Work Text:
“Alec!”
Alec turned to face the familiar voice, his hands tightening on his bow.
“Yes, Father?”
“I’ve just received word of your performance on yesterday’s mission,” Robert said, holding a sheet of paper in front of him and reading from it. “Alexander Lightwood’s archery is impressive for a boy his age; he missed a single shot, which did not negatively impact the group. I recommend that he work on his stance, which is, at times, hesitant and shaky.”
Alec swallowed hard. He knew better than to think his father was going to praise him, like the mission leader had in the first part of his report.
“Why did you miss a shot?” Robert demanded. “You haven’t trained hard enough? Do you need to go back to the Academy?” His tone was snide & harsh, and Alec found himself gripping his bow that much tighter at his words.
“No,” Alec replied. “I’m sorry, Father. It won’t happen again.”
“You need to do better than that,” Robert continued, as though Alec hadn’t even spoken. “You need to be better, Alexander. You are going to be the Head of this Institute one day. If you aren’t the best, if you don’t receive perfect reports and show that you are capable of being in charge, how will people react to your leadership?”
Alec desperately wanted to point out that his father wasn’t the best of Shadowhunters, not by a long shot, but he refrained and kept his mouth shut. That line of conversation would get him nowhere. Besides, Robert was right - he did need to be better. He knew that. If he had any hope of running the Institute someday, he needed to be the best damn archer the Shadow World had ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” Alec apologised again. “I’ll do better.”
“See that you do, Alexander.” His father left the training room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Alec ached to drop to his knees, run his hands through his hair until it hurt, let himself feel the weight of his father’s disappointment in its entirety. He’d been strong, unshakeable, and able to withstand any amount of pressure for so long, and by the Angel, he wanted to break.
But Shadowhunters didn’t break.
Shadowhunters didn’t fall apart.
Especially Lightwoods.
Alec took a deep breath and raised his bow, nocking an arrow and releasing it to fly at one of the targets on the training room’s walls. He was acutely aware that he wasn’t wearing his archer’s gloves, but he didn’t care. Maybe that was barbaric of him, but weren’t Shadowhunters supposed to be brave and strong in the face of pain? Weren’t they supposed to be absolutely unbreakable? Really, Alec reasoned, he was just training himself to take it.
And if he felt like he deserved the punishment, if the pain helped him think and dulled the blow of his father’s words, well, that wasn’t anyone’s business but his.
Before long, all of the targets on the walls had been bulls-eyed, but Alec wasn’t finished. He punched a button to start a training simulation. Transparent demons began to leap at him. Alec ducked and rolled, firing his arrows clean through the heads of every single one. He didn’t miss a shot.
Alec wanted to be proud of himself; half of him wanted to go to his father, show him what he’d done. But this was a simulation, not real life. He still had to prove himself in the field. He’d never be taken seriously if he couldn’t do this in reality, when other Shadowhunters’ lives depended on it.
Alec took a deep breath and allowed himself a few minutes’ rest on a wooden bench in the corner of the training room. His mind was empty and full at the same time, and he was feeling nothing and everything all at once. He looked down at his hands. They were sliced and bloody. And Alec knew he should have been perturbed, knew he should have drawn an iratze and healed the damage, but he didn’t. He wanted the sting to remind him of how much better he needed to be, how much of a failure he was now and how much he had to change before he could be good enough to make others proud, to make his father proud, to be valued and accepted and worth it.
The idea of how far Alec still had to go made him want to cry. Would his parents ever be proud of him? Or would Robert find something else to critique about his performance when his archery was perfect? Izzy told him all the time that he couldn’t be perfect at everything. If that was true, what hope did he have of gaining their pride, their respect?
No matter how hard he worked, it would never be enough for his parents.
He would never be enough.
That thought had Alec clutching his bow once more and rising from his seat, punching another button and starting another simulation. Maybe he couldn’t do it. Maybe he couldn’t ever, would never, be good enough. But he had to try.
