♕

Dahlia had run straight to the ballroom without an other thought, tears already streaming down her cheeks, her hair falling out of its pins as she ran.

She threw the door open, the familiar scent of wood, brandy and lilies floated through the room. Dahlia breathed in deeply in an attempt to hold on to any comfort.

She didn't know how to respond to any of what had happened in the carriage.

She fell down on her knees in the center of the room, tears fell from her eyes like drops of moonlight.

Matthew ran in after her, "Dahlia!" he called. Dahlia turned to look at him with teary eyes.

His face twisted into heart break, he sat down next to her. "Don't cry, Dahlia. Please don't cry." he murmured, wiping her tears.

She stood up abruptly. "Matthew stop it! Stop pretending you care!" she cried. 

Matthew stood up, it was a swift motion of fury. "Dahlia, I say a lot of things, sometimes I do not mean them, but I would never lie about my affections for someone." he said lowly.

Dahlia glared at him. "So you do not love Cordelia then?"

Matthew's gaze flattered.

"See! I do not want to hurt you Matthew, oh Angel, it's the last thing I'd want to do! But you love her and I will never be her!" Dahlia exclaimed, her voice rising.

Matthew slowly closed the doors to the ballroom and looked at her evenly with blazing green eyes from the doors.

"Your right. You will never be her, and I find that to be another thing I adore about you."

Dahlia screamed in frustration.

"Matthew! Stop, stop stop! Figure out what you feel for Daisy, don't hurt us both!" she yelled. Matthew's eyes flared.

"Are you not listening to me? I do not love her! Not as much as I lo-" 

Dahlia threw a flower pot on the ground.

"Do not say you love me. Matthew Fairchild, do not say you love me." Dahlia warned, looking at him with her burning blue eyes.

Matthew glared at her. "What else do you want me to say!? I hate you? I adore you?? I LOVE YOU DAHLIA!" he yelled.

She staggered back. She was crying again, Dahlia Bridgestock, who never cried in front of anyone was crying in front of Matthew Fairchild. For the third time.

"No you don't." she whispered, almost trying to reassure herself. 

Dahlia wouldn't admit she was scared. Scared of giving someone else her heart, her being, her soul. It terrified her.

"I do. I know what I feel Dahlia, I am not five years old." Matthew said.

"NO YOU DON'T!" Dahlia burst, falling down again her head in her hands.

"Dahlia, angel, I love you. Every beat of my heart belongs to you. Every breath I take is for you. I am yours." Matthew said, softly. The room was dead silent, except for Dahlia's sniffles and harsh breaths.

"Matthew don't. You love her! I know you do, don't even deny it!" 

"I love her, you are correct, but I do not love her the way I love you." he said quietly.

Dahlia looked at him with furious blue eyes. He looked at her with his mesmerizing green ones.

"You say that now, you say you love me, you say I mean something to you, then when you see Cordelia it is as if the world disappears." she said.

He blinked at her.

"You hurt me, but did I ever tell you? Did I ever tell you ow much it hurt when you ignore me? When you pretend I do not exist?" Dahlia asked, her voice breaking.

Matthew stared at her with desperation clear on his face. "I did not know-"

"OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T! YOU NEVER DO!" Dahlia screamed.

"Dahlia, calm down my love. Please." Matthew said quietly. She shook her head vigorously.

"JE SUIS CALME!" Dahlia cried, her head in her hands.

"No, you are not." Matthew said, her had slid down on the floor one knee up his arm propped on it with his head tilted on it.

"Why?" he asked, after a moment of silence. Dahlia looked at him with bloodshot eyes, it made her look like an angry goddess, Matthew thought fondly.

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why didn't you tell me I hurt you?"

"Because...." Dahlia trailed.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, she hesitated.

"I didn't tell you because, despite me being hurt, you were happy. I would get my knuckles bloody for you. I would die, if it made you happy." she whispered.

"If you died....I wouldn't be to far behind." Matthew murmured softly.

Dahlia went on, ignoring the comment. "I would go to the ends of the Earth to make that light in your eyes shine forever. I suppose you could say that I-" she stopped herself.

"You?" Matthew asked. His voice was unusually soft.

"That I love you." she said, ducking her head down.

Matthew's face was luminous, like the sun. A smile broke across his face, childish and pure.

"I love you too. I love you more than you know Dahlia, I love you. I have loved you since we were fifteen-" he gasped for breath.

Dahlia blinked slowly.

"I-I have realized one does not fall in love. They realize they are in love. I was waiting until I fell in love with someone, Cordelia came along and I suppose I thought maybe I loved her. Maybe I do, I do not know for when I am with you, I feel like I am in love. I admit sometimes I pretend we are actually married." he said.

Dahlia edged near him.

