Put the poison darts and swords away ladies and gents.
I'm here.
I know what your thinking – IMPOSTER! - but I swear, it's really me.
... shall we call a truce? Before any bloodshed or declarations of war are drawn out? Put the spears away and let's solve this as civilized human beings.
... please?
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the original series.
ps. I realized the name I'd previously chosen for Angeline's sisters were very mundane and odd. So I decided to use new ones. Except Claudia, whose name I adore more than ever. So, forgive the changes.
"There is no pretending. I love you, and I will love you until I die, and it there's a life after that, I'll love you then."
-Cassandra Clare, City of Glass
Chapter Twelve.
They stood in two straight, immobile lines. Like rows of marble statues, each waiting for the other side to make a move, each waiting to judge how violent the other was. Angeline stood in the middle, flanked by her brother's, staring at their eyes with unabashed wonder.
They were golden.
She'd long since spotted the blonde on the end, and smiled a little to herself, remembering Garrett fondly. She shook herself from her musings and back to the potentially dangerous situation at hand. Were they dangerous, she slightly inclined her head towards Edward. Not concealing his gift, Edward shook his head slightly. Angeline frowned, thinking back to when Jasper and she had been strangers, and he'd hidden his gift from her.
But then she noticed the stare-down going on between Edward and the male, who glanced at her at random intervals. Emmett was on edge beside her, newborn instincts still strong, and ready to fight. Angeline stepped forward, shifting her stance just in case she needed to defend herself.
But the other side was still, and the woman, Tanya, spoke again.
"We mean you no harm. Simply heard the sounds of curious horseplay and came to see if we could join in on the fun," She said, still eying Edward, and Angeline felt an irrational flash of protectiveness, ignoring the annoyed look Edward shot her, and replied.
"Then we, in return, mean no harm."
The tension didn't lift much.
Edward suddenly spoke out. "It's alright Emmett, they are acquainted with Carlisle." Emmett growled, apparently not appeased with this explanation. When Carlisle's name registered with the male, his eyes softened.
"Carlisle," He spoke the name with affection. "You know of him?"
Emmett paused his growling to answer. "He's our father." And resumed growling.
One of the blondes quirked an eyebrow, "Father?"
"He turned us," Angeline felt the fact that Carlisle hadn't turned her didn't need to be brought to light.
What was the terms humans used?
Ah, yes;
Semantics.
"Turned you. Interesting." The male said. "In that case, I suppose in those terms, I shall introduce myself, and we will be acquaintances as well." The male paused. "I am Eleazar, and this is my mate Carmen." He gestured to the petite brunette beside him who murmured a soft "Hola" in response. The curly haired floozy continued with the introductions. "I am Tanya, and my sisters, Irina and Kate." Garrett's mate – Kate – smiled then and looked to her sister Tanya. Tanya, Angeline realized, must have been their leader. She yearned for Carlisle in that instant, to diffuse the still tangible tension and make gone the awkwardness that was thick between the two groups.
"I see we have outstayed our welcome," Eleazar shifted, eying Emmett's bulging, tensed frame. "Pass my well-wished onto Carlisle. I shall drop by at another time to see my old friend."
The clans exchanged polite goodbyes – sans Emmett and the distinctly filthy looks that Tanya was giving a nervous looking Edward – and left without a fight, much to Emmett's dismay.
"Not everything needs to end in you hitting something Emmett," Edward said irritably as the trio walked back towards the house.
"No, it doesn't. But it should."
Angeline's laughed filled the silence between every tree in the Forrest.
Jasper and Angeline lay tangled on the couch, listening to the dulcet sounds of the rest of their family settling into their normal activities. Most of the house was quiet, save for voices and the Edward's soft hum as he composed a new piece.
For the first time in a long time, Angeline thought of her sisters and felt the familiar malice at her inability to weep. Her sisters - as naive and sometimes horrible as they could be, had still been her flesh and blood, and she missed them something fierce. He father had been an ambitious man. Luthor Bela'voire had spent his years whoring and gambling and running their fortune and good name into the ground after the death of his beloved wife, her Grandma Valerie. When he died at the ripe age of seventy seven, his son Jon inherited the Bela'voire titles and all that came with it. Her Uncle Jon, a foolish, sickly man had married her Aunt Katherine and when his son Viktar was born and died of the same illness that plagued her Uncle, her Aunt had murdered him with his own pistol and stole away in the dead of night with her lover. So when young, overlooked Pierre inherited all, he made damn good use of it. He married for status, and for breeding, not for love. He found Elinor - an English rose, fifteen years his junior, lovely as a painting and also as silent as one - a good political match, and wed her in a humble wedding paid for by her family and the dowry. He then spent the early years of his marriage rebuilding all that his father had destroyed. By the time she was born, Bela'voire was once again one of the most respected names in all of France.
But alas, for all the perfection of sweet Elinor, she failed in the most important of wifely duties - bearing sons.
Instead, the Bela'voire clan had been cursed with six daughters. But Pierre had grown rather attached to his wife, and while he toyed with the idea of divorcing and finding a young thing with unused birthing hips, he never committed to his plans. So instead, he made use of his daughters when he could. Sultry Lynesse, the apple of many a men's eye became a Consort to the King himself, warming his bed on many occasions. Lusty Margaery was married off to Lord Horas Hobber's heir, after he'd gotten her pregnant in a midnight romp encouraged by Pierre himself. Boring Selyse was married to another social climbing family's son, and Meek Myrcelle was given to an older man who sought a wife to give him sons. Useless Claudia ran away - good riddance - and probably died of starvation begging in the streets.