Alec lost himself in the high of battle, the racing adrenaline of killing demons, and it was a good, heady feeling. He liked it when he could forget about the world for a while, forget about himself and all of his shortcomings. He knew it was selfish, knew that he should be focusing on those shortcomings in order to try and improve, but sometimes Alec just needed to pretend that he could be a good soldier, a good son, a good brother. Sometimes he craved those moments when he felt like maybe, just maybe, he might learn how to be good enough someday.
When the simulation ended, bruises had begun to form on Alec’s wrists from his hard landings on the training room floor. His fingers were sliced beyond recognition and blood covered his palms. Alec didn’t know how long he’d been in the training room, but he didn’t feel like he could go back to his room yet. He didn’t feel finished, didn’t feel like he’d done enough.
He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that whispered, It’ll never be enough and raised his bow once more.
He was startled into nearly dropping it when a soft knock sounded at the door to the training room. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Shadowhunters didn’t knock. If someone wanted in, they would have simply barged in. He lowered his bow and walked to the door, throwing it open with his bloodied hands. He’d wipe the doorknob off later. Right now, he had a Shadowhunter to send on their way so he could finish what he’d been doing.
To his surprise, Alec was met with large, worried brown eyes and the distinctive voice of his little sister.
“Alec, are you okay?” Isabelle asked him.
Alec bit his lip, hard, as tears welled up in his eyes. She was only nine. She shouldn’t be asking questions like that. She shouldn’t care. She should be playing with dolls and reading books and having some semblance of a childhood before it would be stripped away from her in three years with her first rune.
“Of course I’m okay,” Alec replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Mom said Dad was too harsh on you,” Izzy admitted, looking around quickly to make sure they weren’t within hearing range. “I overheard her in their office.”
“So?” Alec asked, bristling. “What does that have to do with why you’re here? I’m fine. I’ve taken worse. It’s not a big deal.”
“Well, I told Jace,” Izzy said, biting her lip sheepishly. She knew Alec didn’t like it when she went behind his back to his parabatai. “And Jace got all frowny and sad and said that I should check on you.”
“What else did he say?” Alec asked, alarm pumping through his veins.
“He said that if you were in the training room, I had to try and get you out,” Isabelle admitted. Her eyes widened in an instant and she clapped her hand over her mouth. “He also said I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
“Well, you tell him that I’m fine and I have every right to be in the training room,” Alec said stiffly.
“No!” Izzy exclaimed, and Alec looked at her in surprise. “I’m not going to be the go-between for the two of you again!” She glared at him with surprising ferocity for a nine year-old.
Alec sighed. He had to admit that Isabelle got caught in the middle of his and Jace’s petty arguments all the time, and he didn’t blame her for being sick of it. He ran his hands through his hair, leaving bloody streaks in the black that made his little sister’s eyes widen, and he hastened to explain.
“I, uh, patrol,” he offered lamely. “Patrol was rough.”
“That’s why you’re all bloody and stuff?”
“Yeah, exactly.”
Izzy gave him a critical look. “I’m pretty sure patrol doesn’t give you vertical cuts all over your palms that are the same length, same distance apart, and bleeding the same amount,” she pointed out.
Alec didn’t know what to say to that.
“You’re irritatingly perceptive for a nine year-old,” he grumbled.
Isabelle beamed. “Thanks. I get it from my big brother.”
Alec rolled his eyes and gestured for her to leave. “You can go, Izzy. Seriously, I’m fine. I just want to finish up here. Go on to bed. I’ll be there in a minute to read you a story.”
“Come with me now,” Isabelle said, stomping her foot defiantly.
Alec couldn’t contain a wry grin at that. She was more like their mother than she would ever know.
“Okay, come on,” Alec relented. He hung his bow on the rack in the training room and flipped the light switch. The sting in his hands had receded to a dull ache, and despite his guilt, he was grateful for it. The last thing he needed was his sister or Jace trying to insist on an iratze if they saw that he was in pain.
