Foreword : Still no Beta, but I'm doing my best to keep an eye on the spelling ;)
Sorry if some people had a "fake" update of the last chapter... it had disappeared on my end with an error message, so I thought it was no longer online/republished it. The site is really buggy at the moment; not to mention the spam from "digital artists"...
So, after a long wait, here is the beginning of the chapter dedicated to Esme… It wasn't originally meant to be split into two parts, but once fully written, I couldn't help but notice how long it had become and preferred to divide it ^^'' It was the first time I had ever written anything about Esme, and the exercise proved to be somewhat arduous: in the canon, she appears to me as the Cullen with the least developed characterization and the most stereotypical reactions. The entire character is built on a single concept: she is the ideal adoptive mother. Other than knowing she had a horrific human life (honestly, she probably takes the prize for suffering and tragic fate in the saga… and yet—with Rosalie in particular—there was fierce competition), and that despite all that, she remains an extremely positive person, as well as an excellent substitute mother, we have no real information about her.
Anyway, here's the result. I'll warn you in advance that the second part (which I'll be publishing in a few days, since I've already made you wait long enough :')) will be mainly focused on Esme's past (and the themes explored will be particularly dark). In waiting, happy reading… with this half-chapter which, in the end, still doesn't completely resolve the Jasper/Emmett incident, contrary to what I had announced!
Esme entered right after, her brows furrowed, her face unusually severe. She was closely followed by Rosalie, whose stiff gait and icy expression left no doubt about her mood. Her sharp gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on each face, lingering on Emmett—who seemed to shrink under her unwelcoming assessment—before locking onto Jasper's. A silent battle of murderous glances flared between them.
Carlisle took a deep breath and swallowed his venom in a nervous gesture.
Zugzwang, indeed.
« Where there is no hope, we must invent it. »
Albert Camus – Speech at the Circle of Progress, January 1956.
Esme held back a sigh and cast a sidelong glance at Rosalie's profile. She had been entrenched in hostile silence ever since they had gotten into the car. She was driving them swiftly along the succession of bumpy country roads to get them back as quickly as possible to the secluded property hidden in the woods a few miles away from the town where Carlisle practiced as a doctor. Her anger was still visibly simmering: the corners of her perfect mouth, drawn tight, gave her beautiful face a bitter expression.
Alice, seated in the back, had remained utterly motionless—silent since the beginning of the trip. Her shoulders slumped, the seer watched the scenery blur past behind the window, her eyes lost in the distance: her fragile body seemed almost folded in on itself, her posture defeated; as if the petite vampire were trying to take up as little space as possible in an attempt to be forgotten. The sadness radiating from the young girl, usually so cheerful and full of life, squeezed Esme's heart.
Never would she have imagined things would become so complicated between her adoptive daughters in just a matter of hours. Convincing both vampires to stand down and forcibly removing them from the shop without incident—nor any behavior that would seem out of place to the unexpected human onlookers—had been no small feat. The return trip, carried out in a heavy atmosphere, had done nothing to soothe their frayed nerves. The consequences of the confrontation still lingered ominously. Now, with less than ten minutes before they reached the mansion, Esme toyed with the idea of attempting to clear the air between Alice and Rosalie. It would likely be less chaotic to try and ease the tension now rather than wait until they were all gathered for possible explanations.
No matter what Alice had seen, Jasper and Emmett were the only ones truly capable of clarifying things and untangling the fragmented information surrounding their dispute.
Esme hated conflict. She disliked shouting and abhorred situations growing so tense that people began hurling insults at each other. Even more, she loathed the prospect—distant, yet forever etched in the back of her mind—that an argument could escalate into physical violence. It was an unjustified fear within her family, yet too deeply ingrained for her to completely ignore.
Every time a quarrel unfolded before her eyes, a part of her—one that still felt very human—threatened to sink into distress, while her hands clenched and her throat tightened. The sensation of her breath catching, combined with a creeping anxiety that coiled through her, twisting her insides and constricting her chest, left her paralyzed the moment voices began to rise.
Edward and Rosalie had quickly realized—helped greatly by the telepath's abilities—how much their venomous discord pained their adoptive mother during their first months of mutual hostility. For nearly a decade now, they had made a conscious effort to maintain a certain level of courtesy with one another, even in their worst disagreements.
