2Hello Fanfiction world! How have you been? It's been a long time since I actually wrote a fanfiction, but I just thought that I'd through this one out there.
Hope that y'all enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments Series. I wish I did. But I don't. So there.
The song used here is The Minstrel's Prayer by Cartel
Of Beggar's Pleas and Optimistic Fantasy
He was going to die.
Jace knew that he was destined to die in battle simply due to his last name.
Why couldn't I have been born into a family that didn't have a death wish written into their name?" Sighing, Jace began to put the final touches on his armor.
Chainmail? Check.
Mail coif? Check.
Armet? Check
Gorget? Check. Though Jace felt the air constricting in his lungs with each breath he took.
Today was not the true day of battle, but the games that were played to lift the spirits of the people.
Lift their spirit? He snorted in derision. By God all these men were going to die. These women's husbands, fathers, and sons were going to die for a cause we've all long ago forgotten.
The blonde haired knight's days had begun to run together as he and his fellow men prepared for the impending war that was to end them.
His true thoughts though, rested with a figure that lingered at the side of royalty.
A girl, yes a cliché to say the least, but Jace knew that he wanted to be the one to win her hand at the jousting competition in a mere hour.
He was not a jouster. Nor an arms man or a blacksmith; no welders were in his family nor did he favor one weapon over another.
Jace was a mere minstrel.
No common one either. He was known throughout his part of the land as a weaver of tales and musical limericks.
He was a dreamer.
Hopeless and romantic.
Though a talent from the heavens did not get him very far in the King's army, Jace's fame spread quickly and his popularity among his kinsmen was greater than he ever imagined. Now he was being asked to compete for the ability to court one of the royal ladies.
Some of the men wished for him to write songs about the ladies they loved or left or loved and left.
Mostly he wrote songs for the downhearted, the optimists, and the lovers.
A bell was rung signaling the half hour mark before the next tournament. He wandered over to a tree stump and sat before pulling out the booklet of parchment he held so dear to his heart.
His songs. His words. Weaved in perfect time to a melodious rhyme. All of them were in his head, but he carried them around, prepared for the moment of death to take just him, not his creation.
The fair maiden he wished to court and marry was no better off than he. Trapped in a position that was as despairing as his own, she with red hair like fire, eyes as green as the fresh grass, and wicked smile.
Jace's eyes widened as he was suddenly struck with inspiration for his latest song. With an inner determination he quickly made his way to the nearest tent and asked for ink.
Barely legible scratches filled the yellowed parchment as his musings came together in a coherent form.
He jumped when a hand was laid on his armor coated shoulder. Familiar brown eyes peered at Jace as he finished scrambling to pen his words.
"Ay mate, your tournament's about to begin. If you're late there is no chance to win the girl's hand. So get move your sorry arse over to the mounting area." Alec, Jace's best friend, always looked out for him and was one of the few that knew of Jace's love interest.
Jace slipped the booklet back into his breast plate before he clasped a hand on the back of Alec's neck and brought their heads together.
"Thank you my friend. What would an optimistic minstrel be without his companion, the practical romantic?" Laughing he patted his smirking friend on the shoulder as he took off towards the arena where his knightly virtues would either be bestowed or he would get stabbed, fall on his arse, and die.
No pressure. Absolutely no pressure at all.
Jace mounted his horse, a simple and plain animal that had served him well over the last year.
"Come on Church, you can do this. We can win this if we truly believe in ourselves." Church huffed at his statement, calling his bluff immediately. He conceded as he smoothed his hair. "Or, you know, pray a lot."
Sebastian Verlac, a somewhat burly young man who was son to the Duke of Alicante, Jace recognized as his opponent.
Silence fell.
Hooves hit the ground.
Riders shook as the collided.
Neither fell.
Round two. Here's where things begin to get interesting.
Adrenaline pumped throughout Jace's body as the sweat began to cloud his already hazy vision and his body began to tighten as coiled as a spring.
One final round.
Hit.
Sunlight flooded his vision as Jace pulled off his Mail coif.
He was still elevated. He was still sitting on Church. He had won.
His eardrums exploded from the sheer noise level of the crowd. Lifted from his horse's back and onto the shoulders of men who carried him to be placed in front of the royal court, Jace remained in shock to say the least.
Like a well-mannered machine he bowed and kneeled before his King and the royal families.
"Young Knight…" The King paused for a moment as he attempted to recall Jace's name in his intoxicated mind.
"Jace " Jace filled in for him as he fought to keep from rolling his eyes at the king.
"Yes! Yes, young Knight Jace. The minstrel extraordinary! You have won the right to choose a royal lady's hand." The crowd once again rumbled. Only quieting as the King held up his hands.
