AN: The 50 prompts for this fic were taken from a prompt table over on the 100-prompts lj community. I've used it here to illustrate 50 moments from a young Charlotte Branwell's life.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JUSTINE. MY JACE. MY TRUE LOVE. This fic is for you, bb. I hope it satisfies your Henry/Charlotte needs. :)
Cauterize, Sanctify:
The Unofficial Courtship of Charlotte Fairchild and Henry Branwell
01. first kiss – Light. Unsteady. Quick. And completely unexpected. It leaves a slight shine on the back of her hand.
02. final – Charlotte knows that she's a woman. Some people in the Clave would say otherwise, but she knows. If she were a man, she would not be waiting for that one word to fall from her father's lips.
03. numb – There's a sharp sting across her palm, and the dagger clatters to the floor. Blood wells. She's silently cursing the fumble when a hand wraps around hers and a stele presses to her wrist. As the pain begins to disappear, all she catches is a flash of bright hazel eyes before he turns away after their fathers.
04. broken wings – Finally she gathers the courage to approach him on her own. She's so focused on the vivid disarray of his hair that she doesn't notice he's holding something until he's facing her, hands full of metal bits and pieces he tells her will make a person fly—someday.
05. melody – Her cousin is an excellent pianist. Everyone says so. Fine art has always been something just beyond Charlotte's appreciation—and capability—so she sits in the parlor not quite listening. Henry doesn't join them.
06. rules – It's not staring if she doesn't look for more than five seconds and if she only allows herself a glance whenever someone at the table says the word "future."
07. chocolate – Sometimes he forgets to eat. She's noticed this in passing. He could have a heaping plate of pork and carrots sitting right in front of him, and he'll simply forget to pick up his fork. Yet somehow chocolate-dipped macaroons never escape his notice.
08. nostalgia – When Charlotte was very young—when her mother was still alive—a stray puppy found its way into the Institute's stables. Undersized and mangy, the pup devoured every scrap Charlotte dutifully snuck from the dinner table night after night. When Charlotte looks at Henry, she recalls her mother's knowing smile.
09. heartbeat – A long-limbed, gangly seventeen-year-old, Henry is already tall and promises another growth spurt before the year is out. Her height being one of the few things that betrays her sex, Charlotte only reaches his shoulder when they stand side-by-stand. Because she cannot always meet his eyes, she imagines she can watch his heart beating inside his chest.
10. stranger – He's standing alone before a shop window, thoughtfully looking inside and scratching his jaw. As she passes, their gazes catch for a moment in the glass. He's surprised and she's, well…she blushes at the ground and hurries on.
11. confusion – He tries to explain the concept of a tiny machine that would somehow detect demons better than a trained Nephilim eye, and she begins to understand why some people consider him to be a little mad.
12. bitter – "It isn't fair. You've been running the Institute on your own for years. I'm just as capable of managing." "Benedict Lightwood would disagree." "Benedict Lightwood is a sorry—" "Yes. I know."
13. afterlife – As they leave together for a hunt, heavily Marked and laden with weapons, Charlotte finds herself wanting to pray but not knowing what exactly to ask for.
14. daybreak – From her window, she follows the indeterminate path he takes through the courtyard and toward the gardens. She's in no danger of him looking up from the chart in his hands.
15. audience – She's worried she'll give herself away. Then again, maybe she already has.
16. endless sorrow – Sitting in the chair of her father's study, she understands what she is being told. Proposed. Good man. Need a husband. His father's debts. The matter is closed.
17. fireworks – As the colors bleed from the sky, she cannot recall what is being celebrated. But she notes that lights shine more brightly in darkness.
18. wishing - The ring is a nice fit, and Charlotte has always been fond of the Branwell crest: churning waves as infinite as the surface of the ocean. Henry smiles as he places it on her finger, and her stomach leaps even though she knows better.
19. happy birthday to you – The sun is shining the first time he calls her 'Lottie.'
20. tomorrow - It will be a short engagement, which is just as well because impatience has always been one of Charlotte's biggest faults. She doesn't like waiting—waiting for permission, waiting for others to catch up, or waiting for the sting of a blade she hasn't dodged in time.
21. oppression - I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. She allows herself to think these words only when she is alone.
22. agony - He screams. It's dark and she lost her witchlight somewhere at the beginning of the raid—in the sewers?—so there isn't a way to see. But she finds the gushing wound, and suddenly sticking a finger in his artery is the closest she's ever been to him. The pressure stems the bleeding.
23. return - For two days he's caught in fevered dreams. Charlotte tends him constantly without thought for her own growing fatigue. Then his temperature lowers and he shows signs of regaining consciousness. At that point, Charlotte retires to her own room and sleeps through tea, supper, and breakfast.
24. protection - Benedict Lightwood sneers at her as they pass each other on the steps outside the Institute. He would say something, she thinks, if it were not for the presence of his sons—each bearing a matching frown of disapproval.
25. boxes - It sits unopened on her bed for several hours until finally her lady's maid has to insist on one last fitting. Charlotte lifts the lid and buries her fingers in yards of soft gold.
26. hope - They sit down and have a very sincere—if somewhat abstract—conversation about expectations and life after. Henry is happy to follow her lead in regards to her plans for the Institute, and he presents her with a single, half-bloomed rose from the garden.
