Dedicated to Disturbing Emily for being one of my most frequent reviewers, thank you, it means a lot.

Author's Note: An alternative universe fan fiction. Eventually features all of your old favourite characters in new roles, in a new archaic world (that last statement is totally contradictory but, oh well). Takes place in the Kingdom of Alicante. Downworlders, demons and Shadowhunters still exist. Later it will be quite Malec centric

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own any of Cassandra Clare's characters or concepts.

Sweat was pouring down Alexander Lightwood's back as he roughly pulled his heavily embroidered jacket off and flung it to the floor. Peter stepped back as his pulse raced with adrenalin at the ferocity of the fight. But before long their swords were clashing once again, the biting crash of metal against metal held their audience in awe as they watched the skilled young men swivel and turn as if they were locked in an impassioned dance from which neither could break free.

Alec's teeth clenched with every impact. He could see blood trickling from a thin cut on his arm that was quickly dying the white of his shirt scarlet. Peter on the other hand was unscathed and everybody wondered at his courage to spill the blood of the Duke's son. Not just any Duke, but the Duke of Glass who was Lord President of the Regency Council of King Jonathon.

And yet there was no slowing down in the fight, although the agitation of Alexander in the face of such embarrassment was clear. That the son of a merchant should better that of a Duke was humiliating. So he fought on with a renewed intensity that frightened Peter, but not enough to make him give in. They were at a terrifying stalemate, and there was fire in Alexander Lightwood's eyes that seemed to have the devil in it.

The only thing that prevented further injury to either party was the arrival of a fumbling page boy who ran down the stone steps leading to the courtyard so fast that twice he almost lost his balance, and the third time he luckily fell in to the backs of three of the crowded soldiers who were watching the duel.

"I-I'm sorry, I," he mumbled awkwardly as one of the soldiers set him back on his feet. They were all wearing the same royal blue uniform with gold broach and buttons. Tall and thick with muscle; the three stared at him uninterestedly. To the page boy they all looked remarkably similar as if they were just a sample of a common stock of made to order soldiers. Their gaze made him shudder.

He began to put his thumb up to his mouth, the remnants of an old habit he had had since childhood and secretly still gave in to when he went up to his cold chamber every night. Now, however, he managed to stop himself. He puffed his chest out as much as he could manage and practically stood on his tiptoes, trying desperately to make himself as big as possible as if he were a physical representation of the importance of the message he held. To the soldiers he gave off the impression of a startled cat on the defensive. One of the nameless soldiers couldn't help but giggle slightly at the self-righteous page, however the middle one was quite obviously the alpha male and with one glare he silenced his rude friend who blushed faintly under the pressure.

"What is your business, man, out with it," the man's voice was booming and caught the attention of several onlookers who shifted their gaze away from the fight to peer at the scene, however they were not distracted for long. Soon enough a renewed clashing of metal drew their attentions back to the onslaught.

"I have a message for Lord Lightwood, it is quite urgent that I talk to him at once." The stutter was gone and now that the page had reached familiar territory he gained a more natural air of authority that had a much more impressionable effect on the soldiers then the superficial strength displayed moments before.

The Alpha nodded slightly in response before turning round and opening his mouth wide. "AN URGENT MESSAGE FOR LORD LIGHTWOOD," he boomed.

The page had thought the man's voice could not have gotten any louder than it had the first time he addressed him. However, as with most things in the young page's life thus far he had been proved wrong. The man's words seemed to echo off of every surface.

The duel was at an end, an unsatisfactory end, but an end nonetheless. Peter dropped his sword first, throwing his arms up in to the air until Alexander dropped his own weapon, resignation clearly shining in his blue eyes.

Peter bowed deeply to him, the ends of his coattails brushing against his immaculately polished boots. "Until the next time, my Lord."

Alexander grunted in return whilst he picked up his jacket from where he had left it. Delicately, he laid it over his injured arm before making his way through the already parting crowd.

When he reached the page boy he didn't slacken his pace, instead he walked right past him and ascended the stone steps, running his free hand through his hair as he did so.

The Page watched him leave, dumbfounded, until he came to his senses and hurried after the young Lord. As they withdrew the scene the soldiers came back to life, going up to Pete Malley and patting him on the back with rigorous cheer.

Alexander could hear them laughing as he left. His breathing was still ragged from the fight, and from his own fury.

"My Lord!"

