Eleven

Alec

The boy, Archer, was better company than Alec had expected. He sat silently at first, watching Alec eat and making sure he finished all the food before him. His silence, though, was not the product of discomfort, but more of a keen interest; Archer's eyes were constantly moving, constantly seeing different things, knowing more. In some way, Alec saw a little of Max in Archer, and that stung almost as much as the empty space Jace had left.

Don't think of that, Alec warned himself. Don't think of your brothers, don't remember them. Alec cleared his throat. "So, do you live here too?"

Archer jumped a little when addressed, but then smiled slowly. "My mother and I live in the house, in the servants' rooms, down in the basement off the kitchen."

"Do you like it here?" Alec asked.

Archer frowned. "The Master of the house is very strict, and there's no time for me to do anything but my chores."

"What about training?" asked Alec curiously. "Surely, you're training to be a shadowhunter?"

"I'm not old enough," he answered. "Mother says I can when I'm eleven, but until then, I have to stay and look after the house with her."

"That's not really fair," Alec said. "Isabelle and I started training when we were young, very young, and Jace-my friend-he was just a little boy when his father marked him."

Archer's eyes widened. "Mother said I have to be careful with my training. She said that shadowhunters get hurt easy and I shouldn't be in any rush to get myself into trouble."

"But you want to learn don't you?" pressed Alec.

Archer nodded his head vigorously. "Oh, yes, but I have to wait and be patient."

Alec felt a small smile pull up his lips; this boy was at the same time so unlike Max and so like him. "Isabelle or I could teach you if you'd like, just small things to get you ready. It's hard, learning to be a shadowhunter, especially when you've no experience."

"Would you really-"

"Alec!" It was Isabelle, and she rushed up the steps with a frantic look in her eyes.

Alec too in her strange appearance and sat up a little straighter. "What is it?"

"Go to your mother, Archer," she said sharply. "Go on, leave before Malachi comes!"

Archer bounded from the bed, eyes wide; he had reached the door when he skidded to a halt and said quickly to Alec, "I'd like to learn, yes!" and then he vanished.

"Malachi is furious," Isabelle said, quaking. "I came up here to stop him hurting you."

Alec's eyed flashed. "Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no, of course not," Isabelle said, distracted. "He always threatens to come after you; I just wanted to beat him here."

"Isabelle, you should go," Alec said. "Whatever he's going to do, he won't kill me, and I don't want you here. He could hurt you."

"I'm not leaving you with him."

"Please, Izzy, just go back to your room and do something useful with your time. It'll only be worse if you have to watch." Alec looked at her desperately, but he sensed he was fighting a losing battle.

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Do you like to torture me?"

"Sometimes," she said with a quick smile, and then sat down on the bed. "Alec, I'm responsible for this, and I'm not going to leave you up here defenseless. You're my brother, and I won't do it again."

Alec knew Isabelle was referring to Max, though she'd never admit it, and, in a small way, Jace, who she had been unable to protect from Valentine. "Izzy, you can't fight this; you and me, we're in a bad situation, and you have to make the best of it."

"And leave you to this?" She gestured around the room. "I'm not going to abandon you, Alec."

"I don't want you getting hurt-"

"Me? Me? You're the one who can't move! You're the one with the severed connection! You're the one who lost your parabatai!" Isabelle gasped suddenly, realizing what she'd said. "Oh, oh, Alec, I'm so sorry; you know I didn't mean that."

Alec shook his head tiredly. "You meant it, and it's the truth, Izzy, but it still hurts."

Isabelle curled up beside her brother and wrapped her arms about him in a warm embrace. "We're Lightwoods, Alec, and we'll always be together; I'm not going to leave you."

"Thank you, Izzy," he said softly, and reclined against the pillows on the bed.

They waited that way until the sound of creaking stairs announced the approach of Malachi. He pushed the door open, letting it swing on its hinges, and then surveyed the room with mild distaste; when he saw Alec and Isabelle, his eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

"What are you doing here, Isabelle?" he asked sharply.

