At sixteen Mary Alice Brandon was the second most beautiful girl in the county. No one doubted that Rosalie Hale was traditionally prettier than Alice, as she was called, but there was a certain mysterious quality to Alice that made her more intriguing than her cousin.

It was true, though, the mystery. It was not just something Alice cultivated to appear more interesting than she really was. Sometimes she just knew things. She could not explain how or why, but she was aware of how certain things would come to pass and it was for this reason that the other girls had come over to the Brandon plantation on this day.

Giggling and whispering, they crowded around Alice's favourite chair under the old apple tree with the gnarled branches. "Aliiice," Rosalie whined. "I'm going to be really sad if you will not tell me who I'm going to marry today."

It was an old discussion, often begun but never quite finished. Young Southern Belles like the ladies sitting on stools and garden chairs around Alice cared little for the changes in the world, they were mostly interested in young men in general and their prospective husbands in particular.

No one was quite sure Iwhy/I Alice knew the things she did, but they were more than willing to believe in her judgment.

Alice, however, was hesitant to tell them anything about such matters, for the simple reason that she did not know such things. Young as they were, their affairs were constantly subject to change and she simply could not tell what was going to happen.

Sighing, she turned to Rosalie and shook her head. "I'm sorry I have to disappoint you again, Rose, but I just don't know about you." She turned to Isabella instead, staring at her for a moment before she smiled. "I knew it."

Blushing, Bella looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "Do I want to know what you are thinking, Alice?" she asked.

Grinning at her shy friend, Alice leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, pretending to be like one of the fortune-tellers the girls secretly went to sometimes. "I see a beautiful green dress in your future," she began. "It is in my closet right now, but you will be wearing it at the garden party tomorrow and win the heart of …"

She squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to focus, until even Bella cried out in frustration and slapped her arm. "Tell me!"

"Jacob Black," Alice grinned and opened her eyes.

The girls groaned in frustration. "Alice …"

"What?"

"We knew Ithat/I already," Rosalie groused before adding, just a tiny bit miffed, "I doubt Edward will like that."

"He's been courting you forever," Cynthia, Alice's younger sister, remarked. "It seems a little unfair that you should choose Jacob instead."

Rosalie shrugged. "Well, then he might as well court me. Since there doesn't seem to be any other gentleman in my future. Is that right, Alice?"

Alice was about to reply when suddenly something happened. She wasn't sure what it was or if she liked it, but it pulled her in, drowning her in visions of an intensity she had never felt before.

IJasper.

But not really Jasper.

The colour of his eyes is wrong.

The world has gone insane.

Flames, flames, flames.

The bchild/b/I

Fragments of half-remembered dreams and visions meshed, turning the world upside down, and it was all Alice could do not to scream. Whatever was going on, she did not want it. It was different from the small glimpses she got of the future, it was bigger – maybe bigger than herself.

"Alice …?"

It was Rosalie's voice that pulled her back out of this disturbing experience, guiding her back to a resemblance of normality. Alice could see the fabric of her blue skirt, could feel the crinoline enclosing her legs, and slowly, slowly she snapped out of it.

Smiling nervously, she turned to her friends. "I think I saw my future husband," she finally admitted.

Silence followed that statement before all three girls squealed and cried out: "Who?!"

But before Alice could answer the girls' French governess, Sandrine, turned up. "You should not sit outside in the sun, miss," she sighed. "It's going to burn your pretty skin and what young gentleman would like to dance with a brown and shrivelled girl at the party tomorrow?"

The girls giggled soon enough Alice's statement was forgotten over talk about the upcoming party.

Alice participated in their discussions of the best dresses and what kind of neckline would be best for what time of day since she was the fashion expert of the group, but another part of her mind was very much preoccupied with thinking about Mr Jasper Whitlock.

"Miss Alice, do you think … you could save a dance for me?"

Alice had known this was going to happen, but it didn't make it any less amusing for her.

Most other girls didn't really like Jasper Whitlock. He wasn't the most charming or interesting boy in the world, obsessed as he was with politics, but Alice had always liked him. His presence was always soothing and he never tried to force his company on her. On the contrary, he was not persistent enough for her taste. But she did know that he hated dancing and had only asked for her sake. That was a foundation to build on and thank God she knew how to deal with gentlemen of his kind.

"Oh, Mr Whitlock," she sighed, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout. "I'd love to dance with you, I really would, but unfortunately I don't feel strong enough for a dance right now. The heat …"

Alice batted her lashes, looking down at her dress rather than at Jasper, but she knew how he was going to react anyway. "In that case I should escort you on a short walk, Miss Alice. It has cooled down a little and it might refresh you."

"I would like that very much," Alice replied and took the arm he was offering her.

She had no doubt that every single woman in the room was watching her as she left the ball room with Jasper, but outside there were enough men and elderly women to serve as chaperones so it didn't really matter – and she knew that Jasper preferred talking to dancing.

Outside the moon was illuminating the garden, along with torches and candles lit on every available surface. Alice deeply inhaled the air, enjoying the rich aroma of Elizabeth Masen's beloved orange trees. A gentle breeze was ruffling her hair as she looked up at Jasper and for once she felt surprise.

There was very little that could surprise a girl gifted with an uncanny insight into most things, but what she saw in Jasper's eyes was different from anything she had expected. She saw … resolve and a kind of confidence she had not counted on finding there.

"Miss Alice," Jasper began, turning to face her and taking hold of her hand. "We have been good friends for the last two years, ever since you returned from school. I prefer your company to that of any other girl; I don't mean to speak ill of any other lady, but your company is still different from theirs. Different in … Well, that doesn't matter really, I …"

Alice smiled softly. She should have known that he would not manage to get this done without ruining it. Jasper Whitlock was a strategist, a brilliant mastermind, but not a sweet-talker.

She raised her hands to his lips, stopping the string of words trying to escape his lips.

"The answer is 'yes', Jasper," she whispered. "I trust you have asked my father already?"

Jasper's eyes widened as he looked down at Alice and nodded, too surprised to speak. It was only after she had removed her tiny hand that he managed to speak again.

"It really is true what people are saying, Miss Alice. You Ido/I see the future."

"I have seen ours," Alice admitted. "And it will be the same," she added, whispering. "Whatever your fate will be, I'll gladly share it, Jasper Whitlock, because we are one."

Jasper did not reply; no answer was needed. He knew that as a young lady she should have turned down the proposal he never got to make at least twice, he knew it shouldn't have gone this smoothly, but this was Alice, after all.

And in this moment, under the moon and Mrs Masen's orange blossoms he vowed to himself never to hurt Alice and protect her until he took his dying breath.