Izzy attempted to grab his hand, but when she felt the blood there, she recoiled in horror, staring at Alec in a way she’d never looked at him before. Alec flushed bright red and offered her his wrist instead. She took it, wrapping hesitant fingers around his wrist before dragging him in the direction of her bedroom.
“What book do you want tonight?” Alec asked. He quickly drew a Stainless rune on the spine of the one he knew she would pick; no reason to get blood all over her precious storybook.
“Big Brother Dragon, Big Brother Dragon!”
Alec smiled. Exactly as he’d thought.
“Come on, lay down,” he instructed her, perching at the foot of her bed. She snuggled underneath the covers obediently and gave him her full attention.
Alec opened the book, delivered a kiss to Izzy’s forehead, and began to read.
“Little Sister Dragon always wanted to play. She liked to run and jump and hop and skip. She didn’t like to stay in her room or read any of her dragon books. Little Sister Dragon liked to be outside in the cool, fresh air. Little Sister Dragon was an adventurer.
One day, Little Sister Dragon wandered past the castle’s gates. She’d always been told by Mother Dragon and Father Dragon to never play by herself outside of the castle. But Little Sister Dragon was having so much fun. She thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt, just this once.
Little Sister Dragon was playing pretend in the forest when another dragon - a large, mean-looking dragon - came up to her.
“Little one, what are you doing out here all by yourself?” the dragon hissed.
Little Sister Dragon didn’t know what she should say. Mother and Father Dragon had always taught her not to talk to strangers. She said nothing.
“Little one,” the dragon repeated. “You will make a fine servant for my castle.”
Little Sister Dragon felt tears drip down her snout. She didn’t want to be a servant! She screamed and cried out, but the forest was so big that she was sure no one could hear her. Little Sister Dragon was very scared.
Suddenly, with a crash and a loud shout, another dragon threw themselves in front of Little Sister Dragon, protecting her. It was Big Brother Dragon!
“Leave her alone!” Big Brother Dragon roared. He flicked his spiked tail in the mean dragon’s direction, and Little Sister Dragon cried happy tears as the mean dragon slunk away. The second he was gone, she wrapped Big Brother Dragon in the biggest hug she’d ever given him.
“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Of course,” Big Brother Dragon replied. He hugged her tight. “I’ll always save you and protect you from all the mean dragons. You’re my Little Sister Dragon.”
“I love you,” Little Sister Dragon said.
“I love you more,” Big Brother Dragon said back.
They finished the phrase together: “I love you most.”
Alec closed the storybook and wasn’t surprised to see Izzy asleep in her bed, her hair a dark halo on her pillow, soft snores filling the quiet room. He smiled softly and returned the storybook to its place on her shelf, tucking the covers around her sleeping form.
“Night, Izzy.”
With that, he left her bedroom, turning out the light as he went. He shut the door softly behind him and started to walk towards his bedroom. He didn’t know what he was going to do now, but he couldn’t simply go to sleep. Despite the ever-present ache in his hands, Alec still felt wound up and too close to losing control for his own comfort - he wanted to hurt again, wanted to feel the sting of his bow string slicing at his unprotected palms and see the blood running down his fingertips. By the Angel, he wanted to hurt. His hands tightened into fists at his sides.
Alec had almost decided to go back to the training room when Jace intercepted him, placing himself between his parabatai and the rest of the hallway.
“What do you want?” Alec grit out. He was still a little upset with Jace over his instructions to Izzy.
“I want a bedtime story,” Jace pouted, and even Alec, who was immune to such charms thanks to Izzy and Max, had to admit that it was the most convincing pout he’d seen in a long time.
“Jace, any other time I try to read to you, you remind me that you’re ten and you can read by yourself.”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
Alec raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And this has nothing to do with earlier?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Alec scoffed and gave Jace a look. Jace pointedly ignored him, grabbing Alec by the wrist and dragging him towards his own bedroom.
