First of all I want to give a huge thanks to my precious beta: Crimson Love 20. Thank you for your work and your sweet comments, I really appreciate it.

For the readers: This is the story of Rosalie, why she is who she is, why she acts how she acts. I hope you can accept the way I put her, how I describe her character.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any characters.

Enjoy it, Bourbon Rose

FIERCE BEAUTY

My story doesn't have a happy ending – but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now.
Rosalie Hale - Eclipse

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I'd never been ordinary, so wasn't it appropriate for my life to be anything but ordinary? Maybe. But considering how lucky I'd always been, wasn't it unfair for my life to turn out so unlucky?

Yes, it was.

My story isn't for the weak-hearted, nor for weak stomachs. Things happened to me, things I don't like to remember or to think of but flash through my mind every day nonetheless. Things that are an inconvenient part of my life. They made me what I am. Who I am. They explain why I act the way I act, why I think the way I think. They explain every little detail of what defines me as Rosalie Lillian Hale.

…

I don't think I've ever cared as much for anything other than my beauty. My future – getting a rich husband, having children – came very close behind that.

I grew up in a middle class family, my father working as a banker and my mother organizing parties. It was all about status, you see. When I, or my younger brothers, did something wrong or inappropriate in public, my parents wouldn't look at us for days. They saw it as an embarrassment, a flaw in the perfection that was the Hale family.

Though my parents didn't necessarily share a loving relationship, they did care about their children, giving us presents and much love. But there was always a catch to it. Always that undertone of greed, a proud smile when they managed to buy something expensive, a quick look to their surroundings, checking if anyone else could see what they'd bought for us this time.

And because I was their oldest child and the only girl, I was privileged to get everything I wanted. I was very lucky as a human.

My beauty was my one and only pride. The way people looked at me when I walked past… I adored it. I was loved because of how I looked, I got things because of how I looked. How could I not love my beauty?

I was the crown jewel of my family, and my parents weren't ashamed to use that to rise the ranks of society. My job was to welcome the many guests, to smile, to parade… Anything to make them notice the Hale princess.

If I had problems – not that I had many – I just smiled my blinding smile and chose to ignore them. It worked quite well. As long as I had my beauty, my clothes, my money – as long as I had that – nothing could harm me, and I would be truly happy.

My beauty protected me from problems; it worked as a shield for the outside world. If I would just put on a devastating smile, if I would just wink or walk seductively, people wouldn't see past that, and I would have the world wrapped around my little finger.

I quickly became addicted to the stares and glances people threw at me. It wasn't just the fact that I absolutely loved the attention, I desperately needed it. Especially that from the men, of course. It was living proof my shield was still intact and working.

And boy, was my shield working.

I could prance down a room and have everybody's jaw glued to the ground in record time. If I smiled coyly to a man, his wife would wrap her hands possessively around his arm like claws while trying to glare me down. However, I never lost a glaring competition. My violet eyes could shoot fire if I wanted them to.

And although the wife tried to appear self-assured and not bothered at all, there was always that jealous gleam in her eyes, a scared glittering, which betrayed her fear of adultery her husband would or would not commit. With me.

If I needed something – anything at all – my appearance would get me that. And why the need for a nice character, when my outer self attracted all the attention? That's why my inner self wasn't needed, and it was neglected.

Sometimes I noticed how people cringed in surprise when they heard my hard voice, such a counterpart of my angelic features. It didn't bother me in the slightest. I only had to smile, and the traces of shock on their faces would melt to adoration like snow melts in the sun. My fierce character would be forgotten in an instant.

…

…

Royce King the Second.

He was the son of the only royal family living in Rochester. His father owned the bank my father worked at. Royce had this aura surrounding him that screamed sexy.

I'd always thought of him as handsome, and I'd always seemed to just know we would be the perfect match. That we were made for one another, like clouds are made for the sky. With his light hair, blue eyes and kissable lips, he was often seen as the male equivalent of me.

He'd noticed me before I noticed him, which was usually the case with men.

…

Two days after Royce had replaced his father in the ownership of the bank, my father forgot to take his lunch with him.

"Rosalie?" my mother called.

"Yes?" I pursed my lips and applied some red lipstick. The person in the mirror was lovely, of course. I often wondered if there was any girl in this state that was prettier than me.

My mother came to stand behind me, and I noticed how her eyes shone with glee. I kept my eyes locked on the mirror in front of me when she began to roll up my hair.

"I forgot to send your father's lunch to work with him. Would you mind bringing it to him?"

Of course I didn't. It was only another opportunity to let people notice me.

"That's great. Do you remember that white organza your father bought you last week?"

"I remember." How could I not? It was just as beautiful as the current owner.

"Change into that, alright?" she said as she fastened my hair with pins.

