♕

As they left the Institute, everything felt echoing, vast, and strange to Dahlia, as if she were dreaming. 

"Are you going to tell me where our new house is?" she asked Matthew as he put on his gloves. "Or is it still a secret?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "And why, in the name of Raziel, would I ever tell you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and walking past her to the carriage. Dahlia rolled her eyes.

"You have been a husband for only three hours and you have already miserably failed at it." she said with dramatics as they descended the icy steps. The last of the sun was a faint yellow band in the east, the city having descended into the quiet of a winter evening 

She got into the carriage without Matthew's help. He got in after her, settling on a seat directly in front of her.

"Well it could have been worse." he said, there was a gleam in his eyes. Dahlia rolled her eyes trying to imagine how the house would be when they reached. One of Dahlia's mother's favorite maids, Arya, had gone ahead of them. Arya had practically raised Dahlia and Ariadne, so there was some familiarity in Arya being there. 

In the past few months, Dahlia realized with a little sadness, she hadn't been home that much She regretted it now; she would do anything for a hug from her sister.

She wasn't going back to the Bridgestock household, she was going wherever Matthew was taking her. 

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She imagined Arya angrily setting up the fire place, blowing at the timbers harshly and cursing in Hindi.

It brought a small smile to her face despite the constant rush in her ears as the carriage rattled on.

"What are you smiling about?" Matthew inquired, he seemed to have given up on trying to open his flask.

Dahlia looked at him, "I was imagining smashing a pie in your face."

Matthew shook his head. "I shall never ask why you are smiling ever again." he said solemnly.

Dahlia giggled, shaking her head. The bells in the ornament hooked in her hair, a matha patti  which was just a varied version of a nethi chutti, rung like chimes.

 The difference was that a matha patti was a round pendant joined by two chains hooked and was hooked into her hair. 

Mathew looked curious for a second. "What is your attire, Dahlia? It is isn't usual Shadowhunter wedding attire."

Dahlia blinked and thought about how to explain this.

"Well, what I am wearing is a lehenga. It's traditional Indian wear, as for my jewelry...I can't name everything seeing there is too much jewelry but on my head I'm wearing a matha patti, on my ankles I had basic anklets. What else? Oh! Bangles." she said, shaking the glass braclets in Matthew's face.

"Interesting." he said, taking  sip from his flask. Dahlia's energy flattered a little. "I'm boring you aren't I? Ugh, why do I care. I'll bore you more!" she said, smiling.

Matthew looked horrified.

 "On December, 9th-" Dahlia started, Matthew quickly shushed her. "We are nearing the house, please do be quiet." Matthew said, groaning.

Dahlia smirked in victory.

They bantered with an air of familiarity to it, Dahlia suddenly stopped mid sentence as she saw James and Cordelia get out of a carriage near a house.

She raised an eyebrow at Matthew, he looked at her questioningly.

"We're leaving opposite to Jamie and Daisy, aren't we?" she asked, resigned.

Matthew cracked a smile, "The fact that you assumed otherwise." he said shaking his head.

Dahlia rolled her eyes.

The carriage paused in front of a huge house, Dahlia looked up to take in the house's four stories. Warm light spilled from the windows.

She smiled a little. Matthew got out of the carriage, pulling Dahlia out with him. Dahlia gave a shocked gasp and stumbled out of the carriage.

She nearly fell down over her long skirts as Matthew rushed them inside. "Oh slow down will you Fairchild!" Dahlia said angrily, yanking her hand out of his grip and pulling herself together.

The door sung open and Arya stood there with her light brown hair and soft wrinkles. She looked angry.

"Come inside, hurry now." she said, she said it with a perfect British accent that shocked Dahlia sometimes. 

 Matthew glanced at Dahlia and they both rushed into the house, both of them trying to be the first inside.

 Dahlia paused at the entrance. The entryway was lit with a soft glow from the ornate brass sconces that lined the walls. There was wallpaper in a pattern of birds and passiflora on a deep emerald-green background. "So pretty," she said, grazing the outline of a golden peacock with her fingertips. "Who chose it?"

Matthew turned around, he looked pleased with himself for being inside first.

