Titanic [STEFAN SALVATORE]

Chapter Five

SHE started at her reflection. She felt suffocated beneath the champagne colored wedding dress, despite how well tailored to her body it was. How well the dress fit her, lead Margaret to believe someone had gone and made the dress ahead of time, making the dress according to her measurements. She didn't like the dress. And no, not because it was plain and long but rather because it felt wrong.

Getting married to Thomas. Getting married to Thomas despite not wanting to, despite telling him she wouldn't be able to love him. All of it, felt wrong. There weren't tears shedding from her eyes, though. Tears had stopped falling from her eyes hours ago. She had spent her night laying in the same spot, beside her door, waiting for someone to walk by so she could ask for help. But no one did.

And it wasn't until the morning, that Margaret started pounding the door once more. But her cries were ignored. It wouldn't be until mid-afternoon that she would figure out Thomas had told the passengers, including the crew, that she was insane. It explains some things, one of the passengers had said as they passed her suite. This lead Margaret to remember the things she had done the last couple of days.

She had walked around in a bathrobe. She had learned (or tried) to swim, when the Titanic was so clearly indestructible. They were little things, things which she doubted many people noticed, things which she had enjoyed doing. Except she was wrong, because it seemed more people were watching than she had expected. And thus, they believed Thomas.

There weren't many people left to help Margaret. And the more she thought about it, the more she thought of the lack of help she had, the more she felt like giving up. There was a soft knock on her door, and then door opened. Her eyes didn't move from her reflection as Thomas stepped inside the room.

"You are not supposed to see me before the wedding. It's bad luck," she spoke in monotone, her voice void of all interest. Margaret thought about those who had been in here to visit her so far: her mother and a servant. Her father was yet to make an appearance. 

And although she doubted very much Stefan would appear out of nowhere and interrupt their wedding from going on, she was desperately waiting for it to happen.

"Maggie, I don't believe in luck," Thomas replied. His eyes trailed up and down her body. He titled his head slightly, a smirk to his lips. "The wedding is beginning in half an hour. I wanted to make sure everything is okay. Is there something you need that I could bring you?"

Margaret thought about the question. "No," she said, then stopped. "Lunch."

"Anything specific?" He asked. She shook her head. And Thomas left the room. She was surprised at how natural he was acting, as though he hadn't locked her in her own suite and was marrying her (against her will) in less than an hour.

Although Margaret didn't know what she was going to do, and time was quickly ticking by, she was going to do something. She wasn't going to let Thomas get his way. No, not despite the fact her mother was backing him. No, not despite being alone in this fight. She wasn't going to stand idly aside as those around her conspired against her.

TEN minutes before the wedding, Margaret finished eating. She was struggling to keep the food down, as she had forced herself to eat. But she didn't want to feel weak from lack of food. She needed her strength to fight. She stared at her half eaten meal and felt her heart grow heavy.

She didn't think about what she was going to do. But rather she thought about Stefan. She replayed the memories of yesterday again and again. They were dancing. She was laughing. He was watching her. She was drinking drink after drink, feeling her stomach grow warm. Her legs were aching from all the dancing but she wasn't stopping. Everything could have ended then and Margaret wouldn't have cared.