IT'S ALMOST OVER GUYS! I can't believe it. After reading a bunch of inspiring stories on , most of them over 30 chapters long, I finally had the courage to write my own. :) Of course, none of this would be possible without Cassandra Clare, the many talented writers of Beauty and the Beast, and YOU, the readers!
As always, quotes from both pieces. Love you for evermore- 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 9: EVERMORE
1885, London, England
When Tessa burst back into the ballroom, the look of fury and distress was certainly not the one Sophie had envisioned in her mind. Sophie had to admit, she was bewildered; just moments before, she had watched Tessa and Will waltz to a tune so beautiful her eyes prickled with tears. Had she imagined her friend with flush cheeks and a bright smile? Yes. Had Will blown it? Most probably. This was why she had never liked William Herondale.
"Tessa?" Sophie called, biting her lip and hoping for the best.
"Sophie Collins," Tessa murmured, approaching her quickly. She stood with her hands on her hips, some of her hair loose from its fixing. "Why didn't you tell me?"
There was hurt in her voice, but it was overshadowed with anger. Sophie gulped.
"It didn't seem right to tell you-"
"But this was all...all a façade!" Tessa threw her hands up, storming past Sophie towards the exit doors. "All to break a spell. Did you ever think that maybe this curse isn't meant to be broken?"
Sophie blinked, tears welling up in her eyes. She turned towards Charlotte, who was perched atop Henry, and shook her head. She would deal with her on her own.
She chased after Tessa's retreating figure, partially impressed that she could storm off so well in heels. "Tessa, please!" Sophie cried. "I can explain-"
Her heart sank as Tessa darted down the staircase instead of towards her room, not bothering to turn back to Sophie.
It was snowing lightly outside when Tessa pushed past the heavy Institute doors, shivering but welcoming the numbness of the cold. If she left now, and set Philippe off at a gallop, she would still make it home in time for Christmas morning. Where I should have went a long time ago, Tessa thought bitterly.
Thomas was nowhere to be seen, probably inside the ballroom, and Tessa felt a surge of sadness as she hoisted herself up onto her horse's back.
Memories swarmed her thoughts; in the few weeks that she had resided at the London Institute, she painfully recalled how free she felt, how at home she felt. Jem's gentle laughter, Charlotte's warm advice, Henry's cheerful melodies, Gabriel's taunting humor, Gideon's shy amusement, Thomas' lopsided smile, Bridget's sad ballads. And Will. Will's witty sarcasm, endless knowledge about literature. Most of all, his sweet vulnerability, that only she was able to glimpse in his paradoxical blue eyes.
Tessa shook her head, tears brimming as she sent Philippe into a sprint towards out the wrought-iron gates. She didn't want to believe the truth, so she didn't.
She rode off into the night without looking back.
-O-o-O-
The wilting, red rose mocked Will from the center of the attic. Its drooping, frayed petals seemed to scream out at him, willing him to surrender himself to his rage and self-hatred. He stared at the flower with a loathing contempt, wanting to pummel anything just to shadow the terrible agony throbbing in his heart.
Will wanted to smash something, so he did. Grabbing the dome off of the rose that determined his fate, Will slammed the glass against the wall, accepting the pain when shards ricocheted and puddled by his feet.
He roared, ripping the nearest painting to shreds. It was a still-life of fruit; Will doubted anyone would be missing that. He growled and swung at the stack of metal buckets in the corner. He briefly remembered that time long ago, when he bit a vampire and was forced to douse himself with holy water to counter the potential repercussions. But nothing mattered now. Will's paws slammed into the metal, denting the buckets. He wished for the pain to kick in so he didn't have to think about Tessa.
Nothing had ever made him feel more beast-like than this moment. He could still see the shocked loathing in Tessa's big gray eyes, hear the utter disgust in her voice as she spoke to him.
Will whirled, bursting through the doors to his balcony and turning his gaze to the stars. He tried to calm down, gripping the railing tightly before he started to heave.
Air wouldn't enter his lungs fast enough as he gulped, the events of the night crashing down upon him. He slowly looked up, his heart stopping when he spotted a flash of yellow in the distance. He watched as Tessa galloped, the ribbons of her gown floating behind her in the wind, not blinking until her figure disappeared into the darkness of London.
She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he had ruined it.
