Like Isabelle, Max learned to move around by himself very quickly. He didn’t seem to get the memo that Alec wanted to avoid him at all costs, and waddled after him from room to room like the world’s fastest duckling. It was the funniest thing Isabelle had ever seen.
He came into her room one day, holding Max out as far as his arms could reach. Max thought this was awesome, kicking his legs and babbling away. Alec just looked like he was in pain.
“Izzy, please, just take him for a while. I can’t get anything done.”
“Where are Mom and Dad?” she asked, reluctantly putting her book away.
“Out,” he said shortly. “Back later.”
She heaved a sigh and plucked Max out of his arms. “I can’t keep him in here all afternoon, Alec.”
“Just give him some toys, he’ll be fine,” Alex said, already trying to back out of the room.
“He doesn’t want toys,” Isabelle argued. “Why don’t you show him our old wooden swords?”
Alec scoffed. “That sure sounds like responsible childcare.”
“We’re Shadowhunters, Alec. We’re practically born holding weapons. What about your bow?”
“Do you want to destroy the house?”
“Not using real arrows, dumbass!” Izzy rolled her eyes, struggling to keep hold of Max. Already he wanted to get down and run around. “Some of the blunt ones would work okay ...”
Alec put his hands up, shaking his head. “No. Nope. No weapons, just ... just no. I need to go.”
Isabelle glared at his back as he left the room. Geez, she’d been way more annoying as a baby than Max. What was Alec’s deal?
“Hmmphh. Well, you can use my old sword if you want, Max. I’m the cool sibling.”
Later that night, after a long afternoon of saving family heirlooms from a toddler’s rampage, Isabelle finally deposited a sleepy Max in her parents’ arms. Maybe Alec had a point about the weapons. Still, at least it wore him out. He was much cuter when he was unconscious.
She stopped by Alec’s room before going to bed. He wasn’t reading or studying, for once, just lying on his bed tracing runes in the air. “Hey,” he said as she entered.
“Hola.” Izzy perched on the end of the bed. “Have a relaxing day?”
He snorted. “Not really. Some demonic army kept stampeding through the halls.”
Isabelle threw up her hands. “I tried, okay? He has a lot of testosterone for a baby!”
“Izzy, you don’t even know what testosterone means.”
“I do so! It means too much energy and wanting to destroy everything in sight!”
Alec sighed. “Sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to leave him with you all day. I just ... he’s hard work.”
“Yeah, but he’s still our brother. You put up with me, I don’t see why he’s so much harder.”
Alec didn’t answer. Isabelle frowned at him. “What is it?”
He stared intently at the ceiling, a preoccupied frown on his face. “Why does he look so different to us?”
Isabelle was thrown by the question. “Um. I don’t know? ‘Cause he’s blonde?”
“And you don’t think that’s weird?”
She shrugged. “Recessive genes? It happens, you know. I read about it on the internet.” He didn’t look satisfied with that explanation. She became frustrated. “Well, what do you think it means?”
“Just ... I wonder. If, maybe ...” He bit his lip, then said quietly, “He might not be out full brother.”
Isabelle blinked. And she thought about it.
Both their parents loved Max, that was for sure. They loved each other too ... or at least, she thought they did. Sure, they might not touch each other as much as they used to, or speak to each other in Spanish, but they were always together. Honestly, she’d thought Max had maybe been their ‘third time lucky’ child. The one that would make them happy again.
Still, she supposed it was possible ...
Isabelle shook her head, not wanting to go down that train of thought. The thought of her parents having ... babies ... was gross, but the thought of them having babies with other people was even worse.
“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “They could have adopted him from Norway for all I care. He’s still our brother.”
Alec looked at her, surprised. Then his eyes softened. “I guess you’re right.”
Isabelle nodded firmly. “I’m always right.” _
The next time they were left to look after Max, he ran off and Isabelle couldn’t find him anywhere. She was just about to start panicking, when she spotted him in the training room. He was being so quiet and still that it was no wonder she hadn’t been able to find him sooner. He was staring at Alec, who was crouched down next to him, showing him his first bow. It was made of plastic and had little arrows with rubber ends. Max’s mouth was hanging open, like all his dreams had come true.
When Isabelle was eleven, she was quick, agile and wiry, and eager for a fight. But she started her official training late. Maryse had wanted to do it her own way first, keeping her home and working with her for hours every day. It was the most time they’d spent together in forever, and Isabelle would appreciate it if she wasn’t so over it.
“When can I train with the others?” she demanded, after another long day of endless criticism and constant bruises. “You never kept Alec back!”
“Your body is a weapon,” her mother replied. “It must be sharpened before you can use it. Besides, you’re a Lightwood, and I want to make sure everyone knows it.”
Isabelle took that to mean that she was weak, soft, and slow, and her mother was too embarrassed to see her lose to the other kids. She felt her face heat up in humiliation. “If I’m no good, you can just say so,” she said, through gritted teeth.
Maryse gave her a sharp look. “Self-pity is useless. Focus, and improve.”
When Alec returned from his own class and found her lying face down on the sofa, he smirked. “Rough day?”
She only moaned in response.
Alec sat on the armrest and tweaked a lock of her hair. “You’re actually lucky, you know. Not every Shadowhunter gets to train personally with the great Maryse Lightwood. I didn’t.”
“Way to rub it in,” she grumbled
Alec was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Remember that kid I just couldn’t beat, back when I first started?”
Isabelle scowled, remembering all the days her brother came home limping, his eyes downcast. “Yeah. You broke his nose. He totally deserved it.”
“Guess whose idea that was?” Alec asked. She looked up at him curiously. “Mom’s” She gasped. “No way!”
“Yeah. Well, I mean. She told me to think outside the box and do something unexpected. I kind of improvised from there. But she totally supported it.”
