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luciehercndale · 11 months

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congrats on your new milestone 🎉🎉 Don't know if you still take requests, but if you do, can I request a free card on Wessa or Jessa or Herongrastairs. you chosse 💖

Thank you very much! 🥹✨😺

And this is for you <3 It isn't set during a specific time. Let's say it's between TID and TLH. It's mainly Wessa, but a lot of the TID characters appear and help solve the plot. I hope you like it! 💖

Read on A03

To Beard, Or Not To Beard

One day, Will decides to grow a beard.

Will Herondale liked to change style every once in a while. He wasn’t the type of person to follow fashion – it moved too fast for his liking – but somehow, thanks to his tailor Lemuel Sykes, he was able to stay updated with the latest trends.

“You know, Mr. Herondale, there’s something missing in your style,” the tailor mused one afternoon, admiring how the black velvet made Will’s eyes pop. “Especially with this outfit you’ve requested. And the coat.” The suit wasn’t finished yet, and it was meant for a masquerade ball that would be in a month away at the London Institute.

“I’m curious, please tell!” Will said enthusiastically, always looking for fashion advice. “Perhaps it’s a hat? A scarf? A bowtie? I will have to attend the ball –”

“A beard,” the werewolf replied bluntly. “You should grow a beard, why haven’t you? With those cheekbones and those eyes…” he sighed. “It’s very fashionable among people your age. Plus, you’ve shown me the photograph of the character you’re impersonating at this ball. The fella has a beard.”

Will didn’t seem too sure. “I’ve never grown a beard, it’s a hassle when you eat. I thought I could still do the costume without,” he frowned. “And I wonder if my wife will like it?”

“Then ask her,” Lemuel turned away, checking some brocade fabric on a chair. “But, if you ask me, I’d say yes,” he chuckled, then disappeared into the adjoining room and Will knew he was dismissed.

He thought about the beard on the way home. Sykes was right. The character he was going to go dressed as at the party had a beard, a medium beard, at that. Would it be the same without the beard? Probably not. He used the disguise the invisibility rune gave him, to stare at the mundanes minding their business in the busy streets of London. He was fascinated with how many different kinds of beards people could wear, and he told himself he could try growing a beard too. After all, what impersonation would be credible without such a signature feature?

First, though, he wanted to hear other people’s opinions about the topic. “What do you think about beards, Tess?”

Tessa sat at the vanity in their bedroom brushing her hair, and she stopped for a moment to glance at him from the mirror in front of her to answer him. “Well, it depends on the beard. Which beard are you talking about? Sideburns? Mustache? Van Dyke?”

“A nice one that won’t make one look like a rascal or like a grandfather,” he replied, checking himself in a small mirror he had on the nightstand. “Something not too excessive.”

“Are you thinking of growing one, Will?” she inquired, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Would you hate it if I did? The tailor suggested it, and I never thought about it until today,” he revealed. “I thought I could grow it in time for the masquerade party.”

Tessa mulled over it as she walked to the bed, after tending to her long brown hair. “I don’t think I would hate it, but it’s your decision to make,” she sat down next to him. “I think you would be handsome with a beard too, but,” she sighed, and drew in a long breath.

“But what? Perhaps I would look ancient?” he wondered. “Maybe I shouldn’t indulge in this. The costume would be good even without the beard.”

“Quite the opposite,” she studied him, tracing his face with her finger, stopping on his chin. “I think you would look even more desirable than you are now. People would covet you even more.”

“Covet? I think that some would mock me, that’s for sure,” he took hold of her hand and kissed it. “I would only rethink this if you found me obnoxious.”

“Then you’re set? You’re getting a beard?” Tessa questioned with interest. “In case you don’t like it anymore, you can still shave it.”

“I hereby declare,” he stated with a firm voice, “that I’m going to grow facial hair. This is my final decision, Your Honor.”

It didn’t take long for friends and family to acknowledge Will’s new style, even when his facial hair was barely a five o’ clock shadow.

“Have you been on a trip recently, Will?” his sister Cecily asked him a few days after he had made his decision. “Or maybe you are sick?”

“The answer for both is no,” he folded his arms on his chest. They were waiting for the tea and the scones to arrive. “Why do you think that?”

His sister glanced at her husband, who sat beside her, and she bit her lip. “Because of the thing on your face, Will,” Cecily answered, stifling a laugh. “Have you lost your shaving set? I didn’t know you fancied this style.”

“Well, what if I did, Cecy?” he peered at Gabriel, noticing that he was smiling too. “If Gabriel got a beard one day, would you kick him out of the house?”

