Songfic. With a country-pop song. And sap.

Just because I can.

Ha.

Yeah, I don't know either. I don't own the Infernal Devices, I just play with the characters like dollies. I don't own Speak Now by Taylor Swift either, it belongs to, uh, well Taylor Swift. Duh. It is, however, a guilty pleasure – Taylor sits snugly between Theory Of a Deadman and MCR. Ahem.

Okay, the lyrics are up, now lets see how badly I can screw up a decent song. *Cracks knuckles* And here…

We…

GO!

As Tessa leaned her head back against the comforting firmness of the oak tree, she wondered yet again how exactly she'd gotten herself into this situation.

Not that wondering did any good, she supposed; even if she could pin point the exact moment when everything went to Hell, she'd still be in Hell. Which was very helpful, thanksomuch.

But hindsight always has been 20/20, she thought, and with a dry twist of her lips wondered what the Tessa of three years ago would thing of the Tessa today. She settled on aghast spluttering, heated rants and possibly even a good faint. Let's just say that none of this fit in to the Happily Ever After the younger version of herself had dreamed about.

Wedding crashing just wasn't on many little girls' Bucket List, you see.

I am not the kind of girl,
Who should be rudely bargin' in on a white veil occasion.

But then, she didn't suppose that weddings full stop were anything even considered by Will Herondale until a few months ago.

She didn't understand the details – she'd been away when it had happened. She'd been training (read: screwing around because they could) with Magnus in Milan while everything back home had been falling to pieces/being built up, depending on your viewpoint. When she'd received the message from Jem telling her about the wedding among a string of very uncharacteristic language and ink blots from throttling the pen and all but slashing at the paper, the floor fell out beneath her.

Though the boy seemed to use the note as a form of outlet, ranting on about everything that was messed up about the situation (four pages worth, backs included), Tessa only picked out 'Will is getting married,' 'Olivia bloody Lightwood, of all people!' 'expected them to drag him kicking and screaming, but he just nodded. What the hell? Did they sedate him?' 'I don't think he cares anymore. He's just… not there,' 'Arranged marriages are the most ridiculous thing,' and 'We miss you, Tess. XXX.'

And so she'd come to watch the boy she loved get married, though she didn't know why. Maybe she was a masochist, or possibly just stupid.

But she was confused, mostly. Jem was right when he'd said the Will they knew would have fought and kicked and argued against whoever had the nerve to try and dictate his life for him, if only to prove that he could. Her Will, she knew with an iron confidence, would never just lie down and take it.

But you are not the kind of boy,
Who should be marryin' the wrong girl.

"Tessa!"

The girl's head whipped to the side at the whisper-shout of her name, relaxing when she saw Jem duck under the oak tree's drooping foliage and come toward her. The noon light that filtered through the branches dappled over his glossy dark hair, and as distracted as Tessa was she still took a moment to thank whichever god happened to be listening that they'd found a cure in time and cast out that ghostly silver shade forever.

He was her best friend after Magnus, so she wasn't the least bit phased when he pulled her into a hug. It wasn't a typical greeting it's-nice-to-see-you hug either, he squeezed her tightly to him as though he needed her to keep himself upright. "I wasn't sure you'd come," he muttered into her hair.

"Pah," she snorted, hugging back. "You didn't think I'd let you have a front row seat without me, did you? And besides, judging by your letter it would seem I had no choice; someone had to save you from your meltdown, Mister Carstairs."

Jem pulled back, keeping a hold on her shoulders and chuckling, and by the grating tenor she had a feeling it was the first time he'd done so in a while. "I'm sorry. I suppose I did get carried away." The smile slipped from his face too quickly. "It's just so- so- so – ugh!"

Tessa nodded gravely. "I know exactly what you mean."

They shared a solemn look, and he sighed. "Listen, Tess," he started. "There's something you-"

"James!"