"I'm sitting with my brother," she said simply, and Alec felt her fingers tighten on him. "My lessons are done for the day, aren't they? I'm allowed see how Alec is."

"You have rune study-"

"I don't see the point, as I'm not allowed to fight," Isabelle sniffed.

"You should be in the kitchen with Myra, then, learning how to cook." He smiled when he saw a flush in Isabelle's cheeks.

"Well," she sputtered, "what are you doing up here? I didn't think you made a point of going to the attic."

"I don't." Malachi entered, closing the door with a snap. "Personally, I find the place rather disgusting, but I have business to attend to up here."

"Business?" Isabelle snapped.

"I was given quite an earful on my parenting techniques from your music instructor," Malachi said conversationally. "I was most unpleased."

"Well, I was downstairs," she said stiffly. "Why didn't you come find me there?"

"I wasn't interested in looking for you. No, I dare say I'm a bit keener on visiting with your brother." Malachi neared the bed, his eyes resting on Alec. "He and I should talk a bit, I thought."

"About what?" Alec asked finally, glaring at Malachi.

"About your sister," he answered with a gracious smile. "She's got a temper, and I was a bit curious as to how your parents handled such a spiteful, little thing."

Spiteful little thing? Isabelle thought furiously. "Excuse me?"

"She's very miss-behaved and I'm concerned I won't be able to rein her in. Suggestions?"

Alec could feel Isabelle vibrating with pent up anger, and he was surprised Malachi hadn't stopped speaking. Usually, when Isabelle was that angry, people stopped poking fun at her. He, though, seemed content to continue speaking. "Well, I don't think my parents ever had a reason to punish her; she's well-behaved, astute, and dedicated."

"I've found her to be otherwise." Malachi grinned a little at Alec.

"Perhaps it is you then," Alec shrugged.

"Perhaps," Malachi mused, "or perhaps it is that she has simply been spoiled by your parents and expects ridiculous things for no reason. She seems used to getting her way."

"We were raised the same, so I don't see how I can help you then," Alec replied and squared off his shoulders. "I suppose we're all bad apples, aren't we?"

"I hoped not, but that seems to be the case," Malachi sighed. "I was never much of a patient man, Alexander, not for adults, let alone children."

Isabelle stood up suddenly. "Then give us back. Send us back to Valentine and he can lock us up with our parents. We'd rather be there anyway."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Malachi said, and he drew level with the bed, towering over Isabelle. "I said I would keep you, and I won't fail Valentine. Now, why don't you go back downstairs to your room and practice your runes until dinner is read?"

"I'm not leaving Alec," said Isabelle firmly.

"Then, you might be in sour disposition for dinner," Malachi answered.

Isabelle knew what he was planning, and she stood so that the only way Malachi could get to the bed was through her. "I'm not moving."

"Isabelle, please, when you swore your oath of obedience to Valentine, he ordered you to come to my home as my daughter, and daughters obey their fathers."

"You're not my father!"

"Move," he said darkly, and pointed the wall.

"Screw-" Isabelle's words were cut off when she jerked to the side by an unseen force and stumbled against the wall.

Malachi watched her pick herself up and look down at her legs in confusion. "I didn't want to have to raise you like this, Isabelle. I was so hoping you might see reason, but I see that you're an obstinate thing. A pity."

Isabelle met Alec's eyes and she felt a wave of terror wash over her. This is all my fault, it's all my fault and Alec is going to be punished for it. "Wait! You're mad at me, Malachi, not Alec. You can punish me instead."

"I'm about to," he said softly and approached Alec.

Alec, for his part, did try to move. He managed to swing his legs about and place some of his weight on his feet, but his knees gave out and he stumbled backward. With Malachi looking down on him, and with no ability to run, Alec lashed out with his fists. His first swing missed but the second landed and Malachi gave a cry of fury, clutching his sore side. His hand snapped out, striking Alec firmly across the face and Alec fell back against his pillow. Malachi took that opportunity to grab a book off the nearest table and pummel Alec's stomach and chest with it. Isabelle gave a frustrated cry.

