Hiiiiiii! I am super excited to start this fanfic: Tale as Old as Time. I will continue adding chapters as frequently as possible, so stay tuned!
This is my first piece, so I would really appreciate any advice! :)
It is inspired by Cassandra Clare's trilogy, The Infernal Devices, and Beauty and the Beast! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I think everyone needs a little magic right now, so I hope you enjoy, and continue to stay safe and healthy. Just to clarify the time period, in this first chapter, the year is 1875, and the boys are 14 years old. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the TID or Beauty and the Beast characters, nor their stories.
Tale as Old as Time...
CHAPTER I: PROLOGUE
1875, London, England
William Herondale hated ducks. As the most-likely candidate to become head of the Institute once Charlotte Branwell became Consul (even though that date was years away), he strongly believed that he held the authority to decree that all ducks in London be banished- he didn't care if they chose to reside in other parts of the world- so he could finally stroll through Hyde Park in peace.
"Mallards are awfully despicable," Will muttered under his breath as his parabatai, Jem, dragged him off towards a copse of trees far away from the pond. It was just one day after their parabatai ceremony, and only Jem was able to shake Will out of his infuriating attitude towards the poor ducks.
"If you're always going to complain about the ducks and their cannibalistic nature, why do we always take the route past the pond?" Jem asked, the corners of his mouth lifting as he came to a stop, whipping out his seraph blade. The silver threads of hair intertwined with his dark strands shone even lighter in the moonlight; Will felt his heart lurch, as he always did, when he was reminded of his friend's worsening illness.
"It's past midnight, Jem!" Will protested, as he murmured Malik, the iridescent blade blazing to life. "Do you really expect me to take an unknown, winding route in the middle of the night? Let me remind you that we're shadowhunters, not park rangers."
There was a rustle in the trees, alerting the boys of the demonic presence they had been tracking all evening.
"On the other hand, maybe next time," Will conceded as he adjusted to stand back-to-back with Jem. "A little extra walking is definitely worth avoiding those...monsters."
The demon launched, and the two spurred into action. With runes drawn and blades raised, Jem and Will attacked the creature: one as dark as the night and the other silver as the moon above; one stubborn and the other patient; one healthy and the other sick; yet both bonded as strongly as any two things could be bound. The two whirled in graceful attack, bouncing off of each other's actions until they were covered in corrosive ichor and an unsettling silence had enveloped the field.
With a quick final sweep of the grounds, the parabatai slid their blades back into their gear and began to head back in the Institute's general direction.
"Would you rather face a duck, or another Shax demon?" Jem wondered aloud, a little out of breath, but his eyes bright nonetheless in the aftermath of the fight.
"By the Angel, Jem, is that even a question?" Will shook his head and laughed. "A demon is much saner than a duck will ever be." Will glanced backwards in the direction of the pond and shuddered. "They're bloodthirsty little beasts. Never trust a duck."
-O-o-O-
"Now, Will, I expect you to be on your best behavior," remarked Charlotte as she reached over to straighten Will's tie. He swatted her hand away defiantly, instead turning to glance at his reflection in the nearby silver vase.
"Really, Charlotte? What about Jem? And Jessie?" He managed to straighten his tie on his own and turned back to face the head of the Institute. Despite the fact that Will was already a head taller than her, merely the sharp look in her gaze reminded him of who was really in charge.
An observer from afar may have viewed those gathered on the front steps of the London Institute as the most odd-looking group of people; there was Charlotte Branwell, her brown hair tucked back into a neat bun and her straight posture exuding authority; Henry Branwell, with his colorful mismatched socks and makeshift gadget tucked into his pocket; William Herondale, a beautiful boy with raven dark hair rather spoiled by his grimace; James Carstairs, with his thin, fragile frame and graying hair; Jessamine Lovelace, too involved in straightening the bow on her dress to pay much attention to anything else.