"Remember when I asked you to marry me when the Carstairs arrived at London?" he asked, breathing heavily.

Dahlia nodded slowly.

"I did it because I heard Evan Darkwood had plans of marrying you, or at least courting you. I-I couldn't bear it. So I asked you to marry me, it's selfish. I know-"

Dahlia sat on his lap, her hair curtaining them from the moonlight. Matthew's pupils dilated.

"Dahlia, what are you-" 

She was kissing him.

She was kissing Matthew.

Matthew's hands glided to her waist, she steadied herself by holding on to his shoulders. He tasted of whiskey and soft smoke.

She pressed herself closer to him, Matthew made no move to stop her. After what felt like hours, She pulled away gasping for air, he seemed unfazed.

She ran a hand through his soft golden curls. "Evan is a friend of mine. I have no romantic interest in him what so ever, but he.....fancies me." she said, patting Matthew's cheek. He pouted.

"But your mine." he whined, sounding a lot like a six year old. Dahlia tilted her back and laughed.

"All yours." she whispered, laying her head on his chest. She jerked up.

"I have questions-" she started. Matthew place a finger on her lips. "Afterwards, you need sleep. Too much crying not enough sleep." 

Dahlia shook her head. "We have to go to Anna's party, remember?" Dahlia asked, tapping his head. He played with her hair, and shook his head. "Tomorrow. I'll see her tomorrow." 

Dahlia stood up, and shook her hair. "Well I am going, and I will find many other people who are better than you." she said, pushing one of the doors open, when Matthew's hand caught her ankle. 

"Then I shall come myself. I'm sure there are many people better at kissing than you." Matthew teased, standing up. Dahlia crossed her arms.

"I hate you." she grumbled.

"You love me." he winked, twirling her away and out of the room.

♕

Anna's party was bohemian chic.

Dahlia had grabbed the nearest champagne glass and gone to speak with Lucie., they had chatted about everything and nothing all at once. She had watched Matthew to make sure he didn't drink too much, which he didn't; just a glass of wine.

Filomena Di Angelo, a sweet Italian girl that had attended the wedding, Dahlia didn't remember her much but she seemed nice enough, was walking to Matthew with a glass of wine smiling sickly sweet at him.

Dahlia nearly threw up. She was sure Filomena was a nice lady, and just didn't know Matthew was married.

She averted her gaze and went back to talking to Lucie animatedly.

"So how has Grace been doing?" Lucie asked. Dahlia shrugged. "I'd have to ask Ariadne."

Lucie's mouth formed an 'o' shape.

She averted her gaze back to Matthew, Filomena was speaking in low hushed tones to him, he was staring at her blankly. Lucie followed her line of gaze, a small amused smile settling on her face.

"You'd better go help Matthew." she giggled. Dahlia rolled her eyes, biding a quick good bye to Lucie rushed to Matthew.

"Darling! I was looking everywhere for you!" Dahlia said, smiling widely. Matthew looked alarmed. Filomena blinked between them. Realization dawned on her face.

"You two are married yes?"

Dahlia smiled softly, "Yes we are."

"I apologize-" Filomena started, Dahlia shook her head. "It's fine, really!"

Filomena looked doubtful but went to wander around. Matthew looked at her curiously.

"Jealous were you?" 

Dahlia smacked his head. "Shut up Fairchild."

Matthew smirked. "Something never change." 

Dahlia rolled her eyes.

"Dahlia? Can I speak to you...." said a quiet voce behind them, Matthew's green eyes hardened, he placed a protective hand on Dahlia's as she turned around.

It was Evan, again.

"What seems to be the matter, Evan?" she asked. 

"I wanted to speak with you privately." he muttered, looing nervous with Matthew's presence.

Dahlia shrugged Matthew's hand away, "One moment, Math." she said, stepping away with Evan.

 Matthew watched them with a cat like gaze, his knuckles nearly white.

"I am leaving for New York in a few months....I was wondering if you would like to spend some time together?" he asked.

Dahlia shook her head. "I'm so glad you asked Evan, but I will have to decline."

Evan looked sad, she patted his cheek. "Do not fret, Ev. I will try and find time later?"

Evan brightened, "Of course, thank you Dahlia!" he exclaimed hugging her. Dahlia laughed, pulling away.

She glanced at Matthew, he was pouting at her. She smiled at Evan, "I must leave you now, but! How about next week, perhaps?"

Evan smiled, nodding and waving her off. She skipped back to Matthew.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked her playfully. "Nothing." she replied, still smiling.

"Would you like to go home? Lucie just left." he asked her. Dahlia considered this and shrugged. 

"Can we go home? It's very much past midnight." Dahlia muttered. 

Matthew grinned and they raced each other to the carriage. Dahlia had won, Matthew had been sour about it the whole ride home, claiming she was cheating.