"Stop it! Stop it!" She pounded her fist against the wall, hoping maybe someone would hear her below and come up. "Leave my brother alone!"

Malachi glanced once in her direction, smirking at her helpless position. "You should have behaved yourself."

"You bas-" her name was drowned up by the thumping sound of the book in Malachi's hand on Alec's prostrate form.

Alec managed to block the book from his face, which was really all that matter to him, and then collapsed while Malachi finished. Don't let Isabelle know you're in pain, don't make her any more guilty. She already had too much from Max, anyway.

When Malachi finished, he tossed the book aside carelessly and looked at his work; Alec's stomach was more black and blue than pale white. "I hope, Isabelle, that I have made myself clear?"

Isabelle was crouched against the wall, looking mutinous. "I'm going to kill you."

He laughed amicably. "I don't think so." He turned to leave, not releasing Isabelle until he reached the door. "I'll see you at dinner, my dear. Do be on time, I hate tardiness."

He left the room and Isabelle fell forward, released from her hold. In three strides she'd landed beside Alec on the bed and was rubbing his face with her palm. "Alec, Alec, please wake up."

"I'm awake, Izzy," he croaked weakly.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have just done what he said, I should have just played the stupid harp-"

"The harp?" Alec rasped, looking disgusted. "No, no this was worth it."

Isabelle wiped the tears out of her eyes. "This isn't a time to make jokes, Alec."

"Don't worry about me, Izzy," he said, and griped her hand. "I'm not completely helpless, you know. I've gotten into a scuffle or two once."

"Yes," Isabelle agreed softly, lying down beside him, "but I was always there to have your back, wasn't I?"

Aline

She could hear voices drifting up the stairs, soft, plaintive voices, and she knew her parents were trying to be polite and courteous, no matter how much it must have pained them. Carefully, replying on all her guile and all her skills in tracking, she crept along the hall and to the edge of the stairs to listen. At first, she couldn't really pick anything up, just more faint murmuring from a man and her parent's reassuring voices.

"…course we're going to. Aline still needs to complete her education, and we wouldn't want her penalized for something a trivial as a few extra years."

Going to what? Aline wondered, narrowing her eyes. What are you going to do with me?

"The Clave just wants to keep track of our younger shadowhunters," said a very soft, very polite voice. Aline was sure she'd heard it somewhere, but where, she couldn't say. "You know, some of this coo was the result of poor parenting, especially on the part of the Lightwoods."

"Really?" her mother asked, and Aline picked up a faint note of worry.

"Yes, really," the voice said, and Aline could detect a masculinity in it that she hadn't before. "You were, after all, associated with the Lightwoods, so the Clave was especially interested in your daughter."

Aline swallowed. I haven't done anything!

"Our daughter has been at home with us since the Reformation," said her father, using a formal, respectful term for the war and reordering of the Clave. "I can guarantee that Aline hasn't left this house."

"That's unnecessary," the man said, a smirk in his tone. "She was involved, though, with some suspicious characters: Isabelle and Alec Lightwood, the Daylighter, Jace Herondale…"

"We haven't seen hide nor hair of them," her mother said firmly.

"No, no I don't think you would have," he said and Aline thought he was laughing at them. "We must be careful now, of our children, since some are still prone to mutinous thoughts, but, since you've assured me Aline will be enrolled again, I see no reason to push the point."

"No, none at all," her mother. "Was that the only reason you came?"

"One more thing, actually," the man said. "Has your daughter any aptitude for painting? Valentine was hoping he might find a young woman of an upstanding family who could take lessons with his own daughter. You know Clarissa, I'm sure?"

"Barely," said her father.

Taking lessons with Clary? Aline wondered, thinking of the last time she'd even seen Valentine's daughter. What's she got to do with anything?

"Well, Valentine feels that having a well-mannered, good natured young woman might be a positive influence on his daughter. If the Lightwoods had been more open to the Reformation…but, as they were so against it, I don't think he wants their daughter mingling with his."

