1) It takes Rosalie a long time to figure out what she wants to make of herself, once she has ceased to be the daughter, socialite, fiancée; perhaps that is why fate has dato her an eternity to come to terms with her conflicting desires. In that regard, she remains very human, even when her cuore stops beating and lies still inside her chest and her youthful blushes fade forever from her cheeks. She is fickle, petulant, wanting what she cannot have, what always will be just beyond her grasp. She’s had her chance at life, and the thought stings: what did she do that actually mattered, to her, to others? Why did she never think to treasure the small things that seem so important now that they are irrevocably lost?
As a human, she never appreciated how very uncertain the future was, how unlikely that there would actually be enough tomorrows to see all her dreams come true. Only now that forever stretches out before her endlessly does she understand how she did everything so very wrong. She despairs over it, the futility of her new life, knowing so much but being able to change nothing, and her first years are dark and gloomy and void of hope.
Then, she is gifted with a secondo chance.
2) She doesn’t Amore Emmett instantly, the moment she sees him, but she is intrigued, drawn in da some elusive quality that makes her return to his bedside in spite of herself even as he shivers and groans with the pain of the conversion. Nor does she Amore him when he opens his eyes, ruby red and confused. She flees the room, recognizing what she’s done, trembling with it, the sick elation, and the fear: he is hers now, and she is not sure if she can give herself to him in return. The thought frightens her, and not just because he is the most physically powerful man she has ever met, although she will tell herself that she is wary of his strength only.
In truth, he unsettles her. He is bluntly honest, which seems strange to her who has always played coy, saying one thing while expressing another entirely with her eyes and touch and smile. Open, straightforward, friendly and cheerful, the very opposite of her, and the easy way in which the others take to him offends her. Annoys her too: he is hers, and even as she keeps him at a distance with haughty, clipped risposte to his incessant, curious questions, she feels quietly smug that he, for one, seems to like her best of all the family.
Later, much later, she will realize that it was only a matter of time, but it takes a while for the darkness around her to lift, for the newly-risen sun to penetrate the endless night that surrounds her in the bottomless pit of her despair. She is blinded da it, like a prisoner who staggers out of his cell deep inside the earth, raising his hands to shield himself from the sun, the sudden freshness of air he breathes, the light that is the spark of Everything. The first time Emmett makes the mask of her perpetual scowl slip comes as a shock to the whole family: unexpectedly, a husky, throaty laugh bubbles out of her, and Esme gasps, Edward blinks, and Carlisle smiles slowly, satisfied. Emmett just joins in her laughter, and if he realizes the magnitude of what he’s done for her, he never shows it.
Rosalie loves him then, although it will take her a long time to say so.
3) After five years, Emmett decides that he is ready to accompany Edward to università and subject himself to human contact, and there is really no domanda of her staying behind if he goes, although she huffs and puffs a little as she packs up a semester’s worth of clothes and shoes. She was raised to marry rich, orso children, be mistress of a grand house, not for higher education. She scoffs at the thought and carefully, diligently hides her trepidation from Emmett, who always picks up on her fears, and Edward, the nosy bastard. She sits in class successivo to Emmett, his hand clasped in hers under the table, and after she’s scoffed some più at the subject he has picked (engineering), she finds herself actually listening to the professor.
Emmett smirks smugly when she graduates with honors, like he has always known she would. And perhaps he has – Rosalie hardly trusts herself anymore, not after she’s been wrong about so many things, so many times, but it’s all right: she can trust him, and suddenly, there is a future ahead of her, full of possibility.
That night, after he’s swept her away to celebrate in private, and before he peels off her deliciously expensive party dress, Emmett gets down on one knee and asks her to marry him for the first time. And she agrees.
4) Her first conversation with Edward went something like this:
"I'm Edward Cullen," he said, with a stiff little bow, and she could feel disapproval radiating off him. No other man had even been so thoroughly unimpressed with her, and it was infuriating. "I suppose if you're going to stay with us, it’s only courteous that I tell te I can hear your thoughts." He detto this as if he resented the fact, like her mind was repulsive to him, an unpleasant place to be.