“I would not, under any circumstances, get a beard,” Gabriel declared firmly. “I don’t want to look older yet, nor does it suit me.”

Will opened his mouth in disbelief. “Then it means you tried once! Too bad I wasn’t there to witness,” he said, and Gabriel rolled his eyes, hinting that he was probably right.

“Too bad we are here to witness it,” he echoed, and Cecily couldn’t stop laughing until they left.

Two weeks later, the stubble had grown so much it looked more like a serious beard. “You can barely see my skin underneath,” Will told himself while looking in a mirror in his office.

“Will, we’re here,” Charlotte announced herself and Gideon, who needed to visit the Institute for bureaucratic matters. “By the Angel,” she gasped when Will turned, a hand placed on her chest. “I thought it was Maurice Bridgestock for a second.”

“I can’t believe you’ve just compared me to that sick rat, may he rot in hell,” Will sneered, adjusting some documents on the desk. “I see you’ve noticed my beard, or what is truly beginning to resemble one,” he scratched his chin proudly.

“It’s impossible not to notice, Will,” Gideon commented sourly. “Did you make a bet with someone?”

“Why do you all think I made bets or I am unwell,” he shook his head, trying to find a pen. “Even your brother and my sister believed the same thing. I don’t think I am that predictable.”

“You’re right, you’re not predictable,” Charlotte agreed, “but you’re also someone who keeps his promises, when they lose bets with random people in town.”

“Unlike someone,” he stared directly at Gideon, “I always pay my debts.”

“Who did you pester this time?” Gideon wondered instead.

“I did not pester anybody, Mr. I pretend I don’t owe Will a few pounds,” he glared at his friend, who pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I chose to grow this because I wanted a change and because of my costume for the masquerade party.”

“Are you going to dress up as Frederick Barbarossa? Because if so, I suggest to use red dye –”

“Please, do not give him ideas, Gideon,” Charlotte frowned, her voice laced with worry. As if there was something to be worried about.

It was just a beard.

Will wondered why everyone wasn’t taking him seriously, but he had expected it. He took a few days to get used to his fresh appearance as well, but after a while, he believed the beard made him look powerful. He thought himself a Roman hero who, stranded in another country, was fighting a war for his Empire and was hoping to survive. A hero from another period, one who couldn’t have possibly shaved because there wasn’t the time. At least, Jem liked it. Or so, he thought. When they met, he stopped in his tracks before he could come closer to Will. He took it as a sign that he was deciding whether or not it suited him.

I see you changed your style, Jem told him. Change is good, but not for good.

“Do you like it?” Will showed him the sides, but Jem didn’t say anything. Cryptic as ever. Perhaps he was just speechless. Either because the beard blinded him, or because it disgusted him.

He hoped people in the London Enclave would fear him more with this new imposing look and not mock him like his friends did. He was aware that people talked behind his back. Either way, the beard had a purpose, he did not care what anyone thought. Nor did he mind what his son and daughter thought. His mustache was growing, but for his costume, he had to grow it a little more.

“Can I write a character who looks like you? A pirate who is earthsick and who is feared among the seven seas,” Lucie studied him, taking notes.

“An earthsick pirate? Does that word even exist?” Jame scrunched his nose. “Papa, I think you look weird,” he confessed. “But you also remind me of someone.”

“Write whatever you want, Lucie,” Will conceded. “Who do I remind you of, Jamie? Let’s listen,” he tilted his head on the side, “a hero? A Romantic poet? I will tell you who I’m going to dress up as at the ball, if you guess correctly.”

James couldn’t recall the face, and why he looked so familiar. Only when his father left, he remembered the picture of the man who resembled Will with the beard. He’d seen it in the newspaper a lot recently. It was the photo of the heir apparent to the British throne.

The day of the masquerade party finally arrived. Will's beard resembled the one of his original inspiration after a month, and he was beyond himself with excitement for the ball because he couldn't wait to show it off.

“The resemblance is close,” Tessa observed, stroking her husband's beard. “And I like facial hair, it’s so soft to the touch. I may grow attached to it.”

“Then perhaps I should keep it for a while,” he stated. He will think about it after the party. “Let’s go get the rest of my costume before it's too late. The party is going to start soon.”

When Will tried the rest of the costume, the tailor couldn’t help but admire his handiwork. Sykes finished the suit a week prior. It already waited in the closet of Will and Tessa’s bedroom at the London Institute, and he couldn’t wait to wearing it.