But Angeline? Angeline was the apple of his eye, the crowning jewel of all his ambitions. Lovely as a dream, and as sweet as a maiden; the perfect trade. He'd planned to marry her to a high born, a Lord, and then the Italian came, with promises of lands and riches beyond imagining and he'd sent his daughter off in that wheelhouse, only to receive word a month later that the wheelhouse had been found coated with blood, the guards had been killed and the young Bela'voire girl was nowhere to be found. Though he'd never been an emotional man, his heart had hurt when he'd listened to his wife wail for the months to follow.
For months, Angeline was the talk of all the courts. After years, she became a subject of drunken conversations. "Remember that girl? What was her name? Annelise? The pretty one?" And memory of her faded until she was nothing but a dead-
no.
She refocused on her sisters. Lynesse had grown used to riches and jewels and parties and lived out her days as the King's whore until she birthed a babe - a girl whose name had faded in Angeline's mind, as she'd only heard it once - and was killed for adultery on order of the Queen.
Margaery had been wed to that wimpy, childish Hobber boy - Walder, if memory served her - and they'd lived in her castle, her cheating on him with numerous men, and him none the wiser, raising a girl named Mary who was just as devilish as her mother.
Selyse, the shy girl like a breathing shadow, was married off to a man she'd never met before the wedding day. Angeline scowled against Jasper's chest, thinking of that man. His name had been Henry Hayford-Pycel. He'd come all the way from the Roman-Catholic Empire to marry her sister. Her sister had miscarried several times. Despite herself, Selyse had loved dashing Henry, and had been so troubled by his cruel behaviour behind closed doors, and the overwhelming pressure of having a son, that it'd been nearly six years before she delivered a healthy, living son. Henry continued to beat her, until the day Angeline returned from Italy. Angeline had murdered him herself - one of her first kills as a vampire. She'd then left his entire fortune - jewels and houses and lands and wines and all - to her sister and her twin nephews, Daemon and Edwyn.
Myrcelle was married to a man named Thomas, an Englishmen, who was a rich merchant and sought a pretty wife to give him sons. And she tried. After two stillbirths, her poor sister died giving birth to a daughter, Jeyne. The merchant had remarried - some other Counts daughter she'd given him four strong sons with soft blonde hair.
And Claudia? The favourite sister of hers? She'd lived a more fulfilling life than any of her sister. That Spanish peasant of hers had whisked her away to his homeland, and caught in a dance of love and never ending happiness - were together until the day they died in each other's arms, leaving their children to take care of their modest estate. Angeline travelled to her sister's grave every so often, to pay homage. As soon as she'd heard of her death, she'd anonymously provided the means of giving her sister a proper burial.
From her side, Jasper squeezed her once.
That was all she needed, she thought. Just a squeeze, only a touch. Words would upset the still silence, the clearness of her ancient human memories. Lying here, on this couch, in Jasper's arms as her sister had done with her husband, she began to daydream.
What would their life had been like, if they were human? She imagined they would have lived in a well-maintained, yet humble abode in the country. With trees around back, for the children to climb and swing from. A river would run near the house, the sounds heard on only the most silent of days. Their children, all fair-haired and rosy cheeked would run through the house, as the pitter-pattering of bare feet alerted their parents of their where-abouts.
Their names, she imagines would have been French. Not the pompous names of Lords, but names that mattered. Names from her family, or from his. They would have a dog as well, she decided. A dark furred thing to patrol her children, and protect them from harm, but also trained to perfection.
But she was a vampire, and being a vampire meant that she was not allowed to have this life. It would have been impossible anyways, as Jasper had been born several centuries after her.
A loud, booming laugh from somewhere upstairs - Emmett, of course – drew her from her thoughts violently. She was surprised that she did not feel an ounce of sadness, when she was suddenly reminded of what they were, and what it meant. She felt oddly at peace with her vampirism and her life so far. She had done things that she may regret in the future, some she regretted now, but Angeline was not one to dwell on things that could not be changed.
Without vampirism, she realized, the people in this house would not be here. Carlisle would have died in the 1600's. Esme would have died after her tragic suicide, and her husband would have been later informed. Edward would have died in a hospital bed in Chicago of Spanish Influenza, without Carlisle there to save him. Rosalie would have bled out on that street, with the last memories of her life filled with rough hands and drunken laughter. Emmett would have died of his injuries from that bear; rather it had been in the forest, or in his home.
And Jasper would be dead, she realized. He would have most likely died in battle, bleeding in some field, patriotic until the end.
She turned to look at Jasper, and found him laying silently with eyes on her. She traced his features tenderly with her eyes, knowing his face as well as her own.
"Tomorrow?"
Jasper, bless him, seemed to understand.
"Tomorrow"
End.
Alright, first things first. I'd like to make this vow to all of you who've requested more, and remained faithful to this story through thick and thin.
I, fakeituntilyoumakeit, do solemnly vow to finish this story. I will never give up on it, until I have fulfilled the promise every author does when they press 'new story'. I will finish this story if it takes me until I'm ninety years old. I make no promises about the updating times, nor the length of chapters, but I promise that as long as there are people to read them, there will be chapters to be read.
Thank you, to all of you in general, and to whomever is reading this personally.
Best wishes, and all my love,
Lauren.
Special thanks to:
ForeverTeamEdward13, DalonegaNoquisi, converselover20204, RedStar8, LadyJemsie, Guest, BangingPrude, SilverNeira, angel2u, RebornRose1992, SomberofSilence, 13, Regin, Nette Black Salvatore, Jasper's Little Sweetheart x, In-Love-With-Paul-Get-Over-It, kanna-yamamoto, Team Major Whitlock, Narsilia Haywire, Mil shu, rubyredgrapes & Awesome
For taking the time to review.