As the carriage rattled to the house, Dahlia fell a sleep against Matthew who was reciting poetry, having given up arguing with her.

A line drifted in her mind the whole time.

"To love is to be destroyed, and be loved is to be destroyed."

♕

The next morning Dahlia awoke in a pool of her own blood and a sharp pain in her abdomen.

She groaned and stumbled out of bed, carrying the sheets with her out of habit from her mother and Ariadne.

She remembered the beautiful chest her sister had gifted her, it was below her bed, she intended to open it later.

She angrily scrubbed the sheets until the red stains washed away, and took a shower herself, barely bothering to wear something proper.

Her hair was in a low bun with some ornate pearls, with diamond earrings. Her wedding ring glimmered in her right hand, she was wearing a lilac dress with puffed sleeves.

Probably not the best choice, but she was willing to take the risk today. She had nothing better to do anyways.

Oscar leaped at her the moment she left the room, she looked behind her and realized Matthew must have moved all of his things to the house. Half his things used to reside at the Consul's house, but now it was all here. 

Dahlia raised her eyebrows suspiciously.

Matthew was downstairs sipping coffee, staring at a clock. Dahlia walked downstairs in careful steps.

"Arya! Cinnamon tea please!" she called. Arya raised an eyebrow.

"Kya yah maheene ka vah samay hai?" Arya asked suspiciously. 

Dahlia nodded mournfully. "Haan, main is maheene kee shuruaat mein hoon." she responded, sitting down opposite to Matthew. Arya looked alarmed.

She dashed away to the kitchen to create some concoction that she would force down Dahlia's throat later. Matthew raised a eyebrow.

"It seems," he started. "That I will need to learn Hindi."

Dahlia looked horrified. "Please don't."

Matthew laughed, "Now I shall do it for sure, simply because you asked me not to." he said smiling ruefully.

Dahlia sighed in despair. 

Arya placed a steaming cup of cinnamon tea in front of her, with extra sugar and a scone. She smiled gratefully at the older lady. 

There was a knock on the door, Dahlia stood up to get it but Arya pushed her down and rushed to get the door.

"Bahut lamba aadamee yahaan hai." Arya said

Matthew looked at her questioningly. 

"She said, the really tall man is here. She means Thomas." Dahlia said, rushing to get up only to be greeted with a rush of blood flow. She froze on the spot.

She was wearing pastels.

She cursed, hoping there was no blood on her dress as she ran to the foyer.

Indeed, Thomas was hovering uncertainly on the doorstep. He was breathless, seeming almost frozen, as if he could not think of what to say.

"Has something happened?"  she asked urgently. 

"I was at Matthew's," Thomas said. He seemed too distracted to come inside, though his rapid breath was making white clouds in the cold air. Dahlia could see no carriage behind him. He must have walked here, or run. "At least, the Consul's house. I went to see Matthew. But Henry said Matthew wasn't at home and was probably here. Henry seemed grumpy. I thought that was odd. Henry's hardly ever grumpy. It is odd, isn't it? I should have asked more, but I couldn't, not after I heard—"

"Tom." It was Matthew having appeared somewhere in the middle of Thomas's rambling.

"Slow down. What happened?"

"You told me to meet you at Charlotte's house today, but when I got to the Consul's, only Henry was there. He didn't want to talk about Matthew, really, but he said Charlotte was called to the Institute—that someone else had died—" He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, almost violently.

"Someone was killed last night?" said Dahlia. "Another Shadowhunter on patrol?"

"Not on patrol," Thomas said. "Henry says they think it was someone coming back from Anna's party. A girl."

"It wasn't Lucie," Thomas said noticing their alarmed expressions. "It seems Uncle Gabriel saw her come home last night. This girl was out much later, close to dawn. The patrol who found her body just said it was a girl with dark hair. And—Eugenia—I didn't see her this morning. I know she was at the party last night, but I didn't think anything of it until Henry told me what happened," Thomas said quietly. "I should have gone straight home once he did, I know, but—after Barbara, I can't—I need you with me. I need you with me, Dahlia." 

She hugged him, whispering soft words of comfort. Matthew was gathering their coats and getting the carriage ready and she spoke to Thomas.

"It can't be Eugenia, Tom. She wouldn't leave the party at dawn, before midnight at most." she said quietly. 

"Maybe, but it could have been her." Thomas said, he was so very obviously panicked it clenched Dahlia's heart.

Maybe they should have stayed so Thomas wouldn't worry this much. They would know who left at what time.

It could have saved Thomas so much worry.

Thomas had lost one sister already that year, in the Mandikhor attacks. No wonder he looked so sick with terror.

There was already a crowd at the Institute when they arrived. The gates had been propped open, it was odd.