Isabelle considered this. “So, what’s that got to do with me?”
“I think Mom wants you to have more tools at your disposal than I did, without resorting to rule-breaking. She always said the normal technique is too rigid. Just learn as much as you can, okay?”
Like she had a choice. Still, Izzy was eventually allowed to join classes with the other kids. She wasn’t that much better than them, but she did bounce back quickly when she got knocked down, and she supposed that was something.
(Sorry for how late this is! In case you can't tell, I can't do fight scenes to save myself.) _
Training with the other kids was much better than training with her mother. The competition pushed her to do better, even if the others got a bit too competitive sometimes, when Izzy just wanted to have fun. Besides, Alec was there too.
Alec was thirteen, tall for his age, and one of the best fighters of their generation. He helped to teach the younger kids, demonstrating technique and form while Isabelle and her friends hung at the edge of the mat, giggling over the boys as they wrestled each other. The other girls thought Alec was super hot. Isabelle thought that was funny.
He was currently sparring with another kid his own age, or a couple of years older. The boy was looking increasingly angry as Alec repeatedly beat his ass into the mat, but Alec just looked calm and focussed. His form was perfect, but now and then he’d pull off an unexpected move, like darting in close when she’d have expected him to pull back. He looked a lot like their mother when he fought.
Eventually, the other guy got a hit in - a strong hit, with way more force than the demonstration warranted. Alec dropped his sword and hit the ground, grunting in pain. Isabelle tensed up, her hands balling into fists, resisting the urge to run forward.
The guy smirked and tossed his hair back. “Didn’t see that one coming, huh Lightwood?”
“Well done,” Alec said flatly, getting to his feet. Before he had a chance to steady himself, or explain to the class what had happened, the guy shot forward again and Alec only just managed to dodge.
“What’s the matter, you don’t like to be surprised?” his opponent said. “I thought you Lightwoods loved a good potshot.”
A lightbulb went off in Isabelle’s head. This must be Preston. He looked a lot like she’d pictured - smug, sneering, and arrogant. Clearly unable to get over an old grudge. She wanted to kill him all over again.
“’Us Lightwoods’ do what we have to do,” Alec said, holding himself still and wary. Not rising to the bait, but alert for another attack. The class was on edge with anticipation, whispering to each other.
“Yeah, I heard that about your family,” Preston said. “They preach about honour and fortitude, but they’ve always been great at picking the winning side. Wouldn’t know a real fight if it shanked ‘em in a dark alley.” Alec’s eyes narrowed minutely. A couple of gasps echoed around the room. Isabelle didn’t know exactly what this loser was trying to imply, but blood was roaring in her ears. No one disrespected her family and got away with it.
Preston grinned widely, knowing that he’d finally scored a real hit. “Nothing personal, man. Just history stuff, you know?”
“Right.” Alec considered him quietly for a moment, calm and predatory. His eyes slid over to Isabelle for a second, and then back to Preston. “So you think that you, for instance, could win against a Lightwood? In a real fight?”
Preston tossed his chin forward and puffed his chest out. “Bring it on, man.”
Alec inclined his head, a tiny smile on his face. He caught Isabelle’s eye again and she realised what he was planning. A twinge of fear short through her, followed by a rush of adrenaline. She nodded.
“Okay then. Izzy, would you choose a weapon and come up to the mat?”
Preston looked behind him, confused. When he laid eyes on Izzy, he sneered. “Are you serious, Lightwood? You’re even more of a coward than I thought.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m not gonna fight a little girl,” he protested. “I’ll get kicked out of the class!”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” Alec said.
“And that’s only if you win,” Isabelle finally said, striding over to stand behind him.
Preston glanced back and forth between them - Izzy bouncing on her heels, and Alec standing calm and still. He grinned and turned around to face her fully. “Okay then. Where’s your weapon?”
“I got ‘em right here,” she said, putting her fists up.
Preston laughed. “Whatever you say, little girl.”
Alec left the mat, and the two of them faced off. Preston gestured mockingly for Isabelle to make the first move. She did so, hopping forward to aim a kick at his head. He blocked it easily. She used the rebound to spin herself around and come back at him with her right fist, jabbing him in the stomach. He grimaced - more in surprise than pain, but Izzy’s fists were very sharp. Then his eyes want dark, and the playfulness was gone.
They were evenly matched for all of thirty seconds. Preston was fast and precise in his movements, while she was dexterous and agile, darting in and out, forcing him to move around in a circle. But he was older, bigger, and more experienced. Isabelle soon found herself on the defensive, panting and wheezing as she parried his blows. He finally hit her in the belly, and she hunched over, wheezing. He then struck while she was vulnerable, kicking her in the side and sending her tumbling straight to the floor. Sharp pain bloomed from the point of contact; she pressed a hand to her side, gritting her teeth, trying not to make a sound.
The room gasped, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alec jerk forward. Preston spared him a glance - grinning, enjoying his humiliation by proxy. Isabelle felt like a stuffed animal that a bully had stolen out of a child’s hands. He was throwing her around and ripping out her stuffing, just to torment someone who couldn’t do anything about it.
Fuming, Isabelle ignored the pain and hauled herself back to her feet. Preston turned around, about to mock her again, but she didn’t give him a chance. Isabelle feigned a punch straight to his eye, and when he blocked it, leaning right back to avoid her, she wound her ankle around his knee and threw herself at him. They both crashed to the floor, with Isabelle landing on top. Preston recovered quickly; he grabbed her by shoulders and rolled them over, reversing their positions. With his full weight bearing down on her, Isabelle’s brain went red and hazy again. She squirmed and kicked, her hand lashing out to catch him, open-palmed, on the nose. It went crunch. He yelled in pain and she felt a tiny thrill of victory.
