My Beautiful One (Jonathan Morgenstern Fanfic)

Wanderer

"It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not,"

—André Gide, Autumn Leaves

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Late 2007

At first, when Jonathan had wrenched his eyes open from his light supposed eternal slumber, he had expected the sharp flames of hell and the devil himself to take time off his busy schedule of torturing souls to greet him with a twisted grin and open arms.

He had also expected to see Valentine and Jonathan had been looking forward to land several punches on his bastard of a father before his own endless torturing began.

But instead, he had found himself staring at his sister's sobbing figure being comforted by Jace and her other friends in the middle of the the Accords Hall, surrounded by other Shadowhunters who were staring silently at them, some of theirs mouths hanging open.

His first instinct had been to defend to himself as he prepared for a Shadowhunter to recognize him and alert his comrades and attack but after a minute of standing and staring at the pale, tired faces of the Shadowhunters that surrounded him, Clary and Jace, he realized that, somehow, they could not see him.

And the impact of the only possible answer to his invisibility to the Nephilim in Hall knocked the air out of Jonathan's chest and nearly knocked him off his feet.

He was a ghost.

Or rather, as his shit father had taught him, wandering spirits. Wanderers.

He had died and instead of going to Hell, he was trapped in that lonely in between space that certain spirits were trapped in.

Selfishly, he had, incorporeally ran through several Shadowhunters before staggering out of the Accords Hall, gasping as if his lungs had been punctured and left Clary as she sobbed.

Outside, the streets were littered with bodies—of the Endarkened and fae and Nephilim alike—and he could see the streams of blood that ran down in rivulets across the white flagstones of Angel Square. Bile rised in his throat though he knew there was no bile—he was a ghost and ghosts didn't get sick—as the full realization of what he had done smacked him in the face.

If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell.

The words echoed in his head like a sick broken record as he looked at the blood that was everywhere— the ground underneath his feet, on the walls beside him, on the buildings that lined Angel Square.

Injured and bloodied Nephilim and surviving fae stood amongst the corpses, the fae looking pale and weakened by the iron and salt and rowan wood that Jonathan could see in Angel Square. Some of the Nephilim were bent over the bodies of the Endarkened, crying over the former Shadowhunters.

He stared at the bodies for a long time until Shadowhunters began collecting the dead before he slowly turned away and headed into the Accords Hall once again, his feet soundless against the cracked marble of the Hall.

Most of the Shadowhunters had dispersed from the Hall including his sister, Jace, Alec, Isabelle and the warlock, Magnus Bane.

Jonathan wanted to look for Clary but he didn't know if he could face the consequences of his actions.

Eventually, Jonathan managed to get out of Angel Square and walk through the streets, trying very hard not to look at the corpses though occasionally he would catch the sightless stare of a corpse as he passed it. He found Clary in Amatis's home as expected, tucked into bed with Jace, her head on his tear stained chest that also glistened on her cheeks. She had been asleep then, with Jace's arms wrapped protectively around her as he stroked her hair. His eyes were rimmed with eye bags and he was visibly exhausted but he barely even blinked as he held Clary.

And for the second time in his whole existence—though it was technically post existence for him now—Jonathan felt a stealing sense of calm and peace creeping into his body despite seeing so much death that was of his doing.

Seeing Clary in Jace's arms gave him a sensation beyond peace. It filled him with a tingling sense of happiness to see how much Jace loved Clary.

All his life, Jonathan knew that he had never seen genuine love and even if he had he wouldn't have registered it—not with the toxic demon blood in him. But even though he had no idea what love looked like or what was the true definition of love, he could have sworn that what he was looking at was love in its most rawest form.

As if sensing Jonathan was in the room with them, Jace tensed, his eyes darting and crossing over Jonathan for a moment before Jace looked right at the spot where he stood, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Jonathan watched him, curious if Jace could really see him or sense that he was there. He decided that Jace couldn't as he looked away a few moments later, his body relaxing ever so slightly against the bed and headboard. He placed a gentle kiss on Clary's forehead and her already slack figure nestled deeper onto Jace, her one hand fisting in his shirt as if clinging on for dear life.

Jonathan had then walked over to the windowsill, sat on it and watched as Jace guarded Clary from any evil shadows that may have lurked in the corner the whole night.

Jonathan had also witnessed the burning of his own body and he thought how ironic it was as he watched the wisps of smoke that came from his burning pyre float towards the heavens. Surprisingly, a lot of Nephilim attended his burning, some of them wearing satisfied smiles while others glared at his burning body with spite and hatred.

If he had not seen Clary light the pyre with a torch, he could have sworn the venom in the glares of the Shadowhunters had set his body ablaze instead of the flame.

The day after, he had followed closely as Jace and Clary rode to Lake Lyn to throw his ashes into the lake.

Jonathan watched with a heavy sadness in his chest as Clary flung the box that contained his ashes and the Morgenstern family ring. The ashes escaped from the box, creating a cloud of grey that slowly sifted into the Lake and he saw the glint of the ring just before it plopped into the water of the lake to lie at the bottom, along with his ashes forever.

He realized that there would be no more Morgensterns after this and he saw it fitting and fair that the line which had been so tainted with black magic and corruption end with him. None of the future generations deserved to live with the Morgenstern name.

"Ave atque vale," Clary murmured. "Ave atque vale in perpetuum frater. Hail and farewell forever, my brother." Clary whispered the words as she watched his ashes sink into Lake Lyn.

Jonathan kneeled beside Clary and gently stroked her hair even though he knew she would not feel it. "To you, my sister but I will always watch over you. What I did not do when I was alive, I will do now." He whispered, mildly surprised he could speak though what was the use of speaking if no one else but yourself could hear you?

Clary began to weep and Jace silently held her hand as she did and Jonathan could hear and feel every pain and grief and sadness and regret and bitterness in Clary's tears as if it were his own.

Jonathan did not cry even though he knew he could. Instead, he watched as his ashes sank into the lake along with the Morgenstern family name and every disgusting plan he ever had.

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AN

What did you guys think? Thank you so much for reading you guys are amazing!

This was more of an intro and I may update soon, hopefully.

I'm a blubbering mess and the update is short coz I just listened to the whole Four album which isn't even out till next week anyways it is so beautiful there are no words to describe. I just I can't even I can't it's so just I can't...

Evan Peters (BTA, I love this boy as much as I love Jamie) plays the ever tortured Jonathan Morgenstern.

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