unsinkable-wessa

[unsinkable-wessa]

When will you publish chapter 6??

When it gets finished... if it gets finished. Cee and I both want to continue the story, we just don’t have as much time and energy now that we both have full-time commitments

-Taylor

[unsinkable-wessa]

Summary: The R.M.S Titanic is dubbed the ‘Ship of Dreams’ and is said to be unsinkable. The largest ship ever built could hold up to 3,300 passengers. Among them is one Theresa Gray, a seventeen-year-old American aristocrat, traveling back home to New York with her mother and fiance’. In her sheltered life, she feels trapped. That is, until she meets Will Herondale, a struggling British artist looking for a fresh start. Titanic retold. By @clarrissaherondale and @rhystars

Chapter 5: April 11, 1912

Tessa

When Theresa woke up the next morning, she knew what she needed to do: she had to go and find Will Herondale and thank him properly. She couldn’t wait until that evening at dinner to tell him; and anyway, dinner would not be the ideal place for a private conversation. She had to talk to him as soon as possible, perhaps after breakfast. Yes, that would work well for Elizabeth would be busy with the other ladies and Axel...well, she could never be sure exactly about Axel. But she hoped he would leave her be and not follow her around.

It was all she could think about as she went on with her mundane daily activities with her mother. While the other women chatted about this and that, Theresa’s mind was focused on how she was going to find Will. She supposed she would have to go into the third class General Room. Theresa was trying to remember where she had seen a third class entrance.

“I’m going for a walk,” Theresa told her mother after breakfast. She could hardly contain her anticipation.

Elizabeth eyed her daughter warily, no doubt recalling last night's adventure and wondering if she could trust Theresa to walk along the ship unattended. “Be careful,” was all she said in reply.

Theresa found a third class entrance on the starboard side of the deck. There was a gate that indicated it was, and a staircase that went down. She looked around her, making sure no one was paying her any attention. Theresa didn’t know if it was not allowed for her to enter this part of the ship and she didn’t care to find out, either.

She took a deep breath and slowly started to walk down the stairs.

What am I doing?

Theresa came out into a narrow hallway; she could hear the hum of several people talking. She decided to follow the noise. Heart pounding, she stepped into a doorway that led into a very large room with benches. On the benches sat more people than she could count, laughing, talking, playing games with children.

She knew that she looked out of place. She wore a delicate silk dress, flowing past her ankles and sweeping the floor behind her. Her hair was pinned up in an elegant style that Sophie had spent the better part of an hour this morning on, while most of the women and young girls wore their hair in simple plaits or loosely around their shoulders.

Theresa couldn’t help but notice how close everyone was. Sweaty bodies moved in close proximity to each other, laughing and moving about the room. Men and women were sitting and standing in positions that seemed improper to her: girls perched lightly on men’s laps, boys with arms wrapped tightly around women’s shoulders or waists. It reminded Theresa of the way Axel had touched her last night, how he had whispered in her ear, what he was insinuating. She shuddered at her thoughts, having to physically shake her head to remove the memories.

Across the room laughing with a tall brunette stood one of the most beautiful girls Theresa had ever seen. She was a petite girl, shorter and slighter than those surrounding her. Her skin, pale as snow, was complemented by her thick, dark curls. As she turned toward another dark haired boy sitting in a chair near her, Theresa saw the girl’s eyes flicker toward the door next to her; dark blue, a colour as deep as the ocean. Suddenly, a memory hit Theresa.

The girl from the hallway, with the bubbly laughter, that she had seen yesterday on her way back to her room after fleeing lunch. The girl who had been travelling with--

Will! Theresa thought, eyes widening slightly. The girl had been travelling with Will Herondale, the boy who had brushed up against her leg in that hallway. Will Herondale, the same boy who had found her last night, who had talked her down from the ledge, and who had saved her life as she dangled over the vast and threatening sea. Will Herondale, the very same boy who had visited her late last night in her dreams, saving her from dangers unknown and sweeping her off of her feet again and again.

Theresa’s eyes swept the room once more, finally falling on the man she was searching for. Will Herondale sat next to the dark haired boy and the petite girl, staring intensely at something in his lap. A book or something, she figured.

Theresa felt her legs move of their own accord, as if they were being beckoned by some strange force. That force, she knew, was Will. She weaved her way through the thick crowd to where he sat, stepping lightly to rest in front of him. He remained oblivious to her presence, still focused on his lap. The boy sitting beside him, whom Theresa also recognized from the hallway, looked curiously between her and Will. He cleared his throat loudly, but Will didn’t look up. Behind him, the dark haired girl giggled. The boy sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend, before elbowing him roughly in the side.

“Ow! James what the he-” It was then that Will finally noticed the woman standing in front of him. His cheeks reddened slightly as he looked up at her. He stood abruptly, dropping the book that had been in his lap. He blushed a shade darker as he bent to pick it up, and set it down where he had been sitting. The dark haired girl was laughing behind him, most likely at his effort. Theresa had to hold back a giggle herself.

“Tessa.” He finally spoke to her.Theresa’s stomach did flips beneath her corset. Tessa, he’d said instead of Theresa. It was her turn to blush. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to you, Mr. Herondale.” She raised her chin to look him in the eye. She was aware that the surrounding party had stopped their conversations to stare at the pair of them. He cleared his throat.

“Okay.” He prompted. Nervously, Theresa’s eyes swept the room around her.

“Privately.” She murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Oh right. Yeah, of course. This way.” He bent to retrieve his leather folder on the bench and  took a hold of her hand , turning back to nod to his companions before leading her back to the stairwell. She tried to focus on the steps so she wouldn’t fall, but her mind and eyes kept wandering back to their clasped hands. They reached the deck and she let her hand fall away from his. Will then grabbed the back of her arm, guiding her along the narrow passageway toward a more secluded area of the ship. He stopped and turned to her, waiting.

“I came...to thank you properly…” She began, playing with her fingertips as she spoke. “For last night, I mean.”

Will paused, likely searching for the correct words. A few awkward moments passed before he finally said, “You’re welcome.”

More silence followed. Theresa could physically feel the tension in the air around them. They stood like that for several moments, staring at each other, until finally Will cracked a smile.

“Well,” he said, amusement coloring his voice, “now that we’ve got that over with, care to take a walk?”

Theresa actually smiled back a genuine smile and nodded. “I’d like that.”

The two of them fell into step together. Theresa looked out at the ocean, a shocking contrast to what it had been last night. Then, it was intimidating and black; now, it was a beautiful vast canvas of blue and sparkling white. What a difference night and day were, she thought.

“So,” Will said suddenly, calling her attention away from the sea. “You’re American?”

“Fine observation,” she said teasingly, startling herself. Theresa never teased. “And let me guess...you’re English?”

“Welsh, actually,” he corrected and Theresa was fascinated at watching his sharp profile against the sun. “But it’s an easy mistake to make.”

He turned to her and grinned, the same grin from last night that had made her breath catch in her throat. Today, in full sunlight so she could see all the planes of his face, she simply stopped breathing. Oh, who was this man? She had to know more.

“You are from Wales?” She asked, her voice high and strained. “Why are you leaving for America?”

“You’d think I’m a fool if I told you,” his voice was mischievous and she hung on every word.

“Perhaps not,” she replied. “It can’t be all that bad..”

He sighed and stopped walking, turning to face her. “All right, then. I won three tickets to this grand vessel in a hand of poker. It wasn’t planned. I had no idea what the Titanic was a week ago.”

She gaped at him in shock. “You left to travel to another country...on a whim?”

Will’s face brightened, his grin widening. His dark blue eyes in the sun were the color of a summer sky, clear and bright.  “I did warn you, did I not?”

Theresa realized her jaw was hanging open rudely and shut it. “No, no, I don’t think you’re a fool, I…I’ve just never heard of anyone doing something like that!”

Truly, she hadn’t. But she would be lying to herself if she said that the idea didn’t sound terribly thrilling, however mad it was. She knew she could never do something like that; pick up and leave whenever she wanted to go wherever she wanted. She would always be a step behind Axel, following in his lead.

“Oh,” he said, almost sounding sad to hear it. “Well, Tes-- Miss Gray, what brings you back to America, then?”

Her feelings of giddiness vanished at the reminder of her journey. “Well,” she began, her voice melancholy, “you see, I’m returning home because I’m to be married next month.” The words tasted acidic in her mouth.

“Married?” Will’s eyes turned from bright blue to ice in such a quick moment that Theresa thought she’d imagined it. She looked up at him, a cold, dark feeling settling in her stomach. It was the same feeling that always appeared when she thought of Axel.

“Yes, Mr. Herondale. We start making preparations for the wedding as soon as we port in New York.” She wrapped her arms around her body then, shivering. Not from the cold, though.

“New York?” Will questioned. “Of course you have a fiance’ waiting for you in America.” The second part was said quieter and Theresa wondered for a second if Will had been talking to himself. She answered anyway.

“Actually, he’s not waiting for me in New York. We’re traveling together, you see. With my mother.” He turned to her suddenly, stepping in front of her body and blocking her path. She bumped into his chest and stumbled backward. She would’ve fallen onto the deck if he hadn’t reached and grabbed her arms, steadying her. His hands were warm and rough against her skin, and she tried not to focus on the heat spreading through her body at his touch.

Theresa looked up into his eyes again. His eyes, she thought. They’re only eyes. Why can’t I stop staring? Look away, Theresa, look away now! She chastised herself. But she didn’t, she couldn’t. They flashed rapidly, as if he were thinking very hard.

“That man. Adam, the small, rat-faced man that came to collect you last night. He called you his fiancee’.” Will remembered. His eyes never left hers; it seemed that he was as captivated by her as she was by him.Theresa giggled at Will’s ‘rat-faced’ comment.

“His name is Axel. Mr. Axel Mortmain.” She giggled once more. Will smiled down at her, then turned and began walking down the deck again. Theresa had to take a few extra steps to match his long strides.

“That is the man you’ve chosen to spend the rest of your life with?” He scoffed. “My, my, Tessa,” She couldn’t help the tightening in her chest at the nickname he called her. A good tightening, so different from the collapsing feeling she felt when speaking to her betrothed. Will jostled her from her thoughts as he threw his head back in laughter.

But still, Theresa did not laugh along with him now. Even the wonderful sound of his laughter could not make up for the hurt she felt at that comment. She stopped in her tracks, the muscles in her face tightening.

“You seem to be under the false assumption that I have a choice in this, Mr. Herondale.” The words flew from her mouth before she could take them back, words she’s never dare told anyone before. “And even so, what makes you think you have the right to mock me?”

Will’s eyes widened, several different expressions in them at once: surprise, pity, guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was not mocking you, honestly, I--”

“No, I’m sorry,” she interrupted, sighing and looking out to sea. “I’m sorry I dragged you into my problems. You were probably having a really nice journey before you found an insane woman hanging off the back of the ship; a poor little rich girl who was contemplating whether or not jumping into oblivion was the merciful thing to do to herself.”

Theresa gripped the railing to keep her hands from shaking. Her eyes stung. Why could she not stop speaking about things she knew she ought not to? Under her hands, the railing felt familiar; Theresa’s mind took her back to last night, back to the moment before she was about to jump.

“Why?” Will asked softly, his hand on the railing, his pinkie just touching her’s. “Why did you do it?”