RE: Pangs, 6/?
anonymous
March 15 2016, 08:33:11 UTC
Suddenly, his big hands were wrapped around her throat. Isabelle went stiff with shock. Preston’s face was screwed up in anger and hatred, and blood was dripping down his nose, falling into her eyes. Distantly, she heard voices crying out in shock, and Alec yelling for them to stop. He appeared on the edge of Izzy’s vision, grabbing Preston and trying to pull him off. But Preston lashed out with his elbow, catching Alec across the face. He stumbled back, out of view.
Izzy used to half-second of distraction to her advantage. Preston was on his knees; there was just enough room for her to tuck her legs up to her chest and kick. His body curled inward and crashed down beside her. Izzy gasped for air as the pressure disappeared, black spots popping in and out of her vision. But there was no time for relief. Izzy scrambled on top of him again and straddled his chest, pinning his elbows down with her knees. He clawed at her thighs, but couldn’t get the leverage he needed to throw her off. Isabelle then punched him in the face, over and over again. His head snapped from side to side, and her fists were red from his bloodied nose.
Arms gripped her around the waist and dragged her off, struggling to maintain their grip on her as she continued to thrash and kick.
“Izzy, Izzy, that’s enough! Izzy, stop!”
As Alec hauled her away, the roaring in her ears faded. She realised that the whole class was looking at her, their expressions ranging from amusement to shock. The instructor had also returned, and was leaning over Preston, who was still on the ground, moaning.
“Just calm down,” Alec said. She glanced up at him. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and the corner of his lip was bleeding. Izzy’s heart sank; he was disappointed in her.
The instructor shot her a look over his shoulder, and Izzy realised she was going to get kicked out of the class. Her mother would be so angry. Dad would be sad. Her stomach began to clench and she felt light-headed.
“S-I’m sorry,” she said.
Preston shot her a deadly look, one hand cradling his nose. “Crazy little bitch,” he muttered.
Alec removed his arms from around her waist, and griped her shoulder instead - a warning not to attack again, but also a statement of solidarity. “She’d a Lightwood, Preston. Guess you can’t win against one in a real fight after all.”
Izzy looked up at him again, and he graced her with a tight smile. The knot in her stomach loosened. Alec didn’t hate her. Alec was proud of her. She didn’t regret it for a moment.
(Later, Dad hid a laugh behind his hand while Maryse merely quirked an eyebrow. “I did not teach you how to fight gracelessly,” she said. “But you are a Lightwood, and I suppose no one will forget that now.”
Isabelle had never been so proud to bear that name before.)
Alec tried to keep his word and take full responsibility for the Second Preston Incident, but Isabelle beat him to it. It was her fault things escalated, for letting her anger and pride get the better of her. So she stood tall in front of the instructor, tossed her ponytail, and said that it was all her idea.
None of the twenty-something witnesses came forward to deny it. If they had, Alec might have gotten suspended, and they’d rather see Izzy go. She was fine with that. The instructor believed her lies over Alec’s attempts to tell the truth, and suspended her from the class indefinitely, on account of being undisciplined and unmanageable. Isabelle felt strangely victorious, even when her parents grounded her on principle and Alec didn’t speak to her for a week.
Things changed, after that. Their parents decided that Alec and Izzy had had all the training they were going to get in Idris, and decided it was time to take them to New York.
Isabelle had mixed feelings about this. All her life, New York been ‘the place her parents disappear to’. She didn’t know what to expect, but in the end, it surprised her. The city was a sprawling, crowded, dirty mess, packed with Mundanes, Downworlders and Demons alike, and Isabelle loved it.
In Idris - beautiful, clean-cut Idris - everyone knew her name. She was a Lightwood, and yes, proud of it. But here, she could walk down the street, and just be another person. She could be no one, she could be anyone. The idea was exhilarating.
Of course, more training was needed before she could go out into the field. That was okay. The Institute was fascinating in its own right. The Shadowhunters who worked here were on the front lines, facing danger and mysteries every day. Izzy may not be allowed to fight real demons yet, but she could spend hours down in the labs, looking at all the creatures that were brought in. The lab technicians found her annoying at first, but old Doctor Widdowson realised that her interest was genuine, not just a product of boredom. He allowed her to tag along behind him like an eager puppy, showing her the ins and outs of decaying corpses. Her parents were surprised to see this, but Izzy knew better than she used to; she might be a bad girl, but she wasn’t stupid.
Alec hated everything else about New York. Unlike Isabelle, he was allowed to leave the Institute, and even tagged along with some of the more experienced hunters on low-level missions. This drove Izzy crazy with jealousy (and worry), and she interrogated him mercilessly every time he returned. He never had anything interesting to say, though - mostly he just complained about the smell, the public transport, and Mundanes.
Even so, there was one thing Alec did like about their new home, and that was Hodge Starkweather. Hodge wasn’t like all the other Shadowhunters in the building; he didn’t go out to fight, or stay and work quietly on missions. Nonetheless, he was one of the best fighters Izzy has ever met. At their parents’ instruction, she and Alec finished their physical training under his guidance.
Isabelle flourished under Hodge’s guidance, firstly because he was really hot, and secondly because he seemed to understand how much she struggled with her emotions.
“Passion is good,” he told her. “But you gotta use it right, and be in control of it. Don’t let it control you.”
Isabelle had heard those words before, but they sounded clearer, coming from him. Isabelle knew that Hodge was Bad in the same way that she, herself, could be Bad. He was trapped here in the Institute, for reasons she was not allowed to know. But she could guess that he’d done something terrible, disobeyed the Clave and let his feelings get the better of him. There was anger burning beneath his skin, and it looked so familiar.
Isabelle liked Hodge, but she didn’t want to be him. She knew that she had to be more in control of herself. When her blood ran hot and her mind went hazy, Isabelle instead tried to focus on her body and use it wisely. Slowly, her strategic ability improved. When her opponents taunted her, she didn’t rise to the bait; she merely defeated them with great pleasure.