"I did." he said, "Perhaps I should show you around the house? And Arya, perhaps Dina could set out a simple supper? I believe you said something about tea." 

Dahlia realized with a jolt that Matthew had planned out the whole thing, she stared at him. He looked at her suspiciously.

She stepped into the house a wave of hot air hit her, she sneezed. "Dahlia! andar aa jao isse pehle ki mein tumhe maar du!" yelled Arya from the kitchen.

Dahlia sighed sadly and ran inside past Matthew, turning at the staircase to stick her tongue out at him, and ran to the bedrooms.

Matthew mumbled something under his breath and ran after her. As the children of two of the most important people in the Clave they were given training at home and at the Academy, it was more than a race to Dahlia and Matthew; it was a race to see who was better.

Dahlia pushed past the rugs and touched the door to the bedroom first, she smiled at Matthew victoriously.

She frowned at the the hallway, "We're sleeping together?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Matthew.

He rolled his eyes. "Same room, yes, but different beds." he said, throwing the door open. Dahlia gawked at the room.

Matthew didn't let her linger long, by twenty minutes of endless bantering and talking they ended up in the small ballroom Matthew had installed. Dahlia stared at Matthew. He smile ruefully.

She thought about Matthew, glaring and yelling at her merely a few days ago and Matthew now, all smiles and friendly bantering. She shook her head, she didn't have the time t think about it because Matthew was already talking about the Ballroom.

"Christopher told me you liked to dance...." he trailed, Dahlia blinked harder if it were possible

 "I-you care?" Dahlia flushed. Matthew blinked at her, the soft rays of moon light reflected against his hair making him look ethereal. Dahlia felt her stomach clench.

"Dah-Fairchild," he said, smirking a Dahlia's angry glare, "You and I will live with each other for a year, I wanted to at least make that one year pleasant." he said, pleased. Dahlia shook her head in disbelief and took in the ballroom. 

Euphoria enveloped her. She looked at Matthew hesitantly, "Thank you." she whispered. Matthew gave a small nod of acknowledgement.

She twirled around the room, the gold lehenga spilling around her like gold tears. Dahlia spinning was a twirl of bells, gold and sparkles.

She stopped after one swirl, and smiled widely, breathing deeply. Matthew was watching everything she did.

She looked at Matthew dead in the eye, "Dance with me." she said.

Matthew looked intrigued. "The lady of the house requests a dance?" 

Dahlia smiled softly, "No, she demands one. Dance with me." she said. Matthew glided to her in quiet soft footsteps.

He spun her outward and to him. She crashed against his chest, he breathed in sharply. She froze for a second as his hand crept around her waist, he pressed her against him.

"Dahlia-" he started, Dahlia didn't let him speak. Instead she waltzed with him. "Tell me Matthew, how are we to put the second rune, you idiotic bastard?" she asked, looking at him. He looked thoughtful.

"Just move a bit of you dress at the back or chest area, I'll draw a rune and you can draw my rune on my chest." he said, spinning her.

Dahlia shrugged, "Yes, that shall do. I will go to change first." she said, nodding to herself. Mathew make a half laughing sound. "No, I will-"

Dahlia glared at him. "You and your banana hair sickens me, I demand a new husband!" 

Matthew smirked, "Shall I call.....Charles?"

Dahlia made a gagging noise. "Disgusting, even worse than you! Never mind-"

The world spun around Dahlia, and there was a flash of white light. When her vision cleared Matthew was holding her up against him, there was concern in his eyes that vanished when she blinked.

"I think," he said lowly. "We should go to bed." he said. Dahlia nodded numbly.

♕

The bedroom was absolutely magnificent, with sparkling blue wallpaper and golden accents. Dahlia gasped, her hands flying to her mouth when she entered, Matthew was a few paces behind her. 

"Do you like it?" he inquired, leaning against the door frame. "Shut up Fairchild, you ruin the beauty of the room." Dahlia said, waving at him absently.

Matthew rolled his eyes, swaggering into the room and sat on his bed looking at Dahlia expectantly.

Dahlia sighed, and reached up to fiddle with one of the nethi chutti's ; it was beginning to hurt.

