Greetings and salutations! I shall begin my fanfic in just a moment, but first a few words of explanation (if you don't care, just skip ^^).
I was inspired for this by the animated movie Titanic: The Legend Continues, also known as Titanic: The Legend Lives On, Titanic: The Animated Movie, Titanic: The Animated Musical, or "That piece of *!^" (some of those names are more official than others). Made by an Italian director, this animated movie tells the "real" story of the Titanic - including a Cinderella rip-off romance (complete with bird and mice friends), a group of bumbling jewel thieves, a rapping dog, and three Mexican mice (no, I swear I'm not making any of this up).
Somehow, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I hit upon the idea of rewriting the movie in story form in my own image (maybe proof that I should stop coming up with ideas. Or trying to sleep). And thus I've decided to go through with it.
A running joke with Titanic: The Animated Movie is that virtually all of the characters are rip-offs, drawing-wise - of many famous Disney and Don Bluth characters. It was an IMDb reviewer who referred to the characters with their more famous counterpoints' names which inspired me to do this project actually. So thank (or chase after) him/her.
She was a ship of dreams, awe inspiring and beautiful. No one could look at her without feeling hope and romance. She was said to be unsinkable…but in one fateful voyage thousands of lives would be altered forever…
The trees were no more than green blurs, splotched against the blue of the coastline as the train merrily traveled its course. Inside the compartment, children were bored and chased each other down the aisles. Their parents, weary from the hours sitting, shouted for them to be still just a little longer, there wasn't much more to the journey.
Anastasia sat still and quiet in her seat, but then she was used to doing that. Ever since she was a small child, all she could remember hearing was "Anastasia you disobedient girl! Stop wiggling and be quiet!" It had gotten that, if need be, she could stay as still and quiet as a painted statue, her eyes closed and her hands folded neatly on her lap.
Now, she did move, just enough to reach into her tiny traveling bag. There were few possessions inside. Expertly, she pushed aside two working dresses, her sewing kit, and other bits and pieces until her fingers brushed the sharp corner of a small box. She pulled it out and opened it.
Inside, a beautiful locket gleamed. It was the most beautiful and valuable thing she owned. Lacquered with blue gems and a fine gold chain, it could have sold for enough for Anastasia to set out into the world on her own. But she would never part with it. Because there was something inside which she valued even more. Inside was a picture of her mother.
Anastasia expertly opened the locket with her thumbnail and gazed at the picture. The woman was in her thirties, with long hair and a kind look on her face. The color of her eyes, her hair, or dress was impossible to determine as the portrait was black and white. Anastasia gazed longingly at the portrait. What was her mother's name? Who was her father? Why did they leave her so many years ago? Would she ever find them again?
"Anastasia, stop moping over that silly locket!"
Anastasia looked up. "Yes mother," she whispered out of habit. Lady Gertrude Tremaine was certainly not her mother and had absolutely no intention of being mistaken for it. Still, a cruel pretend-mother was better than none at all. Anastasia was nineteen and had lived for eighteen years with her foster family. Lady Tremaine had once been the rich daughter of an aristocrat, sought by many men. Lord Tremaine was the chosen one, however he died only a few years prior from a gunshot to his head. Some said that he had amassed a good many gambling debts (very scandalous) and was shot by one of the many he owed money to. Others shook their heads and said that being married to Gertrude was far more than such a hedonistic man could stand. Certainly his wife was domineering Anastasia doubted very much that she would stand for such frivolous and embarrassing behavior. At any rate, he left his wife with what little remained of his fortune, two daughters, and a bitter outlook on life.
The daughters were Hortense and Bernice, Anastasia's foster sisters. They fancied themselves to be lovely and sweet-tempered - a view which their mother tried to reinforce - however nothing could be farther from the truth. Certainly the girls had the potential to be quite pretty, but it was all lost under the vast amounts of cosmetics that plastered over their faces and the ridiculous "fashionable" dresses and hats they had "just imported from London". They also might have been sweet-tempered once upon a time, however that too was lost. Years of indulgence from their mother and always having their ways taught them only to be ill-tempered shrews and bullies, unsatisfied with anything. Between them and their mother, Anastasia often found herself frustrated and at the end of her own - vast - patience.
For almost the entirety of the trip, the sisters had been lectured by their mother on the purpose of the journey - marriage. "Remember," she reminded them ceaselessly, "The purpose of this voyage is husbands, wealthy and handsome."
Now it appeared that they were bored and the Lady Tremaine had fallen back on her favorite past time, mocking Anastasia's devotion to her mother.
"You stupid girl," she continued. "Your mother abandoned you when you were a baby. You'll never see her again."
"You'll never see her again!" cackled Bernice. Hortense laughed like a wild animal, causing several other passengers to look about in concern.
Anastasia sighed and gently set her locket back into the box. Possibly the only reason her foster mother hadn't taken it from her was because she enjoyed laughing whenever Anastasia looked at it. The girl was sure her foster family had fallen asleep when she took it out this time, but she must have been mistaken. She put the box back in her bag, too depressed to bother to shove it to the bottom even. She stared sadly out the window. For almost all of her life, she had be forced to live in England's strict classes, under her foster family's tyranny. But all that would change soon. In a few day's time, they would all be in America. A country where anything may happen. Perhaps there she would meet the love of her life. Perhaps there she might even find her mother…
The train came to a grinding halt and the four stepped off. Weighed down by her and the rest of her foster family's luggage, it was nearly impossible for Anastasia to enjoy the sights and sounds as they headed for the docks. Still, the ocean breeze was wonderful and the smell of the sea filled her nose with each breath.
Anastasia felt something furry brush her ankles and she nearly screamed. "Azreal!" she cried. "Don't do that!"
"Hurry up Anastasia," called Lady Tremaine as the sisters laughed. Even Azreal, the Tremaine's fat orange cat seemed to snicker as he bounded to catch up with his equally - odious mistresses.
As the docks came into sight, Anastasia saw it for the first time. It was the biggest and most luxurious thing she had ever seen in her lifetime. And it would take her to America. The H.M.S. Titanic. The unsinkable ship, the ship of dreams.