She still couldn’t beat Alec, but that was okay. No one could beat Alec, and that was the way it should be.
RE: Pangs, 7/?
anonymous
March 16 2016, 15:24:04 UTC
I absolutely adore the way that you write this fic. I love that you included Preston because that story and Maryse's reaction say so much about Alec and Izzy's upbringing that I'm glad you show us Isabelle's interaction with him. She's a little fireball and I love it. Plus, her worrying about disappointing her brother when she kicked Preston's ass and her reaction to Alec sticking by her side, I just can't with these two. I've some serious Lightwood sibling feels from this fic. Can't wait to read more.
RE: Pangs, 7/?
anonymous
March 22 2016, 10:02:37 UTC
Crying forever! This fic is literal perfection, like we get to see so much of the inner workings of not only izzy, but the lightwoods as well before we get to "officially" meet them in canon and I so love the voice that you gave these characters. Izzy's borderline hero worship for Alec just fills me with so much feels and I can clearly see how her most beloved memory in 1x04 would be of Alec. Alec who is clearly closed off and have some issues with who he is, but has never failed to be there for izzy and helped her realize that she will never be alone in the world as long she has her brother.
"She still couldn’t beat Alec, but that was okay. No one could beat Alec, and that was the way it should be." - allll theeee feeels!!!! There's just so much trust and adoration there. I have to ask though, the line about izzy thinking it's funny that the other girls find Alec hot, is it because she already sensed that he was gay? It would be interesting to see how she found that out about Alec, especially since it's portrayed that she has always known and has always accepted it about her brother. Her own way of paying Alec back I guess for all the support he might or might have known he has provided her with all these years.
Lastly, best forensic pathologist izzy is just the best. And yes so much for the backstory of how that came about. That little tidbit is just so awesome and I swear people who were saying izzy was just a hot bod before better have changed their tune after that fact was revealed, or else I will legit riot in front of their houses. But this made me tear up "but Izzy knew better than she used to; she might be a bad girl, but she wasn’t stupid." because izzy, as confident as she is still plagued by this notions still, and it makes her so wonderfully human, like I am turning into such an Izzy fan girl because of this fic! And I also sort of hate maryse at the same time for integrating that in izzy's mind, she's not a bad girl, she's such a wonderful person and given the chance, the best daughter maryse could have asked for and it's just so sad that she's being influenced by maryse's perceptions!!!
So I was just supposed to say, this prompt response is perfect buuuut things got away from me, anyway, please write more soon! I am definitely obsessed with this story. Also, ever thought of posting in AO3 or something?
Hi! This is such a stupidly late reply, but thank you so much for the lovely comment :) I appreciate the feedback, and the time and effort you put into it. Glad you're enjoying it; I've taken a hiatus, but I love writing the Lightwood sibs so much. I will indeed be putting this on Ao3 once it is all finished :D
Soon after their move to New York, two cataclysmic events happened to Isabelle: puberty and Jace Wayland.
She first laid eyes on Jace when their parents brought him back from Idris. He was pretty cute, even for a skinny boy with a wary scowl on his face. He spoke to their parents with respect and charm, and seemed to appreciate the comforting arm Maryse had placed around his shoulders. Her parents looked calm and composed as ever, but there was tension behind their eyes - Isabelle read the message loud and clear: this boy is a part of your life now. Don’t ask questions, just accept it.
It was like being presented with Max all over again, except Max was adorable and innocent and theirs. Jace Wayland was a whole, grown person with unknown history. He was new and dangerous. Isabelle usually liked those things, but he merely regarded her with a haughty, suspicious glance, flicking his eyes up and down and then looking away. A dismissal. Isabelle’s hopeful, half-formed crush (because he was blonde and pouty and his eyes were different colours like some character in a novel, come on) fizzled out quickly.
“... Alec is also highly accomplished at Judo,” her mother was saying. “Perhaps you two could learn something from each other.”
“Perhaps,” Jace agreed, giving Alec the exact same, unimpressed once-over. But this time, there was a glint in his eye - like a hunter glimpsing its prey for the first time.
Well, that settled it. Jace Wayland was an ass.
Isabelle raised her eyebrow at Alec, looking for solidarity and a shared feeling of, “Can you believe this?” But he didn’t meet her look. He seemed to have forgotten she was even in the room - his eyes were fixed on Jace, and though his expression was carefully neutral and expectant - taking orders from Mom and Dad, as usual - there was something soft in the lines of his posture, something she’d never seen before.
Alec had taken his instruction to look after Jace very seriously. He started by showing him the homier parts of the Institute, such as where he would be sleeping and where the kitchen was. Jace took this in without comment, looking neither disappointed nor impressed. He had come with very few of his own possessions - just his stele and a bag full of clothes (which she suspected her parents might have given him, anyway).
“It doesn’t look like much,” she offered. “But we could go shopping, get some stuff to make it comfier.”
“Oh yeah?” Jace said. “Like what?”
Isabelle was momentarily stumped. What did teenage boys decorate their rooms with, anyway? Naked pinups? Motorbikes? Alec was no help as a benchmark, his room’s aesthetic lay somewhere between Spartan and medieval. And not cool-medieval, more like celibate-monk-medieval. “Posters?” she eventually suggested. “I don’t know, a new bedspread?”
Jace turned to her with a wicked smirk - the kind she normally associated with demons, bullies, and other things that wanted to attack her. “With some cute stuffed animals, so I can cuddle them at night and forget about my dead daddy?” he said mockingly.
Isabelle blinked, not knowing whether to feel angry at his tone or shocked at the sudden information that his father was dead. He made up her mind for her when he shook his head and snorted. “Pathetic. Where’s the training room?”