A small crowd had gathered at the base of the front steps. Among the group, Dahlia recognized many of the older Shadowhunters, her father and Charlotte, Cecily Lightwood—along with Lucie, Anna, Cordelia and James.

All of them looked shocked, their expressions grave.

As their driver pulled the carriage to a stop in the courtyard, the crowd parted and Dahlia saw a pale bundle lying at the foot of the steps. Thomas threw the carriage doors open and she realized: no, not a bundle. A body, covered in a white sheet. The sheet was stained red with dried blood. From one corner of the sheet, a hand protruded, as if reaching out for help.

At the edge of the sheet was a spill of dark hair.

Thomas leaped down to the ground. He looked frantic. Matthew followed; as he stepped off the running board, Anna walked over, wearing a caped greatcoat and a grave expression, followed more slowly by James.  

"Who was it?" Matthew demanded. "Who's dead?"

"Please," Thomas said, looking sick. "Just tell me—"

 "Filomena di Angelo," said Anna. "Stabbed to death, just as Basil Pounceby was. The Silent Brothers are on their way to bring her to the Ossuarium." 

"I thought—" Thomas began, and broke off. Shock, relief, and guilt at that relief played across his face. 

Dahlia blanched. "Filomena?" she asked, her face was pale. Horror and immense guilt hit her like a lightning bolt.

Cordelia nodded gravely.

"Were you worried about Eugenia?" Anna said, laying a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Poor darling. No, Eugenia is still quite peacefully asleep on my sofa. She may have been sick in a plant pot last night, but she is perfectly well."

"My parents," Thomas began. "Do they know—?"

"The Consul sent a runner to them," said James. "They ought to be on their way." 

"When did Filomena leave the party?" Dahlia asked. "Did she depart with anyone? 

"She was at my flat until almost dawn," Anna said. "She left then—insisted on going home alone." She scowled. "I should have gone with her. Someone should have gone with her."

"So close to sunrise," James said thoughtfully. "So this must have happened sometime in the last few hours."

"Anna, this isn't your fault," Dahlia said. "You couldn't have known. I ought to have waited and made sure to take her home—" 

Matthew looked at her sternly. "Take your own advice, Lia. You couldn't have know, love." he said quietly, brushing her hair from her face. She wanted to hug him, but she knew she couldn't. Not today, or at least for the next one week.

 "You shouldn't have walked home by yourself, Luce, not in the middle of the night. Promise me you won't again. It's too dangerous." James was scolding Lucie. 

"But I—" Lucie clamped her mouth shut. After a moment she tried again: "None of us should be out alone, I suppose. Poor Filomena."

"Where's Christopher?" Thomas asked.  Dahlia perked up at this. 'Yes, where is he?" she inquired.

"Apparently Father set up a patrol to search the neighborhood for any evidence," said Anna. "Christopher volunteered. They're still out looking." 

Dahlia nearly threw up. She knew her parabatai was capable, she never doubted that. Christopher noticed more than most knew, but she wouldn't help but worry.

"Oh poor Kit! He must have been distraught. I saw him having a nice chat with Filomena about botany. I didn't even know she liked botany." 

"How does one have a nice chat about botany?" questioned Matthew. Dahlia slapped him over the head.

"I volunteered as well, but Uncle Gabriel said if anything happened to me he'd never hear the end of it from Mam," said Lucie, looking disgruntled. 

A Silent Brother—Enoch, Dahlia thought—had emerged from the Institute. He knelt down, his parchment robes brushing the snow, and peeled back a corner of the sheet to examine the body. Dahlia looked away, she wasn't sure she could see more blood today. 

"Where was she killed?" she asked. "Near Anna's?"

"No," James said quietly. He had pulled off his gloves and was worrying them with his bare fingers. "She was killed somewhere else. Close to here." 

Anna looked at him in surprise. "Yes, on Shoe Lane," she said. "She almost made it all the way back to the Institute."

James was crushing his gloves in his hands. Lucie stared at her brother, apeculiarly blank look on her face, as if she didn't quite recognize him, or were looking past him at something else. But there was nothing else there.

"I'm starting to remember," James said.

Matthew laid a hand on James's shoulder. The day had warmed, the bright sunlight falling through the bare branches of the nearby trees making a delicate pattern of lattice work across his face. "Jamie," Matthew said, in a low voice. "Did you have another dream?" 

 "I didn't remember it when I first woke up," James said. "But now—it's coming back in pieces." He dropped the gloves into the melting snow, stark black against the white. "There was a girl, she was singing—singing in Italian—Raziel, and there was blood—so much of it—"

"James," Anna said sharply, moving to block him from the view of those crowded around Filomena's body. She glanced around at their small group. "We need to get inside."

James nodded, white-faced. He was leaning quite hard on Matthew, who had an arm around him. "Yes. I'll take us through the Sanctuary."

 ♕