A/N This fic has been pestering me since August, and I needed to get it out my head. In City of Ashes, Clary finds she's been tricked into staying in the Fairy Court. The Queen presents an option which will allow her to leave, but at what cost? The story is presented from Jace's POV.

No copyright infringement is intended. All original works and verbatim transcriptions belong to Cassandra Claire. Please note the MLA citations both in text and at the end for lines taken directly from the book.

I'm just stretching my creative legs.

When Izzy suggested we go to the Seelie Court, I knew more harm than good would come of it. And when the Queen agreed to help us in the coming fight with Valentine in exchange for a promise, I knew there was worse to come. It had been far too easy. When the Queen insisted that Clary stay behind, because she licked a wound a sprite inflicted, I knew that the moment had arrived.

I pushed away the sinking feeling dragging my stomach lower and lower in my guts, focusing on how I might get Clary out of the Court safely. I could flirt with the Queen all night long, but that wouldn't help Clary. I could try to slash our way out of with the seraph blade held deep in the pocket of my jeans, but that would be against the Accords and probably start a war. My options were limited. The Fair Folk get off on making mischief and meddling with mundanes and other Downworlders. Beautiful like angels and vicious like demons. They were calculating, too, and when the Queen's lips pulled back in a wide, gleaming smile, revealing the pointed edges of her teeth, I lost my hold on my stomach. I was sure everything Magnus had given me for breakfast was about to make an explosive reentry to the world.

"What if I told you she could be freed by a kiss?" (Clare 170)

With that one question, I understood. The Queen knew. Somehow she knew the thing that I had been trying to simultaneously hide in the darkest parts of my heart and purge from it. Clary looked stunned, eyes wide and glassy. "You want Jace to kiss you?" (Clare 170). To the others, her question might've sounded confused and maybe a little curious. But I heard her hope. My brain filled with a dull thud as my earlier words to her from Magnus's apartment rattled in my skull. Surely the Queen wasn't this cruel.

Simon, always quick to prove his love and allegiance to Clary, brushed his lips across hers. Before he even made contact, her eyes darted to mine. I saw the unspoken apology in them and the way her body went rigid at his approach, but I couldn't stop myself from scowling. There would never be a time when I could watch her with someone else. Clearly, the Queen was delighted with herself as she stared while Simon deflated and Clary's anxiety piqued.

Izzy threw in her two cents about Simon, further wounding his ego. I couldn't resist adding insult to injury by insisting I'd rather rot than kiss the mundy. Increasingly, it was becoming my mission to verbally flick him like the annoying gnat he was shaping up to be. He was more than irritating.

The Queen's voice cut through the room. I wasn't the only one who was irritated. "[T]he kiss that will free the girl is the kiss that she most desires" … "Only that and nothing more" (Clare 171). I would do anything to keep Clary safe, even if it meant exposing our inappropriate feelings for each other to Izzy and the mundy. In a last ditch effort, I let my anger and frustration rise in a direct, pointed question. She shifted toward the edge of her throne, cocking her head to one side. Her eyes sparkled with malicious mirth as she answered me; the sickly sweet words dripping in a silent dare. The Angel help me, it was the thing I wanted most in this world.

I didn't hear much of the bickering that erupted between Simon and Izzy. This was it. If Clary was going to leave the Court, I would have to kiss her. My lips tingled with the memories. There had been lots of other kisses as there had been other girls, but after I watched Clary fight off the Ravenor in her apartment, I knew I'd never wanted a girl the same way I wanted her. Had it only been a month since I walked her through the greenhouse for her birthday? My heartbeat sped as I remembered the feel of her in my arms, the sudden flush of heat where our skin connected, and the soft sigh that whispered from her mouth and into mine. It would never be "just a kiss" for me; it was a test (Clare 172).

Clary was rooted to the ground, and I moved to stand next to her. I wasn't sure how I was going to get through this while maintaining some kind of composure. The Queen already knew how I felt, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of watching me come undone. Gently, I turned Clary to face me. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes were nearly black, not with anticipation but nervousness and fear. I made a bad joke to distract her, silently willing her to hear my thoughts: "Close your eyes, forget about them, I'll keep you safe."

Her retort didn't disappoint me. Even in a moment when I knew she was confused and fearful, her backbone showed. As her eyes slid closed, I took my opportunity to lean forward and place my lips against hers. My intention was a quick and simple peck. The road to Hell, right? Clary's lips slightly parted and pushed more pressure against my own. I felt her go liquid against me, and I was completely lost in her. My arms circled her body and my hands traveled the length of her back, seeking her long, glossy hair. She pulled me fractionally closer when her hands twined around my neck.

