♕

Dahlia had no intentions of acting sane today.

It was her last day of being single, what sane woman would let that go to waste?

Ariadne adjusted the necklace adorned on her neck, Dahlia squirmed. "It hurts." she muttered.

Ariadne rolled her eyes, "Beauty is pain my dear sister. Now let us see your dress, who sent it to you?" she asked, opening Dahlia's closet. 

Anna did. Dahlia thought sadly. She couldn't tell her sister who had sent it for the fear of hurting her. Her brain seemed stumped on what lie she should tell Ariadne. 

"Alastair. He said the color suited me." Dahlia muttered. Ariadne raised her eyebrow. "Alastair? We are talking about Alastair Carstairs right? I thought it was Evan Darkwood, poor boy has been in love with you since we were twelve! He was so heartbroken that you were getting married." Ariadne said shaking her head.

"Didi, I need to tell you-" Dahlia started, Ariadne shushed her. "Here we go, hm I think if we did a braid with adorned flowers you would look marvelous." she said.

"Didi! It's not a traditional Indian wedding! It's whatever people are doing in London these days. It worries me what they do." Dahlia sighed.

Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Marriage is a bonding of people Dahlia, it does not matter how it is conducted. We can at least get married in style, why wear a drab golden dress that makes you look like a duck when you can wear a sparkling lehenga?" Ariadne asked, pulling out blue silk material.

Dahlia groaned. "You are impossible. Fine, is there a ghagra choli  in there? I remember making one."

Ariadne looked thoughtful. "There's a half done piece with this blue silk, can you manage to pull something off in....one hour?" she inquired.

Dahlia's face brightened. "Yes, yes!" 

She grabbed the cloth from her sister and reached for the other fabric under her bed. Ariadne smiled and went into the bathroom, "I will look for things for your face." she said. Dahlia shrugged and kept sowing.

She had finished the to piece in thirty minutes, it wasn't too hard most of it was already done she just had to put the decorative lace and glimmer on it. Her skirt, she knew, had to be extravagant.

She set the top aside and tried her best to make it look nice. She was done by the time her sister had gathered everything Dahlia could possibly need to get ready. 

"Didi, look, look!" Dahlia exclaimed, showing her sister the finished pieces. Ariadne smiled widely.

"You will look gorgeous, come now. I will hit you with my slipper otherwise, you have only thirty minutes to ready yourself now." she said, waving a brush in the air. Dahlia rolled her eyes but stood up.

"Do your magic." she said.

♕

Dahlia twirled in front of her mirror, the dress splashed out around her like a violet.

She wished Christopher could see her. He would have hugged hand told her she looked beautiful, then he would have given her a flower to put in her hair and told her to go live her life for the both of them.

That was Christopher.

Ariadne on the other hand was yelling at her to sit still, she had a pair of heels in her hands. "If you do not sit still I will call Sati and things will not be pretty." Ariadne warned. Dahlia pouted and settled on her bed.

Ariadne pushed a few flowers in bun she had made of braids, and put a few pearls in it too. She dabbed a bit of rouge on Dahlia's cheeks.

"Perfect!" she said happily. Dahlia trusted her sister's taste and decided it wasn't worth the energy to go look in the mirror. There was the soft trot of horses pulling up.

Ariadne leaned out the window. "Alastair's here, did you call him?" she asked Dahlia. Dahlia nodded, pushing her stele in the folds of her skirts and her chakaras.

"I love you, Dahlia. By the Angel, my younger sister is marrying before me." Ariadne said shaking her head, she placed a soft kiss on Dahlia's cheek and pushed the dark haired girl out the door.

"Hurry, before I cry all over your clothes." she said as Dahlia rushed down the stairs careful to avoid her parents. 

"I love you too, Ari!" she called, and threw the doors open. Alastair looked as if he were about to knock. 

"Carstairs!" Dahlia exclaimed, hugging him. Alastair pushed her away gently. "No hugs." he reminded her. She rolled her eyes.

He took her hand and helped her into the carriage. "Your wedding is tomorrow." he said thoughtfully as the horses started trotting away. Dahlia sighed deeply.

"Daisy and I have decided it to have it on the same day, less of a headache. The altar is to be joint, James and Matthew will stand with each other, and the brides will walk together with their sugness. The grooms do not get a sugness seeing they would pick each other and they are the grooms. It simply wouldn't work." Dahlia explained.

Alastair nodded slowly, "I see. Congratulations, Dahlia." he said.

Dahlia have him a bitter-sweet smile. They spent the rest of the ride talking about the random things that had happened in the past few days, Alastair had to help Cordelia so they hadn't had much time to talk.