The closer they got to the Cullen residence, the more suffocating the silence inside the car became. Only the vibrations of the engine and the crunch of the tires on the gravel disturbed the icy atmosphere hanging in the cabin.
Esme hesitated a moment before lightly placing a hand on Rosalie's forearm. The tension beneath her flawless skin was palpable: her anger still simmered, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. A careless approach could risk fanning the flames rather than extinguishing them—it was best to proceed gently.
Glancing at the reflection in the rearview mirror, Esme noticed Alice stiffen almost imperceptibly: her slender hands clasping nervously over her lap, and her head making the tiniest involuntary motion in their direction—as if she were resisting the urge to turn toward them—while she continued to feign interest in the passing scenery.
Esme took on her calmest voice to reason with her eldest daughter, hoping to convey more serenity than she actually felt.
"Rosalie, I know how much Emmett means to you, and I completely understand why this situation made you angry. But we need to take a step back… We only have fragmented information about what happened, but you heard Alice earlier. We won't get the full story until we're home, but if this really was just a misunderstanding and Jasper and Emmett aren't actually at odds, then nothing warrants such an excessive reaction. If the boys bear no resentment toward each other, then I believe we should listen to them and simply let it go."
Rosalie's jaw tightened, her expression stubborn, and she shot Esme a sharp, reproachful look before slightly gripping the steering wheel. She didn't reply immediately, keeping her focus locked onto the winding road ahead with fierce intensity. Her golden eyes gleamed strangely.
After more than two minutes of complete silence—an astonishingly long stretch for beings who processed thoughts at a vampiric speed—she let out the faintest of growls, casting a cold, assessing glance at the small, curled-up figure in the back seat before finally speaking, her tone clipped.
"This isn't just about resentment; it's about safety. I don't want to risk my family's lives by naively placing trust in strangers with violent tendencies. I don't think we should have welcomed them so easily into our home. Not anymore. Alice…"
The clairvoyant, still huddled, briefly closed her eyes at the mention of her name. Esme could hear her swallow, and the almost imperceptible tremors of her delicate fingers became visible as she resolutely turned her face toward Rosalie, furrowing her brows.
She responded in a low, somber voice, her usually crystalline tone dulled—hidden beneath her sadness, there was a sharp note of bitterness.
"Jasper never meant to hurt Emmett. And Emmett is truly sorry for frightening Jasper. They regret it more than you can imagine… but you don't care. You don't care about their explanations or what they feel. You've already made up your mind."
The statement was blunt.
Rosalie's grip on the wheel tightened so forcefully in response that the leather let out a sinister creak. Esme feared, for a brief second, that the fragile equipment might snap under her daughter's strength.
This was far from over.
"I care about that, but that doesn't change the facts! If Jasper had wanted to kill Emmett, he could have easily done so, couldn't he? That's what you failed to say earlier!"
Rosalie, enraged—and deeply shaken by the thought, though she hid it—practically hissed her last words. Alice shook her head vigorously, her short, spiky locks trembling with the motion; a look of both guilt and desperation painted on her delicate features. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, visibly struggling to find the right words. Her gaze was clouded by an emotion Esme couldn't quite decipher. Dismayed sorrow? Or something even more personal?
She seemed deeply unsettled. The girl had likely never had the chance to argue with anyone outside of her visions. She must have been handling the tension very poorly, especially since her gift apparently offered no glimpse of an agreeable resolution. Esme suspected that the stakes of this conflict were particularly heartbreaking for the small vampire: Alice had spent decades feeding on the illusion of a happy family bond through her visions. And she had waited nearly thirty years to finally meet them… That things had gone south so soon after their actual encounter, that their relationships were far less idyllic than the premonitions had shown her, must have been shattering. And, perhaps, forcing her to reconsider the way she viewed the world.
Esme sighed. Brutality horrified her, and she abhorred violence, no matter the form it took. God knew she certainly didn't want someone with aggressive tendencies living under her roof; yet, she couldn't bring herself to support Rosalie's abrupt and seemingly definitive decision. Despite his cold demeanor, the former soldier had not shown the slightest sign of restrained violence since moving in; on the contrary, he had displayed a temperament—surprisingly, given his past—that was gentle and agreeable. She never tired of watching the tenderness with which he treated his mate, of hearing the thick Southern accent that inevitably laced the many Texan formulas of courtesy he showered them with spontaneously, nor of the easy smiles that tugged at his lips in response to most of Emmett's jokes. Even less so the curious waves of serenity and contentment that often radiated around him, though he seemed utterly unaware of them.