Matthew looked through the closet, looking for his nigh clothes while Dahlia sat at the vanity table taking off each piece, one by one.

By the time she had taken half the jewels off she felt tired and the table in front of her was nearly full. She realized she had her anklets on and couldn't sleep with them. They got stuck in the sheets.

She bent down only to be hit by a wave of dizziness and bile. She sat up immediately, and called for Matthew.

He turned around, his shirt half un buttoned and the gold coat left haphazardly on the bed.

"Yes?" he asked, looking at her. Her hair was undone and fell below her hips and a little off the chair, the lehenga was beginning to hurt her waist. Matthew breathed in sharply.

"I will need you to take off the anklets, I can not." she said, hesitation prominent in her voice.

Matthew blinked, but neared her and kneeled in front of her. He bent down and gently took her leg and started undoing the hooks. After a few minutes he looked up with both the chains in his hands and handed them to her.

"Anything else?" 

Dahlia shook her head. Matthew stood up and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She blinked.

Then he was gone, as if nothing had happened and was undressing.

Dahlia turned to her mirror, her cheeks were flushed she shook her head and gathered the jewels to put into the drawers. She went to the bathroom and washed her face came back out to a waiting Matthew.

"Ready?" he asked, Dahlia tilted her head. "Am I? Just get on with it." she said sighing.

She unhooked a part of her blouse, and moved some fabric, Matthew looked as if he ere going to faint. She rolled her eyes, "Hurry up Fairchild."

Matthew, with slightly shaking hands, drew the second rune on her chest, right below her collar bone but not visible if she wore a dress.

He was  breathing harshly, and was strained. Once he was done, he moved away from Dahlia and unbuttoned his shirt and handed her the stele. She put the run on him, his skin was warm against hers. She drew the rune with surprising precision.

Matthew's head was tilted back, his eyes closed. Dahlia felt her own stomach clench.

She moved away from him quickly, and handed him the stele running to the close to gt her nightgown.

"Good night, Matthew." she said, her voice a bare whisper. The house was s quiet, it sounded as if she were yelling. Matthew nodded at her, "Good night, Dahlia." he said in the same strained tone as her.

She ran to the closet to change and Matthew retired for the night.

The whole time, as she was changing and getting into the bed, she couldn't shake the thought that she wouldn't leave the agreement unscathed.

♕

Huddled in the lee of a wall, he had watched them go in—James Herondale and his red-haired bride, the bearer of Cortana. Near them was James Herondale's parabatai and his bride. They had climbed down from their carriage in Shadowhunter gold and splendor, both of them glimmering like precious trinkets in the fading light of the winter sun.

 It was nearly dark now. Yellow light sprang into life at one upper window, then another. He knew he could not wait here much longer; he was risking frostbite, or some other sort of damage. Human bodies were cruelly frail. Trinkets indeed, he thought, huddling deeper within his coat. When the time was right, they would come apart so easily in his hands—like shiny, worthless baubles. Like broken child's toys.

♕

Dahlia found it easier than she would have guessed.

She and Matthew had synced into a routine which consisted of Dahlia getting up before Matthew, then making breakfast with Arya despite the woman's constant protests. She found comfort in Arya at the early hours, singing songs and making breakfast together. Then Matthew would come fully dressed like a peacock and they would eat and do whatever they were to do that day.

The Merry Thieves visited, switching from James and Cordelia's house to Matthew and Dahlia's by mid-afternoon claiming that Arya made a better lunch.

Dahlia spent most of her time conversing with Christopher and Lucie, Thomas joining them occasionally. 

Though out of everything the most odd thing that had happened was whenever Cordelia entered the room Matthew would go and speak to her, ignoring Dahlia the moment she came into view. She never held it against the girl, but it hurt her. She sometimes left the room when Cordelia came in knowing no one would speak to her then.

Anna stopped by in the evenings, once ending up in a four-hour conversation with Matthew about draperies, during which Dahlia fell asleep on the divan. Matthew had carried her to the bedroom, claiming afterward that Christopher had done it later.

Being alone with Matthew, Dahlia discovered to her surprise, was just as easy.