"That is really very rude," she retorted, her voice sharp like broken glass, ill befitting a lady. But then, Rosalie supposed, she was a lady no longer. Her fury swelled like a winter storm, chilling and deadly. "I'd rather te didn't."
"It's not something I can not do." His mouth twisted bitterly. "Believe me, I often wish for silence. It is very disenchanting to know too much of people."
Her life had been a series of flattery, pretty affectations, polite little lies, but she does not acknowledge this until years later, when she is trying on wedding gowns and remembers, shuddering, the last time she’s worn one such dress. Royce’s two faces, the smooth, charming mask he showed her parents and the bestial grimace that haunted her last living moments dance before her eyes, and finally she can admit that Edward was right, about her, about life. Not that she will ever tell him.
It is then, as she discards one toga, abito and reaches for the next, that she sheds the last vestige of her old life; from then on, she does not mourn the girl she was – only the one she should have been.
5) Rosalie doesn't know it (nor will she ever), but she was fifty-three hours pregnant when her cuore stopped and her body froze in its vampire state. Nestled inside her womb lies the budding seed of her perpetual dream, the lingering trace of a nightmare.
6) Sometimes, in weak moments, during the darkest hours of the night, she takes perverse delight in imagining what Emmett could have (would have) done to the men who hurt her, if he’d had the chance. She pictures the scene vividly, plays it over and over in her mind like a movie, the blood and gore, the crunching sound of breaking bones, the screams as she watches from afar, a greedy spectator with pristine, unstained hands. It excites her, exhilarates her, in ways she can never explain, not even to Emmett; he should not have to orso the burden of her black moods, not any più than he already does.
She will always be protected now, she knows. But this one act of punishment was hers to inflict; it had to be.
And so she locks away her dark fantasies and goes to find Emmett, a secret smile on her face, and flings herself into his arms. He catches her, laughing, with a baciare and a caress to her cheek, and she loves him all the più for how gentle he is with her, having dreamed the horrors of his fury.
7) She wants to go to Africa mainly because the larger the prey, the più fiercely Emmett hunts. It’s sinister and alluring, the way he skulks through the bush, his perfect chest bare and glittering in the last rays of light before sundown, and crouches low before he pounces on his prey. She still tells herself that this is no way to exist, let alone live, as a bloodsucking fiend, but Emmett sure makes it look sexy. Even after seventy years, she can’t get enough of him, and she treasures the feeling for the gift that it is, especially to her.
8) She is shocked sometimes at how much she can still care.
"You're not my brother," she's flung at Jasper, during some silly argument about last names and birth dates and that Rapunzel - L'intreccio della torre web of deception and lies that gets stickier with each passing year, each newcomer who joins their family. It's the truth, and it should be simple, but it isn't. She's regretted her words instantly, and the pang of guilt only fuels her helpless anger. "Stop it!" she yells. "I don't like the be made to feel things!"
Hurt flashes across Jasper's face before his expression turns impassive again, carefully guarded. "I'm not making te feel anything."
She bites her lip until she feels the acrid poison sting the small wound her teeth have left. It's all hers, the pain and rage and bitterness inside, all her own, and she knows Jasper can feel it too, read her like a book. "Stop it," she repeats, weakly.
"I'm not doing anything," he retorts. "Nothing I can stop, anyway!"
"I know." That doesn't mean she can't resent him for it, though, and the silly grudge feels very sisterly after all. She huffs and looks away from his wary, worried gaze. She wants to say she's sorry, but then, he must know that already, so there's really no point in humiliating herself. She walks away, into the garage, and fiddles with screws and wires until her hands stop shaking and she's calmed herself down. Then, she goes to find Jasper.