It would've been so easy to ignore the situation we were in, forget about Izzy and Simon who were probably staring at us, but I needed to stop this. Stop it before it got out of control. I needed to prove the point to the Seelie Queen and get Clary out of the Court. I willed my fists to unclench and find purchase on her shoulders to pull our bodies apart. Slowly, her eyes opened and stared at me, communicating the same kind of loss and hollowness that knifed through me when we parted. I turned sharply toward the throne with a cold question poised on my tongue.

It wasn't there. A quick scan told me we weren't even in the same room. I pulled Clary flush to me and dipped my hand into my pocket to retrieve the blade. With a whispered name it extended and glowed, the familiar hum of the seraph blade vibrating through my bones. With my arm extended, I rotated our bodies in a complete circle to survey the room. The change was unexpected but not totally surprising given that fairy magic can be very powerful and the Queen took an interest in us. Satisfied that we appeared to be alone, I relaxed my body a bit but maintained the blade just for peace of mind. I didn't let go of Clary.

The Queen said she was giving me a boon, a favor that gave me, if only for a moment, what my heart most desired. It seemed she wasn't satisfied with a simple kiss if the large four poster bed dressed with a fluffy duvet and half a dozen pillows was any indication. Instead of standing in the throne room, we were relocated to a sizable bedroom. With no door. I felt Clary shift against my side as she peered into the space. "I hate to ask the obvious, but where are we?"

"I think the better question is, why are we here?" No good could come of this. My mind spun with a million ways the Queen was manipulating us. The fabric of my shirt knotted into Clary's fist and all of my thoughts were immediately redirected to her. She nuzzled against my shoulder with a slow measured sigh that met my ears like the strains of Bach from a piano.

"For the minute," she whispered, "I don't care why." Against my better judgment, I retracted the seraph blade and curled her into a hug. She fitted against me exactly right, my head resting just on top of hers. We hadn't been alone for a calculable time since Valentine's big reveal. I had been avoiding her by spending every moment either in the training room or out in the city. She had been spending long hours in the hospital waiting for Jocelyn to wake up. I wanted to forget all about the Seelie Court, Valentine, the Clave, and everything else and lose myself in her. Without conscious thought, I moved the weapon back to my pocket and twisted enough to cup her face in my hands.

Her eyes were bright, shining; her cheeks were tinged pink with the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. This was the Clary I had wanted to see in the Court, the one who looked at me with soft excitement and wonder. With her hands still clutching my shirt, she pulled me closer, running the tip of her nose the length of my neck and up my jaw until our lips met. Her kiss was soft but firm and after a moment of moving our lips together in synch, hers parted and her tongue peeked out to touch my bottom lip. That was all it took. To Hell with the Seelie Queen and Valentine and everyone else.

I opened my mouth and let my tongue make contact with hers. She moaned, and I took it as a sign of encouragement. Carefully, I used my hip to help guide her back a step and then another. We were halfway to the bed when she withdrew her kisses from my lips and redirected them to travel the same path down my jaw and neck. "Wait a second." Her request was breathy and deep, and while I didn't want to wait a second, break the spell of this quiet solitary place, I couldn't deny her much. Instead I moved my hands to again gather her closely in a hug. Our breathing timed together. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Still in the circle of my arms, she stepped back and looked at me. "I don't know much about fairy magic, but is it possible that we're still in the throne room? That all of this is just an illusion?" How she could be rational at a time like this, I didn't know, but it was certainly safer for us to better assess the situation.

"Yes, that is possible."

"Which would mean, we're potentially still standing in the throne room with everyone watching us."

"Disturbing but also possible." A minute ago it was all 'to Hell with them' and now I was fast on my way back to suspicion and mistrust. The sudden change in our thinking was not welcomed.

"But is it likely?" The question left her mouth, but she didn't look to me for an answer. Instead, her eyes closed and her brows scrunched together like she was trying to remember something. I felt her right hand drift down my torso before she reached into her pocket and withdrew an old stele. Her eyes stayed half-lidded as she applied a rune to her arm just above the one that I had given her when we entered the Court. The loops and swirls of the completed Mark were intricate, delicately twisting black against her cream skin. I had never seen any Mark like it.

With the stele slipped back into her pocket, she offered no explanation as she twisted in my arms, her back pressed firmly to my chest. I held her close, my arms wrapping firmly around her body. After a minute, she tapped my elbow with her fingertips and rubbed soft circles, silently telling me to let her go. I was reluctant, but loosened my hold all the same. When she stepped away from me, I didn't bother to conceal the shiver that ran down my spine as the chill replaced her warmth. Her body jerked slightly, too.

