I've actually had this idea in my head for months, but the right plot line just wouldn't appear. With Untamed and Of Seraph Blades And Ball Gowns coming to an end within a few chapters or so, I thought I'd kick this off now I've smoothed over the storyline. I should add that Jace and Jonathan are 19 in this, Clary and Isabelle are 18. Alec is 20.

First of all, it's AU as usual. I mean... isn't AU fantastic? You can have so much fun with it with no boundaries! With this story, it's darker than usual. If you read my other fics, you'll probably know what this one will be about. Or should I say, information about Jace that's hinted at in the summary. But not in the way you'd think since there are no Shadowhunters in this and it's pretty much AH. Also a new point of view the entire story. And it's Clace, of course. Clace is so fun to write. And yep, this story is rated M. Because these boys sure aren't innocent angels. The next update for Untamed might be up tomorrow if I get some free time to write. Fingers crossed.

I hope you guys like this idea and drop me some reviews. If there's enough people interested in reading more, I'll continue.

Are you all ready for rocker Jace?


Ascension

Was that a cat being strangled, or a car slamming on its brakes?

Neither of the above. It was my friend Simon and his band. Why the hell they had named their band the Murderous Hamsters, I actually had no idea. Simon insists it's because it's "catchy." Catchy? My ass it was. Sounds more like a pet store on fire.

Mom and Dad were out on their anniversary dinner, and Simon's garage was flooded. Eric had attempted to fix the washing machine apparently. Attempted being the operative word. Yeah… that hadn't ended well. The place now had an indoor swimming pool full of soap suds. Poor Simon's mom. That was the reason they were set up in the living room with the dark red leather sofas pushed against the wall, TV unplugged, replaced with the speakers Eric had bought over.

Simon flicks his hair back now, and a section catches him in the eye, causing him to swear and raise a hand to brush it away. Annnd he misses his cue for the chorus because his hand is nowhere near the strings. And he drops his pick. Ha.

"What the hell!" Eric growls, a crash of cymbals as the music's cut off sharply, the last few strums of the guitar fading away. He's swelling up like a bullfrog. "Why did you stop?! We were on a roll!"

Simon smoothes his hair back, looking disgruntled. Maybe this would convince him that long hair wasn't for him. He'd grown it out just for the ladies, hoping that long hair and a rocker status would pull them in. So far? The count was zero. A pitiful, round fat zero.

"My finger slipped" Simon shoots at Eric, sending me a look that clearly means 'don't you dare say anything.' I wasn't planning to; they'd shave all of Simon's hair off if they knew that it was stopping band practice. Bald Simon?

I'd walk down the street pretending not to know him.

The speakers whine as Simon tugs a little too hard at the cables. Suddenly, Eric dives and turns the microphone off. His eyes are wide as he turns them to the window- there's a flash of car headlights coming up along the drive. Someone was home.

Crap. Crap.

I shove Simon out of the way as I run over to the nearest speaker, but it's as tall as I am. Goddamn it. If it was mom and dad home early, I was dead. No, more than dead. I'd be blasted into smithereens, then blown into space. Technically known as grounded forever for letting them practice here without telling them or asking for permission. Though how it would work with me rarely leaving the house, I have no idea. Would dad lock me in the dunge- I mean basement?

When the front door opens with a clatter, we all hold our breath as if we've suddenly become invisible and the danger would pass as long as we carried on being mute.

Simon breathes a sigh of relief as he sees my brother who's promptly stopped dead in the doorway at the sight of us, an eyebrow raised. "I could hear your shit halfway down the road," Jonathan tells Simon coldly, then turns on me. He looks tired with his dark eyes sporting shadows underneath them. His white blond hair wasn't perfectly in place like it usually was, but windswept and awry.

Jonathan was everything Simon and the rest of Murderous Hamster dreamed of; part of a popular rock band that toured all over the world. The Shadowhunters.

Unlike Simon's screechy band, the one Jonathan was in didn't practice in garages. Well, once upon a time they had.

Jonathan chuckles as I throw myself at him, hugging him. He pats my back twice, saying tiredly into my ear, "hey there little sister. Missed me? It's only been two weeks."

I pull away with a grin on my face. "How was San Francisco?"

