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stabbydragon · 6 months

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Lights Out

Jesse awakes to find himself alive. However, his mother has bargained something he was not ready to sacrifice. How can he live when the brightest light in his existence has been extinguished?

*Don't worry guys, Lucie's not gone forever!

The first thing Jesse noticed was that he had been awoken by the sound of a sharp breath and the pounding of a heart. His own breath and his own heart. But that was entirely impossible. He was dead. Wasn't he?

Unless—what if Grace and Lucie had done something dangerous to bring him back and were now in trouble? He opened his eyes to look for them and opened his mouth to call their names, but what came out instead was a yelp of unpleasant shock. He sat up and scuttled back, squished against the top of his coffin.

The second thing Jesse noticed was that the breath and heartbeat might not have been only his own at all. His mother's eerily familiar poison green eyes were peering at him, too close to allow comfort. Her face had more wrinkles and her head more white hairs than when he last saw her six months prior. The whites of her eyes were tinted red. Whether with tears, sleep deprivation, some sort of substance, or simple madness, Jesse was not sure. Knowing his mother, the answer was most likely all of the above.

"Jesse," she said. "My son, I have finally found a way to bring you back. I have worked endlessly to find a way…"

She continued rambling, but Jesse took no notice, because the third thing he noticed was someone crying out for help. A voice he recognized all too well. Grace.

He leaned to one side to peer behind his mother and caught sight of his younger sister standing in the middle of Chiswick’s ballroom. She seemed to be struggling against something in the attempt to escape, only there was nothing there. It seemed as though she was fighting thin air. He dug his fingers into the lining of his casket, and that was when it occurred to him.

I have no voyance rune. The thing she was fighting must have been some sort of demon that was invisible to him. But if he couldn't see his enemy, how could he help Grace?

And why wasn't Tatiana doing anything? She had never been the most attentive parent, but Jesse never imagined that she would pay so little heed to her adopted daughter's cries. Was she truly so selfish as to ignore the fact that the life of the girl she brought into the family was in danger?

He shoved his mother away, ignoring her offended spluttering—

And he stopped in his tracks, because the fourth thing he noticed was Lucie—his Lucie—sprawled upon the floor, face down and unmoving. There was a large spot of blood on the back of her dress, and some on the floor around her. She looked as though she were dead.

His first instinct was to deny it. Surely Lucie was too strong, too clever, too powerful to die at sixteen. No, she must just be unconscious or something of the like. But then what had happened to her, and why was she not waking up? The panic pooling in his stomach was one step away from coming back up his throat.

His mother, noticing his staring, nonchalantly confirmed his worst fears: "The Prince of Necromancers would not accept just any payment. It had to be someone of his own blood." She spoke of Lucie with disdain, as though she was some disgusting, filthy, cursed object and not the most wonderful person he had ever met, the one bright light that made his dark, miserable existence worth it.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Jesse demanded. He was not in the habit of cursing, as Tatiana well knew, but in this scenario, he felt he was more than entitled to swear. In fact, Lucie would probably highly encourage him to swear.

Tatiana raised her chin stubbornly. “It was a necessary sacrifice—”

She was shut up by the impact of Jesse’s fist in her jaw. She doubled over, hissing in pain, and glared at Jesse in shock and offence. She brought her fingers to her mouth, and when she drew it away, there was blood in her mouth and on her hand and face.

Jesse was about to hit her again for that facial expression, as though he had just betrayed her and not the other way around, when a metallic clink sounded at his feet. He glanced towards his sister momentarily. His brain was not exactly working at the moment, but he deduced that Grace had managed to kill her captor and throw him a knife. She was looking at him intensely, and he knew perfectly well what she meant. It was his choice what to do.

He shouldn’t. He knew that. It was against all of his morals to kill another human being, even if they were a terrible person.

But then Lucie came into his mind. His Lucie, who he had tried to convince so many times not to get herself hurt on his behalf. Well, it seems that all of his words were in vain.

Never once looking away from his staring contest with Tatiana, Jesse bent down to pick up the dagger. He had made his choice—was it even a choice, or his very fate, his duty?

Tatiana made no move to escape or defend herself as Jesse drove the knife into her heart. He and his sister watched as the life slipped out of their mother's eyes and she fell to the ground—no. Not his mother. She didn’t deserve to be considered his family after what she did to Lucie.

He supposed he must have assumed he was crying, as would be the expected reaction of someone who had just lost somebody they loved as much as he loved Lucie, but he had not quite realised how hard he was sobbing or shaking until his knees gave out. Luckily, by that time, Grace had reached him and was able to catch him before he fell. He gave her a small nod in gratitude, as that was all that he was able to manage.

Grace helped him for the few steps it took to reach Lucie’s body, then let him go. He fell on his knees, which was good because he desperately wanted to be close to her.

He took a hold of Lucie’s hand, stroked the back of it with his thumb, and brought it to his cheek, where a few of his tears fell on it. Dear God, she was so cold. He had never felt her temperature, but he had spent more time in the past four months than he would care to admit imagining how warm she would be, how her heartbeat would feel. Now he would never find out.

It took him a while to notice that Grace had her arm wrapped around his shoulders, and that she was shedding tears of her own. He had always been the only one to whom she would show her true emotions, but even he had not seen her truly weep since the few weeks after his own death.

The fifth thing Jesse noticed, albeit as though from afar, was the sound of a door opening, followed by a pair of screams. He recognised the voices, but unlike Grace’s, he was not familiar enough with them to be able to tell who it was until one of them spoke with a breaking voice.

“What happened? Is she alright? Who did this? Did you hurt her?” Ah. It was James. That meant that the other person must have been Cordelia.

Jesse tried to respond, but his mouth would not even open. Fortunately, Grace saved him the trouble by saying, “Of course not! We would never hurt her! But she–she’s…” The last word, gone, hung in the air, causing Cordelia to let out a muffled cry and James to grip his wife’s arm tightly.

Jesse could not help but tune out Grace’s explanation of whatever it was that Tatiana did to Lucie. Judging by the length of the monologue, she was probably also filling them in on Jesse and Lucie’s history so they would be less mistrustful.

He paid slightly more attention, though that was not much, when James and Cordelia took turns recounting in quavering, teary voices how Lucie was supposed to have dinner at their house with their friends. When she had not arrived for an hour, they assumed that she had lost track of time writing, but when they called the institute, Will and Tessa had said that she was not home. They had used a tracking rune to find out that she was in Chiswick, but the rune had vanished about ten minutes ago.