In the past few months Dahlia and Alastair had become close much to Matthew's dismay. They had argued a lot over this, Dahlia simply did not understand why Matthew couldn't tell her why he didn't want her around Alastair. Matthew never cared what she did, this was new to her and it angered her.

She would have nearly slapped him if James had not come in with a book on how to plan weddings. Cordelia hadn't been much help since the moment she entered Matthew barely even payed attention.

Dahlia had given up planning entirely and left it on Cordelia, James and Matthew. She spent long hours with Alastair in parks and nights with Christopher talking for hours and enjoying the peace they had for however long it was possible.

Ariadne had told Dahlia she intended to win Anna back; they had been lovers a long time ago. Then they had left each other because Ariadne was to marry Charles. Ariadne had been truly in love with Anna and one day didn't go by without her regretting it. Sometimes she'd spend hours crying, or walking around the house aimlessly.

"Alastair, are you coming to the sledding party?" Dahlia inquired, moving her skirts a little.

 "I have decided that my invitation was sadly lost in the post," Alastair said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "

Dahlia shook her head in amusement. 

The Hell Ruelle was reached through the narrow alley of Tyler's Court. Alastair gently kissed the back of Dahlia's hand, "Farewell my dear friend, I shall leave you here." 

Dahlia smiled. "Goodbye, Alastair." she said, getting out the carriage. Alastair waved to her fondly through the window of the carriage, she waved back and clambered her way to the Hell Ruelle. They had stopped near the Hell Ruelle, Dahlia had requested this of him in the letter.

She needed a moment to herself to breath before she went inside, to Lucie, Anna and maybe Cordelia if she hadn't arrived already.

 As she made her way, she saw the Fairchild's carriage pull up. A pang went through her. 

Of course Matthew went to pick Cordelia up, she didn't expect anything less.

She watched from a distance as Matthew jumped out off the carriage and spoke with the driver while Cordelia made her way out of the ride. Dahlia averted her eyes, she did not need to feel bad about it, the marriage was as fake as it could get. She was Dahlia Bridgestock, pain was only painful if one decided to dwell on it.

She had reached the entrance of the Hell Ruelle and passed through a private door into a narrow hallway lined with heavy tapestries. The corridor was seemingly done up for Christmas (though the holiday itself was weeks away); the tapestries were adorned with green boughs wound with white roses and red poppies. 

Cordelia and Matthew were making their way to the doors, obviously unaware of her presence.

They found their way through a labyrinth of small salons to the octagonal main room of the Ruelle. It had been transformed; shimmering trees, their bare boughs and trunks painted white, stood at intervals, festooned with dark green wreaths and dangling red glass globes. A glimmering mural portrayed a forest scene: a glacier edged by a grove of snowcapped pines, owls peeking out from the shadows between the trees. A black-haired woman with the body of a serpent coiled around a lightning-struck tree; her scales gleamed with gold paint. At the front of the room, Malcolm Fade, the purple-eyed High Warlock of London, seemed to be leading a group of faeries in an intricate dance.

The floor was piled with heaps of what looked like snow, but on closer examination was delicately cut white paper, kicked up in drifts by dancing Downworlders. Not everyone was dancing, of course: many of the salon's guests were crowded at small circular tables, their hands wrapped around copper mugs of mulled wine. Nearby, a werewolf and a faerie sat together, arguing about Irish home rule. 

She sank into a chair opposite Anna and Lucie. They greeted her with cheers, but her mind was miles away.

Cordelia sank down next to her in all her green dress glory.

"Dahlia you look stunning, did Matthew see you as you walked in?" asked Cordelia. Dahlia laughed lightly, "No, I did not see him, I'm sure if he saw me he would faint. Apparently my existence is revolting."

Cordelia blinked slowly. 

"Your hair is lovely, Daisy." Dahlia complimented.

"Daisy! Dahlia!" Anna said. "Do pay attention. We're fussing over you." She was drinking from a tapered flute of pale champagne, and with a wave of her fingers a second one appeared, which she handed to Dahlia.

"Hurrah!" Lucie cried in delight, before returning to ignoring her cider and her friends completely, alternating instead between scribbling furiously in a notebook and staring into the middle distance. 

"Did the light of inspiration hit you, pet?" Cordelia asked. 

Lucie waved an ink-stained hand to get her attention. "There is so much material here," she said. "Did you see Malcolm Fade over there? I adore his coat. Oh, I've decided that rather than being a dashing naval officer, Lord Kincaid should be an artist whose work was banned in London, so he fled to Paris, where he makes the beautiful Cordelia his muse and is welcomed into all the best salons—"

 "What happened to the Duke of Blankshire?" said Cordelia. "I thought fictional Cordelia was about to become a duchess."