Both heads turned towards the shrill voice, Tessa pressing back into the shadows of the tree when she saw Jessamine scanning the crowd for the boy. The warlock placed her palm on his chest, pushing lightly. "Go on. It's not right to have a wedding without the best man."

Jem turned back to her, opening his mouth to say something-

"JAMES CARSTAIRS, IF YOU DO NOT ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW…!"

Gulping theatrically, Tessa shoved harder. "Hurry. I just got back, and I don't fancy you getting skinned alive before we've had the chance to catch up properly." She forced a smile that she knew he saw through, and reached up to pat his cheek. "After that, though, you're fair game."

"I-"

"JAMES!"

"Have really got to go," she finished for him, giving him a decent push that he had to catch himself from by stumbles that turned into jogs as he loped toward the irate blonde. Jessamine scowled and talked at him even as he was dragged after her into the grand church, missing the pleading look and mouthed 'Help me,' that he sent to a figure hidden by a tree.

Tessa couldn't even muster a smile as she wondered yet again what she was doing here, looking so out of place next to all the aristocratic guests in their expensive Sunday Best. Her eyes found Charlotte as she fussed in a vain attempts to tame Henry's unruly shock of ginger hair, and Benedict standing with what she assumed, by their snooty expressions and tailored silk clothes, was his family – lingering on Gabriel who looked much like he was in a sulk of some sort, arms crossed and grimacing. Apparently he wasn't too thrilled to be tied to Will in any way.

I sneak in and see your friends,
And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel.

Snorting to herself, Tessa left the seclusion of her tree and slipped round the back of the church. Pushing up on her tip-toes she peered into the first window she saw. The glass was stained and foggy, distorting the figures milling and rushing around inside.

Tessa could just make out a blob of gold that she assumed was the bride, and hear the muted keen of her sharp shrieks as she yelled nastily at a quivering, slightly smaller purple blob that was probably a bridesmaid.

Shaking her head in disgust, the girl moved away from the view and hurried towards a back entrance she'd spotted earlier. Actually, she was suddenly grateful to have solid basis to her immediate dislike for the girl, and judging by what she'd heard in Jem's letter and just witnessed for herself, Olivia Lightwood was practically Jessamine on a bad day. Doubled.

And she is yelling at a bridesmaid,
Somewhere back inside a room wearing a gown shaped like a pastry.

Closing the door stealthily behind her, Tessa was all but knocked over by the smell of the room that hit her like a suckerpunch to the nose. The overpowering perfume of sickly sweet roses, peach and pollen made her physically dizzy. She coughed delicately, eyes stinging, and forced back a gag – Tessa knew warlock senses were heightened when magic was introduced, but, Christ, this couldn't be normal.

Blinking hard, she muffled her mouth and looked around – and blinked some more. There were flowers everywhere, all tie-dyed into various unnatural shades of pink and purple and stuffed onto the pews in great gaping clumps, thick petals scattered all over the isle in a way that meant Tessa could only guess at what the actual church floor looked like beneath them. Curling fuchsia ribbons spiralled down from the ceiling, and ruffled silk bows the sizes of a large dogs looped around the walls with no particular pattern. It was as though someone had just thrown money at a blind chimp and told him to go nuts.

It was tacky and cheap and hideous.

And it wasn't Will at all.

This is surely not what you thought it would be.

Her scoff was cut short when she noticed him for the first time.

Eyes bleak as a sky before rain clicked over to him of their own accord, and just like that her heart stopped. But not in the good way.

Yes, he looked wonderful in the dark, swallow-tailed suit that made his hair – for once combed down and slick from whatever miracle cure had tamed the messy locks – seem even darker and his skin an even fairer marble (she disregarded the God-awful pastel-pink ruffled tie, because not even Will could pull that off). But his shoulders were slumped, his mouth a grim line and his eyes – not anything like those brilliant sapphire sparks from her memory – were cast down and dead.

Shaking her head and leaning against the wall – partly because her legs seemed to be giving out, and partly because the smog of flowers really was going straight to her head – Tessa blocked out the world and let the Happily-Ever-After the naïve part of her still longed for play over in her head. For the both of them.