“That’s about when I woke up,” Jesse managed to say, unsteadily getting to his feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

But neither of them were looking at him. Cordelia had her face buried in her hands, and James…

James was looking right past his shoulder, his eyes and mouth open wide. “Lucie,” he whispered. “You’re a ghost!”

With a gasp, Jesse spun around to face the direction in which James was looking. When one became a ghost after death, it meant that they were not at peace, as he was not at peace. What was keeping Lucie restless? Was she angry about how her life was sacrificed for his without a second thought? Of course she was. Nobody could be anything other than enraged and devastated at the injustice of what had happened to her. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was lingering for a little longer, Jesse thought selfishly, because he desperately needed to apologise to her.

“Lucie, if you can hear me, if you’re really here,” he somehow managed to keep his voice from breaking, though it was certainly shaky, “I am so sorry that it turned out this way. You know I never wanted this to happen to you. You have so many friends and family who love you. I only have you and Grace.” He shut his eyes as tightly as he could in a fruitless effort to keep his tears in. “I wish I were still dead.”

Suddenly, he felt an icy pressure on his cheek in the perfect shape of a hand, and then he heard her voice. “Oh, Jesse, don’t say that. You know I hate hearing you say things like that.”

His eyes flew open to look at her. God, she looked so ethereal, translucent and almost radiating light. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, hold her tightly to him, make sure she would not leave him, but he was stopped by his reflexes. She would be so insubstantial, and it would only take the slightest pressure for his arms to merely go through her. Even the mere touch of her palm was an agonising reminder that she was no longer alive because of him. He could not stand the thought of getting closer or pulling away, and thus he remained perfectly frozen.

“Trust me when I say that there is objectively no one in all the world who deserves to live as much as you do,” said Lucie.

Jesse made a face that was something like a smile, but too sorrowful to be described as such. “You say objectively, but I’m pretty sure you’re biassed.”

She moved as though to cross her arms, but Jesse frantically caught her hand as though he would die if she stopped touching him for a moment. He sighed internally in relief when she remained solid and didn’t pull away. However, she did shift so two of her fingers were pressing his pulse, smiling when she found that it was racing. As always, that damned smile of hers could brighten up the world.

"You once told me that I lived up to my name by being a light in your lightless existence," she said, "but you could be just as bright. Tatiana tried to dim you like a cloud. Take this opportunity to show the world what it's been deprived of for so long. I want to see what you become, Jesse, with a second chance. I want to see how brightly you burn."

He fought through a sob. "Lucie… I don't know how I managed to exist so long before I met you. The thought of losing you when we’ve had so little time, when I’ve only just come back to life…would it even count as a life?”

"You can live without me, Jesse." She stepped closer to him. "But you won't have to. I don't plan on departing for quite a while to come. Death can't do us apart, after all," she added with a smirk.

Jesse's breath caught in his lungs, which made him wonder if he was dying all over again. "Really?" he choked out. "You won't leave me? You promise?"

"I promise not to go anywhere until I can go with you," she said. "But please, Jesse, swear to me that you won't do anything to speed up that process, will you? Promise that we won't end up like Romeo and Juliet."

"I swear."

He didn't get it. He didn't get why she would choose to be with him over the choice of a peaceful rest.

Still, this time, when his soul screamed for him to embrace her, his body followed the command with fervour. He held her tightly, and she returned the hug with equal firmness. Her lips found his for a quick kiss.

“I get it now,” he said, caressing her gelid cheek, “why you and Grace did the things you did.”

“And I get why you were so insistent on us stopping.” Lucie reached up to wipe away the tear rolling down his face. “But I’m not like you, darling. I’m not in that same twilight state; I’m simply dead.”

“You can’t simply be all right with all of this.” Jesse shook his head.

Lucie brought a hand to run her fingers through his hair endearingly. “ Of course I’m not all right with it, but it’s simply what is. I cannot come back as cleanly as you have, and certainly not without murder. Besides, you have a life to live; necromancy would only complicate it.”

“I seem to recall telling you the exact same thing,” Jesse glared.

Lucie started to laugh in that adorable way of hers that made his previously nonexistent breath catch, but she was cut off by Cordelia’s interruption—which was louder than strictly necessary, in Jesse’s opinion.

“Necromancy?” Cordelia exclaimed, her voice a higher pitch than usual. “Lucie, what is happening? And why did you never tell me about…whatever this is?” She was trembling.

Right. Jesse had forgotten that she, James, and Grace were still in the room, hearing their conversation. Only then did he consider how odd it must be for the couple to see the ghost of someone they were so close with talking with and embracing an unfamiliar boy who had been dead for seven years as though they had known each other for ages. In fact, he was surprised that neither of them had spoken up earlier. Perhaps they had, and he and Lucie were too focused on each other to notice.

Lucie stepped away from Jesse and towards Cordelia, though she deliberately entwined her hand with his, for which he was grateful.

"I'm sorry for keeping things from you Daisy." she says. "I want to tell you everything, but it’s a terribly long story.”

“I have time.”

“I don’t. I’m starting to understand why Jessamine hates making herself visible. It’s exhausting. I swear it’s not an excuse to get out of telling you the truth. I’ll tell you everything if you come to the institute first thing tomorrow morning, so my parents can hear it too. But I can’t show myself for much longer right now.” She sighed.

Cordelia stepped forward towards her friend. “Lucie…”

Lucie, glancing back, let go of Jesse’s hand and glided to her friend. The loss of contact with her made Jesse’s heart plummet, but he fought the urge to rush back to her side. Lucie wrapped her arms around Cordelia’s shoulders, and the latter hesitated before returning the gesture.

“I wish we could have gotten the chance to become parabatai, Daisy,” Lucie said, "but you'll see me again.”

“Lucie…” It was clear that she wanted to say goodbye, but instead she settled for, “I’ll see you later.”

Lucie, with a sad smile, turned back to her lover. She placed one hand in his and another on his shoulder as though they were about to dance the waltz. Jesse mirrored the analogy by putting a hand on her waist.

"I'm about to stop being visible," she told him. "You won't be able to see me. Only James and my father will be. But I'll still be here, right next to you."

"I love you, Lucie."

"I love you too." She vanished, and his arms dropped to his sides.

He had pictured her slowly fading from view or dissolving into the air, but instead she simply flickered out like a light. One moment she was clearly there right in front of him, and the next, that space seemed too empty. However, judging by the frigid temperature of the air around him and the way James' eyes anxiously followed a spot right next to him, he knew that Lucie had kept her promise.