Isabelle’s hands balled into fists. Alec, his eyes swivelling between them, sensed that an immediate intervention was needed. “Training room is this way. What weapon do you favour?”
They passed Isabelle’s room on the way to the training room. Jace poked his head in without invitation. There was a teddy bear and a stuffed unicorn on the bed, taking pride of place beside her pillow. He didn’t say anything but Isabelle read smugness in the lines of his shoulders.
Isabelle decided that she’d never wanted to kill any demon more than she wanted to wring Jace Wayland’s neck.
Jace beat Alec at Judo. He also beat him at fencing, sai, and just about every other discipline that you could kick a guy’s ass in. The only thing he couldn’t quite do was archery, but that’s didn’t seem to bother him. Isabelle waited for Alec to get mad or resentful, but he only seemed increasingly impressed. She was staring to hate both of them.
Jace invited Isabelle to face him on the floor, and finally, a frown crossed Alec’s face. He needn’t have worried. Much as Isabelle wanted to kick Jace’s ass, she knew that she couldn’t, and wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of throwing her around today.
“No thanks,” she said, tossing her hair. “I just showered.”
Jace snorted, and she could practically hear him thinking, Stupid, pathetic little girl. Well, let him think that. Yes, she was a girl. But she wasn’t stupid. She had more brains in her left baby toe than he did under all that golden hair, and Isabelle couldn’t wait until the day that Jace Wayland realised it.
He came into her room one day, holding Max out as far as his arms could reach. Max thought this was awesome, kicking his legs and babbling away. Alec just looked like he was in pain.
“Izzy, please, just take him for a while. I can’t get anything done.”
“Where are Mom and Dad?” she asked, reluctantly putting her book away.
“Out,” he said shortly. “Back later.”
She heaved a sigh and plucked Max out of his arms. “I can’t keep him in here all afternoon, Alec.”
“Just give him some toys, he’ll be fine,” Alex said, already trying to back out of the room.
“He doesn’t want toys,” Isabelle argued. “Why don’t you show him our old wooden swords?”
Alec scoffed. “That sure sounds like responsible childcare.”
“We’re Shadowhunters, Alec. We’re practically born holding weapons. What about your bow?”
“Do you want to destroy the house?”
“Not using real arrows, dumbass!” Izzy rolled her eyes, struggling to keep hold of Max. Already he wanted to get down and run around. “Some of the blunt ones would work okay ...”
Alec put his hands up, shaking his head. “No. Nope. No weapons, just ... just no. I need to go.”
Isabelle glared at his back as he left the room. Geez, she’d been way more annoying as a baby than Max. What was Alec’s deal?
“Hmmphh. Well, you can use my old sword if you want, Max. I’m the cool sibling.”
Reply
She stopped by Alec’s room before going to bed. He wasn’t reading or studying, for once, just lying on his bed tracing runes in the air. “Hey,” he said as she entered.
“Hola.” Izzy perched on the end of the bed. “Have a relaxing day?”
He snorted. “Not really. Some demonic army kept stampeding through the halls.”
Isabelle threw up her hands. “I tried, okay? He has a lot of testosterone for a baby!”
“Izzy, you don’t even know what testosterone means.”
“I do so! It means too much energy and wanting to destroy everything in sight!”
Alec sighed. “Sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to leave him with you all day. I just ... he’s hard work.”
“Yeah, but he’s still our brother. You put up with me, I don’t see why he’s so much harder.”
Alec didn’t answer. Isabelle frowned at him. “What is it?”
He stared intently at the ceiling, a preoccupied frown on his face. “Why does he look so different to us?”
Isabelle was thrown by the question. “Um. I don’t know? ‘Cause he’s blonde?”
“And you don’t think that’s weird?”
She shrugged. “Recessive genes? It happens, you know. I read about it on the internet.” He didn’t look satisfied with that explanation. She became frustrated. “Well, what do you think it means?”
“Just ... I wonder. If, maybe ...” He bit his lip, then said quietly, “He might not be out full brother.”
Isabelle blinked. And she thought about it.
Both their parents loved Max, that was for sure. They loved each other too ... or at least, she thought they did. Sure, they might not touch each other as much as they used to, or speak to each other in Spanish, but they were always together. Honestly, she’d thought Max had maybe been their ‘third time lucky’ child. The one that would make them happy again.
Still, she supposed it was possible ...
Isabelle shook her head, not wanting to go down that train of thought. The thought of her parents having ... babies ... was gross, but the thought of them having babies with other people was even worse.
“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “They could have adopted him from Norway for all I care. He’s still our brother.”
Alec looked at her, surprised. Then his eyes softened. “I guess you’re right.”
Isabelle nodded firmly. “I’m always right.”
_
The next time they were left to look after Max, he ran off and Isabelle couldn’t find him anywhere. She was just about to start panicking, when she spotted him in the training room. He was being so quiet and still that it was no wonder she hadn’t been able to find him sooner. He was staring at Alec, who was crouched down next to him, showing him his first bow. It was made of plastic and had little arrows with rubber ends. Max’s mouth was hanging open, like all his dreams had come true.
Isabelle smiled to herself and left them to it.
Reply
“When can I train with the others?” she demanded, after another long day of endless criticism and constant bruises. “You never kept Alec back!”
“Your body is a weapon,” her mother replied. “It must be sharpened before you can use it. Besides, you’re a Lightwood, and I want to make sure everyone knows it.”
Isabelle took that to mean that she was weak, soft, and slow, and her mother was too embarrassed to see her lose to the other kids. She felt her face heat up in humiliation. “If I’m no good, you can just say so,” she said, through gritted teeth.
Maryse gave her a sharp look. “Self-pity is useless. Focus, and improve.”
When Alec returned from his own class and found her lying face down on the sofa, he smirked. “Rough day?”
