#tscsapphicnet1

@tscsapphicnet event #1: favourite sapphic pairing → helen + aline

@tscsapphicnet: event one  ⟶ favorite sapphic ship

⤷ lucelia- the last hours

@tscsapphicnet event one

tscsapphicnet event one: favourite ship

@tscsapphicnet event number one ➵ favourite tsc sapphic ship 

rosastairs

↳ lucelia

Lucie was distracted from the letter she was writing by a knock on the window. “James!” she called out. Only Matthew entered through the window, and she couldn’t deal with all of his drama when she was thinking of Cordelia. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, because she did deal with his lovable drama, and she was always thinking of Cordelia. She tried to remember a time when Cordelia hadn’t occupied her every thought. Possibly when she had been eight years old. Cordelia was always in the corners of her mind, in her peripheral thoughts, as James would have said.

Lucie wished she could talk to James and Matthew about Cordelia. She did, but they had no idea what she actually thought of her lovely Cordy. She felt scared to tell James about it, because she suspected that her feelings would have been better saved for a boy. Matthew might have been able to understand; he seemed to have feelings for boys as well. But recently he had been flustered and prone to blushing around Lucie, and she thought that Matthew might not appreciate her telling him about her strange new feelings for Cordelia.

The person she really wanted to discuss this with was Cordelia, the very person she could never tell. Lucie bent down over her letter again. If she couldn’t tell Cordelia outright, she would just have to settle for getting the beautiful warrior to love her as a friend.

“Luce?” James asked, a tentative note in his voice. “I think there’s someone here for you, not me.”

Lucie frowned irritably, not looking up from her letter. “Matthew’s the only one who comes in that way. He’s the only person dramatic enough to enter through the window when we have a perfectly good door.” Couldn’t her brother just leave her alone?

“I don’t disagree, but this is most definitely not Matthew.” Something in James’ voice made Lucie actually look up.

James was right. It most definitely wasn’t Matthew. Lucie jumped up and threw the window open, speechless.

“Hello, Lucie,” said the gorgeous girl who stepped through, graceful like Matthew, but her grace seemed so different; more warrior-like. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

It was Cordelia. Cordelia Carstairs, the girl from Lucie’s dreams.

Lucie made a strange noise in the back of her throat. She hoped it sounded more dignified than she felt. She didn’t want to make a bad impression, but she hadn’t seen Cordelia in years, and for some reason she had been expecting the younger, sweeter, somehow less fierce girl she had known. This Cordelia was intimidating and majestic; Lucie wanted to write poems about the slant of her cheekbones, the black of her midnight eyes.

Lucie felt James leave slowly, giving them some privacy. In that moment, she was more grateful to her brother than she had ever been.

Cordelia was sitting on Lucie’s chair, her legs on the wall, at about the same level as her head. Lucie remembered how Cordelia had told her that she could never sit properly unless there were adults around. It appeared to still be true.

Lucie sat down on the bed, facing the other girl. She cleared her throat as Cordelia looked at her expectantly. “You’ve… grown up, Daisy.” She hit herself mentally. Why did she have to point out the obvious? Usually Lucie was quite talented at small talk. There was something about Cordelia that confused her, though, something that tied her tongue into knots and set butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

“So have you,” Cordelia murmured, staring at her as if at a rare and beautiful flower. Lucie felt herself smiling widely, matching Cordelia’s own soft smile. Maybe she wasn’t the only one afflicted by butterflies.

They talked of family affairs for a while, mundane things like Alastair’s budding friendship with Thomas Lightwood and Anna Lightwood’s handsome new suit, but Lucie could barely keep her mind on the conversation. When she couldn’t bare it any more, she suddenly leaned forward and beseeched Cordelia, “Why have you come, my love? Why?” she did not know if she would be able to cope with the answer if it was something about her father, or Shadowhunter politics, but she had to ask.

Cordelia cocked her head to one side. “My love?” she asked. Lucie would have melted to the floor in embarrassment if it hadn’t been for the quiet happiness in Cordelia’s voice.

Lucie just nodded, not backing down, but still too shy to say it again.

“To visit you. Why do you think I came in through the window? My parents left Idris for a few days and I decided to come visit you,” Cordelia reached over to put her hand on the bedspread, next to Lucie’s.

Lucie thought she really would melt then. She let out an involuntary sigh and bit her lip. Cordelia looked over at the letter Lucie had been writing. Her gaze rested on the discarded drafts Lucie had torn up. “Cordelia, my sunshine, my daisy,” she read, “I am writing a depraved love letter to you, like the ones James tells me the boys at the Academy write. It is the only way I can think of to express my devotion to you. Perhaps I could write a normal letter, but I cannot bring myself to tell you the truth without hiding behind the crude words of young boys.”

She turned back to Lucie, lifting an eyebrow, a smile spreading across her beautiful face. “What truth, Lucie?”

Hearing Cordelia say her name like a caress made Lucie go weak at the knees. She didn’t know how she would answer the question. She supposed she didn’t have a choice, not with Cordelia looking at her like that.

“I just…” she attempted, “I love you. As I should probably be loving a boy, as I should be loving Matthew, I suppose. I love you immensely, so much that I fear it.” She had been looking down at the bedspread, scared of what Cordelia’s face would tell her.

Cordelia put her hand over Lucie’s own. Lucie looked over at it. It was infinitely prettier than the bedspread. It was rough, Lucie felt, worn down by years of practicing harder than any other Shadowhunter their age. She could feel scars crisscrossing it, could see white marks of old Runes. Her hand was warm and strong, and Lucie could barely think.

She caught her breath as Cordelia squeezed her hand and murmured, “Don’t fear it, my love.”

My love. Was it possible that Cordelia felt the same way about her? Lucie looked up, finally meeting those bottomless black eyes, her unspoken question clear.

Cordelia smiled, love shining in the depths of her eyes. “Yes, Lucie.” Lucie exhaled, her mouth parting slightly. She bit her bottom lip, uncertain. She didn’t know what to do now that everything was out in the open. She had dreamt about this, but she’d never allowed herself to hope.

But she didn’t need to do anything, because then Cordelia, her daisy, her warrior, leaned in and kissed her. Suddenly, Lucie didn’t have to think anymore. Everything made sense, because Cordelia was kissing her, her Cordelia, and wasn’t this how she’d always known it would be? Cordelia’s lips were soft and sweet; she smelled of the Persian perfume she wore, a soft spicy fragrance. Lucie lost herself in the kiss, letting herself forget everything.

They kissed for what felt like hours, finally drawing apart when someone knocked on the door. Lucie gathered her skirts, worried about how crumpled they were, but it was only James. He opened the door slowly, smirking a little at Lucie’s expression. Cordelia looked perfectly composed, her long red hair a little out of place where Lucie had run her hands through it.

“I shall go speak with Mr. Herondale and Mrs. Gray about my stay in the Institute,” Cordelia drew herself up, straightening her crumpled skirts before walking out with a nod to James and a sideways smile to Lucie, promising more later. Lucie shivered.

As soon as Cordelia closed the door, James crossed the room and sat on the bed, where Cordelia had been sitting.

“She kisses well, doesn’t she?”

Lucie started, panicked. How does he know? She started trying to make excuses, but James stopped her.

“You smell like her. I can smell it from here.” His golden eyes glinted with mischief. “And nobody’s clothes get that rumpled from just talking.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?”

“No, but if I were you, I’d tell Father not to get too excited about you two being parabatai.”

tscsapphicnet: event one

tscsapphicnet event one:  favourite sapphic ship

⤷ Anna x Ariadne