 "He died," said Lucie, licking some ink off her finger. 

Dahlia was mildly alarmed.

"This sounds like quite a tragic novel," said Anna, admiring the way her champagne reflected the light.

 "Oh, it's not," said Lucie. "I didn't want fictional Cordelia to be tied to only one man. I wanted her to have adventures."

 "Not quite the sentiment one might hope for on the eve of a wedding," said Anna, "but I applaud it nonetheless. Though one hopes that you will continue having adventures even after being married, Daisy." Her blue eyes sparkled as she lifted her glass in a toast.

 Lucie hoisted her mug. "To the end of freedom! To the beginning of a joyous captivity!" 

"Nonsense," Dahlia said. "A woman's wedding is the beginning of her liberation, Lucie."

"And how is that?" asked Cordelia.

 "An unmarried lady," said Dahlia, "is perceived by society as being in a temporary state of not being married, and in hopes of becoming married at any moment. A married woman, on the other hand, can flirt with whomever she wants, without damaging her reputation. She can travel freely. Wear whatever she pleases."

Anna raised a thoughtful finger. "A lady who can choose a hat that truly suits her is very likely to have paid attention to every layer of her ensemble."

 "What a wise observation," said Lucie. "Do you mind if I put it in my novel? It's just the sort of thing Lord Kincaid would say."

 "Do as you like, magpie," said Anna, "you've stolen half my best lines already." Her gaze flicked about the room. "Did you see Matthew with Kellington? I hope that doesn't start up again. Then again I suppose it can not happen seeing our Dahlia is going to marry him tomorrow." 

"What happened with Kellington?" Lucie inquired.

 "He rather broke Matthew's heart, a year or so back," said Anna. 

"Matthew has a habit of getting his heart broken. He seems to prefer a hopeless love." Dahlia mused.

 "Does he?" Lucie was scribbling in her book again. "Oh, dear." 

"Greetings, lovely ladies," said a tall young man with dead-white skin and curling brown hair, appearing at their table as if by magic. 

"Which of you dazzling beauties yearns to dance with me first?"

 Lucie leaped up. "I shall dance with you," she said. "You're a vampire, aren't you?"

 "Er—yes?"

 "Capital. We shall dance, and you will tell me all about vampirism. Do you stalk beautiful ladies through the streets of the city in the hopes of snatching a sip of their genteel blood? Do you weep because your soul is damned?"

 The young man's dark eyes darted around worriedly. "I really only wanted to waltz," he said, but Lucie had already seized him and dragged him out onto the floor. Music rose up in a surge, and Dahlia clinked glasses with Anna, both of them laughing. 

"Poor Edwin," Anna said, looking out at the dancers. "He has a nervous disposition at the best of times. Now, Cordelia, Dahlia, pray tell me every detail of the wedding plans, and I will get us some fresh champagne."

♕

The air outside was so cold it seemed to shimmer as Dahlia, tipsy and giggling, clambered down from the Institute carriage and waved a vigorous goodbye to Lucie and Anna.  "Thank you for the party surprise," she called, closing the carriage door. "In ever expected to spend the night before my wedding playing tiddly winks with werewolves."

They had dropped off Cordelia a few moments ago.

"Did you think they were cheating? I thought they were cheating. But it was terribly amusing regardless." Lucie leaned out the open window and blew Dahlia a dramatic kiss. "Good night my dear!" she said happily.

Dahlia waved tried to walk in a straight line back home, doing her best to seem sober. Ariadne would murder her.

Ariadne threw the doors open before Dahlia could even knock.

"It's midnight, you idiot!' Ariadne scolded. "You're lucky mama and papa are asleep, otherwise you'd be in more trouble than you already are!" she said, shaking her head.

"How am I in trouble?" Dahlia asked, pushing herself inside. "Oh shush." Ariadne said, defeatedly. Dahlia snorted.

"Oh my, you really are quiet intoxicated. Dahlia do you want  a headache on your wedding day? For the love of the Angel." Ariadne cried, throwing her hands up.

Dahlia rolled her eyes.

"I'm not that troublesome." she whined. Ariadne simply glared at her younger sister and pushed upstairs to her room. 

"Go get some sleep, I shall see you in the morning." Ariadne told Dahlia guiding the younger girl to bed. Dahlia fell down on her bed sadly, and pulled the sheets up. 

"Good night didi." she muttered, turning around. Ariadne shook her head blowing out the candles and leaving the room. "Good night, Dahlia." she said, closing the door.