She only moaned in response.
Alec sat on the armrest and tweaked a lock of her hair. “You’re actually lucky, you know. Not every Shadowhunter gets to train personally with the great Maryse Lightwood. I didn’t.”
“Way to rub it in,” she grumbled
Alec was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Remember that kid I just couldn’t beat, back when I first started?”
Isabelle scowled, remembering all the days her brother came home limping, his eyes downcast. “Yeah. You broke his nose. He totally deserved it.”
“Guess whose idea that was?” Alec asked. She looked up at him curiously. “Mom’s”
She gasped. “No way!”
“Yeah. Well, I mean. She told me to think outside the box and do something unexpected. I kind of improvised from there. But she totally supported it.”
Isabelle considered this. “So, what’s that got to do with me?”
“I think Mom wants you to have more tools at your disposal than I did, without resorting to rule-breaking. She always said the normal technique is too rigid. Just learn as much as you can, okay?”
Like she had a choice. Still, Izzy was eventually allowed to join classes with the other kids. She wasn’t that much better than them, but she did bounce back quickly when she got knocked down, and she supposed that was something.
Reply
Reply
_
Training with the other kids was much better than training with her mother. The competition pushed her to do better, even if the others got a bit too competitive sometimes, when Izzy just wanted to have fun. Besides, Alec was there too.
Alec was thirteen, tall for his age, and one of the best fighters of their generation. He helped to teach the younger kids, demonstrating technique and form while Isabelle and her friends hung at the edge of the mat, giggling over the boys as they wrestled each other. The other girls thought Alec was super hot. Isabelle thought that was funny.
He was currently sparring with another kid his own age, or a couple of years older. The boy was looking increasingly angry as Alec repeatedly beat his ass into the mat, but Alec just looked calm and focussed. His form was perfect, but now and then he’d pull off an unexpected move, like darting in close when she’d have expected him to pull back. He looked a lot like their mother when he fought.
Eventually, the other guy got a hit in - a strong hit, with way more force than the demonstration warranted. Alec dropped his sword and hit the ground, grunting in pain. Isabelle tensed up, her hands balling into fists, resisting the urge to run forward.
The guy smirked and tossed his hair back. “Didn’t see that one coming, huh Lightwood?”
“Well done,” Alec said flatly, getting to his feet. Before he had a chance to steady himself, or explain to the class what had happened, the guy shot forward again and Alec only just managed to dodge.
“What’s the matter, you don’t like to be surprised?” his opponent said. “I thought you Lightwoods loved a good potshot.”
A lightbulb went off in Isabelle’s head. This must be Preston. He looked a lot like she’d pictured - smug, sneering, and arrogant. Clearly unable to get over an old grudge. She wanted to kill him all over again.
“’Us Lightwoods’ do what we have to do,” Alec said, holding himself still and wary. Not rising to the bait, but alert for another attack. The class was on edge with anticipation, whispering to each other.
“Yeah, I heard that about your family,” Preston said. “They preach about honour and fortitude, but they’ve always been great at picking the winning side. Wouldn’t know a real fight if it shanked ‘em in a dark alley.”
Alec’s eyes narrowed minutely. A couple of gasps echoed around the room. Isabelle didn’t know exactly what this loser was trying to imply, but blood was roaring in her ears. No one disrespected her family and got away with it.
Preston grinned widely, knowing that he’d finally scored a real hit. “Nothing personal, man. Just history stuff, you know?”
“Right.” Alec considered him quietly for a moment, calm and predatory. His eyes slid over to Isabelle for a second, and then back to Preston. “So you think that you, for instance, could win against a Lightwood? In a real fight?”
Preston tossed his chin forward and puffed his chest out. “Bring it on, man.”
Alec inclined his head, a tiny smile on his face. He caught Isabelle’s eye again and she realised what he was planning. A twinge of fear short through her, followed by a rush of adrenaline. She nodded.
“Okay then. Izzy, would you choose a weapon and come up to the mat?”
Reply
“We’ll see.”
“I’m not gonna fight a little girl,” he protested. “I’ll get kicked out of the class!”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” Alec said.
“And that’s only if you win,” Isabelle finally said, striding over to stand behind him.
Preston glanced back and forth between them - Izzy bouncing on her heels, and Alec standing calm and still. He grinned and turned around to face her fully. “Okay then. Where’s your weapon?”
“I got ‘em right here,” she said, putting her fists up.
Preston laughed. “Whatever you say, little girl.”
Alec left the mat, and the two of them faced off. Preston gestured mockingly for Isabelle to make the first move. She did so, hopping forward to aim a kick at his head. He blocked it easily. She used the rebound to spin herself around and come back at him with her right fist, jabbing him in the stomach. He grimaced - more in surprise than pain, but Izzy’s fists were very sharp. Then his eyes want dark, and the playfulness was gone.
They were evenly matched for all of thirty seconds. Preston was fast and precise in his movements, while she was dexterous and agile, darting in and out, forcing him to move around in a circle. But he was older, bigger, and more experienced. Isabelle soon found herself on the defensive, panting and wheezing as she parried his blows. He finally hit her in the belly, and she hunched over, wheezing. He then struck while she was vulnerable, kicking her in the side and sending her tumbling straight to the floor. Sharp pain bloomed from the point of contact; she pressed a hand to her side, gritting her teeth, trying not to make a sound.
The room gasped, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alec jerk forward. Preston spared him a glance - grinning, enjoying his humiliation by proxy. Isabelle felt like a stuffed animal that a bully had stolen out of a child’s hands. He was throwing her around and ripping out her stuffing, just to torment someone who couldn’t do anything about it.
