Thunderstruck ⌲ Alec Lightwood

PROLOGUE

Chapter zero: The Beginning

"Hand over the boy"

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     The waves of the sea crashed among the shores of Idris, but that wasn't what woke the young boy. The sound of his door slamming open interrupted Damien Ashwell's peaceful slumber. He shot out of bed, his heart pounding in his chest as eyes adjusted to the light, only to see his father standing above him, shaking his arm. "Son, it's only me," his father comforted, his breathing fast and heavy like Damien's. All of a sudden, a crash came from the bottom level of their house and caused the 8 year old to jump up out of his bed and onto his feet. His father set his hands on Damien's shoulders, talking fast into his ear. "Damien, hide under the bed. Now." His father pulled the brunette into a hug, and Damien's small, green eyes widened, clearly confused by what was happening.

     "D-dad? What's going on? What was that noise?" he stuttered, not moving from his position. His body was shaking with fear and confusion, resulting in his body feeling as if it was frozen.

     "They've found us, my boy. I thought your mother..." his father's voice trailed off as his breath hitched. Damien's mother was faerie, and hadn't stopped to visit the family in years. Damien stared at him, his jaw gaping open. "You'll find out what happened later. Just hide under the bed, now. Don't let them see you." George Ashwell paused before adding, "I love you." Reluctantly, Damien began to crawl under the bed, finally regaining his strength. A realization hit him that he had forgotten his blanket, and he gasped before grabbing it off of his bed and pulling it with him as he lay on his stomach underneath the bed, hugging the blanket to his chest.

     He watched as his father pretended to scramble around for something, and Damien was about to ask what he was doing, but was interrupted when his bedroom door burst open, and four men scattered around the room, their seraph blades and weapons drawn. His father took out his own seraph blade, and Damien's eyes began to fill with tears as his father whispered Adorjan. He was too young to fully understand what was going on, but he had guessed. 

     "Give it up, Ashwell," a man with an oval face, eyes the color of the ocean, and dark black hair cut to where his ears met the side of his face snarled with a stern expression. "You can't win this fight. Hand over the boy, and you can live." Damien sucked in a sharp breath, keeping himself from crying out as best he could. He was still shaking, and he thought the men may know he was there because the bed was shaking with him. Fear was overcoming him, and no matter how much he wanted to crawl out from under the bed and save his father, he couldn't. He just lay there, dumb-founded. His father had told him to stay under it, and stay under he would.

     "Over my dead body, Ravenwood," George Ashwell sneered back. "What does Valentine even want with my boy, anyways?" He was taking a fighting stance, trying to stall the four. The dark haired man—Ravenwood—flashed a smile.

"Where is he?" Ravenwood continued to press, dodging George's question. Damien couldn't make out the other three's faces, and frankly, he didn't care. His eyes were glued to his father, clenching his blanket like he would never be able to hold it again. George and the others lunged for each other at the same time, and Damien pressed his eyes shut, not giving in to the sudden temptation that urged him to open and watch the fight. He knew it wouldn't end well; it was four against one. All he heard was the metal of the seraph blades crashing and clanging together, one hit after another.

Damien finally worked up the courage to open his eyes slowly, and he wished he hadn't. He slapped a hand over his own mouth to keep from whimpering when he saw Ravenwood's sword go through his father's stomach, and his father fell on his knees as Ravenwood pulled the sword out. Blood pooled on the floor, turning the carpet a deep shade of red. George used all of the strength he had left to keep himself upright for a few moments. "You'll never get to my son," he spat. "If you touch him–" and just like that, George let out a terrifying cough, and crumpled to the ground. A silent tear fell down the young boy's cheek.

     Tears continued to fill Damien's eyes when he saw Ravenwood examine the room for a minute, and then grab the only picture Damien had of his family: his mother, his father, and him, hardly a year old at the time. He gasped out loud, and Ravenwood and the other three turned around as they were about to head out of the room, and Ravenwood's eyebrow raised. Damien held his breath as Ravenwood looked in the closet, but then retracing his steps and bending down to look underneath the bed. He smiled when he saw Damien, and Damien immediately crawled the other direction, still holding his blanket. He had almost made it all the way out from underneath when one of the others grabbed his small arms and pulled him up himself, keeping a tight grip on his wrists. Damien screamed. "Let me go!" he demanded, trying to struggle against his grip, but he was too strong. He scolded himself for not taking those extra training lessons his father had offered.

     "If you stay still, we won't hurt you, half-breed," the man promised, and Damien's body stood still whether he wanted to or not. A mixture of rage from the insult and fear was coursing through him, and it took everything he had not to struggle and kick.

"Come on, Blackheart," Ravenwood ordered, rolling his eyes. "We don't have all day, Valentine expects us." Valentine. Damien had heard his father speak the name before, and his eyes widened. Blackheart shoved Damien forward, and the boy almost tripped over his father's dead arm, but regained his balance, more tears streaming down his face. Another unfamiliar figure appeared from the shadows, but this time, Damien knew it wasn't one of Valentine's men. Blackheart tightened his grip around Damien's shoulders as the figure appeared into the room.

"Am I interrupting something?" the person who spoke had bright blue eyes, tan skin, and dark hair, and Damien immediately knew he was a warlock. If he wasn't training he was reading about Downworlders, and he could recognize Magnus Bane anywhere.

"Magnus," Ravenwood spat through gritted teeth.

"Long time no see, Ravenwood," Magnus nodded his head towards the other Shadowhunters. "I'm afraid I'm going to ask you to let the boy go. I'm really not in the mood to kill at the moment." Ravenwood snorted as he stepped closer towards Magnus.

"I'd like to see you try," Ravenwood replied. The others nodded in agreement, and before they could even unsheathe their weapons, with a snap of Magnus's fingers they crumbled to the ground in deep sleep. Blackheart's hands fell off Damien's shoulders, and his mouth gaped open and he took a step backwards. Magnus didn't blame him; the boy was frightened, and had just watched his only parent get murdered.

"I normally don't like Fae-folk, but considering I owed your parents a favor, I suppose this'll do." Magnus watched awkwardly as the boy kneeled next to his father's body, his eyes red and puffy from crying. Magnus held his hand out to the boy. "Come on. They won't be asleep forever, and I need to take you somewhere safe."

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Hey y'all! I'm honestly so excited for this story, I've been writing it since this summer and I finally decided to post it. The Mortal Instruments is my favorite series of all time, and Alec is honestly such a treasure, he needs more love. I hope you guys enjoy this story as much as I do, and Damien is so pure he makes my heart swell with joy. Anywho, I have a lot of things planned for this story, and I hope you guys stick around for the first chapter!

-Em