"Loud," Jonathan replies, turning away. Another clatter and I see the limousine driver carrying in his two cases, setting them down in the hallway. My brother never traveled light. Last time he'd gone on a gig to another state, he'd stolen my bloody hair straighteners. Dad had called him gay when he'd seen the photos of his son with dead straight hair. Jonathan had never touched my straighteners again. Unfortunately, dads words had gotten out, and soon the social networks were full of crying girls. Yes, sobbing over the fact Jonathan was gay. He wasn't gay. Hell, far from it. I could attest to that from the amount of girl's he bought home whenever our parents were out. Soundproof walls. I need them.

My brother slips the driver a few notes and goes to close the door, but stops. Instead of shutting it, he calls "leave. Now. I already have a banging headache."

Simon, Eric and the rest of the band were staring. Almost drooling in Eric's case. The Shadowhunters were their idols. The reason they'd put the band together in the first place. Face to face with Jonathan like this? I was shocked Eric hadn't begged him for an autograph yet. Maybe he was scared. I would be if I was him.

"Right away" Eric splutters, grabbing at the nearest instrument. The guitar falls to the floor with a crash. Jonathan rolls his eyes, picking up his guitar case and a bag. I walk over and pick up the other, following him up the dark maroon carpeted stairs.

"So," my brother starts, heaving his case up another step. "I go on a trip with the guys, mom and dad go out, and you invite the wailing choirboys over?"

"They're not that bad," I reply in an exasperated voice. It's true. They're not that bad. Just… not that good. That didn't even make sense.

Jonathan shoves the door to his bedroom open with his shoulder, carrying his cases to the large bed shoved up against the window. It's black and white, my brother's room. Devoid of colour except for the posters on the wall. They show a group of four people- my brother on the far right with his guitar, snowy hair falling into his midnight eyes. On his right is the drummer, Alec Lightwood. Damn did he have the bluest eyes you've ever seen. And at the front was his sister Isabelle with her long midnight locks. She sung like an angel. An avenging angel.

And then there was Jace Herondale. Tall, long ragged aureate hair that fell into his eyes that were like pools of liquid gold? He was the lead guitarist and singer.

He was hot. With a capital H.

In this picture, he was staring directly ahead at the camera with the microphone at his lips, hands grasping it before him like a prayer. That mouth of his was a smirk that made his eyes light up like a demon. A demon that could make even the sweetest of angels fall from high and crash down to earth.

And when Jace sang… well, bye ovaries. They blew instantly. Mine had gone caput the moment I'd heard him play a year ago when the band truly became popular. Then I avoided the music videos and photoshoots of him like the plague, but I did yield and look now and again at the photos of him. He was easy on the eye after all. You couldn't avoid hot guys forever.

Maybe I did have a little crush on Jace Herondale, but I'd never admit it. My brother would laugh himself hoarse, and then lock me up in my room and warn me to stay away from his band mate and best friend. I'd never even met the guy. Overprotective brothers suck.

Jonathan collapses onto the bed now, groaning lightly up at the ceiling. "Home" he sighs out. "Oh how I have missed thee."

"Are you Shakespearian now?" I ask, unable to resist. Jonathan raises his hand above his head, baring his middle finger. So rude.

A bang downstairs and Jonathan growls from his place on the bed "if they've scratched the wooden flooring, I'm going to set them on fire."

Also, my brother is pretty violent minded. In High School, he used to get into fights all the time. The incident no one at his old High School would forget was the time he was in Freshman year. The teacher had called Jonathan's guitar playing skills rubbish… so my brother had promptly taken the guitar to the teacher's face and broken his nose.

He'd been kicked out for that stunt. It was only through our father's assurance that he'd never do anything of the sort again that they let him back in.

"They wouldn't dare" I snort. "They'd be terrified that dad would find them. You know what dad would do."

"That I do" Jonathan mused. He sounds bored almost, playing with the necklace around his neck. At the end of the silver chain is the bands symbol. It's like a diamond with two hooks at the top. Jonathan called it a rune. Angelic something. There was a whole bunch of them, all different in design.

Jonathan sits up now, pulling his sleek dark leather case towards him. After popping the locks, I catch sight of his baby. His pure white electric guitar. After patting it twice, he carefully takes it out and gets to his feet, walking over to the stand next to the windows with the black blinds pulled closed. After setting the instrument down, my brother turns back to me. "I need a shower. And my bed." Jonathan wanders forwards, kicking off his boots as he goes, nudging them into a somewhat neat position next to the door. After patting my head as he passes, he yanks his shirt off over his head and just drops it onto the floor. Scruffy little shit.