Esme knew that charming men could sometimes hide their monstrosity beneath affectionate manners, but she had become a good judge of character after her unfortunate experience with her first husband. Her instincts told her that Jasper—despite his torturous history as an executioner—was anything but a cruel person. She was willing to bet that Alice was telling the truth when she insisted that he had never meant to cause harm… merely to defend himself through unfortunate reflexes shaped by decades of war. Surviving nearly a century in a merciless world didn't come without lasting scars. If Jasper had truly hurt Emmett out of fear, that was something Esme could easily understand—and forgive.
She took an unnecessary breath and gently squeezed her eldest daughter's arm again; from the corner of her eye, she studied the reflection of their recent guest in the rearview mirror: Alice looked momentarily startled—lost in another flash—but after a few seconds, though her expression remained downcast, she risked a hopeful glance in Esme's direction. That luminous sentiment brightened her delicate, troubled face. They all needed a little hope and kindness. Esme strengthened her resolve and spoke in a soft yet firm tone.
"Rose. I might be wrong, but I believe what Alice meant was that Jasper could never have accidentally killed Emmett. A vampire cannot accidentally kill another. Since Jasper never intended to kill Emmett, he was never truly in mortal danger. Isn't that right? "
The little seer uncrossed her arms, swallowed hard, and nodded frantically at the statement. A fragile smile bloomed on her lips, and some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to dissipate. The driver's arm—slender yet as hard as marble—tensed slightly under Esme's palm. The vehicle, however, remained steady, a testament to the vampire's complete control despite her internal turmoil.
Esme knew that Rosalie could be impulsive and headstrong, but she was also intelligent, rational, and far more compassionate than she let on. If Esme could provide solid arguments and if her daughter wasn't too overwhelmed by her worries to listen, she would allow things to be resolved peacefully.
"If Emmett and Jasper confirm what Alice has said, will you be able to bury the hatchet and accept that Jasper acted on instinct rather than hostility? This wouldn't be the first time one of us has accidentally hurt another family member. And until now, we have never demanded that anyone leave because of it. I refuse to let that start now!"
Thanks to their perfect memories, Esme had no doubt that the "accidental injuries" she referred to came instantly to Rosalie's mind. Most of them stemmed from Emmett's newborn year. Her eldest daughter scowled, uncertainty flickering at the corners of her full lips. She shot Esme a strange, almost troubled look before muttering dryly through clenched teeth:
"It's different."
No, it wasn't, and Rosalie knew it. And she also seemed ready to lower her weapons. Esme gently shook her head, offering her an encouraging smile.
"Of course not. Everyone makes mistakes. Emmett and Jasper are allowed to make theirs—and to make amends in their own way. They are the only ones involved; their opinion on the incident should be the only one that matters. I know how much you love Emmett, but you cannot make his choices for him. If he wants to forgive Jasper, or if he believes there is nothing to forgive… Don't take that away from him, please."
And don't take my children away from me, she pleaded silently, though she didn't dare say the words out loud.
Because it was ridiculous [2]—Esme was well aware of that—but when Alice had claimed that she and Jasper were going to join the family and be "adopted" by her and Carlisle, she had taken it as a given. And just as it had been with Edward, Rosalie, and Emmett, they had carved out a place in her heart almost instantly, without her even having to give it a second thought. In this strange existence, even if it was only for appearances, she had children, and it was her duty to care for them.
So the possibility of the two nomads leaving—barely after they had arrived—tightened around her throat in an almost irrational way. The truth was that, even though they had only joined their family three weeks prior, she was already deeply attached to the newcomers. Certainly, it was due to the "excessive" maternal instinct that had plagued her since her awakening as an immortal.
She had died just after giving birth. Barely a few hours after her child's death, still bombarded with hormones and with a mind in turmoil. Overflowing with immeasurable love and agitated by the necessity to care for a being who viscerally needed her. A latent desire that had lost its purpose the moment her baby had drawn its last breath.
