jordelia or fairstairs?

me: yes.

Modern extended family of the merry thieves!

I spent a few whole days trying to perfect this and I’m very happy with the outcome <3

Characters belong to @cassandraclare

taglist (dm to be added or removed):

@lucie-blackthorns@axoloteca@casualsthings@ohcoolnice@nc-scketch@lady-ofroses@lord-jethro@astraeasflower@imherongraystairstrash@rinadragomir@ddepressedbookworm

some things cc said haunt me to this day cause there’s no way fairstairs is endgame or she writes heronchild, even unrequited. so what’s the point of all this

lack of povs - intentional

twist - non existent

…SURE

watch chot matthew end up either with 1) no povs 2) no plot twists 3) dead, or all three

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.

James “the hometown skeptics called it champagne problems” Herondale and Cordelia “it was real enough, to get me through” Carstairs and Anna “long story short, I survived” Lightwood and Ariadne “My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand, taking mine, but its been promised to another” Bridgestock and Alastair “I made you my temple my mural my sky, now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life” Carstairs and Thomas “guilty guilty reaching out across the sea. That you put between you and me” Lightwood and Matthew “the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up” Fairchild and Lucie “did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?” Herondale and Jesse “what died didn’t stay dead” Blackthorn and Christopher “i don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush” Lightwood and Grace “hes got my past frozen behind glass, but I’ve got me” Blackthorn and-

Here’s Matthew Fairchild! His hair is so big because it’s full of ✨secrets✨ This is based on @cassandrajp’s sketchbook series of @cassandraclare’s characters from The Last Hours series.