I just stare at his back, eyes widening. Holy shit dad was going to go insane.

"Is that a new tattoo?"

Jonathan stops dead. He raises a hand over his shoulder, knowing straight away what I was talking about. "Mmhmm" he mutters, not moving as I cross over to get a better look at the newest tattoo adorning my brothers body.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. "Dad is going to castrate you."

Upon his back is a pair of angel wings. No joke. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, there's a tribal design of angel wings. All stark black against the paleness of his skin. In the middle of the wings where it curled down slightly was an M with a small pattern of stars around. The Morgenstern family crest.

"How drunk were you?" I can't help but ask. Jonathan doesn't reply straight away, but when he does, it's like he's trying not to laugh. "Fucking hammered. But come on, doesn't it look good? As soon as it's healed over completely, that baby is going to look amazing. Jace got one too."

"Idiots" I breathe, poking at his back. Dad had almost thrown Jonathan out when he'd seen the words Acheronta Movebo tattooed upon his left forearm. In Gothic style lettering? It was perfectly rocker-ish.

Dad hadn't seen it that way. He'd called Jonathan a disgrace, and then tried to make him get laser removal. No dice. My brother had kept the tattoo, wearing tight black t-shirts that showed it off just to piss him off.

When dad saw this one, he was going to give birth to live elephants, have a seizure, die, and then come back as a ghost to piss my brother off some more.

Personally, I thought it looked cool. My brother was a rocker. Heart and soul.

"Well I'm leaving again soon" Jonathan groans, turning around to face me. Ew. Half naked brother alert. Not nice. "We've got the Alicante tour coming up next week." His dark eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Little sister, it's everywhere. London, LA, that music festival and…" he frowned, looking thoughtful. And then he laughs. I like it when my brother laughs. He's way too serious all the time in front of everyone else. "I can't remember! There's so many locations and dates. Isn't it amazing? This time last year, we were just a group practicing in the Lightwood's garage. Scrabbling to book dates at Taki's and Java Jones."

"And then Magnus Bane heard your screeching and now I have a dickhead rocker for a brother."

Jonathan grins like a Cheshire cat, placing a hand on my shoulder. He even leans down so we're at eye level. Rude. Not my fault I'm so short. "Well Short Stuff, I don't hear you complain when you get gifts. You know… like those Tisch things. The classes. Your easel and other boring art stuff."

I cluck in disapproval. "Art is not boring Jonathan. We just have different tastes. I like listening to calm music, you scream loud music."

"Actually it's Jace that does most of the screaming, not me."

I punch his arm for that, scoffing as I turn away.

Yeah, I did owe a lot to my brother. It was because of the money he bought in, plus dad's job at Morgenstern Motors that we lived so well. Those flashy, over the top cars you see on the roads that only celebrities can afford? Yeah, he makes them. Well, not makes. He runs the business, keeping everything flowing and selling well. Always busy, it was rare the entire family was altogether in one spot for more than a day. With Jonathan out across the country promoting his band and performing, mom traveling around the world selling her artwork and other famous pieces, dad somewhere over the rainbow locked up in a boardroom with a bunch of boring people that only thought about business, it was a lonely life when it was just me and the occasional maid hired to clean and trim the hedges. Plus keep an eye on me for my mother and father. They denied it, but I knew that was the other reason she was there.

"Why don't you come this time?" Jonathan asks, yawning widely after. He'd probably been traveling all day and into the night. It was just gone ten now with the sky outside pitch black.

I know what he means; accompany him on his tour.

Yeah… not happening.

"No thanks"

Jonathan's voice is curious as he asks "Why?"

I wrinkle up my nose, leaning across the banister to face him as he stands before the bathroom. "The idea of spending months traveling around in a tour bus that smells like sex-"

"The tour bus does not smell like sex." Jonathan looked indignant. "People actually like to shower after getting laid, did you know that?"

Half naked brother stood before me talking about sex? No, no, god no! Ew!

I choose to not to comment on the sex… things. "I haven't even met them. The others in your band. Pretty sure they wouldn't welcome me with open arms." Actually I had no idea.

Jonathan folds his arms, looking like a little brat, not a nineteen year old guy. Then again, he never has grown up. If you look under his bed you can see a Pokémon figure shoved inside an old grey sock. He even has a Pikachu onesie. I mean… a Pikachu onesie.