 It did not happen all at once, of course. They relaxed into it: often reading together, in opposite chairs by the fire in the drawing room. Other nights, they ate dinner in the study and danced for hours in the ballroom. 

Each night, after dancing they would speak for hours, asking questions and learning more about each other. Which was how she fond out, even though knowing each other for years, that Matthew had always wanted to go to Paris. He preferred green over blue waist coats, and he would die for a chance to spend a day with Magnus Bane. He had also said his thought her best feature was her eyes, which contrasted a lot with Ariadne's. In return Dahlia had told him that she was adopted, and that she wished sometimes she could go visit Mumbai. She hated ducks, Matthew wasn't too surprised about that, and she hoped to learn how to play the violin. She also told him the eyes were from her great something grandmother according to Ariadne, and she thought his best feature was his emerald eyes. 

The teasing and laughter after was often the best part, it contrasted greatly with the heavy atmosphere between them when they were around others. When it was just them, Matthew smiled at her more and focused on her as she spoke.

To her everyday was like a battle but every night was like a dream.

She liked the way conversation would fade and slow as they both became sleepier, but neither wanted to stop talking about anything and everything. Dahlia spoke about her childhood, how she and Ariadne had snuck out of the house every year to see the yearly shower of stars. She told him about how much she adored the stars and the sky and that her favorite book was Alice in Wonderland. Matthew in turn, spoke about his adventures with James without the other Thieves, how they became parabatai, which Dahlia considered an honor because he never told anyone.

They both shared an immense love for the Aurora Borealis they spent hours and hours in the library when they weren't dancing, researching the best places to see it and times. Matthew was more carefree at night, his eyes gleaming like they once used too. 

Dahlia tried to remember when there had been angels in him instead of demons, it had been so long ago it almost felt like a dream to her.

 Once when Dahlia couldn't reach for a book, Matthew had carried her on his shoulders, both of them unstable, helping her reach the book. They had tumbled down, Dahlia landing on top of Matthew, their faces a hair breath apart, and Matthew had kissed her.

Neither of them spoke of that moment in the library, and pretended as if it had never happened.

After their long conversations they would fall asleep, Dahlia blowing out the candles and Matthew burning out the witchlights.

 She had never imagined the reality of living with Matthew Fairchild. 

The sweet, piercing intimacy of ordinary married life. Of Matthew making her giggle while teaching her slang words (considered too rude for ladies) over breakfast—a "donkey's breakfast" was a straw hat, and "half-rats" was being mostly intoxicated. Of wandering into their shared bathroom while he was shaving, shirtless, a towel around his shoulders. She had nearly fled, but he'd only waved at her amiably and struck up a conversation about whether they needed to attend Rosamund Wentworth's engagement party. "Oh, we might as well, I suppose," she said. "Christopher's going, and James, too." 

He went to rinse the soap off his face, and she watched the smooth slide of muscles under the skin of his arms, his back. She had not known me nhad such deep grooves above their hip bones, nor did she know why the sight made the back of her throat feel odd. She glanced up hastily, only to notice that there were light freckles at the tops of Matthew's shoulders, like golden starbursts against his skin.

They trained together—another part of married life she'd never considered, but found she liked very much. The training room Matthew had installed on the upper floor was small but comfortable, with a high enough ceiling to swing a sword around, a climbing rope, and platforms to create makeshift terrain. Here she and Matthew sparred and went through forms, and she could really see him, the actual beauty of him in motion, the long line of his body extended in a lunge or graceful in a controlled fall.

Eventually seeing Matthew made a sort of joy light up in her, seeing him when he was himself, not some obnoxious boy who hid his shadows with humor. When she was with him, he did not bother hiding the fact that his hands shook a lot and he would take out his flask. Dahlia knew it wasn't a healthy way to fix it but she didn't try to stop him, she might one day when he wouldn't hold the flask out of her reach whenever she thought about taking it out of his hands.

It was almost as if he knew she as going to take it from him. 

Then the day would come and it would seem as if the night before had merely been an illusion, but then the sun would start setting and Dahlia would feel as if she had fallen into a hole leading to Wonderland. To a fantasy land that would disappear in the day.

♕