Forgiveness
They stopped in front of the large wrought iron gate that bordered the cemetery area. The gate itself looked quite grim but inside the area there was a serene large expanse, a very green and well-kept lawn, scattered here and there with small blue flowers - who knew which was their name? Weird. Shadowhunters were not very prone to tenderness or melancholy, and the memory of the dead was something that had to be carved into stone for everlasting memory. Something meant to inspire sense of duty, honor, willingness to sacrifice, certainly not nostalgia or unexpressed love. The shadowhunter cemetery, stuck into that creepy dungeon that was the City of Bones, watched over by the Silent Brothers, was lofty, and impressive ... and terribly sad. Nothing compared to the calm composure reigning in this small green area, surrounded by bushes that shielded the view from the outside and shaded by centuries-old oaks.
Thinking that the cemetery of the traitors could be more welcoming than the cemetery of heroes was actually quite funny. Clary, raised among the mundanes, was used to it, this view bringing her calm and a sense of peace elsewhere denied. Jace, on the other hand, was nervous: having recently discovered that he belonged to a sort of royalty family in the Shadow world, being aware that he got a father and a mother in no way overlapping those images his mind had figured, all of it had made him confused, and angry, and embarrassed because of those parents: buried here, among traitors of their own people. So many questions he would need to ask them and no one was going to answer anymore.
They approached the twin graves housing his parents’ remains: Jace leaned toward Clary as for support, physical and emotional. She was his anchor, his hook to reality, she was there and that feeling growing between them helped him not to feel rejected and unable to handle his life. Holding hands, they stood beside the tombstones.
“Here it is - said Jace, breaking the silence - I have just found and already lost them. I should be ashamed, yet I can't help wondering why they did what they did. How can I be a shadowhunter, be the Inquisitor's grandson, and not be able not to miss them, my parents. Maybe they actually loved me ... Because they did love me, didn’t they? And if my mother loved me, why did she choose to follow my father into death without giving me a chance to survive? Because if it wasn't for Valentine, I wouldn't even be here ”.
"Come with me," Clary said. She led him further, where the cemetery spread into a wide meadow, she sat down on the grass and drew Jace next to her. Lying close to each other, she hugged him.
“I don't have an answer for you. Maybe your mother wasn't strong enough to live without him. Maybe she didn't want to live anymore but didn't want you to be alone and feel abandoned either. Maybe she needed to bring you with her and your father to be together forever. Whatever it was, you are here. Forgive them and forget their mistakes. It’s your task and your privilege building your life only relying upon your conscience, to use this life you received, however you got it, and make it something worth living. Look at this meadow: the grass strives to grow, the flowers yearn to bloom, there is no reason for this, they are driven by life force, because life itself is precious in its own reality. Place your hand on the ground, take a handful of dirt and draw strength from it. And from my love ".
Jace looked at her and took her hand, squeezing it. "My anchor, my pillar of strength - he sighed - You're right, anyway, we are doomed to survive." They got up, went back in front of the graves. Jace brushed the gravestones with his hand, a light touch like a spring breeze, a look into his eyes saying "I'll be worthy".