"Aline would be…most pleased to paint with Clarissa," her mother said, and Aline knew she could have said nothing else. "Where should we take her?"

"Someone will come to collect her next week around two from the school; she'll be taken from her lessons early." The man sounded bored and Aline pressed a little closer.

Going to paint with Clary? What's Valentine up to? The idea of being anywhere near Clary was unsettling, not because she disliked the girl, but because she was scared of her father and brother. She'll need a friend, though. Aline had never really considered herself to be Clary's friend, but in such desperate times, she didn't think she really had a choice.

"Well, I'm sure Aline will be thrilled to hear the news," her father said. "Can we see you to the door?"

"Oh, I can see myself out; I do remember he house well," said the voice with relish, and Aline shivered. Yes, she knew that voice.

Perhaps it was just her poor luck, or maybe it was because he had some unknown power that Aline was unaware of, but Jonathan Morgenstern suddenly rounded the corner, gazing right up the stairs, as if he knew she been there the whole time. Aline gasped, seeing him with hair white as snow only made his eyes more black and his face more hard and lined. She stumbled back and fell over her feet.

"Eavesdropping, Aline?" Jonathan asked smugly. "How very impolite." Aline shook her head, trying to find the words to say all the things she wanted to, but her voice failed her. "Hoping for a little tidbit about your cousins? Or, maybe your crush, Jace?"

"N-no," Aline managed.

Jonathan shrugged. "Ah, well, I'm sure these things will resolve themselves. I'll see you next week."

He turned and left as if he didn't care and Aline, freed from his gaze, dashed back to her room, tossing herself on her bed and curling up in the covers. Why me? Why do I have to be Clary's friend?

Jace

"Why can't I see Clary?" Jace demanded of Valentine, staring at him from across the large, mahogany desk in his study. "I thought you said I could help train her?"

Valentine took his time looking up from the paper before him, and when he did, Jace was surprised by how unconcerned he seemed with Jace's outburst. "Clarissa needs to begin her training immediately, and it needs to be thorough. You will help in her instruction of languages and some minor mathematics, that's all."

"I can help her learn runes," Jace said at once. "I studied them enough when I was younger."

"Clarissa is hardly in need of assistance for that," Valentine laughed. His eyes gleamed as he watched Jace, desperate to help his daughter and so incapable of doing it; he enjoyed the sight of Jace helpless. "Why don't you go sit with Jocelyn while she paints?"

"Sit with her while she paints?" Jace said in disgust. "That's what you want me to do? Sit around? After everything you taught me, after all the years of training, you want me to sit with your wife?"

"We've gone over this before. That's why I spared your life in the first place," said Valentine emptily. "I didn't need you Jace, I already had a son. Jocelyn, however, needed one. Don't delude yourself into thinking you're worth more than that. Now, go find her and make her happy."

Jace was furious at Valentine's dismissal of him. That's the only reason you kept me alive, so I could make your wife happy? Well, screw you, Valentine! "No, I won't do this anymore."

For the first time during their conversation, Valentine frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I've played this game long enough, haven't I? Jocelyn needed someone until Clary got here, and she's here now, so Jocelyn doesn't need me. If you won't let me see Clary, at least let me see my family."

"And, why," said Valentine, smirking, "would I ever let you see the Lightwoods again?"

"I'll see them when I go back to school," Jace shrugged, thinking fast. "You said it yourself, I don't come of age until I'm twenty-one now, so if you don't let me see them now, I'll just wait until-"

"You're not going to school," Valentine said dismissively. "None of my children are, so why would you?"

"Clary's not going-"

"If Clarissa was to attend, she would be placed in a class with children, and Jonathan has no business in a school like that, he's far too accomplished a soldier to be sitting around in a classroom."

"And me?" Jace asked.

Valentine slowly ran his eyes up and down Jace's form, studying him, searching his face. "You are trained enough that I see no reason to waste the time. Besides, you have more important matters to attend to: my wife."

