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Jace is standing in his office, hands twisting together nervously, hair still tousled from sleep. And he asks. And Robert leans back in his chair and knows.
He knows that it'll never work out, that they have their fathers' past looming over them.
You know what they say. Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it.
But how can he tell them the truth? How can he tell them that Michael loved him far beyond a friend's love, a parabatai's love? How can he tell them that he single handedly tore Michael apart, right in front of him, tore into him like they were enemies?
He can't.
So he uses age as an excuse. They have till eighteen after all.
Alexander asks him next, two years later. Robert rubs his chin and tells his son that a parabatai bond is no small matter and that they should consider it for a bit longer.
Eventually, Robert runs out of excuses and allows the two to bond. Perhaps they won't ruin themselves. He looks at Jace's easy smile and carefree attitude and it's like seeing Michael again. He looks at Alexander and sees himself, that stubborn pride, that cool exterior. But it is tempered with a quiet gentleness and naïveté. Maybe Alexander will save them.
He doesn't.
Robert watches the pair closely and at first, all is well. But then he notices.
Alexander, his first born son. Alexander, flushing red when Jace ruffles his hair. Alexander, biting his lip and following Jace's every move when his parabatai is training alone. Alexander, his hand lingering a moment too long on Jace's arm when they touch.
Karma's a bitch.
She switched the roles. Now Alexander is the one loving from afar and Jace is the blind, self-centered one.
Part of him says, "Yes, this is right. I have to make this right." Because Valentine may have killed Michael physically, but Robert was the one who destroyed his heart.
But then part of him says, "No, not my son. Not my beloved Alexander. Take it out on me, not him." He can't let his son hurt like he hurt Michael.
So he tries to stamp out the attraction. Stamp out the kindness and love.
"Alexander, be more assertive. Toughen up." Harden that soft heart, don't beg him. He doesn't deserve you.
"Alexander, when are you going to show an interest in girls?" You can't have him. He'll break your heart.
"Alexander, don't cry. It's unbecoming of a man." Michael, don't cry. Please don't. I didn't meant to...
"Alexander, stop staring after Jace. What do you think you're doing?" Don't look at me like that, Michael. I don't know what to say.
"Alexander." Michael.
Soon it becomes second nature. And if Alexander learns to hate his father's hard critiques, well, it's for his own good. Robert is trying to protect him.
Then Magnus Bane appears. Robert remembers him from the Circle days. Even then he was known for his decadent, promiscuous lifestyle.
And Magnus Bane starts showing a distinct interest in his son.
Not again, Robert thinks.
Bane is notorious for his fickle love life and playboy tendencies. Robert will be damned if his son is taken in by the dirty Underworlder.
Now that Jace's father has been revealed to be Stephen Herondale, Robert only has to worry about the warlock. But Alexander has grown to abhor his father's advice. Robert has never been gentle. And all he can do is watch as the pair kiss in front of the whole Clave, Alexander's arms wound 'round the warlock, both pairs of eyes closed, not caring about anyone or anything.
He can't do anything about it.
His son. His life.
At the wedding, he watches, fuming, as Alexander leans into the arms of the dark skinned man. When will he learn to protect his heart? He can't even get out of that damn Wayland brat's shadow. And then he stops. Because here is the problem. Robert has gotten so invested in righting his mistake that he has ruined his relationship with his son, sullied the memory of his best friend, and destroyed the only substantial family he had.
He messed up. Again. It seems he's doomed to a lifetime of mistakes.
I'm so sorry, Michael. Perhaps I did love you the way you loved me. We'll never know.
I'm sorry, Maryse. You deserve someone infinitely better than me and I pray you'll find him.
I'm sorry, Isabel. I love you. I wish I could have been a good father.
And Alexander. My dear boy. Forgive me. Everything I did for you, I meant for good.
He thinks back to that fateful day, when the blonde boy had asked in anxious tones, "Please, sir. Would you let me and Alec bond as parabatai?" How could he tell them the truth? He couldn't then. But now...
Robert straightens, brushes off his suit, and digs up old memories that haven't stirred in years.
It is time to tell Alexander about Michael Wayland.
If you can't forgive me, perhaps you can understand.