I lose myself in a daydream.
Where I stand and say:

"Don't say yes.
Run away now.
I'll meet you when you're out,
Of the church at the back door.
Don't wait,

Or say a single vow.
You need to hear me out."
And they said speak now.

Unsure of how long she spent simply watching him drown in an almost visible mass of such sadness, Tessa only snapped out of her daze when the conversation picked up a new sort of buzz. Sharing anticipatory looks that made Tessa want to slap every guest individually, everyone rushed to take their seats.

Fond gestures are exchanged.

A few testing notes were played on an obsessively in-tune organ somewhere above, before the melody changed into one that was unmistakeable. It was meant to be reverent, cheerful and majestic, but Tessa had a feeling the look on her face mirrored Will's, albeit slightly more frantic – as though they were waiting for a verdict of execution.

And the organ starts to play a song,
That sounds like a death march.

Making a slightly panicked noise, Tessa flitted backwards and darted behind the first hiding place she saw – a sweeping, heavy velvet curtain that was so violent a pink it made her eyes hurt. Parting the folds delicately, she peeked out and caught a quiet conversation held just behind the grand double doors between a lilting voice and a deep baritone.

And I am hiding in the curtains,

"And no sign of that unsavoury Downworlder?" inquired the higher-pitch haughtily.

"No, Olivia. Miss Grey has made no appearance," replied the deeper.

"Fabulous," she chimed girlishly. "Remind me to thank Jessie for the advanced warning, Daddy. We can't have my big day ruined by some pining little bitch." She still spoke in that innocent, giggling little voice, and Tessa's mouth fell open.

Even her 'Daddy' cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. But God forbid he upset her. "She would not dare, Darling."

Bite me, thought the warlock nastily.

It seems like I was uninvited by your lovely bride-to-be.

When the doors swept inwards, Tessa shrank further back into the curtains while her stomach plummeted through the floor at her first proper view of the girl.

She wasn't pretty.

And she wasn't beautiful.

No, this girl was breathtaking.

Her skin was smooth and flawless as porcelain and unmarked by runes or battle of any kind, with her already gorgeous face artfully made-up as though by an artist. Dark lashes framed almond eyes that seemed to glow like perfect amethysts, tinted such an ethereal hue of violet that Tessa wanted to reach out and stop her just so she could get a closer look. Her hair was so blonde it was almost platinum, and was piled into intricate twists and curls held in place by golden flowers so detailed they looked real, while a few ringlets loosed around her angled face.

Her petite, willowy figure was bound tight to show such a tiny waist that Tessa wondered how she could breathe, and the shimmering gold of her dress (Jem had mentioned white being reserved for mourning, so gold being the colour of weddings) reflected on her hair, with every move she made as graceful and dainty as rising steam. Her slim arms and neck were adorned with gold bands set with pink and purple stones to fit the theme – so she was rich too.

She floats down the aisle like a pageant queen.

How could Tessa compete with that? Easy answer: She couldn't.

Locking her jaw and tensing herself in preparation of what she was about to see – the awe on Will's face – she turned to face the Alter once more.

He was looking alright, but that was it. His face remained impassive and dull, and there was a flicker of something akin to disappointment over his face, but it was gone before she could be sure.

And who could be disappointed with that coming towards them? Unless…

But I know you wish it was me.

She shook her head roughly. No, she couldn't build herself up like that from nothing. He didn't.

You wish it was me.

…Did he?

Don't you?

When she looked back, Olivia had reached him, and her father was placing her small hand into Will's. All the descriptions of imaginary heartbreak spun from authors in all the books she'd ever read paled in comparison to the twisting burn in her chest at that moment.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"

Her pulse beat a tattoo into her head, breath coming so fast she was sure someone would hear and discover her. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle – something. Words or a sob or maybe even hysteria, she didn't even know.