Just then, Thomas pulled up to the shadowhunters with their single carriage in tow; while Charlotte, Henry, Jessie and Jem piled inside, Will opted not to squish in the carriage and instead pull himself up onto the driving chair besides Thomas.
"Oh, I do hope that boy doesn't get into any trouble at the Lightwoods'," Charlotte whispered as the carriage rode past the tall iron gates guarding the Institute. "What is it with him and young Gabriel?"
Jem tried to hide the smile widening on his face, but to no avail.
"Jem most definitely knows," Jessamine stated in her haughty tone while straightening her silk gloves for the sixteenth time.
"Perhaps it is simply a conflict of interests," Jem replied as he turned to stare out the window, knowing full well that it was because Will had humiliated Gabriel's sister, Tatiana, by reading her diary aloud years ago.
As the carriage neared the Lightwoods' enormous Chiswick mansion, Will tried to distract himself from thoughts of Gabriel. "Why don't you make a move, Thomas? I am sure Sophie fancies you as well."
The unexpected statement was enough to send their driver sputtering in denial. "What? Will, I-" Thomas shook his head as they approached the gates. "You really shouldn't distract your driver, mate."
A mischievous grin crossed Will's face as he placed a casual hand on Thomas' shoulder. "So you admit, you get distracted by her, even with that hideous scar on her face?" Will teased, laughing bitterly as the horses slowed to a stop besides the central fountain.
Thomas' eyes shot daggers at him. "You leave Sophie alone, Will. Now go enjoy the ball."
Will felt an ounce of regret for pushing Thomas around, but he reminded himself that he couldn't be friendly; not now, and not ever. He was cursed, and had always maintained a façade of arrogance and disrespect to prevent those he loved from growing too attached to him.
Thomas leaped down, quite flustered, to open the door for Charlotte and Jessie, leaving Will to brace himself for a night of inevitable arguing.
-O-o-O-
The Chiswick house's ballroom was breathtaking: high ceilings with elaborate crystal chandeliers spiraling down, velvet curtains cascading down the wall-length size windows, a marble staircase dreamt up from Cinderella's fairytale. Jessamine felt right at home as she rushed to greet Tatiana; it was nice to see another polite, lady-like young girl rather than be surrounded by two obnoxious boys who only ever talked about hunting demons.
Couples were already waltzing across the floor, providing sufficient cover for Will and Jem as they discreetly made their way over to the drinks table, hoping to avoid Gabriel at all costs (well, that was just Will's intention).
"How long do you think you'll hold a grudge against Gabriel?" Jem asked, matching Will's long strides with his own. "He is, after all, the only shadowhunter your age around. It might be nice to get to know him," Jem said cautiously.
Will sighed as he raised a glass of sparkling cider to his lips. "Oh, Jem, 别说了," he said nonchalantly, whipping out one of the few Mandarin phrases Jem had taught him- stop talking. "Please, no one needs that Lightworm. I have you." Yet his words carried a silent weight; they both knew that Jem was only surviving off the drug yin fen, and he was expected to die much too soon.
It had begun to pour outside; cracking thunder boomed across London, even tainting the lively, upbeat melody drifting from the musicians playing on the elevated stage.
"Quite a storm raging out there, eh?" Henry commented awkwardly as he attempted to make smalltalk with Benedict Lightwood.
The elder Lightwood merely sighed, ostensibly searching the room for someone- or something. "I say you whip out your weather machine and give us a bright and sunny evening," smirked Benedict as he snapped his fingers at a passing waiter for more champagne.
Henry frowned. "You must be mistaken, sir; I am not working on a weather machine, but rather what I'd like to call a Sensor- a device for shadowhunters to use to detect the presence of demonic energies. I haven't decided if it should vibrate, or produce a clicking sound when alerting the user, but-"
Everyone in the ballroom was suddenly interrupted by a large BOOM resonating across the echoing acoustics of the ballroom. The windows, which had been previously securely shut, blew open and began to shudder violently, their creaking drowned out by the horrid cacophony of gusting winds and torrential rain.
