Maybe [The Mortal Instruments] {Rewritten}

I Jocelyn's P.O.V

For the past two weeks, I found myself immersed in the challenging task of persuading the Clave to embrace a groundbreaking change—legalizing marriages between downworlders and Nephilim. The journey was an uphill battle, especially in the wake of the recent legalization of homosexual marriages. Shadowhunters, traditionally resistant to change, were proving to be a formidable obstacle.

Yet, amid this struggle, Alec Lightwood emerged as a pivotal force. His presence, with every stance, movement, and word spoken in the midst of the Clave and downworlders, bore a semblance to my ex-husband. However, the stark contrast lay in Alec's lack of the ambition, charisma, and hunger for power that characterized Valentine.

Alec's strength, I soon realized, lay in his ability to convince, and open minds. He articulated his points with rational precision, offering compelling arguments that transcended the boundaries between the Nephilim and downworlders. His motivations were pure, rooted in genuine concern rather than a pursuit of power. Alec earned the trust of downworlders through transparency, showcasing a level of honesty rarely seen. Simultaneously, he garnered the admiration of the Clave by capturing Camille and boldly opposing them—a feat that had been a rarity since my daughter's defiance preceding the battle against her father.

In the end, the Clave relented, accepting our petition, and endorsing the new law. A significant condition, proposed by the downworlders, stipulated that whenever disputes arose between our two worlds, Alec must serve as a mediator. It was a momentous victory.

Everything seemed to be unfolding perfectly. Luke and I, filled with joy and anticipation, made our way to Idris once again to legalize our marriage. Little did I expect the seismic shock awaiting me—a revelation that would shatter the illusion of our bliss. It was a heavy blow to learn that my son, Jonathan, had voluntarily surrendered himself to the Clave, contingent upon a fair trial.

Reluctantly, I attended the trial, a decision that I wished I could unmake. The truths of the horrors revealed left me feeling empty and broken, each revelation more painful than the last. I bore witness to the tortured existence my son endured since birth at the hands of Valentine, the father of my children. I listened to Jonathan's harrowing tale of a life spent in the belief that he was utterly alone, unloved. His obedience to his father stemmed from a desperate reliance on the only reality he had ever known. His resurrection from death left him terrified and adrift, prompting a desire to seize control of our world as a means of self-preservation.

The trial accused me, painting me as a horrible mother who failed her son. Guilt seeped through me as I recalled the disdain I harbored for him as an innocent baby, tainted by demonic blood. Silently, I wept more tears than I ever thought possible.

Jonathan, in a plea reminiscent of ex-Circle members seeking redemption, begged for forgiveness. The children of Lilith, the faeries, vampires, werewolves, and shadowhunters each cast their votes. Empathy seemed to sway the majority, with the children of Lilith and faeries voting for his forgiveness. Vampires were divided, while werewolves offered their acceptance in contrast to shadowhunters, where only thirty percent welcomed him back.

While the majority supported Jonathan, skepticism lingered. Allegations of deception were thrown around, leading to three months of continued trial. My son, imprisoned in a wretched cell, endured the harsh conditions while struggling with the need to convince the Clave of his sincerity. My attempts to ease his suffering included providing pillows, blankets, books, food, and even an air mattress, a meager attempt to soften the agony of his confinement.

I made frequent visits to the prison where Jonathan was held, eager to reconnect with my estranged son. We spoke of the pain of my desperate return when I ran away and the crushing grief I experienced when I believed he was lost forever. I bared my soul, sharing the intimate details of my annual ritual, marked by tears shed on the anniversary of his presumed death while clutching a chest engraved with his name close to my heart. I told him about Clary, Luke, my life as an artist, and my mundane existence.

In return, Jonathan offered valuable advice to nurture my artistic career, and together, we devised a plan to elevate Luke's library to newfound fame. Witnessing the brilliance of his mind, I couldn't help but marvel, albeit with a shiver of discomfort as echoes of his father, Valentine, resonated within him. Guilt tugged at me for drawing parallels and succumbing to the fear that my own son might mirror the darkness of his progenitor.

Jonathan, in turn, spoke passionately about a girl named Katherine, describing her as an angelic presence that illuminated his path out of darkness. During one of these heart-to-heart talks, I couldn't help but sense the budding affection in his words. "You love her," I observed one day.

"I do," he confessed, as if the admission had long weighed on his mind. Yet, the complications arose from the stark differences in their worlds; Katherine, a mundane, posed a threat to Jonathan's runes and his standing among the shadowhunters.

In an attempt to bridge the divide, I suggested, "Ask her if she wants to join us. Robert mentioned that they are recruiting mundanes to transform them into shadowhunters." The idea of having a daughter-in-law appealed to me.

You like the idea of knowing that your son isn't a sick monster that wants to rape your daughter. Also, that girl seems to keep mini-Valentine in check. A dark side of my brain commented inside my head. But I just shook my head and chased those thoughts away.

"We share the same habit of chasing away our thoughts," he observed, breaking the silence. My heart warmed with a flicker of hope as he acknowledged our shared gesture. Returning his smile, I found solace in the small connection we were rekindling. "But I can't ask her to be one of us; she is against any kind of violence. Also, I'm not good for her. I want her to be happy and find a man who won't destroy her life."

Surprised by his selfless declaration, I remarked, "You love her enough to let her go." The transformation in him was profound. In his past love for Clary, coercion and force were his methods, but now he had chosen to prioritize Katherine's happiness and safety, resigning himself to the idea of letting her be free. "Everything will end up fine... son," I added, taken aback by my own choice of words, yet realizing that they reflected the evolving dynamic between us.

Shortly thereafter, a guard arrived to escort us to the final meeting of Jonathan's trial. The verdict mirrored that given to the ex-Circle members, and relief washed over me knowing that my son was spared from a death sentence. Celebrating this victory, I felt a renewed sense of hope.

As the proceedings unfolded, Jia, the Consul, posed a question to Jonathan. "Which Institute do you want to go to?"

"New York's," he answered without hesitation.

His choice to be near the family and make amends for the accidental death of Max Lightwood showed a commitment to change. Despite the cautious response from Robert Lightwood, acknowledging that forgiveness wouldn't come easily, Jonathan seemed prepared for the challenging road ahead. Observing the subtle signs of sadness in Jonathan, I recognized echoes of my own guarded emotions. It provided a glimmer of hope that my son, despite the demon blood coursing through his veins, remained tethered to humanity. When he asked if I was ready to return to New York with him, my response was a resolute yes.