"…this couple in holy union…"

A thousand thoughts flitted through her head, a million things to do or say or break or fix and she just couldn't decide.

"Olivia Beatrice Evangeline Lightwood, do you take this man…"

Don't say yes,
Run away now.

"…Sickness and in health…"

I'll meet you when you're out,
Of the church at the back door.

"…better or worse, as long as you both shall live?"

Don't wait,

"I do."

Or say a single vow.
You need to hear me out.
And they said speak now.

"And do you, William Jackson Herondale, take this woman…"

Don't say yes,
Run away now.

"…have and to hold…"

I'll meet you when you're out,
of the church at the back door.

"…love and to cherish…"

Don't wait or say a single vow.
You're time is running out.

"…till death do you part?"

Will opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

And they said speak now.

Clearing his throat, he tried again-

"Wait a second." For a disorienting moment, Tessa thought it was herself who had spoken. But then her eyes wheeled to Jem, who she'd only just noticed standing dutifully by his Parabatai's side, shifting his feet and addressing the priest almost nervously. "Ahem. I believe you've neglected something…"

Will was staring at his friend with the first signs of emotion Tessa had seen on his face all day, and though they were subtle she could read him well enough to know he was asking what the hell Jem was playing at. The priest frowned, but when Jem gave him a point-blank look, he seemed to remember something. "Oh, that's right. Silly me," he chuckled.

"What now?" came Olivia's sharp voice. "Can we not just get on with it?"

"Of course, my dear," he nodded. "There's just a few formalities…" He cleared his throat and addressed the room once more. "If anyone knows of a reason these to should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

I hear the preacher say:
"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

Olivia snorted delicately while Will lapsed back into resignation, and the room fell into a hush.

There's the silence.

Now or never. The thought brought with it a strange wave of calm over Tessa's frayed nerves – this would either be the very end, or the very beginning of something she had yet to name.

There's my last chance.

She pushed aside the curtains with a sure grace, as though this was all perfectly normal, and when no one seemed to notice, bar Jem who's face lit up, she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply. Every eye turned to her. She stood with a pretend confidence, when she'd never felt more vulnerable in her life.

I stand up with shaking hands.
All eyes on me…

Eyes were widened, hands flew to mouths and stupefied gasps flew through the room like a Mexican-wave of scandal. Dimly, she was aware of Jem grinning so wide his face was in danger of breaking, Jessamine screwing up her face in disgust, Olivia glaring frigidly and looking around for someone to call on to throw her out, and Henry obliviously waving cheerfully at her until Charlotte wrestled his hand back down with a strained smile at Tessa. But she wasn't paying them any mind.

Her gaze was fixed on Will.

Because the look she had expected to see when the stunning Olivia Penhallow swept down the isle in all her golden glory, the one that had been absent, was the exact expression he was wearing now. And he was looking at her.

Horrified looks from everyone in the room,
But I'm only lookin' at you.

After a few moments of heated whispering between the guests and her eyes locked on Will, who kept blinking as though he thought she was a mirage that might disappear at any moment and opening and closing his mouth without sound as the words seemed to lodge in his throat – only succeeding in making himself look like a fish (albeit a handsome one). Eventually, one syllable passed his lips, breathy and confused and almost reverent: "Tess…?"

Her nickname was enough, and her tongue was unstuck as a rather crooked smile cracked her face. "Hey." She didn't realize how lame that sounded until she said it. If we were in a book, this would be the climax; heroines do not say 'Hey,' in the middle of a climax! Get your head in the game, girl!

She swallowed. "I- I know a lot of you know me," she began. "So you'll know this isn't really my, um, my thing. But, ah – oh God, I don't even know what I'm doing here. I-" she broke off, taking a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes again they focused only on Will. The room, the guests, those mutated blossoms all fell away and it might as well of been just the two of them in the whole world.