“Read to me,” Jace insisted, dropping onto his bed with the dramatics of a theater performer. He pointed to a children’s book on his shelf, hidden behind the Gray Book and a cookbook he stole from Maryse.
Alec reached for the book and took it out, tracing Stainless over it just as he’d done for Izzy’s. He eyed the cover. It was called A Boy & His Falcon and the cover depicted a little boy holding a bird on his finger, an older man standing behind him with his fist raised. Alec didn’t have time to stop and wonder why exactly this book was Jace’s favourite, though he thought he might already know, because Jace made an impatient noise behind him.
Alec walked over to Jace’s bed and sat down on the end of it, just like he had for Izzy. “Cover up,” he instructed his parabatai, and Jace wormed his way underneath the covers until they were nearly suffocating him. He gave Alec a look that clearly said ‘Start reading!’ and smiled at the other boy.
Alec took a deep breath, opened the book, and began to read.
“Once upon a time, there was a boy. This boy had a falcon. His father gave the falcon to him for his birthday, and the boy loved his falcon. He played with it, he ate with it, he even brushed its soft feathers with his bare hands. The falcon loved the boy, too, and the boy was very happy.
One day, the boy’s father saw how the boy and the falcon played and he scoffed at their love. He thought that to love was to destroy, and to be loved was to be the one destroyed. He was wrong. But that didn’t stop him from taking the falcon away from the boy.
The boy was so unhappy. He missed his falcon and he wished his father wasn’t so mean. Late one night, long after the boy was supposed to be in bed, the boy wished on his very favourite star to get his falcon back. The next night, in tears and with bruises on his face, the boy wished he could be taken away from his father.
Barely a month passed before the boy’s father was sent away, and the boy was given to another family, who loved him and cared for him as if he were one of their own. The boy was scared at first. He missed his father sometimes and he had trouble fitting in with his new family.
That was until the boy met another boy, almost just his age. The boy was happy to have a friend in this new world and he was quick to tell him they were brothers. The other boy was only too happy with this; he wanted a brother just as much as the boy wanted someone he could talk to.
One day, the boy told his brother about his falcon and how much he missed him. He told his brother about how his father had sent the falcon away and how he had wished on the star to get him back.
The next day, the boy woke to find a cage sitting next to his pillow. Inside was a falcon; his falcon. He’d know those feathers anywhere. The boy shouted with joy and hugged his brother as hard as he could.
The boy had his falcon, a new brother, and a better life.
The boy was very happy.”
Alec closed the book and looked up at Jace. His parabatai was staring at him with a sleepy smile on his face, and Alec couldn’t help but smile back at him. He stood up and replaced the book in its spot. He dropped a soft kiss to Jace’s forehead, surprised when the other boy didn’t protest or try to wipe the kiss off, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Jace called.
Alec stopped halfway to the door and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.
“Just, stay,” Jace said, biting his lip anxiously. His golden eyes were full of worry, and he reached a hand out to Alec. “Please?”
Alec hesitated for only a second before climbing into bed with his parabatai, combing his fingers through Jace’s hair. He could never resist that look, and Jace knew it.
Jace flipped onto his side and turned to face Alec, cuddling close. Alec was surprised by his physicality, but he didn’t question it. If Jace wanted to be held, who was Alec to deny him that?
Jace tugged Alec closer until their bodies were almost melded together, and Alec let out a small sigh. His eyelids started drooping and he reluctantly surrendered himself to the haze of sleepy wakefulness.
So great was his relaxation that Alec barely even noticed Jace tracing a stele over his injured hands.
Alec sighed and curled closer to his parabatai. Maybe he’d never truly be good enough, at least not for his parents. Maybe he was doomed to be a failure in their eyes for the rest of eternity. But this, being the best big brother in the entire world? Alec could do this.
With that, Alec closed his eyes and began to sleep.
And if, in the morning, Alec woke up to Izzy sandwiched between them, well, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.