There was a stretch of silence which was interrupted by Grace clearing her throat.

“Excuse me, I hate to interrupt your moment, but do we have a plan for Jesse? We can’t just waltz in and tell the whole Clave that a boy who’s been dead for seven years has just been resurrected by illegal means—”Jesse flinched. “And he’ll need a place to stay. It can’t be here, and it can’t be Bridgestock Manor.”

James wearily replied, “He can come to the London Institute. It’s where Shadowhunters usually go when they’re in need of a place to stay. In the morning, my parents, the Lightwoods, and the Fairchilds can figure out what to do with the Clave.”

“I doubt they’d be too pleased with me after what just happened,” Jesse said, looking at the ground.

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think they’ll hold anything against you for what happened to Lucie, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“She’s right,” James nodded. “They’ve all been wanting to meet you for a long time and were devastated when you died. They love you even though they don’t know you, and they’ll be glad to finally get that chance. Besides, they’re reasonable. They won’t blame you.”

Jesse did not think that James made a particularly convincing argument, but then he added, “Also, Lucie says that she will speak on your behalf against anyone who does.”

Jesse looked to where he hoped Lucie’s eyes were with a grateful expression.

“So,” Cordelia said,” shall we head to the Institute?”

***

Will and Tessa were devastated, of course, at the death of their daughter. They cried the whole night while Grace recounted the tale of Lucie’s death and Jesse’s resurrection. Lucie also added some commentary to Will, who repeated it for his wife’s sake. She saved the story of how she and Jesse met for the morning when she had enough energy to tell it herself, but she did summarise the story of the golden locket.

Despite the Herondales’ grief and anger towards Tatiana, James and Cordelia were right. They were nothing but warm and welcoming towards Jesse. They expressed their gratitude for saving their son’s life by offering him housing for as long as he wanted it, for which he thanked them profusely.

James and Cordelia ended up staying at the Institute for the week. They wanted to be close to James’ parents during their time of grief and to hear Lucie’s explanation first thing in the morning. Grace stayed as well to keep her brother company in the room directly next to his.

That night, Jesse slept for the first time in seven years. However, with that sleep came his first nightmare in seven years. In it, Tatiana was holding a knife that was aimed towards his heart. She kept on lunging and just barely missing. Then her face morphed into Lucie’s. “I’ll never forgive you,” she said before striking him directly in the heart. He fell through a pitch black void. He called Lucie’s name, but no light penetrated the darkness.

He woke up bathed in sweat with the sounds of his own screams ringing in his ears. His eyes flew open, his pupils dilated in their eagerness to find light. His racing heart immediately calmed once he spotted the light of his life.

Lucie was sitting at the edge of his bed—how very improper—with her hand in his hair. She was humming the tune to some children’s song that Jesse didn’t know, then stopped. “I’m right here, Jesse,” she said. “I will never leave you.”

@ghostwriterfest

#the last hours #tlh #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #jesse blackthorn #lucie herondale #grace blackthorn #ghostwriter #blackdale #heronthorn #jesse x lucie #juice #lucie x jesse #luciejesse #ghostwriterfest #tlh fanfiction #tsc fanfiction

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laylax13s · 1 year

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Precious

chapter 2 : I Gotta Get Out Of Here

TW/CW: child @bus3, @lc0h0l @bus3, t0x!c relationship, emotional @buse

“Your hair is growin out again-” Elias said with floppy words, already slipping away mid-sentence, passing out. Alastair quickly grabbed his shirt and reached under his arm to stop him from falling to the ground.

They were behind a bar in Kensington, not so far from Cornwall Gardens. It was around midnight, taking Alastair two hours to find his father. A man passed by them, not even stopping for a minute to ask if everything is okay, Alastair glared at him. Not like he would let the stranger help though, since they had to hide it, keep it a secret from the world. It was not fair, he thought, but it was what it was.

He let go of Elias for a second to get a bucket of cold water from the bar. He then poured the water on the man, gathering all his self-control not to throw the bucket on him as well. He woke up all of a sudden, glaring at his son. They just glared at each other like that for a few seconds before Alastair said, “Stand up.”. Elias held his chin up high, still laying on the ground, unable to put his pride away even for a second. Alastair sighed and held his hand out for his father. The man seemed to be thinking about it for a second, but eventually let the boy help him up. The latter practically dragged him over the hidden alleys of Kensington so that no one would see them.

Once they arrived home, he helped Elias on to a couch, and left to the kitchen. There were some wine bottles there left, he didn’t know how Cordelia didn’t notice it.

When he finished, he checked once more if his father was sleeping, then went to his room. He didn’t rest though, he changed clothes and walked out into the cold night again.

------

Once he was at the Fairchild manor, he checked his pocket watch, it was 01:23. Charles should be here in any minute now. Just with that thought, the red-haired man appeared at the door, looking around, then settling his eyes on Alastair. The latter’s heart skipped a beat at that, but then he reminded himself he is not here to stand and stare so he gave a huge jump over the fence and landed stably on the other side. He straightened up and walked over to the entrance. Charles opened the door for him, quickly closing it after them. The silence surrounding them was uncomfortable, simply being here was uncomfortable for Alastair, he hated it when he came over to Charles and not the other way around.

The mentioned led him into the drawing room, as always. As soon as they were inside and Alastair took his coat off, Charles grabbed his collar to drag him closer and kissed him. Alastair opened his mouth and brought his hands up to pull Charles even closer, deepening the kiss. The latter started towards the couch, dragging the other along. Alastair laid down on it, pulling Charles on top of him and starting to unbutton his waistcoat, still not breaking the kiss.

When they finally broke away, neither of them had any clothing on.

“I love you,” Alastair murmured. Charles did not reply, instead kissed him again.

------

After a few hours (Charles didn’t even have to say it anymore), Alastair dressed up and left. It was still only 4 am, everyone still asleep, the moon high on the sky. After taking a deep breath, he was already on his way back to Cornwall Gardens.

When in his room, he finally could flop down on his bed and take a small rest. But even after about half an hour, sleep wouldn’t come to him. He groaned in frustration, and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He decided it was best to change clothes and get ready for the new day.

He chose to wear black trousers with a white shirt and wine-red waistcoat, it will match perfectly with his mahogany-red coat. That was when he heard a knock on his door, again. Who might be awake in these hours?