“Because when I look into my future I see nothing but misery.” Her hand inched closer to his, too close. “Because I have no control; I choose nothing for myself. Because I hate the world I was born into, the deceit and finery...it’s just dress up, Will.” When she whispered his name, she felt him stiffen beside her.

“Every day I play dress up multiple times. I have the same routine every single day..” She continued. “The people you see walking about on this deck, these first class passengers? We talk and talk but we say nothing. The compliments are empty; everything is for show. It’s all about money: how much you have, how lavishly you spend it...nothing has substance. Nothing--” She broke off for fear she would start crying.

Theresa could not look at him, not now. She felt him beside her, felt the sleeve of his shirt and the touch of his finger. It felt good to say it, she decided. Maybe saying it out loud would help her; maybe it would make it easier.

“Tessa…” His voice was sympathetic, almost raw. It surprised her. “Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion. “I’ve already told you.”

“No,” Will’s voice was clipped and rushed, and Theresa peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He was shaking his head. “Who are you really? Take everything away, your mother, your fiance’, your multiple dresses and your cotillions, your etiquette, your whole society, the person you pretend to be when everyone is watching...take all of it away. Who are you underneath, truly?”

He did not ask a simple question. In fact, he asked her the one thing she was positive that she could not answer. “I don’t know who I truly am.”

How could she? How could she know who she was underneath all that she had been brought up in? That was her identity. She’d never been anyone else. She was Theresa Gray, daughter of Richard Gray, a highly respected man of society. Soon she would become Theresa Mortmain. Who else could she possibly be?

Beside her, Will was still determined. “What would you like to do? If anything were possible, what would you do once we get to New York?”

“Well,” she began, “if anything were possible I would not go back to New York at all, actually.” The city in which she had grown up now reminded her too much of her oppression, her father’s death, her most unhappy memories. She did not want to return.

“Where would you go then?”

“Oh, I don’t know...anywhere. Anywhere so long as I was free. I’ve travelled many places this past year but I couldn’t enjoy it.”

Will ran a hand through his black hair and it was then that Theresa fully took notice of what beautiful hands he had. Long and elegant.

“Tell me about you, Mr. Herondale,” Theresa blurted.

One side of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Call me Will,” he said, his eyes looking into her in a way that made her feel hot.

“Will.”

“Yes?” His smile was broadening into a grin now.

Theresa scowled and resumed walking, her heels clicking against the wood. “I can see I’ll need to keep my wits about me in your company.”

His longer legs caught up with her in seconds; his gait was relaxed, almost playful. “It’s all part of my charm.” Will made a sweeping gesture with his free arm, and Theresa relented, giggling. “And I think we should take turns asking each other a question, only we must be truthful in our answer.”

Theresa was just about to say that she really did not know him well enough to be asking personal questions, but then remembered all that she had already told him. And there was this other desire to simply do something that was not appropriate, something new and perhaps fun.

“Okay,” she grinned, feeling a rush of excitement that was so foreign. “I’ll go first, then: how old are you?”

Will looked disappointed. “Tessa, Tessa,” he sighed. she felt another flutter in her stomach as her name- no, not her name but the name he gave her- passed his lips. She ducked her head to hide the blush she felt burning her cheeks. “Of all the possible, delicious things you could ask the handsome stranger…”

“It’s a perfectly good question!”

“Nineteen, if you must know.” She was not surprised to learn this. He looked just that age. “And I have no need to ask for your age. I have a gift, you see.”

“Of knowing people’s age?”

“Yes,” he nodded, smirking. “You are...eighteen.”

“Wrong. Seventeen.”

“Really? Damn. I guessed Six-Fingered Nigel’s age, and let me assure you, that was no easy feat!”

Theresa gawked at him. “Six-Fingered Nigel?”

Will grinned down at her, eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “He was a chap I knew. But, he’s not important and actually he’s quite terrifying. You don’t want to know any more.” Theresa decided not to push further.

“Your turn, Will. Ask me a question.”

“What about your family. Brothers? Sisters?” Will became slightly more serious. Theresa huffed a small sigh as Will mentioned her family.

“I have one brother, Nathaniel. He’s been on business in Ireland for weeks. He works with my fiance’, you see. We’re stopping there later, as you must know, to pick up more passengers. He’ll be traveling home with my mother and I.” She kept her head forward and her expression blank as she spoke about her brother. It’s not that she was unhappy to see him later that day; it was quite the opposite actually. She adored Nate. He was her best friend when they were children and her closest confidant now. He was the only member of her family that she could trust.

What Theresa wasn’t happy about was the ideals and expectations Nate brought with him. Nathaniel Gray was a successful, well-off bachelor in his early twenties, every inch the man his father had been in his youth. He was handsome and charming, smooth and charismatic. Business men fought for his employment and women lined up on his doorstep.

All of this attributed to Elizabeth Gray’s immense love for him. Nate was her favorite child, her most prized possession. Next to him, Theresa was more of a happy mistake then a daughter. Something pretty for people to look at, while her older brother was someone that they envied. On top of everything, Nathaniel shared his mother’s wishes her his sister: he wanted her married to a rich man, one who would “take care of her”. Nate’s idea of being taken care of meant that he wanted a husband to buy her nice things and flaunt her around. Like Mrs. Gray, Nate saw Theresa ten years later, as a socialite who threw afternoon tea parties while her husband was at work, as a mother and homemaker willing to submit to her husband at the snap of his fingers. He didn’t see her as a young woman; Nate saw Theresa as property, another nice plaything.

Theresa knew from years of experience that once Nate arrived, the last bit of her freedom would have to be surrendered. She’d be expected to act as a perfect high-class lady; she would not have the chance to hang herself off the side of the ship where she could meet attractive young men coming to her rescue again.

Theresa sighed once again, softly, before setting her features in what she hoped was a neutral expression. Her complaints about her family were something she rarely voiced to friends, and never to strange boys she met on boats.

Will

Will noticed Theresa’s slightly strained expression at the mention of her brother. As much as he wanted to stick his nose in this woman’s- this stranger’s- family, he didn’t try to push her. The look in her eyes gave off enough clues as to her fraternal relationship. So, instead of the prying he wished he do, Will settled for turning the tide of the conversation back to himself.

“Siblings… we’re supposed to love them, but sometimes they make it so damn hard.” He chuckled at the end of his sentence, finally drawing Tessa out of her thoughts. Her eyes brightened as she smiled up at him, and Will found himself wishing he could make them shine like that forever. Then, he drowned those thoughts as quickly as they had surfaced. Such silly things to think: him, a low-born commoner, with this first-class aristocrat. It was ridiculous that he could imagine it, even for a second. The sun was higher now than when their little walk had begun; her eyes had simply caught a better ray of light.

Tessa had gotten a few steps ahead of him while he had been fantasizing about the impossible, and he had to take a few longer strides to catch up. As he walked up beside her again, their elbows touched gently. Will ignored it.

“So, that young woman,” Tessa said to him in a more cautious and curious tone then she had used before. “The one you were sitting with before, and who was with you in the hallway that night… is that your sibling? Your sister, I mean?”

Will could feel his heart beating a little faster when she mentioned the first night. She remembers me? He thought, shocked. It had never occurred to him that she would remember that moment. At least, not in the way he remembered it. He remembered pins and needles on his neck, fire in his veins. He remembered feeling the heat that radiated off of her body. Too close. No, certainly she didn’t remember it quite like he had. Whatever he thought he might have seen in her eyes then was most probably annoyance. Yes.

He blinked when he heard her light voice pry him out of his thoughts. He started. “I’m so sorry, did you say something?”

Tessa looked a little concerned. “I asked about that woman?”

She must think he was such a lunatic. Will’s cheeks burned.

“My apologizes,” he murmured, then cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity. “Yes, that she-devil is my younger sister.”

Tessa laughed. It was a sweet, charming sound. His chest ached. “She’s very beautiful.”

“Don’t tell her that,” he warned. “She’s vain enough as it is.”

She studied him a moment, then looked back ahead. “Why do I have the feeling that vanity is something you both share in common?”

Will was speechless for several seconds, a dumbfounded expression taking over his features. Finally he said, “What makes you say that?”

Tessa turned to him and rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to answer him, but decided against it and snapped her lips closed. They stared at each for a few seconds longer before she shook her head and started on their path again.

“It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said that.” Will guessed that she was biting her tongue or maybe cursing in her head. But this time, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

“No, tell me. What makes you say that?” She sped up her steps, and he followed suit. She dismissively waved her hand in the air at him.

“Nothing, really. It’s silly. Just forget I ever said anything.” She tilted her head down slightly, as if ashamed. She was starting to amuse Will, and he had to fight the smirk that was threatening his lips.

“Oh c’mon Tessa,” He laughed, her name rolling off his tongue. Will decided he liked the way her name sounded and he liked saying it. “Just tell me, love. What is it?” The slip up didn’t even register in his brain until after he had spoken the word. He hoped she would overlook it, maybe write it off as something English men do or that she didn’t hear it at all. He glanced in her direction; she was still walking fast with her head forward, ignoring him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Please?” Will tried again, hoping to gain back her attention from the railing she seemed particularly interested in. She huffed a sigh, turning back towards him for a moment. As she opened her mouth again, her gaze dropped to the ground in front of her.

“Well, usually people who look… you know, like you,” she started, cheeks flaming red. Will’s lips turned up in a smirk, unable to fight it off any longer. “People like that are allowed a little vanity.”

For a second, Will was stunned. She found him attractive? The thought was almost too good to be true. But he recovered and found her looking at him, grey eyes wide and expectant.

Will, in true Will Herondale charm, broke into fits of loud and obnoxious laughter.

“You think I’m handsome!” He held a hand to his stomach, muscles starting to ache from his outburst. “You find me dashing! I can’t say that I blame you, though. Many women have been charmed by my good looks.” Will’s smirk got wider-until he looked up at Tessa.

She stood in front of him, brows drawn together in an angry expression, hands placed not-so-delicately at her waist. Will didn’t know how a woman so small could put so much attitude into a pose, but Tessa had mastered it.

“You! Oh, you!” She stomped her foot quite dramatically. “This is exactly what I was talking about, Mr. Herondale! You and your… your kind with your narcissism and your pretentiousness! Oh!” Tessa’s face was bright red as she looked up at Will, eyes ablaze with anger.

“‘Narcissism and pretentiousness’? My species is known for those redeeming qualities, it’s true.” Oh, he was only making it worse for himself, he knew. But that fire in her eyes was magnificent.

Tessa raised herself to her full height and it was perhaps the first time Will noticed that she was almost as tall as he. Her eyes were practically level with his own as she glared into them. Will was fighting not to grin again. It wasn’t even that he found her disdainment amusing, but that the way she transformed. There was nothing of the tame, timid girl left. This was what he’d meant when he’d asked her who she really was; what was hiding underneath etiquette and lace.

“You’re insufferable,” she breathed.

And with that, she began walking away from him again. Will found himself mesmerized by the swinging motion of her hips as she stomped long strides across the deck. Her heels were making fast little click click clicks on the wood. Blinking out of his stupor, he jogged to catch up to her.  

“You aren’t going to abandon me in first class deck territory, are you?”

“I was considering it,” she replied airily.”

“Would you reconsider if I fell to my knees and apologized?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chastised, but her lips were twitching.

“I would do it, you know.”

“I believe you, but I don’t think that’s necessary.” She snapped in a harsh tone, still moving fast down the dock. Will reached out for her arm.