Carlisle believed that the main traits of character, as well as the last experiences lived by those who were turned, played a strong role in shaping their behavior as vampires. He thought that the most prominent aspects of a human's personality became even more intense once altered by venom. Thus, the former pastor—properly horrified when he realized he had turned into the supernatural creature he and his congregation had hunted—had been so desperate not to harm anyone that it had been enough for him to resist the murderous urges coursing through his body, contradicting all biological expectations. And after a few years of repelling his thirst for blood, he had become capable of controlling himself enough to heal people and save them; embracing the role of a doctor as others would have taken up a calling. A humanist vampire, refusing to kill humans to survive, denying all his instincts to the point of silencing them completely: the Stregoni Benefici [3], a unique specimen of his kind. His resistance to the thirst for blood seemed incongruous even to immortals thousands of years old. The Denali sisters assumed that his ability to keep his murderous instincts locked away stemmed from the extraordinarily gentle and pacifistic personality he must have possessed even as a human. His compassion was considered by Eleazar [4] as a talent in its own right, akin to Edward's telepathy and the special abilities of certain other vampires.
If Carlisle's merciful tendencies had been amplified by his transformation, perhaps the visceral need to care for others that Esme felt was, in part, a result of her change? She could never be sure: she did not know how loving and charitable she had been in her human life, as most of her memories from that time were horribly blurred.
While a vampire's memory was absolute and preserved every experience from the moment of transformation, the first months spent as a vampire seemed to be decisive in determining what an immortal could or could not retain of their human memories. If they were not sufficiently maintained, they tended to fade irreversibly. Thus, at her awakening, Carlisle and Edward had insisted on the importance of focusing on her human memories if she did not want to risk losing them.
She had done nothing of the sort, wanting instead to let them fade as much as possible.
Edward could not have failed to notice. Yet, he had respected her choice, never making any comment to dissuade her.
Her human memory was more than fragmentary, and that suited her just fine. What remained of her childhood were a few flashes, vague, joyful, and disconnected sensations: she remembered being happy, running through the fields and getting into mischief with her brothers, cousins, and friends from neighboring farms. She no longer recalled the faces of her brothers as adults—both of whom had died barely past the age of majority, far from home, in the first year of conscription, sent to die at the front and never returning, not even in a coffin—but she could perfectly visualize them at seven or eight years old, as rowdy little rascals. She did not remember the taste of food but recalled being a glutton, a lover of sweet fruits and savory meat pies. Fleeting images of moments when, still a teenager, she enjoyed herself in the kitchen gave her the impression that she must have loved cooking. She remembered loving to observe nature and often wanting to paint it but never actually doing so because of her poor drawing skills; her hand unable to bring to life the intentions of her mind. These were fleeting fragments of a handful of good moments. And some of her worst ones.
The few precise memories that had escaped oblivion were tied to pivotal moments of her human life.
She remembered perfectly her first meeting with Carlisle.
Notes:
*The title of the chapter is borrowed from Salman Rushdie's novel Midnight's Children.
[1] We will discuss Charles Evenson, the infamous first husband of Esme, in more detail in the second part.
[2] For Carlisle, who is over three centuries old, it is rather easy to understand why he can so naturally take on the role of patriarch among the Cullen family vampires. However, for Esme, the notion is more delicate: if we rely solely on birth dates, she is barely older than Edward, Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett and is significantly younger than Jasper. Beyond the arrested maturation at the age of transformation mentioned in the previous chapter (Esme having been changed at 26, whereas Jasper, Alice, and Emmett were frozen at 19), I believe her natural aptitude for mothering those around her (and the merry band of undead, more specifically) must partly stem from her human personality and the context in which she died.
[3] The term Stregoni Benefici (literally "beneficial sorcerer") is specific to the Twilight canon. In the lore, it refers to a legendary creature from Italian folklore. This myth describes a benevolent immortal monster who seeks to protect humans from others of its kind. Several characters in the saga associate it directly with Carlisle, though he never confirms that the legend refers to him and his time in Volterra.
[4] Eleazar is a vegetarian vampire, a member of the Denali clan (formerly part of the Volturi guard for over a century), and a close friend of Carlisle. He possesses the ability to detect talents in other vampires and understand the exact nature of their gifts. While I am not entirely sure if what I mention here regarding Carlisle's "supernatural" compassion is canon, Eleazar explains to Bella that vampires' specific abilities stem from their most defining human traits.
The second part of the chapter will be released before the end of the week, I promise! I'm just giving it one—certainly several—final proofreads before publication ;)