He walked to the door to open it, with a frown. To his not such big surprise, Risa stood in front of it.

“Did you get home safely?” the woman asked in Farsi. He nodded,

“Yes, thank you for asking.” he answered in the same language. Risa nodded too,

“Good; I made you Adasi. It’s waiting for you downstairs.” she said and turned around to leave. Risa woke up every morning to check if Alastair was alright, she knew about his nightly “adventures”.

After having breakfast, it was time for daily patrol. He got assigned to Anna Lightwood, great, he thought and rolled his eyes.

Anna was twenty minutes late, not even apologizing. Typical conceited rich white child, he thought, just like Matthew Fairchild. They started walking, though when he confronted her, “You are twenty minutes late.” the only thing she said was,

“Only fashionable, of course.” Annoying little twit-

“So how are you and Fairchild, the elder one?” she said, completely out of the blue. Alastair was startled, and immediately stopped walking.

“Pardon?” he asked, acting as if nothing happened. Anna gave him a smile of success (in what though?),

“Do you mean “Pardon” as if you want me to repeat my question, or “Pardon” as if you are too startled that I confronted you that you don’t know what else to say?” asked, even though they both knew the answer to that question. Alastair glared at her,

“I mean it as if you wouldn’t know the meaning of privacy.” he hissed sharply. Anna hummed, shrugging, and continuing the walk. Alastair sucked in a breath and followed her.

“Reasonable,” she said, “Then again, I do have something to do with it since the younger Fairchild brother, is my best friend, of course.” Enough was enough. He stopped again, this time talking in a way harder and stronger voice.

“You and your little “circus” have nothing to do with me and my life, so stay out of it!” he ordered. Now Anna realized it was best if she didn’t try to get gossip out of him, or even try with small talk.

The day went away slowly, and boringly (as most times), but it did go away. Once the sun wasn’t visible anymore, he nodded to Anna as a farewell, and started his way home. No demons today, either. London was a boring city, with boring people, who had either scandalous lives or no life at all. There were two categories: The first one being the one full of idiotic children who thought they knew everything about life and thought everything was so easy and that they were the main characters in a book, the other category were the more mature ones who decided to sell their soles to politics and live in secret. For example, Charles. He was a promising man, with a seemingly perfect life, the only problem was he had a fake bride and he was secretly gay and had a secret lover who was also a man. For another example, Matthew. He was a little brainless inept child, who thought he can solve all the problem in the world by drinking away his money and wasting his life for love and other drugs while giving away all the opportunity of becoming something by being open about his sexuality. And these were brothers, ironic, isn’t it?

He didn’t even realize but he got home somehow. When walking inside, the first thing to do was check on his sister. That was when he realized, Layla wasn’t home.

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end notes : I made this with @thelasthours-alastair

Taglist : @melanielocke @astriefer @life-through-the-eyes-of @all-for-the-fanfiction @thelasthours-alastair @lightstairs1902 @mariiaarranz @unpaididiot @punk-with-trauma @cityofthomastair5

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #charles fairchild #anti charles fairchild #thomas and alastair #alastair x thomas #thomastair #thomastairs #thomastair fanfiction #thomastair fanfic #the last hours #the last hours fanfiction #tlh fanfiction #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie x Cordelia #tw abuse #tw alcoholism

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icarusflewbeforehefell · 1 year

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Ocean

"𝑴𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒊 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒅, 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆. 𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔.

𝑴𝒚 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝒊𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂"

#alastair carstairs #sona carstairs #tlh fanfiction

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heronchildlove · 10 months

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(DON’T) TELL ME GOODBYE CHAPTER 3 IS UP!

Fic Summary: Matthew gets turned into a werewolf when him and James are separated and James thinks he is dead, but is there still hope for them, after all?

(Read here on AO3 from the start!)

Warning! Depression and suicidal thoughts are strong in this chapter

SNEAK PEEK!

It turned out heroical declarations of intent worked better when you weren’t so weak you couldn’t even get out of bed by yourself.

When James tried getting up, his knees failed from under him, unable to support his own weight, and he fell back on his bed with a startle. He hadn't paid attention to his body in so long, neglecting himself in his grief for weeks, that he was only now realising how alien it seemed: taut and brittle and shaky. The skin felt pulled tight over his hands, his knees and his cheekbones, and he didn't need to look into the water basin his father had brought him in silent support to know he must have looked awful, but the face staring back at him raised an alarm inside he hadn't felt in a long time...

Read chapter on AO3

#heronchild #james herondale #matthew fairchild #tlh #the last hours #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf au #nandawrites #mine #original #tsc fanfiction #tlh fanfiction

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notalotgoingonatthemomentsblog · 7 months

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Ghostwriter Fanfic

word count: 3737

this is my first fic so be nice... literally just a fic about lucie getting injured... VERY FLUFFY !

Firsts

Lucie wished the foggy London night were more memorable, given that this was a rather special one. She wasn’t expecting anything too absurd, but a few falling stars or an aurora would have been appreciated.

She supposed patrol was going well enough, so far. She was used to going with her parabatai, but given that her and James had just returned from Amsterdam the evening before, she thought it best that Cordelia rested after her long day of travel.

This was supposed to be her first official night patrol with Jesse since returned from their honeymoon. These milestones weren't very important to others, but they were important to her. She mentally tallied all of their firsts as husband and wife like it was a crucial quest: their first time having eggs at breakfast, their first stroll along the Thames, their first time bickering.

That night, they had geared up, Lucie polishing and sharpening her throwing ax, before stepping out with Jesse who was also fully clad in black. He had reached out his hand for her, like the gentleman she knew he was. “After you, milady.” She had just poked him in the ribs and walked past him, into the dimly lit street. He chuckled as he caught up to her.

It was a quiet night. They walked together shoulder to shoulder, content with each other’s presence, not having much to say besides the occasional remark. Eventually, Jesse had started asking her specific questions on the draft of the latest chapter in her manuscript that she had let him read the night before. They had ended up in a dark neighborhood of London– deep yet narrow alleyways periodically interrupted the shabby buildings. Deep in conversation, it was too late when Lucie noticed the dark figure creeping up behind Jesse.

“Look out!” She called, reaching for her ax, and running in front of Jesse but it was too late– the monster had flung a barbed tail forwards across her chest. Hissing in pain, she sank to the floor, ax clattering to the ground, unused.