Fuming, Isabelle ignored the pain and hauled herself back to her feet. Preston turned around, about to mock her again, but she didn’t give him a chance. Isabelle feigned a punch straight to his eye, and when he blocked it, leaning right back to avoid her, she wound her ankle around his knee and threw herself at him. They both crashed to the floor, with Isabelle landing on top. Preston recovered quickly; he grabbed her by shoulders and rolled them over, reversing their positions. With his full weight bearing down on her, Isabelle’s brain went red and hazy again. She squirmed and kicked, her hand lashing out to catch him, open-palmed, on the nose. It went crunch. He yelled in pain and she felt a tiny thrill of victory.
Reply
Suddenly, his big hands were wrapped around her throat. Isabelle went stiff with shock. Preston’s face was screwed up in anger and hatred, and blood was dripping down his nose, falling into her eyes. Distantly, she heard voices crying out in shock, and Alec yelling for them to stop. He appeared on the edge of Izzy’s vision, grabbing Preston and trying to pull him off. But Preston lashed out with his elbow, catching Alec across the face. He stumbled back, out of view.
Izzy used to half-second of distraction to her advantage. Preston was on his knees; there was just enough room for her to tuck her legs up to her chest and kick. His body curled inward and crashed down beside her. Izzy gasped for air as the pressure disappeared, black spots popping in and out of her vision. But there was no time for relief. Izzy scrambled on top of him again and straddled his chest, pinning his elbows down with her knees. He clawed at her thighs, but couldn’t get the leverage he needed to throw her off. Isabelle then punched him in the face, over and over again. His head snapped from side to side, and her fists were red from his bloodied nose.
Arms gripped her around the waist and dragged her off, struggling to maintain their grip on her as she continued to thrash and kick.
“Izzy, Izzy, that’s enough! Izzy, stop!”
As Alec hauled her away, the roaring in her ears faded. She realised that the whole class was looking at her, their expressions ranging from amusement to shock. The instructor had also returned, and was leaning over Preston, who was still on the ground, moaning.
“Just calm down,” Alec said. She glanced up at him. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and the corner of his lip was bleeding. Izzy’s heart sank; he was disappointed in her.
The instructor shot her a look over his shoulder, and Izzy realised she was going to get kicked out of the class. Her mother would be so angry. Dad would be sad. Her stomach began to clench and she felt light-headed.
“S-I’m sorry,” she said.
Preston shot her a deadly look, one hand cradling his nose. “Crazy little bitch,” he muttered.
Alec removed his arms from around her waist, and griped her shoulder instead - a warning not to attack again, but also a statement of solidarity. “She’d a Lightwood, Preston. Guess you can’t win against one in a real fight after all.”
Izzy looked up at him again, and he graced her with a tight smile. The knot in her stomach loosened. Alec didn’t hate her. Alec was proud of her. She didn’t regret it for a moment.
(Later, Dad hid a laugh behind his hand while Maryse merely quirked an eyebrow. “I did not teach you how to fight gracelessly,” she said. “But you are a Lightwood, and I suppose no one will forget that now.”
Isabelle had never been so proud to bear that name before.)
Reply
None of the twenty-something witnesses came forward to deny it. If they had, Alec might have gotten suspended, and they’d rather see Izzy go. She was fine with that. The instructor believed her lies over Alec’s attempts to tell the truth, and suspended her from the class indefinitely, on account of being undisciplined and unmanageable. Isabelle felt strangely victorious, even when her parents grounded her on principle and Alec didn’t speak to her for a week.
Things changed, after that. Their parents decided that Alec and Izzy had had all the training they were going to get in Idris, and decided it was time to take them to New York.
Isabelle had mixed feelings about this. All her life, New York been ‘the place her parents disappear to’. She didn’t know what to expect, but in the end, it surprised her. The city was a sprawling, crowded, dirty mess, packed with Mundanes, Downworlders and Demons alike, and Isabelle loved it.
In Idris - beautiful, clean-cut Idris - everyone knew her name. She was a Lightwood, and yes, proud of it. But here, she could walk down the street, and just be another person. She could be no one, she could be anyone. The idea was exhilarating.
Of course, more training was needed before she could go out into the field. That was okay. The Institute was fascinating in its own right. The Shadowhunters who worked here were on the front lines, facing danger and mysteries every day. Izzy may not be allowed to fight real demons yet, but she could spend hours down in the labs, looking at all the creatures that were brought in. The lab technicians found her annoying at first, but old Doctor Widdowson realised that her interest was genuine, not just a product of boredom. He allowed her to tag along behind him like an eager puppy, showing her the ins and outs of decaying corpses. Her parents were surprised to see this, but Izzy knew better than she used to; she might be a bad girl, but she wasn’t stupid.
Alec hated everything else about New York. Unlike Isabelle, he was allowed to leave the Institute, and even tagged along with some of the more experienced hunters on low-level missions. This drove Izzy crazy with jealousy (and worry), and she interrogated him mercilessly every time he returned. He never had anything interesting to say, though - mostly he just complained about the smell, the public transport, and Mundanes.
Even so, there was one thing Alec did like about their new home, and that was Hodge Starkweather. Hodge wasn’t like all the other Shadowhunters in the building; he didn’t go out to fight, or stay and work quietly on missions. Nonetheless, he was one of the best fighters Izzy has ever met. At their parents’ instruction, she and Alec finished their physical training under his guidance.
Isabelle flourished under Hodge’s guidance, firstly because he was really hot, and secondly because he seemed to understand how much she struggled with her emotions.
“Passion is good,” he told her. “But you gotta use it right, and be in control of it. Don’t let it control you.”
Isabelle had heard those words before, but they sounded clearer, coming from him. Isabelle knew that Hodge was Bad in the same way that she, herself, could be Bad. He was trapped here in the Institute, for reasons she was not allowed to know. But she could guess that he’d done something terrible, disobeyed the Clave and let his feelings get the better of him. There was anger burning beneath his skin, and it looked so familiar.