She moved with purpose, her arm with the newly etched Mark extended in front of her. As she neared the wall closest to us, she extended her fingertips to caress the plaster. Without letting her hand drop, she moved forward trailing an invisible line around the room. Her hand ghosted over the objects she came to. A low table. A pair of stools. A candelabra with lit candles. And finally, the bed. It took her several minutes, but she silently circled the room, touching everything we could see. Again, there was no door, no window, and no mirrors. Unfortunately, I thought of the shard in my room that flickered green and blue with Idris's countryside.

"I'm sure we're here and not in the Court. Whether we're being watched or heard is a different story, but it seems to me that we are alone." I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Okay." Rarely was I at a loss for words, but here and now, what was I supposed to say? The Queen had given me exactly what I desired, and all I wanted was to lay her down in that bed and touch every inch of her body, watch her break and shatter and be remade at my hands. The unspoken word tasted like bile on the back on my tongue.

Gesturing toward the stools, she indicated that we should sit. Now the talking would happen. But what was there to say? No matter how I felt, or how she felt, there would still be that ugly word, that knowledge, hanging in between. It might as well have been the Grand Canyon separating us. We could hide from the others, pretend that there was nothing but blood between us. But what would happen when they inevitably found out?

We sat side by side and she immediately reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together. Such a small gesture, but one that shouted with affection. No one touched me like that. I had learned well from the youngest age that any weakness could be exploited, that it was better to remain stoic and cold on the outside.

"Why do you think the Queen made such a point of making you promise to ask Valentine about your blood?"

"Because she might be half angel but at heart she's a sadist."

"She might be a sadist, but you said that fairies don't lie. They twist and manipulate the truth, but they don't lie. She knows something more than we do and she's not sharing. Instead, she made a point of telling you to ask Valentine."

"And I'll ask because I said I would, but he won't tell me anything different."

"Jace, think about it. Really think. All we have is the word of a madman, and I don't know about you, but in my book that doesn't count for much."

"But even Luke and Maryse believe it."

"People see what they want to see, and they hear what they want to hear. Including you. I know you've never felt at home with the Lightwoods. They love you, Alec especially, but you're not one of them. A man presents you with the father you've missed all these years, telling you that what you witnessed as a child wasn't the whole story. It's not surprising or wrong that you believe him.

And Maryse and Luke are likely to believe the worst because of their history with Valentine. I would bet every penny in my savings account that they see him in you now because they need a scapegoat, someone to point a finger at until they can get their hands on Valentine himself. We've both said it. That man is not our father."

"Maybe there's no love between us, but blood can't be changed."

"No, it can't, but as far as we go, we don't actually know anything about our blood. And I think I know how to fix that."

Fix it? Who would we go to? All of the Silent Brothers were dead. Jocelyn was a vegetable in Beth Israel. My raised eyebrow made it clear I was skeptical at best.

"I know you don't put much stock in the Mundane World and you probably don't know a lot about mundane science, but we can solve this whole mystery with a simple test. A prick of a finger or a swab of a cheek and we can know exactly how much blood means for us."

"You're joking." For nearly two weeks this has been tearing me to ribbons, the edges fraying every time I looked at her at the Institute. Anger and frustration unexpectedly boiled and I clenched my other hand to maintain my composure. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Clary was not quite as adept at keeping her poker face. "Because you've been absolutely avoiding me since that night at Renwick's." Oh yeah.

A test sounded definitive. I already knew my feelings for her wouldn't change, but if the test agreed with what we'd been told, I would do everything to step aside and be what she needed me to be. It would kill me in the end, but I would do it. Still, if it revealed Valentine to be the liar he'd historically been, then this nightmare would end. And that would put an end to the mundy's annoying hovering for good.

"How do we do this test?"

"We go to the hospital to see my mom and ask a nurse on duty to send in the attending doctor because we have questions. We tell him that a strange man from mom's past is claiming to be our father and that we'd like a DNA test to find out if he's telling the truth. If we can find a sample of Valentine's blood, so much the better, but they could use mom's, too. By all accounts, mom and Valentine had two children so being half siblings is unlikely. We are, or we aren't."