“Tessa. Tessa, please. Don’t walk away from me.” He gave a light tug, spinning her to face him. Tessa, ever graceful, caught the heel of her shoe on the toe of Will’s and tripped.

Right into Will.

His arms snaked their way around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. So close, he could feel her heart beating through her dress. It was racing- or maybe that was his heart. Will’s throat closed up, allowing hardly any oxygen into his lungs. Inches from his face, Tessa’s eyes were wide and her mouth was slack. It took great willpower not to lean further into her, not to close the remaining space between them.

It was with much reluctance that Will steadied her, pulling away. Tessa’s face and neck were flushed. Will wanted to curse.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I did not mean--”

She was cut off from whatever needless apologies she was about to dive into by several voices talking excitedly at once. Will turned, wondering what had everyone so worked up.

He caught the end of a conversation between two first class gentlemen. “--this had better be the last time we make port. I’ve got a wife and two children at home sick with smallpox.”

Tessa, hearing this, visibly cringed. “We must be approaching Ireland. I must go...my brother, Nate..”

Will nodded, hiding his disappointment well. “Of course.”

She smiled tentatively, the red in her cheeks still high. “Will I still be seeing you tonight at dinner?”

Oh no. He’d forgotten all about that bloody dinner. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Well...almost anything.”

Laughing, Tessa began to retreat. “Do you know the way to the Dining Saloon?”

“I’m a resourceful bloke,” he waved away her worry. “I’ll find it, never you worry.”

“I’ll see you at dinner then.”

Will knew she was stalling and it did nothing for his heart that was pounding erratically. “Until then.”

He was relieved when she finally turned around and walked until she blended in with the other passengers dressed in their finery. Will exhaled deeply, his posture slumping.

He turned around to find a small young woman from first class looking at him with keen eyes. Will glanced around him. Surely she was mistaking him for someone else.

“Miss Theresa Gray seems very fond of you, doesn’t she?”

He blinked in surprise. The woman grinned; it was a bit wild.

“I’m Lottie Branwell. You had better come with me.”

[unsinkable-wessa]

Hi, Just a small question, but I was wondering, is there a reasom you kept the hear of the sea necklace as a heart, or are you planning to incorporate Tessa's angel somewhere else?

Hey, there! To be honest with you, I don’t think either of us even thought about Tessa’s clockwork angel before! (wow, but that would have been an awesome twist…) And whether or not we plan in incorporate it…hmm. I guess we’ll see? :) 

-Cee

[unsinkable-wessa]

Summary: The R.M.S Titanic is dubbed the ‘Ship of Dreams’ and is said to be unsinkable. The largest ship ever built could hold up to 3,300 passengers. Among them is one Theresa Gray, a seventeen-year-old American aristocrat, traveling back home to New York with her mother and fiance’. In her sheltered life, she feels trapped. That is, until she meets Will Herondale, a struggling British artist looking for a fresh start. Titanic retold. By @not-taylorswift and @blueseyberries

Chapter 4: September 10, 1912

Tessa

Him? Was all Theresa could remember thinking later. Why did it have to be him? 

But it was him: the stranger boy with the provoking blue eyes. He came uninvited and broke her resolve for something she thought so desperately she wanted. But Theresa did not know true desperation. No, that came afterward.

The boy’s name was Will Herondale. Theresa had noticed, even while standing on the railing at the back of the Titanic, things about him that she hadn’t noticed before in brief seconds she’d him in the narrow hallway. His hair was pitch black; it blended in with the backdrop behind him. Will’s face was lovely. She had never seen a face like his before. It combined elements of masculinity and elegance perfectly. His cheekbones were defined like they’d been carved carefully by an artist. His lips were full and slightly red. His skin was pale, like hers, but his cheeks were high with color in the frigid wind.

Theresa had not been exaggerating when she told him he was being a distraction. Truly, he was. His voice was low and soothing when he spoke to her, as if he were calming down a spooked mare. This only irritated her more.

She observed immediately that his accent was British. Perhaps he was seeking a new adventure in America. Perhaps he’d grown bored of his own country. Theresa cursed herself inwardly when she noticed her thoughts taking her away from the ocean: just as he wanted.

It was him telling her he’d have to jump in there after her that caught her off guard further and made her laugh. Surely he was lying. Not even the most heroic of men would jump after someone they couldn’t possibly save, resulting in their own death themselves? It would accomplish nothing. Then he spoke about the temperature of the water, using that tactic to coax her back. It became clear that he was not going to leave. But, then Tessa thought, what decent man would leave someone to kill themselves?

Her mind was still wavering when she took Will’s hand. One part of her was almost disappointed. She’d been ready, she thought. She’d had the opportunity, it was there. For those few moments before Will had interrupted she’d felt some relief because the pressure would be gone. The terrible weight that had been dumped on her shoulders would be gone. And now? What was she going back to? Did she want to go back? Was she feeling secure in this decision?

All questions were answered for her when she got a slight taste of the alternative. She felt the lacy fabric under her shoe slip against the rail. She felt her stomach go into her through when she dropped. She felt a fear so potent that she could taste it on her tongue. She had never felt the tremendous force of gravity like this; it was an invisible energy and she felt it wrap around her like an unwelcomed embrace, it was pulling.

And Will alone was fighting against it, his voice a distant hum in her ears at first. It took her a moment before she could focus on it and hear him. Yes, he was there. He still had her. But it wasn’t so simple. Her hand was sweaty in his and she slipped further. Then she cried:

“I don’t want to die!”

There it was. She felt it. It was a spark, a match being struck in an empty room. It filled her up from the tips of her fingers to her toes. She borrowed strength from it and fought with Will, pulling herself up with all her might. Before she knew it she was on the deck; she could hear Will speaking into her ear but she couldn’t respond. Not yet.

Her body shook uncontrollably, adrenaline still coursing through her veins as she tried to slow down her racing heart. She replayed the last few moments in her mind; how free she had felt standing on the railing, and then how terrified she’d been dangling hundreds of feet above the sea. A fit of sobs overtook her then, tears spilling over for the second time since she’d boarded this wretched prison vessel. She faintly felt Will’s arms tighten around her body, but she was still too shaken to enjoy the warmth.

From somewhere on the deck that Theresa couldn’t pin-point, what sounded like a shouting match began. She wasn’t paying attention what was being yelled; she focused on controlling her breathing and stopping the vile weeping as best as she could. Her torso still convulsed, and her lungs felt like they were collapsing from lack of air. Then she felt depleted. Theresa didn’t know how long she sat there. She looked ahead of her but saw nothing, nothing at all. Until…

“What is this?!” Axel’s voice cut through her blank mind like a knife, dragging her back into the present so fast she felt lightheaded. “Theresa! What is the matter with her?”

Theresa looked at her fiance’ and suddenly she was terrified. He was going to find out what she’d done and then he’d be even more livid than he already was. Theresa feared what he would do to her, say to her, threaten her with. His moods shifted so easily from charming to belligerent in minutes, she knew. Theresa felt a lump in her throat at picturing the expression on his face when he knew she had tried to kill herself, at what he would do about it.

Axel’s eyes were on fire, moving everywhere as he took in the scene before him. Theresa saw six other men. Two of them she didn’t know, one of them was a man named Mr. Aldertree, one was Axel’s valet, Gideon Lightwood, one of them she knew to be the master at arms, and the sixth was Will, in handcuffs.

Theresa gasped, struggling to a standing position just as Axel began in on Will. No, this isn’t right. He hasn’t done anything wrong. What are they doing?

“How dare you!” Axel growled, grabbing the front of Will’s shirt and shaking him. “What makes you think that filth like you can put a hand on my fiancee’!”

Theresa gasped now, realizing at last what all these men had thought happened. They had no idea about what had actually happened, for which she was happy, but they were accusing Will of something heinous and untrue.

“Axel!” Theresa called, finally managing to stand on her legs. They were a bit unsteady but they held her weight.

Will’s eyes cut to her immediately. “Don’t look at her!” Axel snapped.

“Axel, stop!” Theresa said, approaching the two and placing a hand on Axel’s shoulder. “This is all a misunderstanding!”

Axel looked at her incredulously. “A misunderstanding?”

Theresa nodded earnestly. “Yes! You see, I was leaning far over to look at the uh...the uh…” Theresa could not remember the word she was seeking; she made spinning gestures in her hand frantically while Axel and Will stared at her in confusion.

“Propellers?” Axel offered, eyebrow raised.

“Exactly!” Theresa said. “I was leaning over to see the propellers and I slipped! I would have fallen overboard but this man saved me.”

Axel hesitated a moment, studied Theresa, and gave a short laugh, letting go of Will. “She wanted to see the propellers!”

The man who had put Will in handcuffs looked at him gravely. “Was that the way of it?”

Will paused a fraction of a second, a second in which Theresa’s heart stopped. Their eyes met and then Will said: “Yes,” he agreed casually. “Yes, that was exactly it.”

Relief flooded through her and she felt her chest untighten a fraction.

“Well, the boy’s a hero then!” Mr. Aldertree piped in cheerfully, raising his glass of brandy as the master-at-arms took the cuffs off Will. “It’s always like I’ve said: women and machinery do not mix!”

Some of the other men laughed in response to this. Theresa’s eyes did not leave Will, who rubbing at his wrists thoughtfully. Beside her, Axel took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. She could smell the brandy and cigar smoke on it. She was grateful for the jacket, though, even if it was from Axel. She just realized then how cold she was; goosebumps were adorning her arms.

“You must be freezing,” Axel said, rubbing her arms. “Come, let’s get you inside.”

He began to guide her back. She craned her neck around to look at Will; their eyes met. She felt a flash of heat in her cheeks, humiliated.

“Perhaps a little something for the boy?” Mr. Aldertree suggested to Axel, his arm outstretched.

Her fiance’ paused, turning around with Theresa. Axel glanced at his valet. “Mr. Lightwood, I think a twenty should do it.”

Theresa stiffened and scoffed. “Is that the going rate for rescuing the woman you love and are to spend your whole life with, Axel?”

Axel’s eyes widened, looking at her in shock. “Theresa is displeased. I cannot have that, can I?” He considered for a moment, then nodded his head and approached Will, who took this in with the same unreadable expression on his face. “What is your name?”

“Will Herondale,” he replied, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Theresa could see he was cold as well.

“Mr. Herondale,” Axel began in a cordial tone, “I am much appreciative of the service you’ve done for me tonight. Would you consider, as token of my gratitude, joining us for dinner tomorrow night?”

The service he did for you, Axel? Not the service he did for me? Theresa thought bitterly.

Will Herondale grinned and Theresa’s breath caught in her throat. “Count me in.”

Axel nodded and turned back toward inside, taking Theresa with him. She couldn’t help but glance once more over her shoulder at this boy who had saved her life. Will caught her eyes again and he smiled, lifting a hand in farewell. She swallowed hard and turned forward, not having any clue as to what might happen next.

Theresa answered her mother’s questions as quickly as she could when she arrived back in their suite. Her mother, of course, was frantic and demanding to know what had happened. Axel did most of the explaining for her, something she was surprisingly grateful for. She was too tired to explain it all over again. She was too tired to tell a convincing lie. All the wanted was to be alone in her room. Finally, when Elizabeth was satisfied that she knew everything there was to know, scoffed at the idea of the third class passenger boy helping her daughter.

“Are you sure he didn’t take the money?” Elizabeth asked dryly.