"This isn't you, Will. None of this is like the you I know," her voice was steady, and why wouldn't it be? There was only him (there had only ever been him). "I'm not meaning to be a bother- actually, scratch that; I don't care who I'm annoying right now, I don't care what plans I'm messing up – I just care about you. And I can't just watch you throw your shot at love away with this, it's too painful.

"I am not the kind of girl,
Who should be rudely bargin' in on a white veil occasion.
But you are not the kind of boy,
Who should be marryin' the wrong girl.

"So don't say yes, Will, don't do this to yourself." She bit her lip, then decided that she'd past The Point of No Return at 'Hey,' and winged it. "Let's – let's just go, alright? We can just get out of here and run and- hell, we can live in the Bahamas or freaking Scotland if you want to! Just… please." Her voice cracked on the last word, so she shut herself up. She would not cry, no matter what he said to her she would not cry, she would not cry, she would not cry…

In the silence, she laughed breathlessly, addressing the room once more. "Eh, I'm sorry for being so theatrical, everyone. It's just, you know, he said 'speak now,' and I had something to speak about and, well, I've always had a flair for the dramatic." She was met by a few chuckles, and even a few tear-streaked faces (she managed to be amused to note that Gabriel was among them).

So don't say yes,
Run away now.
I'll meet you when you're out,
Of the church at the back door.
Don't wait or say a single vow.
You need to hear me out,
And they said speak now."

Silence overtook the room again, and Tessa looked up at Will through her lashes like a child waiting to be scolded. Those blue eyes, finally beginning to spark like they were meant to, just stared.

…And stared.

And stared some more.

Jem reached out and, calmly, smacked him upside the head. "You've got to meet me in Ipswich by Friday." Will tilted his head towards him although his eyes remained locked on Tessa like she'd flee the moment he looked away, a muzzy look on his face as though just waking from a dream. Jem snorted. "You don't think I'm just going to stay around these killjoys while you two are off living it up in Barcelona all Summer, do you? God no. Unfortunately for me," he continued, a glint to his dark eyes. "There are only two horses geared up outside."

Tessa flickered her stare to him with an expression as though he'd just handed her a ticket to the Garden of Eden and not two dusty colts. He winked.

"If you didn't use your diabolical genius for good, we'd be in serious trouble." The voice was light, but practically bouncing with the undercurrent of excitement. Tessa's heart swelled in her chest; she hadn't realized how much she'd missed that velveteen sound.

"But I do, so the world is safe for now," Jem agreed. "Ipswich. Friday. What you do between now and then I'll leave to you," he had to call that last, as Will was already loping back down the petal-strewn isle towards her. She didn't know what she expected, but when he reached her and wordlessly pulled her to him and crushed their bodies together as though he wanted to make them a single entity, she decided this was perfect.

With her head tucked against his chest and his buried in her hair, he said, somehow with his usual confident impulsiveness despite the tremor in his voice, "Let's just run, Tess. Rightnow."

And you say:
"Let's run away now,

"Couldn't agree more," she mumbled into his shirt, then tacked on, "I'll meet you when you've gotten changed. I'm sorry, but that suit and tie-thingy make you look like a gay show clown on opium, I just thought someone should tell you."

He laughed, and it did odd things to her insides. "Yeah, but I pull it off. And if you think I'm letting you out of my sight, Missy, you're sorely mistaken."

I'll meet you when I'm out,
Of my tux, at the back door.

When he spoke again, it was devoid of any attempt at flippancy and the youngest she'd ever heard him. "Tess, I'm so sorry. I – I didn't know-" She felt him swallow convulsively and squeeze her more tightly to him. "I didn't think you were ever coming back."

Her hand fisted in his shirt reflexively. "How could you think-? God, how could I stay away?"

"I'm not even-"

A shrill voice sliced into their bubble in a way that made Tessa physically wince. "And what exactly is all this, William?"

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and Tessa missed his heat even though the fact that he kept a stubborn arm around her waist with apparently no intention of removing it anytime soon helped slightly. Gazes resting upon the fuming, glaring girl at the opposite end of the isle in the beautiful golden dress, Tessa only just remembered the little detail that Will was supposed to be getting married about now.