I looked at our hands. Everything about being near Clary felt right. Her long, thin fingers were soft and unmarred. I could see faint traces of brightly colored paint in the small fissures around some of her nails. So different from my hands which were covered in scars and calluses from a lifetime of training, fighting, and killing. There were so many, I could hardly remember where they came from. And I wondered for a second how different her life might have been if she'd grown up in the Institute. Her hands would undeniably be different, but no less beautiful.

She yawned, wide-mouthed with a little squeak at the end as though she hadn't expected it. When her head bowed to rest against my shoulder, it was instinctual for me to pull her closer. "Hey, if you're tired, you can sleep. I'll take the first shift."

"I don't know why, but I feel drained." Her body agreed as she yawned wide a second time. I couldn't help but chuckle. Like Max, she was fighting a losing battle to keep awake.

"Come on," I gently nudged her. "You might as well make use of the bed while we're here." She didn't argue as I guided her toward the bed, peeling back the fluffy duvet and arranging the pillows. Clary crawled under the blanket and curled into a small ball. She reached her hand out and said, "Stay close to me." Satisfied that nothing too terrible was likely to happen to us in this room, I laid down on the bed facing her, lacing our fingers back together. Her breathing grew slow and steady as she drifted to sleep.

Carefully, I pulled her closer until her head rested on my shoulder and her leg was thrown over mine. What would I give to wake up next to her like this on an ordinary day? To have her bare skin tangled with mine after a whole night together? Everything.

"Jace."

Several hours later, she spoke my name. She was deeply asleep, but her body squirmed closer to me. Heat bloomed on the left side of my body from the friction of our clothes rubbing together. Naturally my next thoughts were about how it would feel with no clothes between us. Just her soft skin. My jeans were getting uncomfortably tight, and although I didn't want to wake her, it was the smart thing to do. I shimmied down under the duvet until our faces were level. I didn't want to startle her, so I rubbed the side of her neck and kissed her forehead until her breathing sped and eyelids started to flutter.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How long have I been out?"

"A few hours, I'm not really sure."

"It's my turn, huh?"

"Yeah. I want to make sure at least one of us is awake."

"Kay." As she cat stretched, she moved impossibly closer. Arching her back, she brushed her chest against me. The tightening became more pronounced and I couldn't stop the groan that escaped my throat.

"Clary." Her name followed the groan, and she stilled as she was bringing her arms back down from above her head. She looked like a deer in headlights, frozen in the unusual position. I hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable. Usually I was much better at concealing my feelings.

She stayed like that for just a second before she lowered her arms; her eyes glinted with something that struck me as a mixture of lust and mischief. Interesting.

Fisting my shirt in her hands, Clary scraped her nose the length of my face and around the shell of my ear. If she kept that up, we were going to make proper use of this bed. My eyes drifted shut and I tried to stop my body from shaking.

I was enjoying the feel of her breath against my ear and then… "Arrrggh!" My hand involuntarily slapped to my ear and Clary erupted into tinkling giggles. She'd stuck her tongue into my ear, and not in the pleasant way. I jammed my index finger into the cavity to try to wipe away her spit but only succeeded in pushing it further in. "You're disgusting."

"So are you! I can tell you don't clean your ears too well. Yuck!" And just like that, we were laughing together. We had never really done that, and it felt so good to forget about everything for just a minute . I threw my arms around her and felt her shake and shudder as each joyful sound sang from her mouth. Pulling the duvet over our heads, it was nearly pitch black save pinpricks of light that filtered in from the lit candles on the candelabra. It was just us in this warm, safe cocoon.

The laughter died down and we hugged each other, unwilling to leave the false safety of the dark. "Jace," she whispered. "No matter what happens, we'll figure this out. You and me."

"You and me," I echoed. I couldn't wait anymore. My fingertips lightly gripped her and drew our faces together. My eyes closed, despite the dark, but I still saw Clary's face in my mind. Our mouths met in a soft, if lopsided, kiss, and I willed it to be true.

I savored the feeling of her skin, the taste of her, the sweet honeysuckle smell the surrounded us. When our lips parted, I opened my eyes and was shocked that I could see Clary perfectly. The happy sleepy smile on her face quickly faded as her eyes grew wide with fear. In a strange kind of déjà vu, I swept her behind me and searched my pocket for the seraph blade.

Before I could say its name, I caught sight of the Seelie Queen still perched on her throne. Her eyes sparkling and a wide sharp smile on her face. "Was that good enough?" I spit. "Did that entertain you?" (Clare 174). The situation was rapidly deteriorating, and we escaped the moment Clary tested the doorway.

Clare, Cassandra. The Mortal Instruments: City of Ashes, Book 2. 2008. New York:

Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2009.