“Mother,” Theresa sighed, walking to her stateroom door. “Would you fetch Sophie? I’m going to sleep..”

Sophie must have come in earlier and cleaned up the mess Theresa had made before she’d come back, for when Theresa had walked through her door, expecting a nightmare, she found it spotless like usual. She felt ashamed and embarrassed that she’d lost control as she had, throwing her things around. Theresa felt even worse that Sophie had to clean it all up. She hoped her maid didn’t think the less of her because of it; she certainly hadn’t acted any different when she’d come in and helped Theresa undress and ready herself for sleep. Theresa had let out a moan of relief when that corset finally was off, the one that had caused her so much panic before.

Theresa thanked Sophie and told her she could go to sleep. After her maid departed, Theresa tried to sit and breathe deep, to relax. After a while she picked up her hairbrush and methodically brushed her hair. She closed her eyes, finally feeling maybe unwound enough to get into bed.

Then there was a knock that broke her trance.

Oh no, she thought. Before she could respond, the door swung open to reveal Axel in the doorway. He walked into the room, closing the door behind him. Theresa sat very still, waiting. She hated it when he invaded her privacy like this. It wasn’t proper; even more than that, she just didn’t want him near her, near her bed. She cringed inwardly, knowing once they were wed there would be no boundaries anymore.

“I know you’ve been melancholy,” he began, standing behind her so that she could see his face in the mirror. “I don’t pretend to know why.”

Theresa remained silent, not knowing how she was supposed to say. She set down her hairbrush and waited. Axel stroked the skin of her shoulder and she felt like spiders were crawling all over her. She fought not to recoil at his touch.

“I was hoping perhaps you would enlighten me about what’s been troubling you, hmm?”

Theresa smiled, seeing how strained it looked in her reflection. “I’ve just been tired,” she said. “We’ve been travelling for months and I think I’ll feel more like myself once I’m back home.”

Axel leaned down so that his lips were close to her ear. “I’m your home, darling...remember?” Axel’s voice as he crooned this sent a chill down her spine and made her feel slightly sick.

“Of course.”

He smiled, satisfied, and pulled out something from behind his back, a black jewelry case. “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to save this until the engagement gala next week,” he said, “but then I decided I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Then he opened it and the contents of what lay inside made her gasp. It was a necklace, an enormous sparkling blue stone in the shape of a heart with a chain of small diamonds. It glittered with an infinity of sharp inner reflections.

“Axel,” she breathed, her eyes never leaving the stone, “is it a…?”

“Diamond? Yes,” he replied, a smirk on his lips. He took the necklace out, causing more light to reflect off of it in a mesmerizing fashion. “Fifty-six carats to be exact.”

Axel moved to put it on her, shifting her hair out of the way. It was so heavy and cold against her skin. Her eyes widened as she looked at herself wearing it. It didn’t seem like it should belong to her.

“It was once worn by Louis XVI,” he explained casually. “They call it Le Coeur de la Mer: The--”

“The Heart of the Ocean,” they said together. Theresa had heard of it, remembered reading about it once. She would have never imagined in a lifetime that she would one day be wearing a diamond worn by a king of France. “Axel...it’s overwhelming,” she whispered.

She touched the diamond curiously. It was hard as ice and smooth under her fingertips.

Axel smiled. “It’s for royalty...and we are royalty, Theresa.” He paused, then said: “You know, there’s nothing I couldn’t give you. There’s nothing I’d deny you...if you would not deny me.”

It sounded like a threat in her ears. She swallowed, looking down from the mirror, avoiding his gaze that made her so uncomfortable. Several moments passed like this. Theresa held her breath when Axel placed a kiss to her temple.

“Open your heart to me, Theresa…” Then, mercifully, he straightened up and took the necklace off of her. “I’ll put the necklace back in my safe for you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, darling.”

When the door closed Theresa jumped from her seat at the vanity. She turned out the light and quickly got into bed. She shivered and pulled the coverlet up to her chin; it was no use. The cold was not her problem. It was the touch of her fiance’ that chilled Theresa to her core.

She shut her eyes tight, trying to think of something else, anything else but the sound of his slimy voice and the look in Axel’s eyes. Then Theresa saw a beautiful face with dark blue eyes. She immediately clasped onto this mental picture and it calmed her. Will’s face erased all traces of the other man. She pictured him in her mind and nothing else until she fell asleep.

Will Three astonished faces stared back at Will after he’d reluctantly told them what had happened. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep it a huge secret, it was that he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep. But as soon as Will had walked into his stateroom much later than intended, Cecily had started the interrogation.

Now, after telling them, he crawled into his bottom bunk while Jem and Cecily stood, shocked. Gabriel was already in his top bunk, watching and listening.

“Oh, and I think I may have met your brother,” yawned Will, closing his eyes. “Get the light, would you, Cecily?”

Will hummed in satisfaction when the lights went out. He heard Jem crawl into his bed and felt as Cecily climbed into her bunk above him. In the darkness Gabriel, made a choked sound in his throat.

“You met Gideon?”

“The man called him ‘Mr. Lightwood’...” “You must mean Mr. Mortmain. I met him a couple of times.” “Is that his name?” Will’s voice was slurred. “Tessa called him ‘Axel.’”

Tessa. Her name in his head was lulling. Tessa.

“And he really invited you to join them for dinner?” Cecily’s voice asked from above. “In first class?”

“Mhm..”

“And you’re--” “Why don’t we put off the rest of the questions until tomorrow?” Jem’s voice said. “It’s late and Will is falling asleep.”

Thank you, Jem.

A/N: Oh my gosh, we’re so sorry it has taken so long for us to update! Does anyone even still remember this? 

[unsinkable-wessa]

Will&Tessa on Titanic - Chapter 3

Summary: The R.M.S Titanic is dubbed the ‘Ship of Dreams’ and is said to be unsinkable. The largest ship ever built could hold up to 3,300 passengers. Among them is one Theresa Gray, a seventeen-year-old American aristocrat, traveling back home to New York with her mother and fiance’. In her sheltered life, she feels trapped. That is, until she meets Will Herondale, a struggling British artist looking for a fresh start. Titanic retold. By @not-taylorswift and @herondale-stars​

Chapter 3: April 10, 1912

Tessa

Theresa had remained in her quarters for the remainder of the afternoon, much to the displeasure of her mother.

Elizabeth Gray swayed into her daughter’s room on the arm of Axel Mortmain, looking as elegant and regal as she ever had. Theresa evened her breath, feigning sleep as the pair dropped their coats on a nearby velvet settee.

“Get up, child.” Elizabeth ordered, tapping her handbag against Theresa’s body in an attempt to rouse her. Theresa, no longer able to keep up her charade, groaned and rolled her body over in her sheets.

“Mother, please. I am not well.” She muttered quietly, praying for a few more moments of peace.

“Perhaps, Elizabeth,” Axel moved toward the two women on the bed. “Theresa hasn’t yet gained her sea legs. She should get her rest this afternoon.” His lips formed a smile around the words.

“I suppose that you are correct, Axel.” Elizabeth replied smoothly. Theresa believed, however, that no matter what Axel said, her mother would agree.

Theresa felt uncomfortable with him in her room like this. It was very improper. But this wasn’t the first instance of him invading personal boundaries and being where he shouldn’t be. Elizabeth didn’t seem to find it at all offensive that she was allowing her maiden, unwed daughter to be in a bedroom with a man. It went to show how utterly wrapped Elizabeth was around Axel’s finger.

“Of course. I do expect, though, that she should be well enough by dinner to accompany us, wouldn’t you say?” Axel smiled a smile that would not be refused. “I’d hate for my fiancee’ to become a recluse over such a minor issue as a little bit of seasickness.” Elizabeth breathed a laugh and turned to Theresa, her cold stare boring into her daughter’s gray eyes.

It wouldn’t be a minor issue if I became violently sick and purged my dinner up on you in front of all of our new friends at dinner, now would it? Theresa thought.

“Theresa would be delighted, I’m sure.”

“I would love to join you for dinner.” She smiled politely at the two of them, slowly raising herself to a sitting position in the bed.

Her mother’s glare threatened to rip through Theresa’s carefully constructed walls. In fear they might crack if she stared too long, she turned her attention back to her finace’.

“Excellent,” Axel drawled. “Wear that violet dress I bought for you in London, with the beads. It does wonders for your fair complexion.” He reached out his hand, the back of it stroking the skin of her cheek. She tensed slightly under his affectionate administrations, drawing herself back a few centimeters. She hoped that neither him nor her mother noticed.

“It is such a lovely gown. I’ll wear it for you, Axel.” Theresa coated her voice in sugar, lifting the corners of her mouth in a sweet smile.

In response, Axel leaned down over her to press a soft kiss to her forehead. Theresa closed her eyes and focused on keeping her breath even, focused on staying upright, focused on not fainting from his closeness.

“I’ll look forward to it, my darling.” Axel whispered before he straightened up. “I’ve made arrangements to meet some men in the smoking lounge, so I must leave you. Business and politics aren’t the place for such lovely women like yourselves. Until this evening.” Axel gave a slight tip of his head as a farewell gesture, then picked up his coat off the settee and made his way through the door. As his footsteps faded, the only sound left in the room was the soft tick tock of the ornate clock sitting on Theresa’s dressing table.

She let out a deep breath and sunk lower, back into her pillows. Elizabeth, still sitting next to her daughter, quickly stood and called for a maid.

“Sophie! Come quickly and pour me a cup of tea. I am parched.” The small girl scurried into the room with a tray. Once a teacup was filled and set in Elizabeth’s waiting hands, Sophie left as quickly as she had come.

Theresa waited for the lecture, for the raised voice of her mother to scold her for the luncheon or her hesitation mere moments ago.

Elizabeth drank her tea in small sips. Her eyes never left her daughter’s, staring even as she brought her cup to her lips. With each passing second on the ticking clock, Theresa’s body tensed. Finally, her mother put her tea down and sighed deeply.

“Do you understand what is at stake here, Theresa Gray? Do you truly understand?”

Theresa looked down, focusing on her hands in her lap. “Yes,” she muttered, more in obedience than actual belief in the word itself.

“I don’t think you do!” Suddenly, Elizabeth Gray was on her feet. The tea cup, as well as the small end table it was set on, fell to the cabin floor. “Do you understand that Richard Gray is dead? Do you understand that there is no one and nothing waiting for us in New York except a few pennies and a headstone? Do you know where that leaves us?” As her voice rose with each new question, Theresa lowered her head. She couldn’t dare look her mother in the eye, couldn’t even whisper a response.

“Axel Mortmain is our only chance. He’s successful, determined, well off; he’s a good match for you.” Elizabeth’s face softened as she came closer to the bed. Theresa’s eyes prickled, droplets threatening to fall. “What is your objection to him? You always dreamed of a grand wedding to a rich husband. You used to sit in our parlor and tell me about the wedding dress you were going to wear: ‘nothing but the finest pure white silk’, you’d say. With flowers all over. You love flowers.”

Tears spilled over Theresa’s pale cheeks as her mother sat down next to her.

“Do you remember when you were still taking dance lessons, and you had just learned to waltz? You swore that you’d only dance the waltz at your wedding.” She pushed a few of her daughter’s chocolate locks out of her face, smiling kindly. “Axel would make as good a waltzing partner as any other man.”

I don’t love him, she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. She knew her mother was right, no matter how twisted it sounded. Theresa couldn’t afford to start thinking with her heart; she needed to focus on her future. Axel Mortmain could secure her a wonderful future.