“Lucie!” Jesse’s footsteps pounded against the cobblestones. She felt warmness pool her chest, dulling the anxiety of Jesse potentially getting injured because of her. She instead focused on the cracked stones in front of her eyes, and nearly shuddered when heard Jesse name his seraph blade and felt ichor splatter on her arms.

A few seconds later, Jesse knelt next to her, propping her head on his leg. “Lucie, can you hear me?” She hummed in acknowledgement but she was so tired…

“Lucie!”

Her head jostled with Jesse’s throttle but she could only mutter under her breath, “Goodnight.”

Jesse should have known that this was not going to go well.

All things considered, he was a new Shadowhunter. Yes, he had received his Voyance rune as a boy, but that was before he died. It was before he had learned what it really meant to train, and fight, and battle. He should have known better than to let his guard down– he wasn’t just responsible for his own life now. The matching marks over his and Lucie's hearts said otherwise.

Before he picked Lucie up, he had drawn some quick iratzes on her arm, and a quick glance confirmed they had already started disappearing. That was not reassuring. He held Lucie’s unconscious body tightly to his chest as he ran to the nearest place he could think of.

Curzon Street.

It was late– he suspected a few hours past midnight– but he hoped they would hear his knocks. He reached their front door and began frantically pounding with his right hand, trying to survey Lucie’s wound, and feeling nauseous at the sight of so much of her blood.

“James! Cordelia!” He banged harder. “Open right now or I will open it myself–”

Mid-knock, the door opened before him, revealing a very tired looking James Herondale, black hair disheveled from sleep. “What–” At the sight of his sister hanging limply in Jesse’s arms, however, his eyes sharpened. Jesse walked past him without being invited in, finding a dark velvet couch in the drawing room to lay her on.

“Daisy!” James called loudly, “Daisy, come down!” He knelt beside Jesse who was hunched over Lucie, adjusting her sleeping frame to properly examine her wound. “What happened, Jesse?” He sounded frantic.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Jesse was desperate, ripping the fabric of her shirt to reveal a long, but luckily, thin looking scratch across her torso.

“Lucie!” Cordelia ran over, her nightgown billowing behind her. She crouched next to James and Jesse, putting a hand on her cheek. Jesse didn’t know if it was his imagination but he could have sworn that Lucie leaned into her touch.

“Let's take her upstairs,” Cordelia said firmly. “We will clean the wound, and I will give her more runes. She will be alright.”

“We should call the Silent Brothers,” James said.

“No.” Lucie mumbled, eyes still closed. Jesse could have cried at the sound, but they all leaned forwards, Jesse reached to brush her hair back. “I’m fine. I think there was something on the talon that got me.” She spoke softly, which was unusual for her. “I need to sleep it off.”

“Lucie…” Jesse muttered, stroking her hair with his shaking hand. She smiled softly, hinting at her dimpled left cheek. Cordelia stood up.

“You heard my parabatai. She doesn’t want to call the Silent Brothers, so we won’t call them.” Jesse and James eyed each other with apprehension, but Jesse figured they had to clean out the wound first, regardless. He stood, scooping Lucie back up into his arms. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder and warmth flooded his chest. He pulled her in closer.

Cordelia turned to James and said, “Stay here, James.” He looked ready to object, but she continued, “We have to dress Lucie’s wound and I doubt she wants you there, considering it's across her chest.”

“What am I supposed to do, then? Nothing?”

“Oh, no. You have a very important task, husband.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, and said, “Make me a cup of tea,” as she walked past him, and up the lavishly carpeted stairs.

James only looked at Jesse with a vague expression of bewilderment, and reluctantly walked towards the kitchen.

Jesse made his way up the stairs.

By the time Jesse arrived at Cordelia's room, she had already set up supplies for Lucie. A bowl of water, strips of cloth, scissors, and more towels were laid out on the bed.

Jesse rested her on the end, and she made a sound of protest as she left the secureness of his arms. This time, he reached out to grab her hand, his thumb rubbing the Blackthorn ring that now lived on her finger.

“Jesse,” Cordelia said softly, reminding him of the task at hand. He cleared his throat and retreated, letting Cordelia survey the wound. She lifted the fabric of Lucie’s shirt, soaked with blood and poison. There was already a tear down the front where the barb cut through, but until she tugged on it, it had stayed together. Now, it seemed that the shirt had been hanging on by a few threads, falling apart under her hands.

“Luce,” Cordelia spoke to Lucie softly, gently tugging at her shirt. “Is it okay if we take this off? To bandage you up?”

“Mm, nothing my husband hasn’t seen and nothing you don’t have yourself, tenfold,” she muttered, her eyes still shut and her voice dripping in grogginess. Cordelia let out a scoff and looked up at Jesse with a smile.

“She’s ridiculous. Do you hear her? She’s going to be fine.” He nearly crumbled at the words.

Jesse helped Cordelia peel the drenched shirt off of her body, wincing as the wound dripped more blood, having nothing to stop the bleeding. He could tell now, though, that it was a lot more shallow than he had initially thought, it was just fairly large, stretching from one shoulder, to the middle of her ribcage on the other side.

Jesse placed a towel on her chest as they wiped off the cut. Cordelia would periodically stop to place an iratze or blood replacing rune, but they worked in silence. The silence was occasionally interrupted with a hiss of pain, or a squeeze of Jesse’s arm, but this only comforted Jesse as it meant that Lucie was lucid enough to feel what was going on. When they were done, Cordelia asked him to lift her torso to more easily bandage her up. Halfway through this process, James knocked at the door, and Cordelia instructed him to leave the tea tray outside the door, and leave. Between the two of them, they were able to easily wrap her up securely, and Jesse felt a lot better now that he saw the clean bandages covering what used to be a bloody mess.

By the time they finished, Lucie's eyes were cracked open, bright blue peeking through her eyelashes. Jesse knelt next to the bed, his face close to hers.

“Do you feel better?”

“Loads.”

He squinted at her in suspicion. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I would never, I promise. Just like I promised to marry you, see?” She extended her left arm, uncoordinated and drunk-like. Her smile was lazy, but sickeningly sweet. She attempted to lift her ring finger to show off her ring, which she still did roughly four times a day, despite having worn it for a few months now. Jesse always found it endearing— like she was still trying to remind herself they had somehow found a happy ending.

He took her hand and kissed it, then leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I love you,” he said. He tried telling her often, but he still felt like he didn’t say it enough to convey how much he felt it.

