Summary: Winston Churchill said, "History is written by the victors." Well, what if there were no victors, and no one left to tell the tale… Or, perhaps, anyone willing to write it down. When the only person you want is lost, how far are you willing to go to avenge them? When your warmth is gone and all that's left is the cold grip of vengeance on your dying heart… Would you leave someone to tell your tale? A Jasper/Leah fic. Romance/Angst


A/N: It's a good thing this isn't a text book because I have taken ridiculous liberties with history, folklore, & legend in this little fic! It's my first, so I hope you won't hold it against me… and hopefully you will find the story entertaining! All criticism is welcome, to help me improve, especially since it has been quite some time since I've written anything.

It goes without saying, S. Meyer owns Twilight and all it's various characters. Alas, only the particular storyline of this little fic is mine… And I'm borrowing Ms. Meyer's characters to corrupt history.

Chapter 1 is now beta'd! Enjoy! : )

**For Einfach Mich**


Chapter 1 - They Came Ashore

"It is almost too quiet in the woods today as if the animals sense something is coming. Yet there has been no foul weather of late, nor do I see any on the horizon." Leah glanced around warily as she and her younger brother cleared the trees, and made their way to the shoreline. The sense of foreboding in the air shimmered with a hint of possibility. Like something good was coming with whatever bad was floating in on the breeze off the water.

"Perhaps it is not bad weather, but something…" her brother's adolescent voice cracked with fear, and trailed off into silence. She looked at him, confused by his words, and saw the direction he was staring and followed his gaze far up the beach, to the vessel anchored just off shore.

"They have returned!" Leah an edge of disbelief marred her statement. "Seth, go back to the village and tell father what we have seen." She instructed, forcing him to meet her gaze, so he would understand the importance of her next words. "I will stay and watch for a while. Let him know that I'll be home soon to tell him what I have observed, and tell him not to worry." Seth looked at his older sister with trepidation and an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "I will be careful, I promise." She reassured him, and further urged him on, "Go quickly!" He nodded and ran as swiftly and quietly through the woods as his gangly adolescent frame could manage.

After watching him go, all the while requesting the ancestors for his safe passage, Leah returned to the safe haven of the wood. She made her way to an area of beach grass, above the high tide mark, where the sand was unnaturally marred, and discovered three wooden boats. They had been dragged just inside the trees, she presumed, to protect them from the harsh elements and hide them from her people.

After a short time searching the area, she began to hear people talking softly while moving noisily toward her through the trees. As if soft voices would keep them from being detected by any threats, certainly not when they tromp through the wood like a herd of wild animals, Leah thought and snickered softly. She stealthily moved away to a more auspicious vantage point. Up, she thought, making sure to cover her tracks.

From the safety of a tree, she could see them coming, and see their destination. The shoreline and, she assumed, the moored ship. She couldn't believe her luck, that they had chosen now to return.

Watching the men she noted that some of them were young, close to her age, or a little older. One looked considerably younger, perhaps her brothers age. Nor did they look like the first group of white men that had appeared a few years earlier.

Those men came from far across the big water, to inhabit this area then, just as suddenly left. That initial group most certainly had not included women or children, even ones the age of the youngest of the group now making their way to the shore. These men did not move like the soldiers she had seen, save for one, but it was a different man that drew her attention.

The one with long, almost curly, yellow hair pulled back and secured with a thin strip of leather. His eyes looked like they could just as easily look through you as tell you his whole life in just one glance. He was whispering to another young man; whose intimidatingly large frame belied the kindness in his eyes, and a big smile that ruddied his cheeks.

She stared at Yellow Hair, feeling drawn to him much to the detriment of her self-appointed assignment. Since she laid eyes on him she hadn't paid much, if any, attention to the rest of the group as they made their way to the shore.

Realizing she was neglecting her duty, she focused her attention on the group as a whole. Leah counted eight men as they came closer, and dragged their boats from the trees to put them in the water. Then she heard him.

She gasped involuntarily, looking closer and recognized the one who moved differently from the others, who moved like a soldier. His voice, disturbingly familiar, as he told them to "pay attention" and "add some haste to their steps." Watching him more intently, she recalled his name, Felix.

A long time ago this soldier remained here with a group of fourteen others… He is the only one left. The only survivor. She was shaken by the sight of him, and her memories of the one time they had interacted. I will have to be very careful, she thought.

She pushed those memories from her mind, kept her breathing even, and stayed calm. Returning her attention to the task at hand, she watched until they were done loading the smaller boats with items from the ship, then unloading them on the shore. She was sure she knew where they were headed, so she waited until they were well passed her position with the cargo in hand or on their backs, before hopping down from her perch to follow them to…the colony.