What. Were girls into guys that secretly wore a bright yellow jumpsuit to bed? It even had a hood complete with ears, red cheeks and a fucking tail.

Excellent blackmail material if ever I needed it.

"They'd love you," Jonathan tells me, arms still folded. "They like small adorable things."

"This 'small adorable thing' bites."

Jonathan scowls, his shadowy eyes darkening even more. "Just… God Clary! Do you even give a fuck? Not once have you ever come to hear me play. Supported my life choices. Most people would feel lucky to have someone like me as their brother. You? Oh no. With you, it's 'let's ignore Jonathan, then pretend I love him when he comes back home after working his fucking ass off.'"

That hurt. It really bloody hurt.

"I do care," I reply quietly. Jonathan just glared as if I'd broken his guitar. "Just because I don't go to your concerts or tours, it doesn't mean I don't care. The band scene isn't for me." I'd listened to one or two of their songs. That counted right?

"How would you know?" he spits. "You've never even tried. Ever since you finished High School, you just stay here at home, shut up in your room painting your little pictures and hanging around with that… slug that can't even strum properly. You're so boring."

I bristle up at that. "Don't insult Simon. You don't know him."

"I don't want to know him. He and his Killer Chipmunks or whatever they're called can't sing. They can't play to save their lives. You shouldn't build up their hopes when you know how much they suck."

Where the hell had this come from? Jonathan was never this moody. At least, not with me.

"What am I supposed to do if I even agreed to go on tour with you, huh?" there's nothing. And I refuse to become a maid for them.

Jonathan rolls his eyes once more before saying in the most annoying voice ever, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Have fun. You know what fun is outside this godforsaken place?"

"You can take your fun and shove it up your ass wrapped in barbed wire." Okay, I'm pissed off. Really pissed off. Jonathan just flips me off and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make the frame rattle.

When I shut my bedroom door, I rest my forehead against it, staring at the soft tan wooden floor. Boring. I was so boring. Jonathan was right.

"Score one to the big headed rockstar" I found myself muttering, tapping a finger against the door twice. Our family hadn't been a family in years. It was too broken. Too shattered. The affair mom had had with dad's best friend had started it all.

Two years ago, mom had hooked up with dad's right hand man at Morgenstern Motors, Luke Garroway. Dad found out and went ballistic. Well and truly. Kicked mom out instantly, started filing for divorce.

And that was when Jonathan had started to really get into his music, putting together The Shadowhunters with Jace after school. It was also when dad had stopped working from home, leaving for days at a time. Even weeks.

A year later, and they'd gotten back together. But things had never been the same since. Dad didn't trust mom much, but he still loved her. God, he loved her like crazy. Always would, no matter what she did.

I never did find out why mom had cheated. Jonathan knew, but he refused point blank to tell me. No one would tell me. Didn't they trust me?

The answer to that was No.

Life had slowed down so much since I'd graduated High School and opted not to go to pursue higher education just yet. I was content to stay in the Morgenstern mansion with my canvas, paints and brushes. Plus the occasional visit to Java Jones or Taki's to hear Simon play, and then ignore people who realized who I was- Jonathan Morgenstern's sister. Famous Jonathan Morgenstern and his amazing guitar skills. Guys would offer to buy me drinks, take me out for dinner. But I would decline them. All of them. Why? They didn't want me. They only wanted to get to Jonathan. To The Shadowhunters.

I was just a simple tool to them, the fame grabbing assholes. They'd quite happily break my heart in their attempt to get noticed by the band. Another reason I didn't care to watch my brother's performances. I didn't want to get involved with that world.

Why were people such monsters? How could they condone it?

Before changing for bed I slipped downstairs and shoved all the sofas back into position since the boys didn't do it themselves, sighing exhaustedly afterwards. Everyday it was the same old routine; wake up, eat breakfast, paint, paint, maybe see Simon, maybe listen and half watch his performances, maybe comment a little, and maybe compliment, return home, eat dinner, paint or read before bed, then sleep.

The next day? Rinse and repeat.

Boring. Like Jonathan had said.

My brother would leave his offer on the table right until the last moment right before I left, I knew him. I still had time to decide. Choose.

Decide if I wanted to be Boring Clary… or Interesting Clary.

-Review :D