“Of course he would, Mama.” Elizabeth’s smile widened as Theresa looked up at her.

“Good. Now that we’re settled, wipe those tears off your face. You look dreadful when you cry; it makes your eyes puffy. Sophie!” The young maid reappeared at the door. “Fetch Theresa’s evening gown, the violet beaded chiffon one. And be quick about it! Then go tell Bridget it’s time to start with her hair.”

“Of course, ma’am.” With a small curtsy, Sophie began her search through the wardrobe in the corner of the cabin. Theresa, drying her cheeks with her bedding, reached for her silver hairbrush to begin untangling her hair. Her mother’s head tilted as she told her daughter:

“We are so lucky that you’re such a beautiful young woman. There has never been any doubt in my mind of you catching a rich husband.”

And though Theresa knew her mother meant the statement as a compliment, though she knew she’d be comfortable in her marriage to Axel, a small piece of her wished for something better. A part of her wanted the love she’d always dreamed of.

Theresa stabbed another piece of meat with her silver fork as those around her chattered about whatever or whoever was the latest gossip. She looked up when she heard her name called.

“Theresa, you must feel like quite a lucky woman. To be on such a ship with such a man,” Mr. Blackthorn gestured to Axel. “And with a wedding so soon.” One by one, the party quieted themselves to hear her speak.

“I am quite excited,” said Theresa, putting real effort into making her voice animated. “I feel as if I’ve been waiting a lifetime to be married.” She smiled over her champagne glass, battering her eyelashes in an attempt to play the blushing bride-to-be.

The women at the table began the interrogation: where was the wedding going to be held, who designed the dress she would be wearing, where would the honeymoon take place- all questions that Theresa answered in as few words as possible.

It wasn’t even five minutes into the wedding discussion and Theresa had downed her second glass of champagne. Her eyes darted between her companions, their words becoming more rapid and blurred together. Underneath her tight corset, which Elizabeth had instructed Sophie to lace extra tight this evening, Theresa could feel sweat forming all over her back and abdomen. Whether this was from the champagne or from her rapid heart beat, she couldn’t be sure. She just knew her chest was definitely beginning to feel tight.

“Where will you and Theresa reside, Mr. Mortmain?” Inquired Jessamine Lovelace, placing her napkin delicately on her lap. “You are from England, is that right?”

Axel cleared his throat. “Well, yes. You see, I have a residence in New York already, where Theresa grew up. So, we may come and go from England to America as much as we like, really.”

“And the wedding will take place in New York?” Asked Tatiana Blackthorn for the third time.

Theresa could see that she was going to be very put out if she did not receive an invitation to the special affair.

“Yes, it is,” Elizabeth informed enigmatically, as if she hadn’t already answered this. “We set out to begin the preparations of sending invitations once we arrive. There’s still so much to do.”

The hand that held Theresa’s champagne glass was shaking. She stared at it in fascination. There could be no denying the thundering of her heart now; it raced. She set down the glass and looked at her mother. She was still talking but Theresa could no longer make out exactly what she was saying. She heard a chorus of laughter; they sounded like animals.

I can’t breathe, she thought. She felt like she couldn’t. The corset, so tightly bound around her lungs, were a cage. Her whole life was a cage. No matter how pretty a picture she tried to paint it, no matter what good it did for her family, she was in a cage. There was absolutely no way out. Elizabeth could lecture her about the significance of this and explain all the reasons why it should be done for a lifetime; it didn’t change the fact that Theresa was trapped and she wanted out.

“Are you alright, dear?” Came a distorted voice. “You look awfully pale.”

“Don’t worry, Lottie,” Elizabeth’s voice sounded amused through the fog. “That’s only her complexion. She inherited it from her–”

“I’m going to the powder room, Mother.” Theresa managed to say before she jumped out of her seat.

She walked at a reasonable pace out of the dining room as to not cause suspicions. Even as she did that she felt the ship sway to one side; or maybe that was her. She felt tears burning like acid underneath her lower eyelids.

The attendant opened the dining room doors for her and she practically shoved him out of the way. She didn’t turn back to apologize. Her chest burned from the lack of oxygen.

No one cares. You are nothing but a pawn. You mean nothing. Your heart and desires are nothing. Your mother would see you in a loveless marriage all the days of your life and she would know how unhappy you were. She doesn’t care. Axel knows you’re not in love with him. He knows he abuses the power he has. He doesn’t care. I have no one.

Theresa burst into her suite, looking every which way.

“Sophie,” Theresa sprinted towards her mirror. She peeled off her gloves hastily. She had to get out of that corset, she was heaving for breath. But Sophie did not come. “Sophie!”

Her maid was still absent, and Theresa panicked. The room closed in around her, the walls growing near; she could feel them pressing on her, on her body. She reached behind her, trying to feel for one of the small, hidden buttons of the dress. She sobbed when she couldn’t get firm grasp on any of them with her shaking fingers and began to rip at her sleeves.

It won’t come off! She yanked violently at the the pins in her hair; she felt knotted locks tumble down her back. Theresa tore the necklace from her neck and the clip on earrings from her ears and threw them to the ground. She could hear a noise in her ears, like the rushing of water. No, it was her blood. She cried out again, ripping at her dress to no avail. It was suffocating her. Her chest hurt so badly she thought she would pass out from it.

“Sophie!”

Theresa then let out an enraged, desperate scream. As she felt it ripping from her lungs, her hands shot out without her permission. She grabbed a silver tray sitting on the vanity table and she threw it with all her might, already reaching for something else by the time she heard the loud clang of the bowl. She screamed again, swiping her arm across the vanity, sending perfumes, powders, pins, and hair accessories flying.

A sob broke through her now, one that Theresa had never fully allowed herself to let out. It shook her whole body, it shook her down to her soul. She wished Sophie would just come in. If Sophie would only come in and stop her from what she was considering…

Theresa looked up at herself into the mirror. She saw a broken porcelain doll staring wide eyed back at her. Just a doll, just a pretty doll. That’s what her mother had always told her. She looked at her face and she pitied the young woman looking back. She pitied her and she wanted, more than anything, to just make it end for her. She wanted to spare her the years spent with a man who would smother her and control her, to spare the loveless nights spent with him, the empty conversations, the time spent with a mother who didn’t love her. She wanted it over before it truly began.

Theresa was running. She could faintly hear the clink clink clink of her heels against the deck of the ship. She ran almost blindly through the thick haze of tears that clouded her vision and she ran into several people. Theresa didn’t know nor care what their reaction was to a mad woman dressed in evening wear running down the deck of the Titanic. She had one goal in her mind; one single destination.

Theresa slowed her pace as she approached the stern of the ship. There was no one there. She could hear nothing, nothing but the wind that whipped past, crisp with ice in the air, and the water beneath her. She could see her breath come out in puffs of gray vapor, standing out against the black mass of sky dotted with sparkling stars. She took a moment to appreciate it, the magnificent view that surrounded her. It was a never ending void of black churning water reflecting black sky. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

It was so tempting.

Theresa touched her hands to the railing and without looking over she began to carefully start climbing. One step. Two steps. This was easier than she thought it would be; this took less balance than it did to dance. She grabbed onto a pole and swung her leg over onto the other side and before she knew it she was hanging from the back of the Titanic.

She swallowed hard, her heart thundering loud in her ears along with the wind. Theresa carefully footed herself so that she was facing away from the ship. Theresa stared into the never ceasing darkness. It was broken up only by pale moonlight, gleaming stars, and the thick trail of white foam from the churning water, disturbed from where the ship had sailed past. She gripped the ledge behind her, fresh tears springing to her eyes. It had really come down to this. This was really happening.

She closed her eyes.

Will

 “You’ve got it bad this time, mate!” Jem laughed cheerfully as he unpacked his few belongings.

 Will, Jem, and Cecily had just been assigned a small stateroom that the three of them were to share with another passenger they had yet to meet. There were two bunk beds, one on each wall. The beds were provided with mattresses, pillows, and blankets, but no sheets. There was a small sink in the corner of the room; Cecily was washing her face, listening in and laughing as well.

Will was reclining on his bottom bunk, his hands linked behind his head. He’d insisted

on having the bottom bunk with Cecily sleeping above him. This way he would awake instantly if anybody tried to bother her in her sleep. After all, he didn’t have a clue what this new roommate was going to be like -or anyone here, for that matter- and he was not going to take any chances with his younger sister.

Will scoffed in response to Jem’s comment. “I wish you two would stop snickering about it,” he folded his pillow under him in an attempt to make it more comfortable. “She wasn’t that pretty…”

Cecily, done with washing, barked a laugh. ‘Not that pretty?’ Will, you’ve been in a daze ever since you saw that princess!”

He sighed, closing his eyes. Alright, so it was true. So he might have been in a stupor. So he might not have been able to quit seeing it all happen over again in his head like a right lunatic. Will didn’t understand. They didn’t even speak! But nonetheless, he could see her again.

She was first class, alright. She was as first class as one could possibly get. She was tall and statuesque, and the moment he’d laid eyes on her he’d itched for his pencil. She had glossy brown hair that was done up in some kind of complicated style. Her face was oval, her complexion pale but glowing. Her dress, which Will knew to be a casual ‘day dress,’ looked anything but casual. The rich fabrics were a mixture of pale blues and creams and it complimented her skin divinely. These were only Will’s observations from farther away when the girl was studiously looking at the wall, trying to ignore the passing dirty third class passengers.

Ignore this, then. He’d thought as he’d deliberately bumped his leg against the skirt of her dress in the narrow hallway. Childish, he knew, to purposefully brush your leg against a lady’s, and so unbecoming as well. He found that he really didn’t care though, especially when Will felt her jump slightly and she’d whipped her head around. He hadn’t been prepared for her up close.

Her face was a dream. It was a poem. It was a face Will wasn’t sure he could even put to paper for all the depth and layers it held. It was beauty beyond exterior. It held secrets and maps to places Will had only ever dreamed of exploring. From the sensual curve of her throat to the perfect bow of her lips…and her eyes. Gray as a storm cloud; thundering. Will could feel her eyes almost glaring into his for all of the intensity he could see in them. He gulped when he heard her take a jagged breath, her corseted chest expanding.

He was almost relieved when she had broke eye contact and looked down. Will’s neck felt prickly, pins and needles everywhere.

And then she’d continued on walking. Will, taking her cue, continued on his own way as well, his heart going a thousand beat per minute inside of his chest. Jem and Cecily, of course, had taken notice of the whole scene and endlessly teased him.

“‘You’re blushing, William!’”

“‘What was that? You’ve got to teach me that! If I could make a lady look that flustered with a single look…’”

They hadn’t quit harassing him about it the whole time they’d found their stateroom, and they were still on about it now!

“Enough!” He pleaded, rolling over onto his stomach to put his face into the pillow. “Just stop, already!” The words were muffled.

Cecily and Jem shared a glance with each other, silently communicating that they would now have pity and end the topic. For now.

Jem walked over to the bunk bed and clapped Will on the back. “Alright, Will,” his voice was amused but trying to be consoling. “We’re sorry.”

“I’m not,” interjected Cecily, smiling. “Will’s passion in life is art; mine is torturing him.”

Will sat up quickly at that statement, and forgetting he was so close to the bottom of the top bunk, hit his head hard against it. He cursed loudly, sending Cecily into another fit of giggles.