And like that Dahlia was left in the darkness of her room with only the silvery moon for company.

♕

Dahlia felt like crying. Not out of sadness or happiness, but out of pure frustration.

Ariadne and Laurina, Dahlia's sister and mother, had helped her get ready and given her a moment t herself. By Dahlia's wishes she was wearing a golden. sparkling lehenga. 

There were many jewels, too many for her too count. She felt utterly heavy, she wanted to drop down any moment now. She thought perhaps it was too late to fly away to Paris with a flock of doves. She really, really did not want to marry Matthew today.

She would no longer be Dahlia Bridgestock, she would be Dahlia Fairchild.

It sounded wrong in her own mouth, she also realized when she as arguing with Matthew she couldn't call him Fairchild anymore, because technically she was a Fairchild too.

Ariadne burst into the room, her mother a few feet behind.

"All right, time is up my dear, come along now." Laurina said hefting her daughter to her feet. Dahlia grumbled angrily.

"Can I please run away to Paris?" she begged her sister, as a last resort. Ariadne rolled her eyes, "You wish!" she said.

Dahlia sighed. "Let it be known I tried." she said, mournfully.

Ariadne shook her head at the girl's dramatics.

"I hear Elias Carstairs has returned." Ariadne said, as the two girls hand in hand went down stairs to the carriage a waiting them. Dahlia's father as already inside, Laurina was rushing downstairs. Dahlia looked around her house one last time. 

She looked at her sister, "Good for Daisy and Alastair." she said.

Ariadne made a noise. "You do realize that is both a good and bad thing, right?" 

Dahlia frowned. "Yes, I do. I also know he will be at the wedding, I would like to meet him." she said.

Ariadne sighed shaking her head and cursing her sister.

Dahlia rolled her eyes, getting into the carriage with Ariadne's help. Maurice's eyes widened when he saw his daughter, but at Laurina's glare he looked away without a word.

Her mother had always been more understanding than her father about Dahlia and Ariadne's origins. Maurice did his best to ignore it while Laurina did nothing about it. Ariadne was scared to flaunt it for the fear of their father's disapproval, whereas Dahlia flaunted it with pride despite her father's disappointment in her. She knew she was a disappointment.

Maurice took his daughter's hand, his hands were calloused. "Dahlia, darling, you are getting married today. To the Consul's second son at that, you have brought great honor to our family, Lia. I ask for one thing from you my dear, it is the secret to a healthy marriage that I learned when I married your mother. Tell no lies, keep no secrets. Your partner is there to help you, and stand by you." he said. Dahlia was startled by the sudden sentiment.

Her father never showed much affection to Dahlia, she suspected it was because she was always getting up in his hair, but this as new to her.

"I-I will." she mumbled, her voice was soft and quiet as it always was when she spoke to her father.

Maurice let her hand go and stared out the window. Ariadne gave her an encouraging glance and smiled. Dahlia tried to smile back.

Laurina smiled at her daughter, her dark eyes glimmering with tears. "Take care of each other, . Love is a rarity in this world, and true friendship, too." she said.

Dahlia only nodded as the carriage rattled to the institute.

♕

Dahlia had not expected to feel as odd as she did: both extraordinarily present and distant, as if she were watching the proceedings from a faraway place. She saw her family, saw Alastair and Ariadne glance at her and then over at the front pew, saw the look on her mother's face. She had not expected the scent of the flowers, or the music, which seemed like a carpet unrolling before her, urging her down the aisle, lifting her to the altar.  Cordelia was next to her, Lucie guiding her to  the altar where Christopher was with Dahlia.

 And she had not expected Matthew. She had not expected that his eyes would fix on her the moment she entered the room, watching her and nothing else. He was beautiful enough, for once, to take her breath away, his dark gold coat with emerald buttons the same color as his eyes, his hair wild and sunray gold. He looked dazed, a little stunned as she joined him at the altar, as if the breath had been knocked out of him. She could not blame him. 

They had both known this day was coming, but the reality of it was staggering. The violin music softened as the Consul rose to join them. Charlotte Fairchild took her place behind the altar. She smiled warmly, and Dahlia stepped away from Christopher; Matthew took her hands, and they faced each other. His grasp was warm and hard, his fingers calloused. He had bent his head; all she could see was the fall of his curling, soft fair hair against his sharp cheekbone.