“I admit, Lemuel, that your work is astounding,” Will commented, moving from left to right to look at the waist-length velvet coat with a row of gilt buttons on the front and gold embroidery on the cuffs. “It is identical to the one he wore in the newspaper.”

“Thanks, Mr. Herondale, but you know that I’m the best,” Sykes offered a smile as he adjusted the coat on Will. “And you’re one of my best clients, and one of the most handsome,” he winked, but Will only wanted to know Tessa’s opinion.

“How do I look?” he asked, but his wife’s grin and her sweet and lovely eyes were already telling him what she thought.

“You are very handsome, indeed,” she said, and moved in front of him to fix the lapels of the coat, but to also steal a caress on his cheek. “I can’t wait to wear my dress so we can match.”

The tailor sent them away because he was running late, and Will and Tessa hopped on their carriage to go back to the Institute.

“My desire for tonight is that our family and friends will like this party,” Will said later, when they were seated in the comfort of the carriage. “And I hope that they come dressed as famous characters as we requested. Otherwise, what kind of masked party is it?”

“They will, I made sure to specify that in the invitations, don’t worry,” Tessa said. “I wrote that they should be dressed as a person from history.”

“Do you think they’ll get the assignment? Sometimes I think that –” The carriage abruptly came to a halt, and the jolt pushed Will and Tessa against the upholstered seats. They glanced at each other, both startled but otherwise unbothered. “Are you okay?” Will asked his wife, his hands on her shoulders protectively.

Tessa nodded. “Yes, I’m fine, simply shaken by whatever blocked our path,” she told him, her heart beating loudly in her chest out of stupor. “Should you check?”

“We’re not moving yet,” he observed, his head tilted toward the window in hopes to hear sounds of whatever ruckus had stopped the carriage. “Maybe it’s just a mouse, Balios is scared of them,” Will mused, “but I should check the horse nonetheless, in case it sprained its leg.”

“It’s better if you do,” she agreed, although she wasn’t sure why she felt a wave of uneasiness crawl down on her spine. A sensation she couldn’t put off after the carriage had halted. “Just,” she cautioned, resting her hand on his shoulder, “be careful. It could be a demon. Evening fell, after all.”

Will’s expression softened. “I will come back before you know it, fy nghariad,” he kissed her lips briefly. “I won’t let any mouse nor demon stop me from attending this party,” he offered her a smile. “Stay here,” he told her at last, before he came out of the vehicle to see if everything was really fine.

Tessa waited sixty seconds. If everything was fine, Will would come back inside before time was up, she told herself. He wasn’t the type of person who would want the people he loved to worry, and he had been excited for days on end for this party. She knew he wouldn’t want to lose time to get ready and for the celebration to start.

She counted silently in her head, but she came out of the carriage before she got to thirty. She should’ve come out of the carriage when he did, she chided herself. If her husband protested, she would say she wanted to make sure everything was okay. She didn’t need any excuses for wanting to check on her husband, when all she heard after he exited the carriage was silence. I didn't hear your voice and came to check, that would be her excuse.

She thought there was an explanation for silence, the carriage was, after all, driven by Balios alone. When she came outside, though, that feeling of agitation crept in her stomach again. The street was peaceful and lonely, a sign that most of the shops had already closed for business for the day.

She would take even the smallest sound as a sign that Will was where he told her he would be, but when she got to the horse, she found it waiting by itself. He grunted when it saw Tessa. “Balios, where is Will?” She asked the horse, knowing that it would understand. It bobbed its head as if bothered by something, which made Tessa notice there was a handkerchief on the muddy cobblestones. It was Will’s, she would recognize it anywhere. It had his initials sewn on the bottom left in dark blue. She wondered where its owner was.

Tessa looked around, her heart beat louder than after the shock of a few minutes ago. Her heart protested that Will wasn’t there, there was no one there but her and the horse. She didn't know what to do, and she didn’t want to lose control. She couldn’t lose control. They had been married for years, it wasn’t the first time they found themselves in such circumstances. It wasn’t the first time they lost sight of each other, and then found each other again.

The first thing, the easiest thing she could do immediately, was screaming his name to the empty street around her. No one answered, but at least she had tried. But she had to try harder, otherwise – she didn’t want to think about it. She would find him, and they would go to the masquerade party together, just like they had planned. She tried not to panic. She needed help.