"Why?" I was confused. It was only a stroll to the bank. Hardly five minutes.

"Just do it, alright, dear?"

"Of course, Mother."

I did what she asked, grabbed my father's lunch and strode gracefully out of the house. It wasn't that much of a walk, but even now I could feel people staring at me. I smirked. It felt fantastic to have people gazing at you like you are the sun, and they were cavemen seeing the glowing orb shine for the very first time in their dark lives.

I let someone open the glass doors for me, and my heels clicked loudly on the shiny marble that was laid out on the floor. The sound made people look up, and my smile widened, knowing they wouldn't look down until I was long passed them.

I reached my father's desk and handed him his lunch. "You left your lunch, Father."

He smiled at me – beaming.

"Thank you so much, Rosalie."

I frowned at his gratefulness but nodded at him. "No problem."

I turned around and strode back to the door, unaware of the two blue eyes that were practically drilling holes in the back of my head, gliding over my hair, taking in my waist, my walk… already lusting for it.

…

That night the doorbell rang. My younger brother went to open it and came back with his arms full of roses. I cocked an eyebrow when I saw them.

"For you, Rosalie." He handed them to me, his expression just as confused as mine.

"Thank you. I think." I took the flowers from him, careful not to sting myself. I searched for a card and eventually found one.

I reached for it cautiously. It was difficult to get to. The biting thorns were all over it. Maybe I just should have given up, but I neglected the hidden warning.

I took it out of the bundle roses, snapping the yellow string attached to it.

On it was written in elegant calligraphy:

For the most beautiful Rose in the world.

I smirked and turned it over, the blood rushing healthily through my body, making my cheeks slightly flush with pride.

The name on the other side made my eyebrows rise, and my full lips turned into a big, gorgeous smile.

…

I got roses every night now. They were everywhere – on the floor, covering every flat surface of my room, on my walls, even in my bed. I had to face the fact I was condemned to smell like roses the rest of my life. Not that I minded.

I felt important, and I felt worthy for it all. This was everything I'd ever expected my life to possess. My luck was almost tangible in the air, flowing thickly around me, keeping me on my toes, keeping me smiling.

I was so unbelievably happy that I often wished for eternal life. I already dreaded my dying day, for I didn't want this life, this happiness, to end. It was perfect and a dream coming true – my dream coming true. I wanted to keep it, and I wanted to keep it forever.

Royce and I didn't spend much time alone, since he practically drowned in his work – at least, that's what he told me. But the time we did spend together was filled with parties, dancing, gorgeous dresses, jealous looks of both men and women. I loved it and reveled in it. Everything was contributing to my happiness, my joy.

Royce liked to have people look at me – more importantly, at me on his arm. He loved to brag with his possessions. At the time I didn't think much of it, and I didn't really care, either.

The mesmerized glances people shot at us were like air to me. Without it I couldn't breathe, I couldn't go on. The attention was to me what water was to a fish. If I couldn't have it, I was like a fish on dry land, choking and struggling, craving the water more than anything.

One night, Royce gazed deeply into my eyes, and I stared back, foolishly love-sick. He told me with a soft, swooning voice my eyes were like violets. Now, my room began to burst out of its seams with roses and violets.

He promised me to turn me into a princess, to buy me a beautiful dress every week, to always, always protect me. I was his angel, and I believed him and trusted him utterly and completely.

I gave him my heart.

…

My father tried to announce my engagement to Royce in a matter-of-fact manner, but I could see the greedy gleam in his eyes, the way his lips curved upwards every time he mentioned my fiancé. I guess I could see his point. Royce's family was very, very rich and when he married me, he would bring a lot of money and status with him.

My mother clung to my father's arm, congratulating me passionately. Her eagerness wasn't toward me, however. She had the same possessive aura surrounding her as my father. Money, status. Status, money.

They were hyenas waiting for the lions to fuck off, so they could finally reach the carcass. The gleam in their eyes was the same as the hungry looks of vultures diving on the same dead meat, having waited for so long with so little patience. Money, status. Status, money. It was all that mattered.

I didn't see it then. I was way too euphoric to notice the self-obsessed thoughts of my parents. I was too busy with myself.

Royce! I was going to marry handsome Royce! And not only would I end up with a good-looking husband – I would marry. And marrying meant a beautiful white dress, a gorgeous haircut and a devastating face that would dazzle everyone by merely glancing at it.

Oh, how the people would marvel at the very sight of Rosalie Lillian Hale, the world's most gorgeous bride!

However, the lions would be too fast for the hyenas and the vultures, their claws and teeth combining with their massive strength to tear their victim apart limb for limb, so that the only thing left would be a muddy blood puddle. Nothing to fill the scavengers' empty stomachs with.

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