"Good Lord," she muttered to no one in particular. "I'm the Other Woman."

Will snickered, and she swatted him. He caught her hand and kissed it, and her vague annoyance was gone in an instant. Dammit.

"William!" Olivia wheeled, aghast. "Come away from her at once! We are married! You cannot do this!"

"Hmm," the boy fake-pondered, raking a hand through his meticulously kept midnight hair and returning it to its usual dishevelled pride. "Yes, I suppose that would be tricky." And then his eyes clicked to Olivia, twinkling oddly. "You know, if we were married."

"I- you- I don't-"

"I didn't say my vows, Pet," Will explained as though to a halfwit (which was, she decided, a valid accusation). He smirked happily. "I'm a free man."

Hey hey, I didn't say my vows.

Tessa laughed, reaching up to tug at his hair lightly. "Ha. No you're not."

The smirk magically turned into a smile as he faced her. "And I'm surprisingly okay with that."

"No!" the not-so-beautiful-when-her-face-is-scrunched-up-like-that girl cawed, as she threw her overflowing bouquet to the floor in a huff and actually stomped her foot. "You can't! You can't leave me! Nobody leaves me! You- mphf!" When Gabriel wrapped a restraining arm around his sister's mouth, telling her it was most definitely for her own good, Tessa could have hugged him (she didn't though, because, hey, he was still Gabriel).

Will clicked his tongue as they watched her rant against her binds and struggle with all the strength of a tadpole bemusedly. "I'm thinking we should go."

"I'm thinking you're right."

They turned for the door and took off at a sprint, laughter catching in the wind. "Always am."

Tessa scoffed, motioning backwards with her head to the church and the splitting shriek coming from it. "Evidently not."

They reached the horses (one glossy and black as ebony, the other a blue tinted slate-grey. Go figure, apparently Jem was feeling poetic), and before Tessa could yank herself up Will pulled her to him and leaned his forehead against hers, looking oddly serious and still shaking slightly. He looked, Tessa realized, like someone who had been caught from a fatal fall inches before they hit the ground. "Well let's just say I'm glad I've got you around to be right for me, then."

So glad you were around,
When they said speak now."

She wound her hands around his neck, smiling softly and whispering, "Like I always will be."

He made a soft sort of noise, and then he was kissing her as though he needed it to breathe. Tessa knew the feeling.

When they came up for real air, Tessa mounted the grey stallion before he could do anything else to scatter her thoughts. There'd be plenty of time for thought scattering later.

"And you were wrong by the way," he called offhandedly when he'd mounted the black horse for himself, yanking off the ridiculous tie and jacket and looking like an anti-prince with his loose shirt, dark hair and dark steed. Tessa kept her swooning to a minimum so she wouldn't fall off. "I don't need a shot at love."

"Oh?"

He nodded, flashing her a rare, genuine smile and leaning over to tap her nose lightly. "I've already hit the bulls eye."

Really, there was nothing she could do about the swooning this time.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! THE CUTE! IT BUUUUURNS! DX

And if you're gonna flame (ha: IF), then do it about something other than OOCness or historical correctness, kay? I KNOW I used some words they didn't, and I KNOW Tessa's maybe a little too, um, well cool XD. But maybe in a few years when she's grown into her warlock-y skin a little and some of Will's snark rubs off on her she'll be a little more BAMF-like. We can always hope, eh?

Yeah, to be honest I just want her to be badass enough to smack Jessamine for me…

So yeah, how bad did I screw up this song for you? C'mon the only way to vent is to review, especially if you're insane enough to favourite (yeah, I'd kinda like to meet you, you psychopath ;)) but don't plan on dropping me a line. And we ALL know how much that stings, right? And details would be WONDERFUL. Seriously – VIRTUAL HUGS AND COOKIES AND SERAPH BLADES FOR ALL! Oh, you know you want one.