The front and back doors to the ballroom burst open, presenting a crippled figure so small in comparison to the massive doorframes. Some of the guests began to scream, and it was not long before the previously elegant ballroom was thrown into a melee of chaos. Ladies and gentlemen fled for cover through the back doors, dropping glasses and shoving tables as they escaped the groaning infrastructure.
Soon only the Institute's shadowhunters remained.
With so few people left in the ballroom, it was impossible not to spot his rival; Will glared at Gabriel as the boy ignited a seraph blade, and Will quickly decided to follow suit. As the host, Benedict Lightwood, was unsurprisingly nowhere to be seen, and Will deemed himself the most capable shadowhunter amongst the group, he marched up to the hunched figure, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his trousers.
The ominous howling and dreadful downpour did nothing to calm his nerves.
"Good evening, sir. Can we help you with something?"
The hooded silhouette slowly removed his hood, revealing that he was not truly a he, but a she. An elderly woman stood before the group of befuddled shadowhunters. Although her eyes were bright, her sky blue irises the only youthful part of her, the woman's skin was wrinkled and covered in spots of old age. She held out a frail hand, and in it was a vibrant red rose, her thin fingers shaking with effort to keep her arm raised towards Will.
"Please, sir. Would you be able to shred a sliver of mercy for an old woman? A night to rest in your grand home, just to stay sheltered from the storm, is all I request."
Will scoffed then, shaking his head of damp black curls. As much as Will acted distant and cruel towards those in the Institute, he did so to protect them, the only ones who cared for him; but now, the personality with which he shielded his true self lashed out. "For all we know, you could be a shapeshifting demon," he spat angrily, bitterly recalling his lessons of ravenors and hatred towards the Greater Demon, Marbas, who had long ago set a curse on him. "Your repulsion is making my eyes hurt. Leave. Now."
The woman trembled, the rose still outstretched in her hand. "Please, sir," she cried hoarsely with more desperation, "just one night." Her distress was evident upon the lines of her deformed face, and she shook like she was about to collapse. "Please, take this rose in exchange for shelter from the bitter cold. I promise I will not harm you-"
Jem stepped forward then, quickly glaring icily at Will, and benevolent kindness spread across his features. "Of course, madame-"
"No." Will interrupted Jem, taking a step closer to the woman. He didn't know what overcame him, maybe his fierce desire to protect those he loved and guarded weariness of those he mistrusted, but Will bent down and looked directly into the haggard's brilliant eyes.
He leaned forward and whispered, "You are nothing in the shadows of my people. Leave at once." He began to back away slowly, his pretty features twisting with cruelty. "There are benches in the garden, shaded by trees; those should protect you well enough from the rain."
Will then turned to look at Jem, offering him a smirk that seemed to read, ugly vagabonds, when the women's fragile rasp snapped out at him. "You have been deceived by your own cold heart, William Herondale."
Will whirled around, shocked. How could she know his name? What did she mean, by his cold heart? Was Marbas fooling him again, making him pay for his father's deeds?
At that moment, the crooked figure rose into the air, magic unwinding the crippled form; from underneath the woman's dark hood began to flow cascades of golden hair, and her skin began to shine with youth, until the most beautiful apparition Will had ever seen loomed high above his head.
The woman's voice was no longer soft and broken, but now strong and ethereal. "A curse upon your house and all within it. Until you have found someone to love you as you are, you shall remain forever a beast."
Will gasped, his face paling rapidly. He was barely able to register the fact that he was under yet another curse when the enchantress raised her hands.
With a snap of her fingers, the Shadowhunters were plunged into darkness, the storm slowly ceasing to rage outside.
Thank you sooooo much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you love TID and/or Beauty and the Beast as much as I do, comments and favorites would be much appreciated. :)
More is coming soon, so stay tuned! xoxo