I was asked to write a ficlet about how Alec got his scar…
“Jace…” Alec calls after the other boy, running to catch up.
“No!” Jace yells without stopping. “Maybe your family can force me to stay here, but I don’t have to like it! My father…” His breath hitches. “My father’s dead and everybody’s all, ‘Hey, no big deal, here. Have a new family!’”
“That’s not true. Jace, stop!”
Jace is angry. And sad - no, desperate! Grieving. His dad died and nobody seems to care; all that matters to them is to stash Jace somewhere, out of sight, out of mind! But mostly, he’s angry, furious even, because it’s just not fair! After everything he endured, his father just up and dies on him!
And so, when Alec grips his arm to make him stop, Jace reacts on instinct, the way his father taught him, the way he was forced to learn - or suffer the consequences. He turns around in a flash and punches the other boy hard.
Alec doesn’t duck - he didn’t expect this reaction from Jace at all. He stumbles back and twists, tripping over his own feet. He hits the wooden paneling with a sickening smack and slides down to sit on the ground, leaving a bloody smear on dark wood.
Jace is horrified. He stares at the dazed boy, at the rivulets of blood running down his pale face from the deep cut in his left eyebrow. Immediately, he’s overwhelmed with memories of his own father hitting him, punishing him. He swore he would never be like Michael Wayland, he swore. And yet…
He drops to his knees next to Alec and lifts his hands to… to prop Alec up, to hold him, to help him. But in the end, he just leaves them hovering over his shoulders, too afraid to touch Alec, too afraid of hurting him again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” he keeps babbling frantically.
Alec blinks at him slowly for a moment, blood dripping into his left eye, then lifts his right hand. “Help me?” he asks simply.
And Jace does, he helps Alec up, he brings him to the infirmary, he lowers his eyes and hides his bruised knuckles when Alec lies about how he was injured, and he holds Alec’s hand tight while an iratze is applied to the other boy’s skin, the minor injury leaving only a small white scar bisecting his eyebrow.
A scar that changes everything, because every time Jace looks at it, he’s reminded of a hawk with a twisted neck and of a little boy bleeding - of the price those who want to be his friends pay.
dimples queen + things you said under the stars and in the grass :)
Some sweetness and starlight. Enchanted Forest, missing year.
He misses the forest. Terribly so.
“Papa, when can we go back?” he’s taken to saying, often and well within earshot of the very people who’d so graciously taken them in, putting castle walls and magical shields between them and the Wicked Witch, and Robin is always quick to remind the boy as much.
“Without the kindness of the Queen, we wouldn’t have a real bed to sleep in, nor would we have a stuffed monkey to watch over us every night,” he tells his son sternly, and Roland, looking abashed, will nod his head and rush to Her Majesty’s side, worried that he’ll have hurt her feelings with his thoughtless questioning.
(If he has, she doesn’t let it show; Regina may be painfully transparent in her disdain for Robin’s men, but she’s only ever shown warmth to his son, warmth and affection and even the occasional smile, and for that alone Robin’s already hopelessly immune to the scowl she seems to have reserved solely for him.)