Isabelle liked Hodge, but she didn’t want to be him. She knew that she had to be more in control of herself. When her blood ran hot and her mind went hazy, Isabelle instead tried to focus on her body and use it wisely. Slowly, her strategic ability improved. When her opponents taunted her, she didn’t rise to the bait; she merely defeated them with great pleasure.
She still couldn’t beat Alec, but that was okay. No one could beat Alec, and that was the way it should be.
Reply
Reply
Reply
"She still couldn’t beat Alec, but that was okay. No one could beat Alec, and that was the way it should be." - allll theeee feeels!!!! There's just so much trust and adoration there. I have to ask though, the line about izzy thinking it's funny that the other girls find Alec hot, is it because she already sensed that he was gay? It would be interesting to see how she found that out about Alec, especially since it's portrayed that she has always known and has always accepted it about her brother. Her own way of paying Alec back I guess for all the support he might or might have known he has provided her with all these years.
Lastly, best forensic pathologist izzy is just the best. And yes so much for the backstory of how that came about. That little tidbit is just so awesome and I swear people who were saying izzy was just a hot bod before better have changed their tune after that fact was revealed, or else I will legit riot in front of their houses. But this made me tear up "but Izzy knew better than she used to; she might be a bad girl, but she wasn’t stupid." because izzy, as confident as she is still plagued by this notions still, and it makes her so wonderfully human, like I am turning into such an Izzy fan girl because of this fic! And I also sort of hate maryse at the same time for integrating that in izzy's mind, she's not a bad girl, she's such a wonderful person and given the chance, the best daughter maryse could have asked for and it's just so sad that she's being influenced by maryse's perceptions!!!
So I was just supposed to say, this prompt response is perfect buuuut things got away from me, anyway, please write more soon! I am definitely obsessed with this story. Also, ever thought of posting in AO3 or something?
Reply
Reply
She first laid eyes on Jace when their parents brought him back from Idris. He was pretty cute, even for a skinny boy with a wary scowl on his face. He spoke to their parents with respect and charm, and seemed to appreciate the comforting arm Maryse had placed around his shoulders. Her parents looked calm and composed as ever, but there was tension behind their eyes - Isabelle read the message loud and clear: this boy is a part of your life now. Don’t ask questions, just accept it.
It was like being presented with Max all over again, except Max was adorable and innocent and theirs. Jace Wayland was a whole, grown person with unknown history. He was new and dangerous. Isabelle usually liked those things, but he merely regarded her with a haughty, suspicious glance, flicking his eyes up and down and then looking away. A dismissal. Isabelle’s hopeful, half-formed crush (because he was blonde and pouty and his eyes were different colours like some character in a novel, come on) fizzled out quickly.
“... Alec is also highly accomplished at Judo,” her mother was saying. “Perhaps you two could learn something from each other.”
“Perhaps,” Jace agreed, giving Alec the exact same, unimpressed once-over. But this time, there was a glint in his eye - like a hunter glimpsing its prey for the first time.
Well, that settled it. Jace Wayland was an ass.
Isabelle raised her eyebrow at Alec, looking for solidarity and a shared feeling of, “Can you believe this?” But he didn’t meet her look. He seemed to have forgotten she was even in the room - his eyes were fixed on Jace, and though his expression was carefully neutral and expectant - taking orders from Mom and Dad, as usual - there was something soft in the lines of his posture, something she’d never seen before.
Isabelle’s stomach twisted.
Reply
“It doesn’t look like much,” she offered. “But we could go shopping, get some stuff to make it comfier.”
“Oh yeah?” Jace said. “Like what?”
Isabelle was momentarily stumped. What did teenage boys decorate their rooms with, anyway? Naked pinups? Motorbikes? Alec was no help as a benchmark, his room’s aesthetic lay somewhere between Spartan and medieval. And not cool-medieval, more like celibate-monk-medieval. “Posters?” she eventually suggested. “I don’t know, a new bedspread?”
Jace turned to her with a wicked smirk - the kind she normally associated with demons, bullies, and other things that wanted to attack her. “With some cute stuffed animals, so I can cuddle them at night and forget about my dead daddy?” he said mockingly.
Isabelle blinked, not knowing whether to feel angry at his tone or shocked at the sudden information that his father was dead. He made up her mind for her when he shook his head and snorted. “Pathetic. Where’s the training room?”
Isabelle’s hands balled into fists. Alec, his eyes swivelling between them, sensed that an immediate intervention was needed. “Training room is this way. What weapon do you favour?”
They passed Isabelle’s room on the way to the training room. Jace poked his head in without invitation. There was a teddy bear and a stuffed unicorn on the bed, taking pride of place beside her pillow. He didn’t say anything but Isabelle read smugness in the lines of his shoulders.
Isabelle decided that she’d never wanted to kill any demon more than she wanted to wring Jace Wayland’s neck.
Jace beat Alec at Judo. He also beat him at fencing, sai, and just about every other discipline that you could kick a guy’s ass in. The only thing he couldn’t quite do was archery, but that’s didn’t seem to bother him. Isabelle waited for Alec to get mad or resentful, but he only seemed increasingly impressed. She was staring to hate both of them.
Jace invited Isabelle to face him on the floor, and finally, a frown crossed Alec’s face. He needn’t have worried. Much as Isabelle wanted to kick Jace’s ass, she knew that she couldn’t, and wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of throwing her around today.
“No thanks,” she said, tossing her hair. “I just showered.”
Jace snorted, and she could practically hear him thinking, Stupid, pathetic little girl. Well, let him think that. Yes, she was a girl. But she wasn’t stupid. She had more brains in her left baby toe than he did under all that golden hair, and Isabelle couldn’t wait until the day that Jace Wayland realised it.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment