Kingdom of Lies

Chapter 22- The End

So sorry it took me so long, I hate myself lmao. But I've never been busier honestly.

BUT I LOVE YOU ALL. SO MUCH. EMOTIONAL AUTHORS NOTE BELOW.

For the last time, y'all ready?

LEGGO. :')

{Jace}

I refused to say the word heartache, because even though it's the only word that could possibly describe how it felt to watch Clary walk away from me, I wouldn't admit it to myself.

It had been barely a few weeks since she had left, yet I refused to count the days. I didn't want to know, because I didn't want to think it was real.

Everything seemed surreal as of late. Seeing my mother still pained me as much as it enthralled me.
Back from the dead, it was hard to see her as much more than a transparent vision, the sunlight from the windows going right through her paper skin. But slowly, day by day, she'd become more solid.

I sat by her bed every day for hours on end, sometimes telling her about everything she had missed, about the elderly seamstress Agatha she had been particularly fond of, and the state of Idris. And sometimes we were silent, just marveling in a moment I thought I could only experience beyond the grave.

And sometimes she asked about Clary.

I told her what Clary had told me. Her father was dead. Her business here was done.

I told her what I told myself every night when my skin noticed the absence of her warmth against me.
Her kingdom needed her.

I told her what I told myself when I punched and kicked and whirled against nothing but air in the training room, avoiding remembering how well she fought despite her size and the fire in her chest that drew me to her.
She was only here because she had to be.

I told her what I told myself every damn time I remembered her and how her body felt against mine, the curl of her lips and the anger that guarded her softness so well, her hands on my chest or her drunk giggles, and how her smile undid me in a way I never spoke of.

That she had no reason to stay.

I tried furiously to combat the emotions that rose at the mention of her name.
To push her to the side, because I couldn't afford to question her, to think of the unanswered questions and unspoken words.

I was a king, Jace Herondale of the Herondale Kingdom, reunited with his mother, back from the grave.
Every soul in the kingdom rejoiced at her return, festivals and parties overcoming everyone for weeks. But now there was things that must be done.

The Morgenstern Kingdom was in shambles after Valentine's death. However as the ash settled, sunlight broke through.
The terrible king was gone, the fog lifted. Life could be more than just banal routine for the people. It could be joyous, prosperous. And no part of me doubted that Clary would carry the weight of restoring the Morgenstern kingdom to one of the mightiest of Idris, even if it broke her. I know it won't. She's much too strong for that.

Nevertheless, despite the hope for one day, there was tasks to be done today. I had to speak to the public soon, and I needed to organize my thoughts.

But first, my mother.

Just like every morning, I knock quietly on the tall doors to the infirmary. I had wanted for her to move into her own room for her comfort, but years undergound had robbed her of her health, and she needed constant care. But she was getting there.

Her soft voice lets me inside, and like usual I smile at the sight of her. She's so frail, so different than I remember her. But beautiful. Alive.

"Did you sleep well?" She asks softly, like she does every morning. I lie, like I do every morning.