"Will? 你还好吗?"
He didn't turn around. "Jem- no, I'm not alright."
"What happened?"
Will heard the softness in his parabatai's voice, and wanted to bite back, but he felt the strength ebbing out of him.
"I messed everything up." Will's eyes were dark and stormy, so void of emotion that to anyone else, he would seem indifferent. Only his closest friends knew that he was shielding the pain, letting it fester until he couldn't take it anymore. "I'm sorry. Maddeuwch imi." Forgive me.
Will thought of a poem, then, by an author whose name he was too tired to summon, and he crumpled.
Now I know she'll never leave me
Even as she fades from view
She will still inspire me
Be a part of everything I do.
I'll fool myself, she'll walk right in
And as the long, long nights begin
I'll think of all that might have been
Waiting here for evermore.
-O-o-O-
1885, Goodramgate, England
Aloysius paced in his office, shivering by the empty fireplace and wishing that he just had more time. The steady tick of the ancient grandfather clock in the corner was incessant, nearly driving him to insanity as he rubbed his hands together.
Just a few more days, he prayed, although even the shadowhunters weren't lax enough to postpone their mission on Christmas Day. Aloysius scrambled to find the paperwork entitling him as head of the Institute; being unable to present his official documentation would definitely tip the Consul over the edge.
The dreaded banging ringing across the foyer confirmed his worst suspicions. Aloysius groaned, hoisting himself up from his position kneeling under his desk.
"Mr. Starkweather?" Gottshall inquired, raising his eyebrow.
"Let them in," Aloysius replied gruffly as he spun around, whipping out a stele and drawing the locking rune hastily over his office door.
Gottshall did as required, creaking open the old door and bowing his head slightly to the visitors beyond.
Aloysius growled when he heard the voice that answered. Deep, rough, and snide as if he had all the power in the world, Consul Josiah Wayland stepped through, his hands tucked casually in his pockets.
The Consul's long, fair hair was tied back, illuminating the strong angles of his face. He had grown out his beard since the last time Aloysius had stood being questioned before him, but his piercing, cold blue eyes remained the same.
Josiah tilted his head and grinned, towering over Aloysius' slouching form. "Happy Christmas, Aloysius," he said calmly, his eyes trailing over Aloysius' disheveled appearance. "I fear I come in bad spirits, despite the joyful day."
"Nothing is joyful when you're around," Aloysius muttered under his breath.
"What's that?"
"Nothing." Aloysius' hands shook as he met his opposer's eyes. "What brings you to my Institute, Consul?"
Someone stepped in beside Josiah; Aloysius frowned as Inquisitor Victor Whitelaw joined him. He hadn't seen Whitelaw in ages, and his eyes were just as he remembered them: bleak and stormy gray, the shade of a rainy sea. Nothing like the warm gray of his Tessa's.
The Consul chuckled, walking forward towards the sitting room like he owned the place. "That's precisely the issue we are here to discuss," he remarked, perching himself in Aloysius' favorite armchair. "The question of your Institute."
The Consul and Inquisitor looked across the room at Aloysius expectantly. He grumbled and shuffled towards the seating area, ultimately stuck on the chair across from Josiah that Mortmain had sat in weeks before. The Enclave and its stupid laws would be the end of him.
"Now, your position is perilous at best. You have overstayed your welcome, and I see no reason for this to continue." The Consul paused, turning his head. "Your care over the Institute can hardly be called attentive. Does this look like a haven for shadowhunters?" He gestured at the ripped wallpaper and mantel's faded paintings.
The Inquisitor interrupted Josiah's onslaught of words. His tone was clipped and direct as he said, "May I see your papers, Mr. Starkweather? The ones documenting your position as head of the York Institute."
Aloysius' glare sent daggers at Whitelaw. "I don't have them at the moment."
The Consul let out a cry so triumphant that Gottshall came hurrying into the room. But Josiah dismissed him once more with a wave of his hand.
"Not even proof that you were the head of this Institute. If I were to die and be replaced, well, the new Consul would have no choice but to release you." He straightened his shoulders in a superior manner. "And besides that, the only excuse you have continuously used to resist being replaced is that this is Theresa Gray's home as well."
The Inquisitor nodded to the Consul, making Aloysius shiver.