She knew that the masquerade party would start any moment, and that even without them, Lucie and James would greet their friends and family in their stead. She shook her head and scoffed. It wasn’t the time to think about the party, but the party was probably the only place she should go asking for help. Thus, she got on the front of the carriage with a new resolve and ordered Balios to take her to the London Institute, hoping to get a helping hand or two.

As she suspected, a few carriages were already parked outside of the Institute when she arrived, and a few more were on their way behind her. She spotted her best friend Sophie coming out of one that had just stopped near the steps with her husband, both of them wearing a mask, and she ran to her frantically.

“Tessa,” Sophie acknowledged when she looked up after descending her family carriage. “What happened? You are in distress,” her brows knotted with worry.

“I’m coming from Kensington,” she started, “we were ambushed.”

“What? Who ambushed you? Was it a demon?”

Tessa tried to keep calm, but it was impossible. “I don’t know,” she said desperately, as Sophie held her hands, “we were coming from the tailor when the carriage halted. Will came out to check if the horse was hurt, and then I didn’t find him outside anymore.”

“Wait, what? Did they take Will?” Gideon asked. In the meantime, Gabriel and Cecily also arrived and joined their little group. They also wore masks and fancy dresses. “Who could have done this?”

“He has a lot of haters,” Gabriel said, trying to be funny, but Cecily elbowed him in the stomach and tried to comfort Tessa. “I mean, it’s true.”

“I don’t think it was someone we know,” Tessa replied sullenly, trying to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t hear any sound, and it couldn’t have been a demon. It wouldn’t have vanished just like that.”

“What’s this?” Sophie asked, seeing that Tessa had something in her hand.

Tessa showed them the customized handkerchief she found on the scene. “We can try using a tracking rune, can't we?” she wondered. “That’s why I came here and I didn’t go after him by myself.” I can’t do anything with my powers, she wanted to add, but she didn’t want to sound more desperate than she already was.

“It’s better that you came to us,” Cecily said. “If someone took him, they could’ve taken you too.”

“Cecily is right, it’s better that you alerted us,” Gideon nodded. “This way, we have better chances to safeguard ourselves when we find him, and to get him out of wherever he is. We don’t know who kidnapped him.”

“Do you think they kidnapped him, then?” Gabriel wondered.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Tessa affirmed firmly, offering the white cloth to whoever was willing to draw the rune that could help them find him.

It was Cecily who took the kerchief. “I’m coming with you, that’s for sure,” she glared at Gabriel, who didn’t seem too bothered.

“We’re all coming with you,” Sophie added, squeezing Tessa’s hand.

Cecily finished the true north rune by then, and it started pulsing. She felt an electric current running through her, then she started to move towards the gate, letting the rune lead her where to go. The five of them followed her, and they went back to Kensington, from where Tessa came. She realized they were approaching the exact place when the carriage had halted, and was about to tell her friends, when Cecily stopped as well.

“It led here” she informed the group, glancing at the tall building in front of them. It was a bakery, and Tessa remembered it was already closed for business when she and Will passed.

“How can it be,” Tessa sighed, “this is where they ambushed us. How can he be here?”

“They could have taken him inside of this shop. It would be the perfect decoy,” Sophie commented.

“Maybe the shop has a basement,” Gabriel added, looking closely. “A lot of these shops have them. They have kitchens where they prepare bread and other pastries, so they don’t need to get the product from a seller.”

“How do you know that, Gabriel?” Cecily seemed impressed. “I think we should open the door and get inside, just, you know, to check. It won’t hurt.”

“We can use an open rune,” Gideon agreed. “This way, the owner won’t know that we entered his shop. Even if he discovered us, we shouldn’t care,” he shrugged. “The tracking rune took us here, which means that he should be inside of this building.”

Sophie, who was closer to the door, drew the open rune. Before entering, everyone but Tessa drew a silent rune to avoid being heard. It would be useful to be noiseless, but everyone did what they could, and she was doing her best. They found the door that led to the basement behind the counter, and one after another, they descended the stairs. She hoped that Will was there, otherwise, she would have to find him in other ways.

When Will came to, his head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting fast to the darkness of the room, the only source of light coming from a row of windows at the top of the wall he was facing.

He faintly remembered what occurred before he woke up in that place.

He remembered that today was the day of the masquerade party they organized at the Institute. He also recalled that his tailor Lemuel Sykes had made him the perfect costume, and that he and Tessa, his beautiful wife, went to get it before the party would start. Then, he remembered the jolt. The carriage halted in the middle of the road, he got out to check what was wrong, but someone came from behind. Lastly, he remembered the acrid smell of a substance, and darkness following.

Tessa. Where was she? Was she with him?