"You don't think I need to learn something?" Jace asked caustically. Really, he was just a little angry Valentine didn't want him to go back to school; at least there he'd have a chance to interact with the Lightwoods, at least there, he'd be able to practice fighting and rune study.

"I think your sole purpose in life is to keep this family content," said Valentine, enjoying the pale white Jace's face became as he said it. "It would really be a disservice to the family if I took you away from them for something to trivial as lessons. Honestly, Jace, do you really expect to get into a scuffle with a demon anytime soon?"

"So, I'm just not going to fight again?" he sneered. "That seems plausible."

"I'm glad you think so too," Valentine agreed with a polite smile. "I can't trust you, Jace, with a weapon, so I'm not going to put one in your hand. You will put down your arms for a while, I think, and focus on being something useful to society."

"You can't do that," Jace whispered. "You can't not let me fight! I'm a soldier, that's what you trained me for in the first place!"

"No, I trained you to please Jocelyn," Valentine argued, "and you will do that right now. Get out of my sight."

"So it that all I'm going to do for the rest of my life? Just bum around your house?" Jace was furious, and he leaned over Valentine's desk.

Valentine looked up from his paperwork dangerously slow. "No, not at all. If necessary, I'll use you to control my daughter; she does whatever I tell her if I threaten to beat you." He smiled mockingly. "You should have seen her this morning, Jace; I thought she was going to put up a fight, but I had only to mention your name and she fell right in line."

"I don't like being used."

"That's all you're good for." Valentine rose and he towered over Jace, sneering. "You ask what I would do with you? Well, this is it. You will keep Jocelyn happy until I can find something else to occupy her time, and then, you will keep my daughter in line."

"Forever?" Jace snorted.

"I don't see why not," Valentine murmured, coming out from behind his desk. "It can't be too horrible, can it? Marrying that little brat?"

"Marry-"

"I know it sounds revolting, but I assure you, it's better than the alternative." Valentine took a firm grip on Jace's shoulder and jerked him forward. "In a few years time, when I'm done with her and Jocelyn is tired of her, I can ship Clary off somewhere, and you with her. That way it won't matter where she goes, I'll always have a leash on her-you."

Jace tried to pull free. "I won't let you use me to hurt her."

Valentine tossed Jace with enough force to upend him. "I'll do whatever I like, and so will you. Now, go sit with Jocelyn."

"No-"GO! Jace stumbled back a step, as if Valentine had dealt him a physical blow. He looked up, shocked at Valentine's malice. "You can't do this, you can't just dismiss years of my training and life."

"Watch me," Valentine said evenly. "Do as your told, Jace; it would be so horrible if I had to hurt your pathetic little step siblings because you couldn't do as your told and just go sit with my wife."

Jace was shaking, fighting Valentine's will, but it was hard when he felt a burning sensation in his arms and legs. "Why are you doing this? Why me?" It took Jace a minute to realize that's what he really wanted to know. Why did you have to ruin my life? Of all the people you could have used against Clary, why me? Why did you even bother saving my life in the first place?

Valentine's keen grey eyes took all this in and more, and his smile remained on his face, sharper now and far crueler. He grabbed Jace and held him close enough so his voice could drop to a harsh whisper "Because you're dirt stupid mother died from her oozing, pathetic heart, and no one even bothered to know you were alive. Why you? Because no one ever cared about you in the first place; this family, this place, is all you'll ever know."

Jace's face was pale, paler than a vampire, and his mouth was hanging open. Valentine had spoken to him harshly before, cruelly, violently, but never so horribly bland and honest. Though he hated him, Jace had always clung to a few fond memories, moments in his life where he felt like he had a father; to know that he was nothing to the man who had raised him from an infant, nothing but an opportunity, stung just a bit.

"At least we got that figured out," Jace finally managed to croak.

"Yes," agreed Valentine. "Now, go."