27. preparation - The morning of the wedding, her room smells of columbine, almond meal, and—just faintly—of the incomplete rune fading on the back of the door.
28. beautiful - He has the most endearing smile. It's quick and unassuming and a little bit crooked. As she starts down the aisle, Charlotte's glad that she's the only woman who seems to have noticed it.
29. lies – After the ceremony is over, she finds it easier to breathe. This is either because Henry keeps her arm tucked in his or because a mystery benefactor is keeping her champagne goblet full.
30. underneath – The vague advice of her lady's maid vanishes in the darkness of the room. She bears his weight and cautious touch with all the certainty of a girl who has only just forgotten that love is a burden not always shared.
31. hide - It's the first of many mornings she'll spend pretending to sleep. She waits, listening as he stirs for the first time. He yawns, and when he stretches, he bumps her back. Then there is a long silence in which she almost forgets to breathe deep.
32. diary - Charlotte has noticed a small book that Henry keeps in his pocket. There is rarely a moment when he isn't scribbling in it. One morning, while Henry is training with her father, she slips it from his jacket and browses the pages to find lists, charts, equations, fragmented thoughts, and no mention of her.
33. unforeseen - A boy arrives in the middle of the night, and most of the household sleeps through his advent. The first time Charlotte lays eyes on William Herondale, she is reminded of the silence after a rain—a stirring of repressed heat and residual darkness that gives way only slowly.
34. conditional - The Institute feels full. Young voices, training missteps, a dance between new lovers. Everyone stumbles over each other, and no one is especially sorry about it. Charlotte rather likes it that way.
35. gone – Granville Fairchild was a great man. Even the fatal infection spreading through his bloodstream could not stop his purpose. Weak and feverish, he whispered into Consul Wayland's ear as he had once whispered bedtime stories to his daughter. Charlotte remembers their conclusion: "And they all lived by the Angel's grace. The end."
36. clear skies - The smoke from the pyre can be seen for miles around. Charlotte has never much enjoyed visiting Idris. She associates it with tradition and, now, the smell of burning oil consuming the last of her childhood.
37. heartache – Tears, it seems, are like demons. They come unwanted in the long hours of night and are most easily fought off with Henry at her side. He takes her hand and sighs, "Oh, Lottie," and the world is a little less still.
38. wired - Consul Wayland entrusts the running of the London Institute to Henry and Charlotte Branwell. It feels like a consolation prize.
39. insanity - Spaces shift. Charlotte and Henry relocate to the master bedroom. Thomas moves out from the room he's shared with his mother for 13 years. Will decides the isolation of the tower better suits his nature. Henry…Henry takes over the crypt. He's down in the damp cold from sunup to sundown, and all he can tell Charlotte is that he needs "a place to work."
40. foolish - Every night she enters their room with hope under her skin. Eleanor helps her out of her day dress and into her night clothes. Never one for frivolities but always a fighter, Charlotte dabs rosewater behind her ears and just under the neckline of her gown. By the time Henry arrives for bed, Charlotte is waiting beneath the covers. Most nights, she waits in vain.
41. words - "Have you thought at all about having children?" "You mean…with you?" "Yes, of course." "Oh, well, do you want children?" "Well…" "Because I know how busy you've been running things around here, and you've been doing so well. I understand you wanting to wait before starting a family." "That's…alright."
42. study - Henry has a brilliant mind. But when Charlotte is sitting across from a petulant Will, who refuses to read texts aloud in anything but Welsh, she wishes that her husband would put that mind to more practical use.
43. punctual - She still turns her head every time he walk into a room.
44. piggybank - Whenever she receives her wage from the Clave, Charlotte sets nearly a quarter of it aside. The small box beneath the bed begins to fill, and she knows she's getting closer to a new roof for the stables.
45. shooting star - He's done it. At least, that's what he keeps saying as he rushes outside with a long, cylindrical instrument clutched in his hands. "A shrapnel weapon capable of incapacitating a demon. Stand back, Charlotte. Will. Just to be cautious. Although I have no doubt it will—" There's a loud pop followed by a grating sound that rings in their ears. The small sapling behind Henry sways precariously before falling to the ground in a heap of quivering branches.
46. forgiveness - She shouldn't have snapped at him. It's not as if he understood just how much the council meeting meant to her—Benedict Lightwood would not be able to shoulder her out of the way. She tells herself that if Henry had understood, things would have gone differently.
47. platonic - They take the boys with them to the Reinhart's seasonal ball. Despite having only been in the country for two months, Jem has adapted well to his new environment. His patience is only outshone by Will's ability to test it. As the four of them are greeted by their host, it is Will who steps forward to make the introduction. "Will Herondale. And friends."
48. temperature - Beneath the butterfly kisses she leaves across his face, she can feel the heat. Flushed cheeks. A bit of stubble missed during his morning shave. She blows gently against his damp jaw, and he shivers beneath her.
49. gift - There is a lot to be thankful for. A comfortable home, a husband she loves, two boys who are as good as hers, and some semblance of control over her own life. And yet, to have and to hold seem two very different things. Charlotte does not mean to be ungrateful.
50. search - At night she wakes, and it is too dark to see. She wishes for moonlight and carefully clasps Henry's limp hand. Neither of them stirs, so maybe she is just dreaming.
- fin -