He scanned the room in search of his wife. He thought whoever took him prisoner might’ve taken her too, but he was alone. He was relieved, at last, but what if they took her somewhere else? He tried to free his hands, but they were tied behind him. Unluckily for the wretches who were holding him hostage, he knew how to free himself from ropes.

“I wonder how much he’ll take to wake up,” he heard someone say behind his back, footsteps approaching.

He started untying himself nonetheless, trying to be as silent as he could. He saw the faint shadow of a person on the wall. They brought a gas lamp or perhaps a candle in the room, and he realized they were indeed in a basement. A kitchen basement, to be precise. There is a bakery store in Kensington, he thought, maybe I am closer to home than I think.

“The effect of the chloroform lasts for half an hour only,” another one replied. “I think.”

“What you goin’ to do when he wakes up, duh? Just threaten the royal family that we got this lad, and they, ugh, give us money?”

“I thought we talked about this,” a female voice said, “yes, we are going to threaten the royal family. We are going to send a letter saying we have his royal highness the Prince of Wales George, and that if they want him back, they need to give us 5,000 pounds.”

“They really gonna give us that, Emy? They would want to see he is the right fella,” the guy huffed. “We sure this lad is this George heir?”

“Of course we are,” the lady, Emy, answered with confidence. “Didn’t you see him trying on that royal costume at the tailor shop? I’m positive it’s him.”

Someone snorted, and he heard footsteps. “I don’t know, I believed his hair was lighter, judging from the photos in the newspapers, y’know.”

“You know nothing, Danny,” Emy spat. Will thought she was the boss here. Interesting. “Let’s see if he wakes up, shan’t we? It’s going to be a long night.”

Will knew they were coming to see him now, and he wasn’t afraid. He was a shadowhunter, and these three – he imagined it was three of them, judging from their voices – were mundanes. Unless they used deathly weapons on him, he was sure he could best them and come out of that basement unscathed. Or so he hoped. He had been hoping too much lately, but it didn’t hurt to hope more. Hope was free, and so he would be, in a few minutes’ time.

He had already untied his hands while they were talking, but he didn’t remove the ropes just yet. When he heard them approaching, he closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious.

“Still sleeping, I’ma afraid,” one of the men said, kicking one of Will’s feet. “Should we wake him?”

“Suit yourself,” Emy said. Her voice seemed further than her sidekick. “But be quick. I’m starving. Let him confirm that he is who he is.”

“Should I call him your majesty?”

“No, call him jolterhead,” she suggested. “He’s not a majesty yet, you idiot.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yo’, jolterhead! Wake up!”

“Danny!” Emy chided, stomping her feet on the wooden floor. “I didn’t mean it literally, you stupid!”

Will decided that was the time to act. He opened his eyes at once and freed himself of the ropes around his hands, but he did not discard them – they could be useful as he found out that they took all his weapons. Emy and the sidekick were still arguing when they realized he freed himself and got up from the chair.

“Danny, get him!” but Danny was not very fast, and when Will kicked him between his legs, he crumpled to the floor crying, and then ran away from the room altogether when he realized things could get messy. “Useless piece of trash,” Emy said, irritated. “I didn’t know princes of Wales could fight,” she looked left and right for the other sidekick, but he was nowhere in sight.

Will grinned devilishly, the rope tight in his hands. “I didn’t know people could be so daft, either,” he commented. “Mistaking random people from Wales to be princes,” he snorted.

“And you’re a good actor, too,” she clapped her hands. “It’s useless to lie, you highness.”

“It’s useless to kidnap innocent people who know how to fight, too,” he echoed. Emy unsheathed a knife from her coat, and she aimed at him, but Will dodged her easily, using the rope as a means to shield himself. “And you also stole my knives, thief!” Will said, trying to get it back, but the woman wasn’t bad at protecting herself.

“I steal whatever I want,” she tried to elbow him, but Will anticipated her moves, swift as an arrow. They kept this dance for a while, until Emy’s knife cut the rope in two, rendering it useless. Will frowned, fuming. He glanced around for a makeshift weapon, but the closest object available on the kitchen counter that he could have gotten was still too far from him. Emy took advantage of Will’s distraction and grabbed his beard, pinning him to the wall, the knife she was holding dangerously close to his throat. “What, now? Cat got your tongue, prince?”