"And, as I see that Theresa Gray is not hereby present, I am sorry to say that you will be stripped of your title as head of the York Institute."
Aloysius couldn't help but notice that the Consul didn't sound sorry at all.
"But- you must understand sir, my family has upheld this institution for generations-"
"Oh, I do understand," the Consul said, standing up, "that the Shadow World is dominated by powerful shadowhunting families. Yet there comes a time when new changes are for the better. This case is closed."
The Consul turned to the Inquisitor, who in turn followed suit and stood up.
"Grandfather?"
Aloysius jolted upwards at the sound of the familiar voice, much too quickly for his frail body to handle.
Yet his aches faded away at the sight of his Tessa, his only living relative (well, that mattered, anyways). Her hair was moused and falling out of its clips, while her skin looked slightly blue and her elegant yellow gown slightly torn, but her gray eyes were large and shone brighter than ever.
Her expression of relief quickly morphed into seriousness as she studied the Institute's two unwelcome visitors, seething and annoyed. "Consul Wayland, Inquisitor Whitelaw," she greeted with a polite nod in their direction. "It's a pleasure to see you. Happy Christmas."
"Yes, and what a happy one it is," the Consul muttered gruffly. He straightened his coat and flashed a smile at Tessa. "Theresa Gray. I am afraid that the Institute is in need of other, might I say better, hands."
"Sir-"
"I would not take it personally if I were you," the Inquisitor stepped in with a clipped tone. "This is official business of the Clave, and with appropriate agreement, you and Mr. Starkweather will be placed in another home."
Tessa gulped. The gears in her brain whirred like an army of clockwork creatures, trying to come up with any plan to stop this. She glanced over at her grandfather, who was noticeably much thinner. He didn't flinch or look upset, but the slight hunch in his back and gleam in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. This was the only place he found peace, and they shouldn't be allowed to rip it away from him.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then, did something rash. "There's something terribly wrong at the London Institute."
The Consul's head whipped towards her, skeptical suspicion etched on his face. "The London Institute? What would you know of that?"
Tessa's mind flashed to all the memories she had encountered over the past weeks, but her light laughs and smiles exchanged with the Institute's members were quickly snuffed out.
The words seemed to pour out of her in a rush, speaking without thinking. "Have you ever wondered why no one has been able to visit the London Institute for the past 10 years but the Silent Brothers? And for that matter, why none of its residents have stepped outside in a decade?" She gestured frantically with her hands. "There is a beast living in that institution. He was a shadowhunter, but all he's done has been...a..." Tessa was about to falter, when Will's last words clouded her mind. She snapped. "A lie. You shouldn't be bothering my grandfather, claiming he's senile when he is doing a fine job. You should be investigating the Branwells, and unveil all that they've been hiding from the Enclave."
Tessa clamped a hand over her mouth, momentarily stunned at her outburst. At how she'd just condemned them all. She slumped to the ground, her skin turning paler than it already was.
The Inquisitor stepped forward, bending down to meet Tessa's eyes. "A beast? Miss Gray, we appreciate your efforts to protect your grandfather, but this has gone on far enough."
"NO!" Tessa sobbed, meeting Whitelaw's gaze with ferocity. "I swear by the Angel that there's a beast living there. Mark my words." Tessa's mind suddenly flashed back to a moment she had spent with Will.
Will braced the end of the ladder as Tessa scrambled up, gaping at the endless array of books lining the upper shelves.
"WILLIAM!" She squealed as he unexpectedly wobbled the edge, almost causing Tessa to tumble off. He chuckled and resumed his tight grip.
"Oh, Tessa, don't worry. I've got you. I would never let you fall."
She glared down at him, trying to stay angry at him, but failing when she saw the warm mirth dancing in his blue, blue eyes. "Fine."
Grabbing a thick volume off of the shelf, Tessa slowly descended the rungs until her feet hit solid ground again. Will laughed. "What have you got there?"
Tessa smiled down at the dusty tome in her hands. "One Thousand and One Nights." She sighed contentedly, leaning against the shelf. "I hardly got to travel as a young girl. But books were my escape- I could always just whisk myself away to other lands through words."
Will looked at her thoughtfully, staring at her until she wanted to break the silence. But he did first. "Let me show you something."
He padded over to a nearby desk, covered with a random assortment of books and completed with a large world map. In the bottom left-hand corner, there was something sticking out; Tessa raised her brow as she watched him pull out a handheld antique mirror.