Alexander was marching through the royal gardens now. The roses were in full bloom, pink ones, white ones and red ones. But he couldn't care less about roses. Not right now. Angrily he stomped through a flower bed as he took a short cut up to the castle wall and then hauled himself up through one of the ground floor windows.

"My Lord?" The page stood behind him, watching his unusual behaviour with worry.

Alexander sighed and then leaned back out of the window. The page boy wasn't one that he could remember seeing before, then again he never really concentrated on remembering their faces or their names for that matter.

"Let me guess, the King received a letter from my father this morning that he wishes to discuss with me?"

The page smiled awkwardly before nodding in assent. He was just about to open his mouth when Alexander turned away from the window and made his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace.

The young page looked down at the ruined flowerbed at his feet and groaned as he heard the familiar whistling of the perfectionist gardener, Raynard, coming around the corner. Today was not Adam's day.

"You took your time arriving, Alec. You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

"I'm sorry, your majesty, I had business to attend to before I could meet you."

"Don't be so formal when you address me, it annoys me like you wouldn't believe, Alec. We were bought up as if we were brothers. So stop mucking about."

Alec rolled his eyes at the young king's back. "Fine, what did you want to talk about, Jace?"

Jace turned around from the strange little wooden contraption he had been inspecting on the dining table. A shark like smile was pasted across his handsome face. The sunlight flooding the room through the ground to ceiling windows reflected off his golden hair made it seem as if he wore a permanent crown. Alec would have likened it to a halo in his mind's eye if he hadn't been better acquainted with the young king's fiery personality. But he could not question the king's beauty. He was almost too perfect to look at.

Jace watched carefully as he saw Alec drink in his appearance. He shrugged lightly as he turned away once again to pick up an unrolled parchment from the table. Leaning on a chest of drawers Jace read the letter to his adoptive brother.

"Dear blah, blah, blah. We are all very well, etc, etc. We wished to inform you of our progress on our diplomatic mission to the Kingdom of Avalon. It is our great pleasure to inform you that his gracious majesty, King Luke, has shown great interest in your merits both in combat and intellectually. Considering the ever nearing time of your majority he has, with great generosity offered you his daughter's hand in marriage. This would be of great benefit to both of our kingdoms and we shall soon be returning with Princess Clarissa so that you may officially court each other and she may grow accustomed to the ways of our own fair kingdom."

As he finished reading Jace let go of the letter as if disgusted by its contents, but his half smile stated otherwise. Alec watched the parchment in mournful silence as it fell to the floor. It felt like a death sentence.

"Marriage? You are to be married?"

"I had rather expected you to be quicker on the uptake then this." Jace drawled.

"You're not going to agree to it are you?" Alec felt lost in a whirlwind that wouldn't die down.

Jace shrugged. "I turn eighteen next month. No more Regency Council, no more bossy Dukes, Duchesses and their sons, to order me around." He grinned at Alec as he finished his sentence. "Why shouldn't I start thinking about having a wife? I'll need a Queen."

Alec shook his head. " No. Just... no. Jace, you know I care about you. I honestly don't think this is the best move for you. If you need me to, I can send them a letter. Get them to postpone the engagement until-"

"Until you decide I'm ready for marriage?" Jace cut him off.

Alec's face turned from confusion to anger. He felt a painful twinge in his wounded left arm (carefully wrapped in tight bandages). "Why did you bring me here Jace? You knew how I would react; did you just want a good laugh?"

Jace looked out of the window absentmindedly, as if he were only partially present in the conversation. "To some extent... Yes I did just want to see the look on your face. You have the weirdest reactions sometimes, Alec."

Alec stared at him, his face turned to stone. "Sometimes I really, really-"

He groaned in agitation as he ran his hand through his hair gripping it tightly at the back, hurting himself in the process. But he couldn't care less about that pain; it was the pain in his heart that hurt the most. Jonathon, Jace. His adopted brother, the young King of Alicante, had been at the centre of his world since before he could remember. He couldn't quite remember when exactly brotherly affection had turned to infatuation. He did everything in his power to cover the true depth of his feelings but a part of him always wondered if Jace had seen it from the very beginning. And this... this was just a cruel from of torture and Alec was sure, sure on his own sister's life that Jace must know otherwise he wouldn't have done this.

"Do you hate me, Alec?" The question came out of the blue to Alec but then considering his emotional outburst he wasn't entirely surprised that Jace had managed to deduce the essence of his unfinished statement.

"No."

"Sometimes, I wish you would."