“Are you alright?” Jem said, the corners of his mouth straining. Traitor.

Will had a hand pressed to his throbbing head and stared at his best friend incredulously. “Does it bloody LOOK like I’m alright? Ten minutes in this room with you two and I’m already losing my head!”

Suddenly the door to their small stateroom swung open. A tall young man who looked no older than than Will or Jem walked through the threshold, a small bag thrown over his shoulder. He had tousled brown hair and an angular face. Will noticed immediately when the stranger’s eyes focused on his baby sister.

“Hello,” he greeted awkwardly, his attention never wavering away from Cecily. “My name is um, Gid– Gabriel! I’m Gabriel.” His face blotched red.

Will heard Cecily reply shyly, “I’m Cecily…this is Jem, and my–”

Will jumped up from the bunk in the most graceful fashion he thought he’d ever moved in. He stepped in front of this Gabriel and Will’s eyes narrowed as he studied him up close.

He looked dangerous.

“I’m her older brother,” Will stated in a voice like poisoned silk, soft and threatening. “Will Herondale. So pleased to make your acquaintance.” Will briefly debated pushing Gabriel out into the corridor.

“Right,” Gabriel gulped, turning his attention toward the dark haired young man and shrinking back a few centimeters. Mr. Herondale stood about an inch or two shorter than Gabriel, but the murder in his eyes made up for the height difference. “I’m supposed to be staying in this cabin.”

Will’s mouth slowly smiled, an act that made Gabriel’s skin prickle slightly. He was beginning to consider sleeping outside in the hall when Mr. Herondale clapped a hand against his shoulder.

“Well, Mr…?” Will prompted, turning to usher the newcomer into the cramped room.

“Lightwood. Gabriel Lightwood.”

“Mr. Lightwood. It seems that there is just one extra bunk, right over there above my good friend James Carstairs; on the opposite side of the room from my dear sister and I.” Will spoke, gesturing to the top bunk across the small space. “I must warn you, though, that Jem is a very light sleeper. The slightest sound or movement will wake him. Snoring, restlessness…” Will paused for effect. “…secret midnight rendezvous with your lover; those are all practices you’ll have to give up for this short trip.” Will’s eyes were threatening as he continued. “Your lover won’t miss you for these few weeks, will he?”

Jem succeeded in holding in his laughter for maybe two seconds before doubling over in a fit. Cecily giggled as well, and daintily pressed her hand against her lips to muffle the sound. Gabriel, however, blushed furiously. He drew himself up to his full height, and Will could see now, as the other boy glared at him, that his eyes were a striking green. Will hated to admit to himself it was a nice pigment.

“I-I-I,” Gabriel stumbled over words in his flustered, offended state, cheeks flaming. Will threw his head back in laughter and decided to give him a break.

“I’m teasing you, man.” Will shook his head and stepped back. “Take whatever space you need. But I wasn’t joking about Jem being a light sleeper. He’s also very scary when woken up in the middle of the night.” His eyes widened a bit in warning and in fear; William was speaking from experience.

Gabriel settled in quickly with the trio. As he unpacked his belongings from the small knapsack that was slung over his shoulder, he made small talk and answered their questions (most of which were posed by Cecily). He was from Chiswick, outside of London. He was travelling to America for work, and to get away from his overbearing father. Both of Gabriel’s siblings were in first class; his brother, Gideon, was a valet to one of the passengers and Tatiana, his younger sister, was traveling with her new husband. The Lightwoods, Will had noticed, were a well to do type of family, smart and successful. Gabriel would have been too, if he hadn’t gambled away his inheritance within two years.

The group continued to converse while they ate their dinner in the dining saloon. Afterwards, Will politely excused himself. Will strolled up the stairs to the top deck, and out into the chilly night air. The sun had fallen below the horizon, and the sky was lit up with millions of tiny glowing orbs. Under the light of the moon the ocean was miles of rolling black silk. Water lapped against the side of the ship, waves against steel, creating a dulcet rhythm that Will found he really enjoyed.

To most, the empty deck would have seemed haunting. To Will, it was a peaceful escape from reality. Here, pressed back against the cool deck beneath the stars, he didn’t have to worry about money, about finding a real job, and about his sister. Here, he could just be Will Herondale: artist.

He was approaching the stern of the ship, lost in his own mind. His eyes shut as he took a deep breath of fresh sea air. Images; places and people he’d drawn, or seen and wanted to draw, flashed behind his eyelids. Will’s thoughts, scattered and erratic, settled on one woman. Skin as pure as silk, framed in chocolate ringlets. Will’s eye shoot open.

Her, he thought. The angel from earlier, the woman in the corridor.

He shook the pictures of her from his head as he rounded the corner. The deck over the stern was a vast empty space. By day, it was crowded with passengers pointing to something far off in the distance, or taking a turn about the ship beneath the warmth of the sun. But now there was no one except him.

And the woman dangling from the railing a hundred yards away.

She was standing on the railing, her dark hair blowing in the wind of the ship’s movement. Her dress, damp with the spray of the sea, clung tightly to her body; almost as tight as her pale hands, wrapped around the silver bars and glowing in the moonlight.

Will flew into action, recovering instantly from his previous thoughts. He moved quickly but quietly, cautious of not making too much noise and startling the girl into loosening her grip, sending her to waves at least ninety feet below. He crept up, light as a feather; far enough away to stay unnoticed, but close enough to grab her wrist if she let go. Gently, Will spoke.

“Don’t do it.” The girl’s head whipped around, almost losing her balance. Her eyes met his, the gray of storm clouds on the blue of vast oceans. He could faintly see the trail of tears running down her cheeks, tainting her porcelain skin. Something sparked in his chest as he realized the woman playing with death was the angel, the woman he had thought of since glancing at her in a hallway hours ago.

“Stay back!” She called to him, and Will’s breath caught. Her voice, like bells. “Stay away. I’ll jump! I’ll do it!” She turned to look straight ahead again, but she didn’t relax her tense shoulders.

In fact, since learning of Will’s arrival, she had begun to shake. This alarmed him, fearing once again that she would lose her grip on the railing. Adrenaline guiding his movements, he held a hand out her.

“Please, take my hand. I’ll pull you back over.” His eyes couldn’t find one single place to focus. They darted between her hands, clasped so tightly to the railing, and her feet, unsteady in the heeled shoes she wore.

“No!” She yelled over the roar of the ocean. “Don’t come any closer. I mean it! I will do this!”

“No, you won’t.” He stated simply, stalling time. Will knew, in the back of his mind, that he wasn’t saving this woman out of gentlemanly conduct; he was enchanted by her.

“Yes, I will! Don’t you tell me what I will and will not do. You don’t know who I am.” She stomped her foot in frustration, the outburst causing a momentary lapse of balance. Will leapt forward to catch her arm and prevent her fall, but she righted herself before he could.

“Please, don’t do that.” He breathed, so low she might not have heard. He continued, “If you were really going to jump, you wouldn’t be standing here debating it with me. You’d already be in the water.”

“You’re a distraction. Now, go elsewhere! I don’t need you here.” Her teeth chattered as she spoke to him.

Her shaking was only partly out of fear, Will realized, as her damp dress and the cold night air couldn’t be comfortable. He quickly shrugged off his coat and laid it down on the deck, for when the girl came to her senses and climbed back over the railing.

“I’m not leaving you here for you to fall to your death. If you jump in, I have to go in after you.” He reasoned.

“You’ll fall in right behind me. We’ll both die.” She replied breathlessly, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye while her head remained straight ahead.

“I’m an exceptional swimmer.” At this, the young woman choked out a small laugh, and Will loosened his posture a bit. This was a start. “It’s the temperature I’m more worried about.”

“Temperature?” The woman questioned. It was Will’s turn to laugh.

“Yes, temperature. That water below you is ice cold, maybe even a few degrees colder. And you are shivering as it is.” He pointed out in a fresh attempt to coax her back over the railing.

“I’m not coming back.” Her voice was uneven now, and Will could hear that she’d lost her conviction behind the words. He sighed.

“Now, miss, if you’re not going to oblige my requests for you to get down from that ledge there, please at least give me your name.” He could feel her hesitation at the question, and took another small step toward her.

“It’s Theresa. My name is Theresa Gray.” She turned slightly, looking at him out of the corner of her eye once more. One side of Will’s mouth raised in a half smile. Theresa Gray. Gray for her eyes.

“Theresa,” he tried not to show how magical it felt to hear himself say her name. “Come on. You really don’t want to do this. Let me help you over.” He held out a hand once more, pleading with his eyes for her to take it.

She was silent for a moment. Will watched her carefully as she considered her options. The woman, Theresa, still seemed to be feeling a pull to the freezing ocean below for reasons Will couldn’t begin to fathom.

Then, slowly, carefully, Theresa turned her body to face him and reached out to grasp his hand. It fit into his easily. Will fought back a wince at how cold her fingers were, and he closed his hand around them to bring back some heat.

“I’m Will Herondale.” He spoke.

“Pleasure, Mr. Herondale.” Theresa, with her hand still clasped in Will’s, raised her foot to the next bar, beginning to climb back onto the deck. Before she could place her foot, however, the toe of her shoe caught the edge of her dress, and it slipped out into open air.

Will gasped just as she let out a blood curdling scream as her body dropped suddenly, leaving her hanging high above the water. Will’s weight got pulled forward by the force of her sudden descent; with nothing but instinct and reflexes on his side Will reached his other arm quickly downward grab her forearm while his other hand was still tightly firm in hers.

“Theresa!” Will made the mistake of looking past her into the inky, menacing water. He thought his heart might have stopped for a moment. He forced his eyes back to hers, and her face was a white mask of horror.

“Will, oh please, Will!” Theresa wailed his name like they had known each other forever, all formalities were unremembered. “Don’t let me fall!”  She searched for purchase with her free arm, grabbing onto Will’s arm hoping to lift herself up higher.

Somewhere, behind the midst of panic and surging adrenaline inside of him, Will thought of Theresa and of her sudden shift. Just a moment ago she was poised to willingly leap off of the back of a ship into an ocean so cold it would kill you, and now? Now she was clinging to this stranger for dear, precious life; cringing away from the death she’d just before opened her arms to.

“Ther–Tessa!” he called above the sound of the water and her panic, “I need you to breath. You’re too scared. Hold on tight and help me pull you up.”

He began to lift her again, putting all the strength he possessed into his arms and back. Will pulled as hard as he could and perspiration was between their hands, making his grip not as secure. Don’t drop her, don’t lose her, don’t drop her.  Thankfully she was not heavy, but gravity and her terror were weighing her down, and the ocean below pulled her back down. She lowered an inch out of his hand and she gasped again.

“I don’t– I don’t want to die!” She sobbed, reaching her arm higher up again.

“You’re– not!” Somewhere, he didn’t know, but from somewhere Will gathered more strength. He felt it in his legs, spreading through his back and his shoulders, even though his muscles screamed at him in protest. He growled low in his chest, utterly determined now. She was coming back.

Once she was high enough, she grabbed one bar of the railing and pulled her body up, feeding off of his determination and her own willpower. Will used one hand to grab onto her elbow now, raising her to his eye level, before he wrapped his second arm around her waist and pull her over onto the deck. They both fell back hard with her held flush against him. Tessa was still shrieking, still shaking with fear. Will himself was shaking; his muscles felt insubstantial now.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into her damp hair, inhaling the scent of salt from it. The relief that flowed through him was overwhelming, relief she was here; he could feel her. He shuddered to think if he had let her slip…“You’re safe, Tessa. You’re safe, I’ve got you…” Tessa. An accidental slip…or perhaps not. He liked the way it sounded. It was more natural, he thought.