"Oh, so you wanted to show me a mirror image of yourself?" She giggled. "How very modest of you, Will Herondale."
He chuckled in response, shaking his head. "Don't be an idiot." He held the mirror closer to his face. "It's magic. The one thing the enchantress left with me after the curse to remind me of...of what I couldn't have."
"I don't understand-"
"Where is the one place that you've wished you could go?" Will inhaled, and closed his eyes. "Think of it, clearly in your mind."
Tessa didn't have to think too hard before answering. "New York City," she breathed.
Will slowly moved the mirror so it was directly before Tessa, and the reflection of herself instantaneously rippled until it instead revealed an image of a small, dark room. It looked like a dusty, old attic, not nearly the size of Will's but much much smaller. There was a bed against one wall, a baby's cradle in the center of the room, and a shattered window, the only thing letting moonlight stream into the room. On the opposite side of the room were various sketches and portraits of a woman Tessa recognized as her mother, as well as drawings of her as a babe.
"It's...it's so much smaller than I imagined," Tessa whispered.
"Where are we?" Will's tone was soft and gentle, not prying.
Tessa's lips quivered as she spoke. "This is the city of my childhood. The flat where I was born, where my mother died."
She then tasted slow tears as they rolled down her cheeks, their salty cold startling her. She hadn't realized she was crying.
Tessa felt Will's warmth as he neared her, gently enveloping her in his arms. She tried to take a deep breath as she buried herself in his presence. "It's okay, Tess," he murmured quietly.
She didn't know how long they stood there like that, wrapped in each other, until Tessa finally calmed down and stepped out of Will's embrace. She shivered at the absence of his heat. "Thank you, Will."
He shrugged, and held out the mirror to Tessa. "I don't need it anymore." He paused, then pried open the flap of her satchel and slipped the mirror inside. "It's yours," he said so softly she almost missed his words. "To remember me by."
Tessa's thoughts snapped back to reality, and she felt the sting of tears threatening at the back of her throat. She swallowed roughly and fumbled at the clasp of her bag, pulling out the mirror quickly.
"I would trust me if I were you," she said mimicking the Inquisitor's prior tone. She held the base of the mirror. firmly in her grip as she said, "Show me the beast."
The glass rippled, displaying an image of Will roaring. She spun the mirror at an angle so both she and the Clave leaders were able to see; she inhaled sharply as Will ripped a portrait through the mirror.
"Will," she whispered, unable to stop the split second of pain and guilt choking her.
The Consul ripped the mirror out of her hand, his expression transforming into a frightened scowl as he grabbed the Inquisitor by his wrist. "Let's go, Whitelaw. Now. We have more pressing matters elsewhere."
And as soon as Tessa had arrived, they were gone. Tessa had stood again but now collapsed, her body writhing as she folded in on herself and let wretched sobs shake her body. She hadn't meant a word she said to them. Will wasn't a beast; he was just a shadowhunter boy hiding a shattered identity.
Tessa felt gentle hands cup her face, and rough calloused thumbs brushed away the tears from her face. She blinked through her bleary lashes, finding her grandfather crouching beside her. "Tessie," he murmured tranquilly, "you're home. You saved me."
At those words, Tessa broke. She fractured into a thousand pieces as she let loose a cry, banging her fists against the wall.
"Tessie, please, tell me what's wrong-"
Tessa ignored the pain shooting up her wrists as she battled her emotions, waves of anger and frustration and hurt shadowing her instinct to protect herself. She was exhausted and mad, in a worse condition than she had ever been.
Bracing her arms against the wall for support, Tessa heaved her body to an upright position. She was a mess right now; she could just imagine Sophie scolding her. She looked out towards the open door, leading into the dark. She glanced at her grandfather and wiped away her tears. Tessa leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. She had saved her grandfather, with the sort of quick thinking that was admirable in shadowhunters. But she had just doomed the one person she had truly felt at home with, and it was all her fault. Straightening her shoulders, Tessa ran back out under the stars.
WOW. So that was an intense moment. But thank you so so much for reading this far! I can hardly believe that this is almost the end. One more chapter left- and then an epilogue, of course- so stay tuned for much more coming soon!
Stay safe, love you!
xoxo