Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.
Author's note: This is my first Twilight story, and I hope you will enjoy reading it. If you do read it, I would sincerely appreciate any reviews, negative or positive, giving my any ideas as to what's good and what's bad in the story. This is quite literally the prologue, and merely setting the scenes and atmospheres up a little bit, hence there isn't much dialogue (or story) in this prologue. From the next chapter, it'll change.
Pairings: This prologue may suggest otherwise, but (at least for now) the pairings remain the canon ones. However, this story will focus greatly on Edward and Rosalie, with a great fraternal love between them.
Cruel Breezes and Funny Valentines
Prologue
Luck be a lady tonight...
She was gone. Of course she was gone. That was why the whole house felt so different, so wrong.
It isn't well known that even immortal vampires need rest, emotional, if not physical. After the eventful past few years, Bella and Edward had finally decided to take a holiday for just the two of them for some much needed rest. Removing to a secluded but sunny spot, they had spent several days of isolation, Edward enjoying it considerably more than Bella, being unburdened by irrational motherly anxieties that assailed Bella more frequently that desirable. Finally, these anxieties had proved too much and they were now returning early. It had to be admitted that this didn't bother Edward too much either. He may not have been bombarded with as many concerns for his daughter's safety as Bella, feeling secure in the knowledge that six vampires were a match for most threats, if not all; nevertheless, in the decades that he had lived with his family, this had been the most time he had spent away from then, excepting his brief rebellion, and he was more than ready to return to them.
He felt his anticipation mounting as home loomed ever closer. They had needed a break, yes, but after all the turmoil over the past few years, a few calm months (preferably years) with his home and family would be more than welcome. Bella, for her part, felt her anxieties growing about Nessie the closer she got to her. As a result, before their car had fully stopped, Bella had stepped out of it and sped into the house, heading straight for where she smelt her daughter. Edward was not that far behind her, waiting only until he had switched the engine off. Just before he entered the house, he had an uncomfortable feeling of apprehension, the kind of foreknowledge that not the least prophetic of people are immune from.
As Edward stepped into the house, he knew that something was different. A quick glance showed him nothing obvious – no broken windows or furniture to indicate fights of anything, but this feeling of unease merely increased. Swift steps brought him to Bella's side, Nessie safe and sound in her arms, allaying his immediate fears but the unease remained.
Carlisle would know. Of course; what a fool he had been to not seek his father earlier. He left Nessie with Bella; swift steps, tinged with worry, ran nimbly up the stairs, stopping abruptly outside the door of Carlisle's study. Curbing his first impulse to storm in, he instead chose to knock, despite the fact that this was little more than a charade, reluctant to waste a few more seconds but without knowing why.
He entered the room to find Carlisle sitting at his desk, a book lying open in front of him. Out of habit rather than design, he attempted to read Carlisle's mind, only to find it blocked.
"Hello, son," There was a reproach in those simple words. Carlisle must have been aware of what Edward was attempting.
"Hello, dad," A silence followed, awkward to Edward if not to Carlisle. Now that he was here, he was unsure of how to proceed. What was he to say? I have an odd feeling and can you tell me why? Is there anything wrong, even though there's no evidence of it?
He turned to face Esme as she entered the room. He had developed a sixth sense of sorts, where it came to his mother. He had a feeling that so had the others. Perhaps it was the passionate love she gave to all of them? He imagined he could almost feel it radiating towards him now.
"It's so good to have you back," She enveloped him in a hug before moving to stand next to Carlisle – as if in solidarity, it occurred to Edward. "How was your holiday?" Esme's tone was warm but Edward was wary.
"It was good, yeah," But how to voice his concern, this feeling of impending doom?
Another silence followed his statement, but it seemed to Edward that Carlisle and Esme both were looking guardedly at him. They were in it together, then. Did something happen to Nessie?
"N-no, of course not," Edward hadn't realised he had spoken out loud until he heard Esme's startled reply. Somehow, this gave him courage.
"What's going on, then? What's wrong?" He looked intently at both of them in turn, trying to discern a clue to what had by now become a mystery of sorts.
"What makes you think something's wrong?" Carlisle's reply sounded cautious to Edward's ears.
"What's wrong?" was Edward's plaintive reply; answering a question with a question – always a suspicious action and that was exactly what Carlisle had done.
"Nothing's wrong," But Esme seemed uncertain of the answer herself and Edward's alert ears picked it up.
"What's wrong?" Edward demanded again. As irrational as was his belief that something was wrong (very wrong, if he chose to admit the strength of his unease), so was the anger now building up inside of him.
His parents seemed to sense this. They moved slightly closer to each other – closing ranks, in a sense – and held hands. Finally, Esme spoke, in a voice that was deliberately light. "I wouldn't describe this as something wrong, precisely. It's just a change..." Her voice faltered and Edward's patience momentarily disappeared.
"What's changed?" Spoken through clenched teeth and he immediately felt guilty at Esme's instinctive flinch.
"Rosalie's gone." Esme finally spoke the words, after a couple of failed attempts. She looked worriedly at Edward, as her words seemed to have robbed him of his. He was staring beyond her, blankly.
Rosalie was gone. Gone. It didn't quite make sense, or maybe he was in shock. His current emotionally dead status seemed to indicate that this was probable. She was gone! He suddenly realised that he had ceased to breathe; necessary or not, it was a habit he kept at all times, just to reduce the chances of slipping up in front of any humans. He forced himself to breathe, hoping that this might jumpstart his brain – he needed to think, to work out why she would just suddenly leave, leave without saying goodbye to him, and, most importantly, what he would have to do to get her back. His mind stubbornly remained blank.
A shiver ran through him without his realising. She was gone. Of course she was gone. That was why the whole house felt so different, so wrong. So very wrong, and he had to find some way to make it right again.
Author's note: Hey there. I didn't want to mention these at the start but there are a few things I would really love and appreciate feedback on. Firstly, I was on a Doctor Who high when I wrote this (as has been the norm, lately), so if there were any bits that seemed very...British or English, could you please highlight it for me? And also tell me what the appropriate Americanisms should be in its place.
Secondly, I have to admit that most of my knowledge has come from Wikipedia, fanfics, and other random research I've been doing. Thus far, I have only read the first Twilight novel but Rosalie's character, and her relationship with Edward (platonic or not) really fascinated me, so I started writing this story before reading the other three books. Will you please tell me if something is glaringly not canon or incorrect? (It really doesn't help that I keep associating Rosalie with Bellatrix, one of my favourite Harry Potter characters. Or that I see Rosalie's and Edward's relationship as a mixture of Draco/Pansy in Harry Potter and Faye/Spike from Cowboy Bebop. I seem to like antagonistic, argumentative couples a lot. I wonder what that says about me?!)
Thirdly, could you please just comment on my style of writing, in general. I began to write this after I finished a rubbish, abridged version of Les Miserables, and that influenced me a little. Also, just any general critiques will be very helpful.
Fourthly, I really hope you enjoyed reading this prologue. It took me only...2 or 3 days to write it. That's with a little bit of writer's block and a great deal of laziness.
Oh, finally, the line immediately the prologue (or, from here on, the chapter) will be a line from Doctor Who episodes – because I love it so very, very. Very much. This is from the Episode 1 new Series 1 – Rose. I'm sure you guys recognise the song – from the musical, Guys and Dolls.