Still in too much shock to speak, she simply shook and cried against him. Her breathing was jagged and harsh. Will was just about to say something else when he heard feet against wood. It was a sound that would have been much welcomed a minute earlier.

Will saw two men in uniforms sprinting toward them. One was a portly man with a mustache and the other looked like he could hold his own in a fight. As they grew closer Will could see the looks of suspicion on their faces grow and grow until they were absolutely hostile.

“You get away from ‘er!” The portly man shouted, his finger pointing directly at Will.

Will blinked in confusion. What was he going on about? Was he mad?

“I–what?”

“You ‘eard me! Get back!” He turned to his companion. “Fetch the master at arms!”

Slowly the cogs in Will’s mind began to turn again and he saw himself and Tessa from their eyes: a man alone with a woman, half against him, who was shaking, could hardly control her breathing, had tears running down her face, and whose dress was hitched up to her knees. He blanched and slowly stood to his feet, putting his hands up. Below him Tessa’s were closed and she was still crying hard.

“Right then,” said the man as his companion left for reinforcements. “Walk to me.”

Will complied, thoughts storming his brain as he did. He worried about what was going to happen to Cecily with him arrested. No, he thought, Jem will take care of her. He loves her as if she were his own sister. 

The three of them were a family. They had been ever since they’d found each other in Wales five years earlier. Jem was just as they were: orphaned by parents who had nothing. Cecily was only ten years old; Will and Jem were fourteen. They were clueless, starving, terrified. The two boys then put their minds together to figure out what they could do. Will could draw. Jem was an excellent musician; he’d taught himself how to play the violin. They got by after that.

Will’s mind was not appeased. What about this girl? What about Tessa? Who is she? What in her life has broken her heart so much that she would almost jump off the back of a ship?

He turned around at looked at her as he reached the man’s side, who grabbed his arm unnecessarily. She was still as she had been, someplace in her mind that no one else could see or hear. Until several minutes later when a dominant male voice barked into the silence.

“What is this?! Theresa!”

Tessa cringed visibly, grimacing, and slowly turned her head to stare at the newcomer.

And Will began to surmise just what might have been her motivation.

A/N: If you’re enjoying it, would you consider checking out our personal blogs??? @herondale-stars (Cecilia) and @not-taylorswift (Taylor). We’d love to talk to new people! 

[unsinkable-wessa]

Will&Tessa on Titanic - Chapter 2

Summary: The R.M.S Titanic is dubbed the ‘Ship of Dreams’ and is said to be unsinkable. The largest ship ever built could hold up to 3,300 passengers. Among them is one Theresa Gray, a seventeen-year-old American aristocrat, traveling back home to New York with her mother and fiance’. In her sheltered life, she feels trapped. That is, until she meets Will Herondale, a struggling British artist looking for a fresh start. Titanic retold. By @not-taylorswift and @herondale-stars​

Chapter 2: April 10, 1912

Tessa

The dining room was truly grand. Sunlight streamed in pale yellow hues through the tall, glass windows that lined the walls. Sparkling china, finer than than any set her mother owned, was placed at every seat in the spacious hall. Music filled the air, violin and cello notes dancing together in a soft melody that soothed the passengers as they took their luncheon.

 All the passengers, except one.

Theresa Gray sat upright, her back straight as a board, as she’d been trained to do. To her left, Axel Mortmain laughed with one of the rich politicians and businessmen bound for America. To her right, Elizabeth Gray gossiped with their wives and daughters. Theresa sipped the tea that had been poured for her slowly, savouring the few moments of peace. Theresa, knowing better, counted off the seconds until either her fiance’ or her mother broke the spell.

She set down her cup, smiling across the table at the small woman with dark hair who sat there. Her name was Charlotte “Lottie” Branwell, and she was what Theresa’s mother referred to as ‘new money’.

It was well known that Charlotte had come from more humble beginnings. She’d recently married a wealthy American inventor by the name of Henry Branwell, whom she’d met while he was on business in England some months before. He’d had to leave England to return home and continue his work and to make arrangements for his wife, but not before buying her a ticket and leaving her quite a sum of spending money. She was to meet Henry in New York, where they would start their married lives together.

Charlotte was a young woman, five or six years older than Theresa. She was kind and innocent but had very keen brown eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Theresa and her made fast friends once they’d met on board. Elizabeth didn’t care much for her; in her eyes, Charlotte was just a poor woman who’d lucked out. But Mrs. Gray wasn’t a woman to turn away potential for parlor talk. Elizabeth thrived on gossip and little else would sate her hunger. Except, perhaps, the money a rich son-in-law could bring.

A new man approached the table. He was well put together and wearing a nice suit, obviously a businessman of some sort. As expected, Axel rose to shake his hand. Behind this new gentleman, others followed: two ladies, one younger girl, and two gentleman.

“Might I introduce Mr. Josiah Wayland, the mastermind behind the R.M.S Titanic.” Axel presented him to table.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your luncheon,” Mr. Wayland conveyed. “My companions here and myself were just about to sit down ourselves.”

“It’s no intrusion,” Lottie Branwell replied. “Won’t you make introductions to your party before you go?”

“Of course!” Mr. Wayland ushered them forward. “This is Mr. Rupert Blackthorn, his wife, Tatiana, and their daughter, Grace.” He indicated to a trio of unimpressed looking faces. “That is Mr. Lovelace and his wife, Jessamine.” The blonde woman, Jessamine, nodded politely and smiled. “And over here is Mrs. Lottie Branwell. This is Mrs. Elizabeth Gray. This lovely creature here,” Theresa had to put in a great effort not to cringe as he touched her shoulder, “this is Theresa Gray, my fiancee’.”

All the parties echoed a chorus of “good day,” and “how do you do?” Mr. Wayland then told his party to seat themselves at another and that he would join them shortly. He took a seat next to Axel for a quick chat.

Theresa pulled out a cigarette from her small handbag and stuffed it into her holder. She reached for a match and lit up, taking a long, deep breath of the smoke. As she inhaled she could feel the nicotine infiltrate her lungs. She welcomed it.

“You know I hate those things, Theresa.” Her mother sighed, meeting her daughter’s bored stare. Theresa took a second drag from the cigarette and exhaled the smoke into her mother’s face. Defiance colored Theresa’s features. Inside, her pulse was racing.

“She knows.” Axel, always quick to Elizabeth’s rescue, pulled the cigarette from its holder and snubbed it out.

“Thank you, Axel.” Elizabeth gave him a soft smile before returning to her toa and Lottie.

Perhaps mother, Theresa thought bitterly, Axel’s marriage would be better performed with you as the bride. You two do seem so happy together. Under the table Theresa clenched her fists as tightly as she could.

“Theresa, I ordered you a lamb dish,” said Axel, “You do like lamb.” This wasn’t a question. He turned to her, the corners of his mouth lifting in a polite- no, a political- smile. Theresa did not especially care for lamb. She smiled back sardonically.

“Dear me, are you going to cut it for her too?”  Lottie’s sweet voice taunted from across the table. A sly smile played on her lips, glancing between Axel and Theresa.

Theresa looked at Charlotte in surprise. No one questioned Axel, especially not a woman. She couldn’t help but feel gratitude towards the other woman, nonetheless.

“This is quite a large ship, Mr. Wayland. Where’d you get an idea like this?” Charlotte turned to the newest companion, swiftly changing the subject of conversation.

“Well, Mrs. Branwell, size equals strength, stability, and luxury…” The man started in a voice that promised he could go on for ten hours on this topic without ever taking a breath.

“Have you ever heard of Dr. Freud, Mr. Wayland?” Interjected Theresa suddenly. “You’d be very interested in his ideas about the male preoccupation with size.” Theresa felt a smile play on her lips, similar to the one Lottie was wearing. The rest of the table held in gasps of surprise.

“Theresa Gray-” Elizabeth chastised quietly, her tone seeped in horror and embarrassment.

“Excuse me. I should go.” Theresa dropped her cloth napkin into her untouched plate and removed herself from the table.

“Freud? Who is he?” She could hear Mr. Wayland say in an irritated tone as she walked away. “Is he a passenger?”

Theresa wasn’t sure where she was going, still not used to the complicated design of the Titanic, but her legs moved faster and faster toward their destination, whatever it may be. Even out of her former company, Theresa still felt the tightness in her chest. She focused on her breathing, which was always a more complicated task than it needed to be when one was wearing a corset.

How did she get here? Not here on the Titanic but here in her life?

Her fiance’, Axel Mortmain, was a short, albeit very powerful young man who reaped the benefits of his father’s success in the steel business. He’d been travelling Europe for luxury when he had happened across Theresa and her mother. Elizabeth, of course, was euphoric after making his acquaintance and of learning just how wealthy he was. Theresa felt nothing. When she looked into the steely gray eyes of Axel, she felt no love, or passion, or excitement towards him. She felt absolutely nothing of what she’d read in books.

And books…Growing up, books were her escape, her friends. When she was lonely, or sad, they were there. When she needed to laugh, they were there. When her father died, books were there to take her away.  But they couldn’t take her away from this. They couldn’t set her free. They could no longer distract her from her life. They broke her heart because when she looked inside of them, no matter the book, she saw a life that could never be hers. She saw a love that would never be hers. This was what she had. She had a future husband, and wealth. She had a large estate waiting for her. She had countless trips around the world to be had. She had self involved friends who weren’t really her friends and would gossip about her behind her back.

Nothing ever sounded so empty.

So she said goodbye to novels.

 Theresa continued to walk along, not having an inkling of an idea of where she was. Outside she could hear the wind whistling past, she could smell the salt off the sea. Theresa stopped a moment and looked around her. She was in an open space, still indoors. The floor underneath her was polished pale wood. She had never been here before and doubted she’d ever make it back on her own. She decided it was best to ask someone.

“Excuse me,” she stopped a young man in uniform, too young to be an officer. “I’ve lost my way. Can you please direct me to my parlor, B56?”

The young man nodded earnestly. “Of course, madam!” He was already moving. “Follow me, please.”

Theresa sighed and followed the energetic man, so ready to be alone just for a few minutes. She could maybe face the rest of the night if she could just have thirty minutes by herself without Elizabeth yammering on in her ear about the importance of making this marriage.

“Always let him speak for you, Theresa.”

“Make it known how much you love him, Theresa! Stop being so cold.”

“Not that dress, Theresa. Axel said he didn’t like that color on you.”

“You must learn the importance of how to be a good hostess, Theresa. He’ll expect that of you.”

She hated the sound of her own name. She strongly suspected she hated her mother. She couldn’t be sure about it, but the thought went through her mind so many times a day…

The chimes of a light, feminine giggle broke Theresa out of her reverie. She blinked her eyes, focusing on the narrow hallway she’d found herself it. In front of her was the eager young man to help escort her to her room. And up ahead was a small group of people heading in their direction.

“Oi!” Snapped her escort. “What are you lot doing up here? Get back down below where you belong!”

As the party grew closer Theresa could see that they indeed looked like third class passengers. There was a girl in front, the one Theresa must have heard laughing. The girl, a few years younger than Theresa, grimaced at the attendant before passing by. Next followed a boy who looked partially Asian, smiling good naturedly at the attendant.  