9) For all that she derides Bella’s choices as foolish, despises the way she and Edward make moony eyes at each other, she feels closer, più sisterly towards the girl than to Alice, her longtime friend. It’s the same strange feeling Rosalie has for Jasper, that exasperated affection and overbearing worry of siblings, and she resents Bella for making Rosalie like her in spite of herself, only to have to acknowledge, deep down, that life is better for Bella’s presence: Edward is calmer, happier. Alice has found a guinea pig for her crazy ideas. Esme and Carlisle glow with satisfaction and pride in their new daughter-in-law. Jasper is glad for the reinforcement. Emmett laughs a lot when Bella is around; and no matter that that makes Rose a little jealous too, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
10) As the years pass and Rosalie watches Bella adapt, sees her and Edward settle into married life, forever, she is struck da how wrong she has once again been. Bella has her moments of nostalgic longing, but she chose this existence, and she glows with the joy of a dream fulfilled. It makes Rosalie equal parts envious and reluctantly admiring, how this girl, this child copes. It is a challenge to her, personally, especially when she catches Edward’s smug look of pride.
Rosalie will not be outdone da Bella Swan. She simply will not. Instead, she will play the hand she has been dealt, this life. Missing another (the last) opportunity to be the person she wants to be would be unacceptable, and she won’t settle for anything less than perfection – she never has.
“Rosalie Lillian Hale McCarty Cullen,” she tells the frowning secretary at her new university.
“That’s a lot of names,” the woman remarks as she writes it all down.
“Just enough.” She is who she is. She won’t apologize for it, but she will endeavour to deserve to be proud.
In the hall, Emmett waits for her, lounging against the opposite wall, a dimpled grin on his face. “We’re married now? For all the world to know?”
“Complaining?” She steps close, lets him draw her closer, against his hard body, and savors the sweet urgency of his kiss.
“No,” he laughs then, voice low and warm in her ear. “Never.”
“Good,” she smiles, and means it like she never has before. “Now let me go, husband, o I’ll be late, and I have a class to teach.”
As a human, she never appreciated how very uncertain the future was, how unlikely that there would actually be enough tomorrows to see all her dreams come true. Only now that forever stretches out before her endlessly does she understand how she did everything so very wrong. She despairs over it, the futility of her new life, knowing so much but being able to change nothing, and her first years are dark and gloomy and void of hope.
Then, she is gifted with a secondo chance.
2) She doesn’t Amore Emmett instantly, the moment she sees him, but she is intrigued, drawn in da some elusive quality that makes her return to his bedside in spite of herself even as he shivers and groans with the pain of the conversion. Nor does she Amore him when he opens his eyes, ruby red and confused. She flees the room, recognizing what she’s done, trembling with it, the sick elation, and the fear: he is hers now, and she is not sure if she can give herself to him in return. The thought frightens her, and not just because he is the most physically powerful man she has ever met, although she will tell herself that she is wary of his strength only.
In truth, he unsettles her. He is bluntly honest, which seems strange to her who has always played coy, saying one thing while expressing another entirely with her eyes and touch and smile. Open, straightforward, friendly and cheerful, the very opposite of her, and the easy way in which the others take to him offends her. Annoys her too: he is hers, and even as she keeps him at a distance with haughty, clipped risposte to his incessant, curious questions, she feels quietly smug that he, for one, seems to like her best of all the family.
Later, much later, she will realize that it was only a matter of time, but it takes a while for the darkness around her to lift, for the newly-risen sun to penetrate the endless night that surrounds her in the bottomless pit of her despair. She is blinded da it, like a prisoner who staggers out of his cell deep inside the earth, raising his hands to shield himself from the sun, the sudden freshness of air he breathes, the light that is the spark of Everything. The first time Emmett makes the mask of her perpetual scowl slip comes as a shock to the whole family: unexpectedly, a husky, throaty laugh bubbles out of her, and Esme gasps, Edward blinks, and Carlisle smiles slowly, satisfied. Emmett just joins in her laughter, and if he realizes the magnitude of what he’s done for her, he never shows it.