Will grunted. He felt the blade of the knife she stole from him graze his skin. It was a runed knife, but still, it was a knife all the same, and if he wasn’t careful –

Everything happened fast. “Bloody hell!” Emy cried in pain. Will barely registered a knife hitting his captor’s hand. She let go of his beard because of the shock, and the knife she was holding clattered on the wooden floor. He took the chance to stomp on her hand with his foot, he didn’t care she was a mundane. She was still a mundane who tried to murder him. Emy helped, but at least she was sedated. She cried in pain, holding her bruised hand in her other hand.

Will gazed up, trying to see whether the person who threw the knife was a friend or a foe, and he beamed when he realized who was at the bottom of the stairs.

“Tessa!” he called, but it was short lived.

“Will, behind you!” she shouted, and he turned just in time to dodge a blow by the third sidekick, elbowing him in the stomach. The man fell on the floor unceremoniously.

“What a pest!” he exclaimed loudly, hearing Emy cry in the background. “Serves you well, thief. I should call the police, should you kidnap the real prince George. But unfortunately, I have a party to attend.”

Everyone but the kidnappers either rolled their eyes or chuckled.

They got back to the Institute using the Lightwood’s carriage, which was too small for six, but they had to make do. His sister Cecily, along with Gabriel, sat in the driver’s seat, while Sophie and Gideon sat with Will and Tessa inside the carriage.

Will explained what happened after he woke up, after he had fainted because of the chloroform. They tried to be ironic and say that it was the beard who got him into trouble, but Will brushed it off as being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. And having the wrong costume. His friends didn’t seem so sure but it didn’t matter. Then Tessa explained to him how she found his handkerchief and how their friends helped her track him.

“I let it fall when I realized someone was behind me,” Will said. “I knew it would be useful. And it was,” he glanced at Tessa first, then at his friends. “Thank you all for helping Tessa.”

They returned to the Institute, and the party was still in full swing, and it would be for a couple of hours still. The Lightwoods took leave once they got inside, claiming they needed a drink in order to refresh. Will couldn’t blame them. They had, after all, helped Tessa with the True North rune, and it was thanks to that, that they had found him. They deserved anything they wanted, and more.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and rest, my darling? You’ve had quite the day,” Tessa said, lingering outside of the doors of the ballroom, where everything was quieter. “You must be tired.”

“Shouldn’t we also call Jem to check on my health?” he wondered sarcastically, but Tessa frowned disapprovingly. “I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean to brush off your suggestion, but I think I should stay. I really wanted this party, and the only way for me to distract myself from my misadventure is living the party.”

Tessa wasn’t convinced, and he suspected that was the reason why she kept in the alcove close to the ballroom but making no move to walk over there. “What if they drugged you? Maybe we should call Jem, you know,” she bit her lip nervously, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Tess. Tess. Tessa,” he smoothed her cheek with his forefinger. “My love, don’t cry,” he grabbed her, and she held the back of his vest in her fist as she sobbed quietly.

He let her vent until she had enough, his hand caressed her back to calm her down. “I hate this beard,” she muttered.

Will chuckled softly, holding his wife’s body closer to his. “You know what, I dislike it too.”

“Then why did you grow it?” Tessa asked, gazing up into his blue eyes.

He mused about it for a moment. “First, because Sykes’ suggestion wasn’t bad. I never tried growing one, and I was curious how I would look,” he shrugged. “Second, it was because of this damned prince of Wales costume,” he rolled his eyes. “One thing is for certain, though. I’m never attempting to grow a beard ever again.”

“I concur,” Tessa managed a smile. “Even though, I must admit, I will miss it a little. I liked trailing my hand through it when we kissed,” she beamed.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you can still trail your hand through my hair while we kiss, or when you want. I still have plenty,” he made a crooked smile, and he knew she liked the proposition.

“It is a good consolation prize, indeed,” she nodded. “Thank you very much for the proposition, your royal highness, prince of Wales.”

He shook his head. “Only until the party is over,” he declared gravely. “Then I want it gone. Erased from my face. Can you do it for me, when we retire in our rooms, Tessa? I want to go back to being the old Will Herondale, please.”

“I will do anything you want, Will,” she touched his cheek lightly. “But first, let’s get something to drink and to eat.”

“Whatever you want, my darling. Whatever you want.”

Ending Notes: jolterhead is an authentic insult from the Victorian and Edwardian era, it means "a stupid fellow".

#tweety's celebration #tsc #tsc fanfiction #tlh #will herondale #tessa gray #wessa #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #gideon lightwood #sophie lightwood #gabrily #sophideon #the infernal devices #clockwork princess #clockwork prince #clockwork angel #tweety.writes

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