Lucie let out a drunk giggle, and reached out to pinch both of his cheeks. Then, she threaded her fingers through his hair and slurred, “I love you, my Jess.” His cheeks warmed. Despite their marriage and getting to know each other in the most intimate ways— her loving words still affected him. The use of his nickname, Jess, she also only used when she was feeling particularly soppy.

They shared a gaze for a moment longer before Jesse asked, “Why don’t you want us to call the Silent Brothers?”

She turned her head so she faced the ceiling and took a deep breath, “Because that means something is wrong and I’m fine.” Jesse reached to tilt her face back to him.

“Lucie, look at my shirt.” Although it was already black, it was stained darker with her drying blood. He figured it must have been smeared on his neck and arms, too. She sighed.

“But, I’m alright now.” She squeezed his hand, weakly, as if to emphasize. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was hot.

He stood, announcing to Lucie and Cordelia, who had finished putting away the bandages and now sat on the other side of the bed, “I’m going to find James and tell him that we are done. Maybe he can let me borrow a shirt.”

Cordelia nodded, and said, “He should be in the drawing room. I’ll stay here.” She put her hand on Lucie’s shoulder. He nodded and walked out the room.

Downstairs, it was dark besides a witch light emitting a bluish cast on the drawing room. Shadows of furniture were painted across overflowing bookshelves, but instead of being ominous it inexplicably felt comforting. Jesse found James sitting in the corner, book in hand, but he seemed to be fixated on the view out the window. The sun would be rising soon.

“How is she?” James asked, not looking away.

“She says she's fine.”

“You don’t believe her?”

Jesse took a seat across from James, leaning forward, his elbows on his legs. “I believe she wants to be fine.” James’s golden eyes narrowed. “I was going to ask you if you could call the Silent Brothers.”

He let out a long sigh, “Thank the Angel.”

“What?”

“Oh, I sent my Uncle Jem a fire message a few minutes ago. But I didn’t know if I made the right call.” Jesse smiled thinly and nodded. He should have known that as much as he was worrying, James was likely also pacing his house. Jesse would have done the same thing for Grace.

“Thank you,” He managed, suddenly feeling exhausted.

James only nodded and said, “I’ll wait here. You can go back up and get cleaned up… I won’t tell her that you asked me to call them. I’m okay with being the villain. I may always be Evil Prince James to her.”

Jesse smiled. “If you insist.”

He began walking away but he was stopped by James who called after him, “It’s not your fault, whatever happened. You know that right?” Jesse didn’t know what he thought, so he clenched his fists, and continued going upstairs, not turning back.

It had only been a minute since Jesse had left the room, and Cordelia didn’t know what more to do with herself besides brushing through her parabatai’s hair with her fingers. Occasionally, her fingertips would brush her forehead, and she tried not to be alarmed at the heat that radiated off. She quietly hoped this was just her body fighting off whatever demon poison was making her so lethargic, and not something more grave.

She assumed Lucie wasn’t completely asleep though, especially since she seemed to be able to respond when spoken to, but it was clear she drifted in and out of consciousness. However, she was surprised when Lucie spoke to her first.

“Were you impressed by my assets?” Lucie mumbled, her eyes half lidded. Cordelia snorted.

“I can’t say I was particularly focused on them, given all the blood.”

“It's, okay Daisy, you can say you were underwhelmed, I’m rather secure with myself now.” Her lips stretched into a weak smile. She readjusted herself, wincing slightly as she made room for Cordelia. “Come. You need to sleep, too.”

Cordelia hesitantly joined her, putting her arm around Lucie’s front protectively, careful not to put too much weight on it. She brought her in close, resting her chin on the top of her head. Quietly, tears pricked at her eyes and she was thankful Lucie couldn’t see them. She didn’t need another thing to worry about.

She wondered if she made a mistake with not calling the Silent Brothers. She wanted to honor her parabatai’s wishes, but still something nagged at her. If Lucie needed more help and she didn’t get it for her it would be Cordelia’s fault. But she felt Lucie's breath, strong and steady, and maybe it was the exhaustion of the night, but she was lulled into sleep.

Jesse, feeling more calm in a fresh shirt he stole from James’s closet, made his way back to the room he had left Cordelia and Lucie in. The door was silent, as he pushed it open, and his heart warmed at the sight of Cordelia and Lucie curled up together, fast asleep. The sight was so adorable, it reminded him of two children who had drifted off after a long day of playing pretend.

He supposed that deep down, they would always be the little girls that had met in France and found their matching halves. The thought was enough to make him feel a bit better, too.

Light had finally started peeking through the windows, and he was thankful for it. This night had stretched too far.

As soon as he sat on the bed, beside where Lucie’s head lay, he heard footsteps approaching. James and Brother Zachariah entered the room, trailed by Will and Tessa, looking rather distressed. At the sight of their daughter safely dozing with her parabatai, they seemed to ease a bit, but they looked at Zachariah, clad in the same robes as always.

When did this happen? He asked Jesse, voice echoing in his mind.

“It must’ve been a few hours ago at this point.” Zachariah nodded but Will seemed miffed.

“And why are we hearing of this now and not a few hours ago?” Will said in a hushed tone, that made Jesse’s heart contract with guilt. Something about Will’s frustration potentially being directed at him made him feel worse than he could’ve imagined. His father in law was typically in good spirits, which made him great company, but it made his moodiness even more stark. Tessa put a hand on Will's chest and they had a silent exchange. He took a deep breath, stepping back and gesturing for Zachariah to examine Lucie.

Cordelia began to stir, opening her eyes and looking somewhat alarmed that there were now five more people than there had been when she fell asleep. She stood, taking her spot beside James as he draped his arm around her shoulders, and pressed a kiss into her hair.

Zachariah simply walked up to Lucie’s sleeping body, and placed his hand on her forehead. They all watched in silence until he spoke to them all: She needs sleep. That is all. The Demon Venom is being fought by her body– she could possibly be tired for a few days but it won’t bring her more harm.

The whole room practically sagged with relief, and Lucie finally woke up enough to see everyone that had joined her in the room.

She squinted up at Brother Zachariah then at her parents, closed her eyes again, then said, “Which one of you betrayed my trust.” James made eye contact with Jesse, then darted away quickly, obviously opting to stay silent.

Cordelia laughed to herself, obviously comforted to hear her parabatai’s sense of humor coming through despite the circumstances. Jesse, however, suspected this might have been the wrong thing to say, considering Will crouched next to her and said, “I might ask you, my sweet daughter, why you betrayed my trust and ignored the most crucial Herondale rule.”