“So sorry,” he apologized, his accent British and pleasant.

“Sorry me arse,” the attendant muttered under his breath, ushering Theresa forward.

She looked at the wall as she took a few steps forward and felt something brush against her skirt. Startled, Theresa whipped her head around to lock in on a pair of the most provoking, bewitching pair of eyes she’d ever seen. They were dark blue and were staring just as intently back into hers.

Theresa took an ungraceful lungful of air, which sounded more like a gasp, and automatically looked down at the skirt of her dress where she’d felt something. It had been his leg. Her corset felt very tight. Theresa swore she felt her cheeks become hot. What was this?

She did not look back up at him again. She couldn’t. But oh, how she wanted to. Theresa took a purposeful step forward and felt the boy do the same. They took their separate ways and she was back to following her assistant. There. She might be able to exhale that lungful of air now.

After what seemed a lifetime they finally reached her suite. She promised the man to come back later and her fiance’ would tip him. After closing herself inside, she slumped against the door.

She could still see those eyes inside her mind. What unique coloring…she thought. Catching herself, she shook her head and called:

“Sophie?”

The familiar set of footsteps were heard before the young maid appeared in the doorway of the adjoining room. “Yes, miss?”

“I’m going to lie down…” Theresa mumbled, walking towards her private room. “Please tell Mother and Axel I was feeling ill from the sea if they come asking for me.”

Sophie bobbed a curtsey. “Of course, miss. Is that why you’re back early from luncheon? Sea sick?”

Theresa shook her head. “Society sick, I think.”

Sophie laughed and shook her head. “The things you say, miss. I don’t know about you…”

Theresa touched the knob of her stateroom door. Once again, that boy’s eyes flashed inside of her mind. She hadn’t been imagining it, had she? He really had been staring back at her with just as intensity as she towards him?

Intensity. With a third-class boy. Theresa scoffed softly. What would Mother think?

“I don’t know about me either, Sophie.”

She went in and shut the door, leaving her maid standing alone staring after her, a quizzical expression on her face.

A/N: We hope you’re enjoying this so far! Links to our personal blogs, if you’re curious, are @herondale-stars (Cecilia) and @not-taylorswift (Taylor). Thanks for reading!

[unsinkable-wessa]

Will&Tessa on Titanic - Chapter 1

Summary: The R.M.S Titanic is dubbed the ‘Ship of Dreams’ and is said to be unsinkable. The largest ship ever built could hold up to 3,300 passengers. Among them is one Theresa Gray, a seventeen-year-old American aristocrat, traveling back home to New York with her mother and fiance’. In her sheltered life, she feels trapped. That is, until she meets Will Herondale, a struggling British artist looking for a fresh start.  The movie Titanic retold. By @not-taylorswift and @herondale-stars

Chapter 1: April 10, 1912  Tessa

The honking automobile came to a halt in front of the large dock in Southampton. Axel Mortmain reached for Theresa’s hand.

“At last,” he whispered against her gloved fingers as they brushed his lips. “The Titanic awaits us.” He smiled brightly at her mother, sitting across from them, as the door to the small car opened. Theresa took the driver’s hand and stepped down onto the British pavement for the last time.

Theresa Gray, the seventeen year old girl, stood taller than her fiance’. She gazed ahead from under her hat which had quite a large plume adorning the side of it.

She gave a delicate shrug. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” she commented, looking at the vessel in front of her. The largest ship she’d ever seen, steel gleaming in the sunlight, sat on the water. She turned back to Axel and her mother. “It doesn’t look any bigger than the Mauretania.”

Theresa tried to conjure inside of her a sense of awe as she had gazed upon the intimidating vessel. She had come up simply empty. She found herself empty in most things.

Crowds more vast than she had seen in all of her stay in London stood on the dock; those passing through health inspections, those waiting to board with bags hanging from their arms, well-wishers yelling goodbyes to loved ones they wouldn’t see again for a long while.

“I assure you, Theresa,” Axel said from behind her, “the Mauretania pales in comparison to the Titanic. This is far more luxurious. Come along now ladies, we have a ship to board.”

She rolled her eyes from under her large hat as he and his valet, Gideon, turned to give instruction to men carrying their luggage. Elizabeth Gray came up behind her and pinched her daughter’s arm. Theresa winced.

“Theresa Gray, behave yourself.” Elizabeth warned in her low, even voice. “No matter how you feel or what you think, you will marry him as quickly as possible once we’ve made port in New York. Remember all that Axel Mortmain can do for our family. Do not disappointment me.” Theresa swallowed hard as the words left her mother’s mouth.

“Yes, Mother.” She raised her chin as she felt Axel’s touch her arm.

As fast as Elizabeth Gray’s stare had hardened at her daughter, it warmed with the return of her future son-in-law.

“Your daughter is hard to impress, Elizabeth. Perhaps seeing is believing. Shall we hurry along? She leaves in ten minutes.” He gestured to the Titanic, and offered up his arms to escort the two ladies aboard.

“Sophie,” Theresa called to her maid behind her. “Do you have my coat? I fear I might need it once we set sail.”

“Yes, Miss. It’s here with me should you find you need it.” She smiled politely, reaching for the small trunk she would be carrying aboard with them. Theresa turned back to the party, having to take larger steps than before to keep up with Axel and her mother.

She looked up one last time at the monstrous ship some called the ‘ship of dreams.’ As she stepped her foot onto it, she couldn’t help but think how wrong they were; this ship didn’t hold her dreams. It was just another cage, another nightmare for her to live out.

Will

Will Herondale leaned back casually in his chair, glancing down at his hand again, before peeking a look at his closest mate, Jem. James Carstairs’ eyes were on the set of tickets sitting on the table in front of him. Sitting not far away from the table was Will’s younger sister, Cecily, who watched the game with barely concealed fear.

Will was humming quietly to himself, caring none whatsoever that it was unnerving to everyone but Jem. He kept his face neutral and peered back over his cards at his fellow players.

“This is very intense,” Will commented, “can’t you lot feel it?”

Jem gave him a warning glance. “Will…”

“I can’t believe you two idiots bet our tickets,” hissed one of the German men sitting across from Will. He growled at his partners.

“Don’t worry about it, Hans.” Olaf, their companion, placated. “Sven’s not going to lose... especially to British scum.” He jerked his head toward Will.

Will coughed a laugh under his breath and looked away from his friend.

“That was rather uncalled for, I think.” Will made a tsking noise and sat up now. “Well, it’s the moment of truth boys. Somebody’s life is about to change. Show ‘em.” Will looked around as one by one, the men put their cards down with defeat in their eyes.

“Two pair.” Sven called, throwing his hand on the table.

Will huffed a sigh and turned to his friend. “I’ll make my apologies now, Jem.”

“What?” Jem’s dark eyes widened.

“You’re not going to see your uncle for a very long time,” Will’s hand hit the table as he stood up, a gleeful grin spreading all over his face. “Full house! Jem, Cee, we’re going to America!” Will shouted.

The Germans stood as well; Hans grabbed the front of Will’s shirt. “Herondale!” he growled as he raised his hand and Will prepared himself for the strike of the larger man’s beefy fist. But it didn’t come. Instead Hans turned his fist to Sven. Olaf tried to intervene but, as soon as Hans turned on him as well, the three boys began to scuffle on the floor.

Will and Jem bellowed with laughter at the commotion.

“Five minutes! Five minutes until the Titanic leaves!” The bartender shouted from across the crowded tavern.

Will, Jem and Cecily locked eyes with one another.

“I got the tickets. Cee, grab the money. Jem, grab your bags. We’ve got a boat to catch!” Will grinned as they gathered the few coins they won in cards and their sack of belongings. It wasn’t much, but what could you need on the grandest ship in the world?

“Let’s go! We have to hurry. They’ve started unmooring the ship!” Cecily called as she dashed out the entrance of the dirty tavern.

“The Titanic!” Jem shouted as they’d began to run at full speed. He leapt over an empty crate, nearly bowling over a man as he did so. “In all of your wildest dreams, Will Herondale, could you even imagine it?”

“Of course I could imagine it!” Will called back. “Why else would I continue on betting with those oafs?”

The trio weaved through the throngs of people waving goodbye, searching for the open gate. Cecily was the fastest, darting to the ramp as it was being pulled in.

“Wait! Hold on!” Will cried, running as fast as his legs would allow him. “We’ve got tickets! We’re passengers! Just wait!” The uniformed officer held up a hand to the dock crew, signaling for them to stop retracting the ramp. Will stepped forward to pass the attendant their tickets. The man looked down, quickly checking the slips of paper.

“Did you go through the health inspection?” He squinted his eyes suspiciously at the trio, almost performing his own health inspection.

“Sure did, mate.” Jem assured him, smiling that smile of his that could charm even a nun. “No lice or ticks.”

“None at all,” agreed Will.

“Very well. Welcome aboard, gents.” The officer stepped aside, letting them pass by. His hand was outstretched to Cecily to assist her over the gap between the ramp and the doorway. “And welcome to you too, miss.” He tipped his hat and carried on closing the gate behind them.

Will’s gaze couldn’t find a single place to land on. In their haste to board, they’d reached the first ramp they saw. This one, apparently, led into a more lavish section of the ship; certainly not meant for the three of them. The walls were papered in expensive looking red and gold designs, with finishings shinier than any coin he’d ever seen. Plush carpeted floors stretched on in long hallways, and rich passengers ambled about in lush clothing.

Before the officer could tell them to where they needed to go, Cecily said, “Come on, boys! Let’s go up top! We’ve got a country to wave goodbye to!” She smiled back at Will and Jem.

After receiving quick directions to the nearest set of stairs from the officer, they were off again. Cecily’s quick little feet took the stairs two at a time, almost tripping on the hem of her skirt.

“Cee, we’re behind you! Don’t go too fast, now.” Will, ever the protective older brother, tried to catch up with her rapid steps. Cecily just laughed in response as she reached the promenade.

Hundreds of people had gathered around the railing, screaming and waving at the Englishmen and countless other people from around the world below. Will briefly wondered if maybe the concentration of passengers near the edge could cause an imbalance, maybe even start to tip the ship towards the dock.

It’s unsinkable. God himself couldn’t sink her if he tried. Will smiled and shook the thoughts away before joining Jem and his sister near the side.

Cecily’s arm moved uncontrollably above her head, more excited than she’d ever been in her fifteen years. She raised her voice to a high pitch and began to call out along with the rest of the passengers:

“GOODBYE! GOODBYE!” Cecily’s hand waved harder and the grin on her face was wide and animated. “I’LL NEVER FORGET YOU! GOODBYE!”

Jem cocked his head to the side slightly, looking at Cecily in confusion. “Do you know someone?”

Cecily giggled, shaking her head; the long, black curls that ran down her back bounced. “No, but that’s not the point!”

Adrenaline surged through Will’s veins. He couldn’t believe they had gotten away with it. How could it be that just the night before the three of them were huddling under a bridge for warmth and now they found themselves here, bound for America? He felt light, as light as a feather. He felt he could do absolutely anything, go anywhere, see anything. He didn’t need all the money in the world; it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom he, his sister, and his best friend had.

Will, the exhilaration inside of him now too much, threw back his head and laughed.

What couldn’t he do?

A/N: We hope you’re enjoying so far! Yes, we’re cruel but it’s giving us a fair amount of pain as well...