"Welcome, all." Charlotte's commanding voice filled the room. Lucie was vibrating with excitement, fairly bouncing up and down on her toes. Matthew's gaze pried away from her and  wandered the crowd, a small ironic smile pulling at his mouth. "Twenty-three years ago, I married Will and Tessa Herondale in this very chapel. How proud and grateful I am to be here now to marry their son, James, to a woman whose family is also close to my heart. Cordelia Carstairs. Oh but we have two weddings today, my own son, Matthew, and a woman I have long loved, Dahlia Bridgestock."

Charlotte turned her steady gaze on Dahlia, who felt immediately uneasy. Surely Charlotte of all people would see through them. But she only smiled again and said, "We come together, Clave and Enclave, children of the Angel and the ones they love"—she dropped a wink and Dahlia realized, with some surprise, that Magnus Bane had joined Will and Tessa among the guests—"to celebrate the joining together of lives under Raziel's auspices. We walk a lonely road and a high one, we Nephilim. The burden Raziel has laid upon us is a heavy one, as we have had recent cause to remember." Her gaze moved for a moment to Gideon and Sophie. "But he has given us many gifts to balance our responsibilities," Charlotte went on, and now her gaze rested tenderly on her husband, Henry. "He has given us a tremendous capacity to love. To give of our hearts, to let them be filled and filled again with the love that consecrates us all. To love one another is to come as close as we ever can to being angels ourselves."

"James Morgan Henry Herondale," said Charlotte. "Hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?"

James responded in a firm, clear voice that echoed through the chapel. "I have," he said, then seemed slightly startled, as if surprised at the strength of his own conviction. "And I will not let her go." 

"Cordelia Katayoun Carstairs," said Charlotte. "Hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?" Cordelia hesitated.

"Yes," said Cordelia. "And I will not let him go." 

"Matthew Jonathan Fairchild," Charlotte said.  "Hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?"

Matthew seemed to tilt his head, "I have, and I will not let her go." he said with some amusement, glancing at Dahlia who rolled her eyes at him.

"Dahlia Sathya Laura Bridgestock, hast thou gone among the streets of the city and the watchmen there, and found the one thy soul loves?" Charlotte said, looking at Dahlia. She breathed in deeply.

She had known this was coming, it was a bit to late to summon the doves.

She smiled ruefully at Charlotte, "I have, and I will not let him go."

There was a flourish of violin music. Charlotte beamed. "It is time for the exchange of the first runes, and the second vows," she said. Shadowhunters generally placed two runes upon each other when they were married: a rune upon the arm, given during the public ceremony, and a rune over the heart—done later, in private. 

"Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm," said Lucie, handing the first stele to Cordelia with an encouraging smile. The ritual words were ancient, freighted with the gravity of years. Sometimes they were spoken by the bride and groom, sometimes by their suggenes.

In this instance, Dahlia, Cordelia, James and Matthew decided to have their parabatai do it.

"Set upon me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm." Christopher said, handing the first stele to Dahlia with a simple smile.

"For love is strong as death," said Matthew, placing the second stele in James's hand. His tone was uncharacteristically somber. "And jealousy cruel as the grave."

"For love is strong as death," said James, handing Matthew the second stele. "And jealousy cruel as the grave." 

Dahlia moved her shawl, Matthew placed the rune on her shoulder in fast and fluid strokes. Matthew pulled up his sleeve and Dahlia placed the rune with trembling fingers.

Charlotte bent her head. "Now will you each repeat after me: 'For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor demons, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us.'"

They repeated the vows, Dahlia's voice was hollow and low even to her. Matthew spoke in his usual strong and annoyingly musical notes. Cordelia's voice was low and shaking whereas James was strong and clear with each word.

"You may now kiss," said Charlotte cheerfully.

 Dahlia stared at Matthew, openmouthed. He looked just as surprised; it seemed they had both forgotten that this would be part of the ceremony. I can't do it, Dahlia thought, half panicking. She could not kiss Matthew, and certainly not in public. But he was already drawing her into his arms. His hand cupped her cheek, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth. "We've come this far," he whispered. "Don't back out on me now." 

Dahlia squared her shoulders, "I hate you Matthew Fairchild." she hissed lowly. He rolled his eyes, his eyelashes brushing against hers.

"I hate you too, Dahlia Fairchild." he said, smirking. Dahlia gasped, and Matthew took that as an opportunity to kiss her.

His lips were soft and sweet against her, he tasted of wheat and brandy. Dahlia wanted to slap him, but that would be awkward.

He drew back, and Dahlia smoothed down her lehenga with surprisingly shaking hands.

 Almost before they were finished, a cheer went up from the congregation, applause punctuated with a few whistles and the stamping of feet. The cheering continued as they linked hands and began to make their way down from the altar.

She was married.

 She was married, and she was absolutely terrified. 

♕