She opened one eye, and asked, “Which is?”

“Absolutely never,” Will emphasized, “turn down a chance to call on your Uncle Jem.”

“I thought it was no necromancy.”

“Not funny.”

She smiled, then turned her face into her pillow. “I’m sorry Uncle Jem, it’s not that I don’t want to see you.” Her voice was muffled, and Jesse thought it was rather charming how sleepy she was acting. “I just didn’t want to make a big deal.”

This time Tessa sat at her other side and brushed hair behind her neck with her hands. “Darling, don’t be silly. We want you to be taken care of.”

They fussed over Lucie a bit more, and Jesse layed back down next to his wife, watching Will, Jem and Tessa have a conversation in hushed tones. At some point, James and Cordelia left, presumably to get rest themselves. Jesse felt exhaustion start to take over so he shut his eyes, pulling Lucie in close. He basked in every breath, every flutter of her eyelashes that tickled his neck, every twitch of her leg, and fell asleep, not caring his father and mother in law were still in the room.

When Lucie woke up, she was disoriented by the light and the room she was in. It took her a few seconds for her to recall the fuzzy memories of getting injured, brought to Curzon street, and bandaged up. She felt a rigidness in her chest that suggested tightly wrapped bandages, although she barely remembered them being placed. She vaguely remembered her parents showing up too, and she fought off a groan.

She made to sit up, but realized Jesse’s arm was holding her down. At her movement, he awoke, groggy green eyes surveying her own. Before she could say anything, he closed the space between them and pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. “You scared me.” He said quietly. “Don’t do that again.”

“Good morning to you, too.” She rolled her eyes and tried to sit up again, but winced as she felt a sharp stab of pain from her cut. Jesse helped prop her up in bed, clearly relieved she was feeling better than the night before. His clear green eyes looked clouded with trouble but before she could say anything, he spoke first.

“I'm sorry–”

“Jesse, stop.”

“No, I was there I should have–”

“Jesse,” She leaned forward, taking his face in her hands and pressing their foreheads together. She ignored the pain sparking in her chest as she said, “This is who we are. I am going to get hurt sometimes, so are you, and we can’t control that. But we can control what we do when it happens, alright? You were perfect. You are perfect.” His eyes still swam with unshed tears and guilt but he swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes. They breathed the same air for a moment, and she relished in his closeness, tracing the planes of his face, and along his cheekbones. Finally, the pain in her wound became so strong that she drew back, cringing.

Jesse stood up immediately, “Sorry, I should have gotten Cordelia as soon as you woke– I will be right back.”

The two of them returned a few minutes later, and Cordelia looked very relieved to see Lucie alert and seated. She smiled at Cordelia, extending her hand for her to hold and said, “Daisy, how was Amsterdam? I’ve missed you!”

Cordelia’s smile was genuine and sweet as she said, “Wonderful, but I’ll tell you about it later. How are you feeling?” She took out her stele, and began drawing more healing runes on Lucie’s arm, as they conversed.

“Oh, I feel perfect besides having a corset of bandages suffocating me.” “You’re welcome,” Cordelia flicked Lucie’s cheek, “These bandages might have saved your life.”

“What dramatics! It’s a scrape!”

“You’re funny.”

Lucie squeezed her parabatai’s hand and whispered, “Thank you, Daisy.”

Cordelia only smiled, and looked up at Jesse who had been quietly observing. “Your wife is rather ridiculous, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I know,” he said, ignoring Lucie who scrunched her nose in displeasure.

“Agh, you two are supposed to support me! Instead I get this slander,” she hung her head to the side in mock defeat. They laughed. The midday sun finally peeked through the curtains.

They would be alright.

The end!! Let me know if you liked it :)

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vwritesaus · 9 months

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The first thing Thomas notices is that he is standing in a well-lit room. Sunlight streams in through large arched windows, casting long rays along the floor and opposite walls from which framed paintings hang. He can’t make out any of the faces, most of them blurred or faded from age, but he can see every miniature groove in the elaborate frames carved with fleurs-de-lis, tiny leaves and rose petals. The second thing he notices is Alastair Carstairs sitting sideways on one of the window seats of those arched windows, his back leaning against the edge of the arch and one foot planted firmly on the seat, the toes of the other grazing the wooden flooring. His attention is fixed on the world beyond the glass panes—a streaked mass of fluffy clouds and a blue sky stretching for miles—and his expression is contemplative, almost serious. That attention quickly turns to Thomas, possibly having sensed his presence, and something close to coyness blooms to life in his expression. ‘Lightwood,’ he greets politely. When Thomas blinks and doesn’t respond—too shocked to do so, because Alastair Carstairs is talking to him? To Tiny Tom, willingly?—Alastair rolls his eyes. He swings his whole body around to face him, both feet on the floor and his gaze fierce. ‘Well?’ he prods. ‘Are you simply going to stand there like a cad, or are you going to come here and sit beside me?’

continue reading on ao3

hello!! long time no see, haha...

but here i am, and i bring with me a little fic i wrote for my wonderful best girl @drunkonimagination for her birthday back in july ✨✨ it's based off this art of hers where thomas dreams of kissing alastair, only to get rather the rude awakening lol. hope you enjoy it!!

tagging people who might be interested: @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom @astriefer @luciehercndale @claritywithclary @bluewrite

let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

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amchara · 2 years

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leave a light on (Cordelia Carstairs and Matthew Fairchild)

Cordelia Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild (Matthew/Cordelia if you lean that way, ie. as much Fairstairs content as we currently get in canon but this can also definitely just be read as friendship fic)

Wordcount: 1,380 words

Set immediately post-Chain of Iron, Matthew and Cordelia have to stop for the night before they get to Paris. Some classic comfort fic, where I decided Cordelia needs to be the one taken care of, for once.

Ahh, I am not sure I am fully ready to be back on tumblr [things are still tough irl] - but I saw the gorgeous Chain of Thorns cover release and it suddenly released some keen that I hadn't had for month for TLH and this is the result. Hope you enjoy!

---

Cordelia watched as the gas-lit lights reflected in the window, obscuring the rainy weather outside. She could feel beads of water drip from the edges of her hair onto her forehead. The borrowed wool coat felt heavy on her shoulders. Behind her, she could hear Matthew conversing in soft French syllables with the hotelier, asking for rooms and for some food to be brought to them, despite the late hour.