"But, to sweeten the victory, I am choosing to add my own daughter's hand to the offer. Of course it will be one of my younger daughters, but a Princess nonetheless! Isabelle, why don't you?
The black haired beauty to the right of the King quickly stood then dropped back down into her seat with a huff. All the while eyeing Jace's friend and fellow comrade Simon.
A hush fell over the crowd as Jace was motioned to stand and approach the elevated bench that seated the women he was to select from to be his wife.
Before he even opened his mouth a voice from the crowd shouted out, "Why don't you woe her with a song, player?"
Jace could feel his heart stop beating. His mouth ran dry. But his mind, oh his mind was ready.
His mind didn't care that heart and mouth were not prepared for what was to come; it simply pushed forth the words he had written not an hour before.
Shelter me oh genius words
Just give me strength
Just to pen these things
And give me peace to well her wings
And oh, oh carry on all you minstrels of the world
We will catch our ladies ear
We will win for us the girl
His audience was captivated. Jace's low voice echoed throughout the arena, women fanned themselves and men listened wide-eyed.
Jace slowly walked the perimeter of the benched area until he spotted his girl.
Flame-like hair was captured in a falling bun at the back of her neck. Her heart-shaped face focused not on him, but the ground.
All these minstrels through the ages
That is really all we are
Simply singing for the girl
That makes us try so very hard
To craft the perfect limerick
To wield unending woe
To write such silly songs
And the difference never know
He continued on singing as he walked up to the green and black cloth covered chair.
She was not two feet from him. Yet she would still not look at him. Jace passed the chair and stopped in front of the red haired girl that stood beside the royalty.
Jace licked his lips before he continued with his love song to the unassuming, beautiful girl in front of him.
Without another thought, Jace lightly gripped her face and tilted it upward so their eyes could meet.
Green collided with gold.
A gasp escaped her lips, her mouth parted slightly as she watched him with wide eyes, unsure of his purpose.
Quick as a flash he dropped to one knee and held out his hand as offering as he sang his declaration.
And I'll hold on to the dream
Of this beggar's plea and optimistic fantasy
Just hold the hand and drop the knee
You're facing love
You're embracing melody
She hesitated. The entire crowd, court, and parts of the army were watching this moment of true wooing.
Jace felt his heart sink, the adrenaline had worn off and now he felt more exposed than ever before.
Warmth.
A warm entity now grasped his cooled hand and used it as a guide to lower her into a kneeling position in front of him.
"Knight Jace," the girl began slowly, she spoke as though she was speaking to a young child, "you understand that I am a Lady in Waiting do you not? I am not the one you are to choose from. They are all sitting on the benches and chairs you passed."
He chuckled, and then his chuckles turned into full blown laughter. Jace smiled at her revealing a small crack in his front incisor, adding character to his otherwise perfect smile.
"You are completely right, my lady. I do understand that you are a Lady in Waiting, but I believe that you were "waiting" for me." He pointed to himself with a small smirk.
Those close enough to hear the conversation laughed or ignored the pair.
The green eyed young lady raised an eyebrow at his play on words. "Well minstrel, I do believe that I am obligated to accept your proposal," Jace's eyes lit up, "but that does not mean that I will."
A voice from beside them interrupted the bubble the couple had created for themselves on the floor. The voice belonged to that of the young Princess Isabelle who sat in the chair next to where the blonde stood.
"Clarissa, I am begging you. Accept the kind, talented young knight's proposal. For the sake of all that is holy, he wrote and sang you a song. He is relatively attractive. Accept it." The Princess's words were sharp yet full of sincerity.
"Clarissa. What a beautiful name."
"You are very kind to say so Knight Jace, but please call me Clary and give me a moment to think this through. This is my life and I'm not sure I'm willing to give it up for a Knight that simply got lucky." She smirked at her last line while his eyes widened.
"Excuse me my lady, but I always get lucky."
For a moment, Clary and Jace, still connected through their clasped hands stared each other down.
"Your Highness, I do believe your judgment is correct." She paused for a second to get her barring. "I will accept this knight's proposal. Someone needs to relief him from his sufferings due to too many "silly love songs"."
"Do you believe you can cure me of the ailment that accompanies love songs?"
"Without a doubt."
Then without warning, Clary gripped the visible section of Jace's neck and pulled him close. Her forwardness shocked them both, but the mischief in his eyes sparkled as he gathered her into his embrace to finally join their lips.
This is how Jace and Clary were found.
Wrapped in each other's new embrace. Ready to face the world together.
War has the power to rip families apart.
To kill the will to live.
To break the soul.
But, even though the couple was killed moments after their first kiss by a sudden attack from the enemy, they died together.
They died in battle.
A battle for life.
For love.
For hope.
For without hope, what is love?
Please feel free to review if you wish.
TTFN (ta ta for now) Gotta love Tigger.
-DarkestAngel11