Jace left then, left before Valentine could say anymore and get any more rises out of him, and almost stumbled over his own feet as he took the stairs two at a time. He hit the landing, gasping as if he were in pain and clutched his hair tightly. Everything, everything he ever did for you, was just because you fit his plans. He didn't care, he never did…all your childhood no one cared.

"Something wrong, little brother?" Jace's head jerked up and he found Jonathan's dark eyes appraising him, smirking ever so slightly, but alight with curiosity too. "You look troubled, something I can help with?"

"Get away from me," Jace hissed and made to pass him but Jonathan's hand shot out and gripped his upper arm tightly, forcing him to look at the rune on his arm.

"You forget, Jace, about this little rune of ours, our connection. I can feel what you do, Jace. So, what did daddy tell his favorite little boy today? Life not what you thought it would be?" Jonathan's eyes sparkled with delight.

"Let me go." Jace tugged and Jonathan threw him up against the wall.

"I like it," Jonathan murmured softly. "I never had emotions like this before, your emotions, and I like them. All this fear, all this angst, all this despair, is that what you hopeless little humans feel when my father is around? I'll admit, I'm jealous that he inspires that in you with nothing so much as words." He laughed as Jace's cheeks flushed. "So, what was it Jace?"

"I said, let me go!" Jace shoved his shoulder against Jonathan who slammed him back, this time with enough force to force the air from his lungs. "Stop!"

"You know," Jonathan said sweetly, "one day, Valentine is going to die, and I'll lead the Clave after him. Think of all the fun things you and I can do then. Not that I really have to wait until he's dead…" Jonathan looked over his shoulder, into the sitting room. "Clary's in there right now, painting, shall we go visit?"

"No," Jace said sharply.

Jonathan hummed. "So, that's what fear feels like."

"Don't," Jace said urgently.

"Desperation, too," laughed the other boy. "You're too much fun, Jace."

Jace could feel himself shaking with pent up rage. "If you ever do anything to hurt her I'll-"

"Jace?" It was Jocelyn, and she looking between the two boys curiously. "Jace, are you alright?"

"I was looking for you," he said smoothly, his eyes not leaving Jonathan.

"What a coincidence, because I was looking for you, too," she laughed softly. "I have a surprise for you."

Surprise? Jace wondered. "Really?"

Jocelyn smiled widely and came over, wrapping and arm around his shoulder and pulling him out of Jonathan's grip. "Yes, come with me, and we'll talk. Jonathan, I think Valentine is looking for you."

"Of course, Mother," Jonathan shrugged, the anger leaving him at once.

Jocelyn led Jace from the stairs and into the kitchen where a pot of water was coming to a boil. Her eyes flicked over Jace, but she didn't see any bruises. "Has Clary had her language yet?"

"No," Jace said, walking around the kitchen and studying the vegetables that still needed to be cut. "I asked Valentine, but…she has more important things to learn right now."

Jocelyn nodded. "I'd like you to keep an eye on her, Jace."

Jace looked up from the unskinned potato to meet her hard gaze. "I have been, Jocelyn."

"Keep doing that then, please," she said and returned to her water. "Do you remember Aline?"

"Is this my surprise?"

"She's coming to take lessons with Clary; I told Valentine I think it's a good idea for Clary to have proper friends." Jocelyn dumped chicken into the water. "You two were friends, weren't you?"

"She's related to the Lightwoods," said Jace and regretted using the name. "Yes, I knew her."

"Well, you know, Aline is enrolled in the academy in Idris, and I can only assume that Alec and Isabelle are there too. I'm sure she might even have class with them." She didn't look up, but Jace knew what Jocelyn meant. "She might even speak with them."

Jace nodded mutely. "When will she be joining us?"

"The start of next week. I don't suppose you'll have any problems with that?"

Just what I need, for Aline to see Valentine clouting me around. "No, none."

Jace turned away but when he looked back, Jocelyn was looking at him again. He saw the smallest glint of something in her eyes, something sad and immeasurably lonely, and he wondered where all her friends were. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped forward and her head bent; she had lost something to this, but what it was, Jace wasn't sure yet.