian Graymark."
"What about you?" She furrowed her brows, and her mother smiled softly.
"I'm going to stay here." She said sadly. "I'm going to stall your father, I'm going to give you as much time as possible to prepare the Clave for the battle to come."
"But he'll find out I'm gone - he'll know you helped me escape! What if he kills you?"
"He won't, Clary." She whispered comfortingly, placing a hand on her cheek. "I hold too much valuable information for him to hurt me. I promise you, I will be fine." She must have seen the doubt in her eyes, because she brought her in for a warm and reassuring hug. "I believe in you, Clarissa. I know you'll do me proud."
They stayed in each other's embrace for a few minutes, neither saying anything as they reveled in their final few moments together.
Jocelyn eventually pulled away, placing her hands on Clary's cheeks again. "I love you, Clary." She kissed her forehead firmly, before resting her chin atop her head. "I'll see you soon. Stay safe - stay strong!"
"I love you too." Clary forced the tears back as she pulled away from her, stepping further into the tunnel as her mother retreated into the room. She covered her mouth to hold back the sobs as she watched her mother close the door on her, her face disappearing into the darkness. She let out a desperate cry, holding her stomach firmly with her other hand. She whispered to herself, knowing her mother wouldn't be able to hear her. "I'll make you proud. I promise."