The clock had chimed a few minutes ago; only an hour until midnight. This day had felt intolerably long, Cordelia thought suddenly. The morning felt a hundred years ago and she herself felt aged to the same degree, no longer the naive girl who had thought she might finally have found reciprocal love with James.

They had disembarked from the ferry into the dark streets of Calais. Matthew had initially thought to press on and find a carriage to take them straight on to Paris. “Only imagine what it would be like to wake with the dawn light streaming along the banks of the Seine and the streets of Paris shining before us,” he said, his tone equally light and airy. It was a lovely picture to imagine (if perhaps a trifle optimistic, given her recollection of the city’s streets) and so Cordelia had quickly nodded agreement.

He had offered her his arm, and they started through the foggy quarters of the town, but less than a hundred yards in, Matthew had stopped short. “You’re trembling,” he noted, frowning. “And you haven’t eaten much today, have you?”

Before she could think to object or even reply, he had whisked them into the nearest reputable-looking hotel, deposited her into a large mauve armchair and had begun charming the dour-looking woman behind the desk.

“Daisy?” Cordelia started and for the briefest of moments, she thought it was James, having come to his senses. Like she had hoped against hope at the train station, that he would appear out of a plume of smoke and soot, begging her to come home.

But even as the sting of disappointment hit her, it disappeared as Matthew’s figure came into view, his blond hair curling damply around his face, the beautiful angles of his cheekbones highlighted in the dim light, his smile gentle as he held out a hand to her.

She accepted it.

The room was small but perfectly adequate to Cordelia’s eyes and initially, she didn’t know why Matthew was hovering anxiously beside her.

“Oh,” she said, realising, as the hotelier left them without bothering to direct Matthew to his room.

“I apologise profusely,” Matthew said, and Cordelia could see a heat rising in his cheeks as he looked at the bed in question and then away at the floor. “There was only one room still available, and given the iciness of your hands, I did not want to drag you out again into the night. As I mentioned before we left London, I will be the consummate gentleman and sleep on the floor- or if that does not suffice- I will go out and sleep in the stables and-”

Despite the late hour, Cordelia could not help but smile. “I believe you and no, you will not be sleeping in the stables,” she said.

He was still watching her worriedly. “But I will, if you ask. And as a precaution, I also registered us under different names. This is a mundane place but I thought it best to avoid it coming to light with the Clave later on…”

A consideration that she had missed but at this stage, she was past caring about her reputation. For what good it had done her? And would do her, past this trip?

She patted his shoulder, grateful for its solidity and warmth. “Matthew - we are both tired and famished,” she said simply. She nodded at the simple meal that had been set out for them. “Shall we?”

His eyes were dark, as she looked up at him but he swept an arm open and beckoned her forward. “As you wish,” he said.

As a small child, Cordelia had been frightened of the dark. Not wanting to trouble her parents, she had always had Alastair check the corners of whatever new lodgings they had. Her brother had often grumbled, particularly as they grew older. But he still did it automatically - even for their house in Kensington, although Cordelia had long since considered herself capable of handling her fears. Particularly as the wielder of Cortana.

Perhaps it was being parted from Cortana.

Perhaps it was because she had rarely slept away from her family.

Perhaps- it was the grief for her father that she had previously suppressed in order to deal with more pressing matters.

Perhaps- it was for James and how she had let herself be fooled for so long. Or for the deal she unwittingly had made with Lilith (how could she have been so stupid?)

But it all crashed over her, overwhelming and insurmountable. She felt ice-cold with despair, her teeth beginning to chatter. And she was scared, as she hadn’t been for years and the tears were soaking her pillow and she tried to stifle the sobs that were emerging-

“Cordelia,” Matthew’s deep, musical voice was soft. She could hear scuffing as he moved from his nest of blankets and for the second time in as many hours, she could feel him kneeling beside her, blindly seeking her out in the moon-lit room.

She grabbed his hand, as if one might while drowning.

“I’ve- it’s all ruined,” she said. “Oh Matthew, I’ve ruined everything. And I- I don’t know what to do.”

He held her hand, stroked her forehead, smoothed away the tears on her cheeks. “My darling, my darling,” he crooned. “Believe me, you have not.”

She shook her head, the tears falling faster. She couldn’t believe him.

Moving carefully, as if not to spook her, Matthew sat her up, and positioned them in the bed so that she was cradled against him. As the warmth of his chest spilled through against her thin dress, and he held his arms tightly around her, slowly her shivers ceased and the tears began to slow.

She shook her head again slowly, and she knew that he could feel her do so.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me right now. I’ll believe enough for the both of us,” he whispered. “Because you are Cordelia Carstairs and you are the most amazing, caring, fearless woman I know- and you will get through this and find your path again. And I will help you, however I can.”

He held her, asking nothing else - as her ragged sobs slowed, and tears stopped and as her breathing started to slow, sleep starting to claim her.

She felt him lay her back down onto the bed, a whisper-fine touch of his hands smoothing strands of hair behind her ear. He moved to stand up. To return to his separate bed.

But it was still dark. And she still felt the loneliness and fear and grief.

“Matthew,” she said. “Please-” Cordelia paused.

Matthew hesitated.

She knew it was inappropriate. Selfish, even. She knew that perhaps their previous interaction could be explained- however intimate- as comforting in grief, much as she had done when he had confessed his long-held secret to her. But what she was asking now could cross an unspoken line.

“You only have to ask and I will do it,” he said hoarsely.

“Stay,” she said.

He did.

Holding her against him, Matthew’s breath was at first careful and deliberate as if waiting for her to object. But gradually it evened, becoming peaceful and steady as he fell asleep. Cordelia’s eyes also became heavy, and even though the darkness still pressed in on her, she felt safe enough to allow herself to drift.

In the morning, as the dawn light spilled across Matthew, haloing a face relaxed and vulnerable in a way it never was while awake, Cordelia thought, while it wasn’t Paris yet as he had promised, it was still a wondrous sight. A boy who cared and who was there for her when she needed it. Perhaps, despite all this mess there was still hope.

And they would find it together in the city of light.

Taglist: @lifeofbrybooks @dontmindmyshadowhunting @life-through-the-eyes-of @writeordie-4 @thomastaircompassrose @imherongraystairstrash and ahh, I am forgetting people who like TLH but lemme know if you want added/deleted to this tag list.

#tlh fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #matthew fairchild #cordelia carstairs #the last hours #fairstairs #my fanfic #chain of thorns

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