Rosalie loves him then, although it will take her a long time to say so.
3) After five years, Emmett decides that he is ready to accompany Edward to università and subject himself to human contact, and there is really no domanda of her staying behind if he goes, although she huffs and puffs a little as she packs up a semester’s worth of clothes and shoes. She was raised to marry rich, orso children, be mistress of a grand house, not for higher education. She scoffs at the thought and carefully, diligently hides her trepidation from Emmett, who always picks up on her fears, and Edward, the nosy bastard. She sits in class successivo to Emmett, his hand clasped in hers under the table, and after she’s scoffed some più at the subject he has picked (engineering), she finds herself actually listening to the professor.
Emmett smirks smugly when she graduates with honors, like he has always known she would. And perhaps he has – Rosalie hardly trusts herself anymore, not after she’s been wrong about so many things, so many times, but it’s all right: she can trust him, and suddenly, there is a future ahead of her, full of possibility.
That night, after he’s swept her away to celebrate in private, and before he peels off her deliciously expensive party dress, Emmett gets down on one knee and asks her to marry him for the first time. And she agrees.
4) Her first conversation with Edward went something like this:
"I'm Edward Cullen," he said, with a stiff little bow, and she could feel disapproval radiating off him. No other man had even been so thoroughly unimpressed with her, and it was infuriating. "I suppose if you're going to stay with us, it’s only courteous that I tell te I can hear your thoughts." He detto this as if he resented the fact, like her mind was repulsive to him, an unpleasant place to be.
"That is really very rude," she retorted, her voice sharp like broken glass, ill befitting a lady. But then, Rosalie supposed, she was a lady no longer. Her fury swelled like a winter storm, chilling and deadly. "I'd rather te didn't."
"It's not something I can not do." His mouth twisted bitterly. "Believe me, I often wish for silence. It is very disenchanting to know too much of people."
Her life had been a series of flattery, pretty affectations, polite little lies, but she does not acknowledge this until years later, when she is trying on wedding gowns and remembers, shuddering, the last time she’s worn one such dress. Royce’s two faces, the smooth, charming mask he showed her parents and the bestial grimace that haunted her last living moments dance before her eyes, and finally she can admit that Edward was right, about her, about life. Not that she will ever tell him.
It is then, as she discards one toga, abito and reaches for the next, that she sheds the last vestige of her old life; from then on, she does not mourn the girl she was – only the one she should have been.
5) Rosalie doesn't know it (nor will she ever), but she was fifty-three hours pregnant when her cuore stopped and her body froze in its vampire state. Nestled inside her womb lies the budding seed of her perpetual dream, the lingering trace of a nightmare.
6) Sometimes, in weak moments, during the darkest hours of the night, she takes perverse delight in imagining what Emmett could have (would have) done to the men who hurt her, if he’d had the chance. She pictures the scene vividly, plays it over and over in her mind like a movie, the blood and gore, the crunching sound of breaking bones, the screams as she watches from afar, a greedy spectator with pristine, unstained hands. It excites her, exhilarates her, in ways she can never explain, not even to Emmett; he should not have to orso the burden of her black moods, not any più than he already does.
She will always be protected now, she knows. But this one act of punishment was hers to inflict; it had to be.
And so she locks away her dark fantasies and goes to find Emmett, a secret smile on her face, and flings herself into his arms. He catches her, laughing, with a baciare and a caress to her cheek, and she loves him all the più for how gentle he is with her, having dreamed the horrors of his fury.
7) She wants to go to Africa mainly because the larger the prey, the più fiercely Emmett hunts. It’s sinister and alluring, the way he skulks through the bush, his perfect chest bare and glittering in the last rays of light before sundown, and crouches low before he pounces on his prey. She still tells herself that this is no way to exist, let alone live, as a bloodsucking fiend, but Emmett sure makes it look sexy. Even after seventy years, she can’t get enough of him, and she treasures the feeling for the gift that it is, especially to her.
8) She is shocked sometimes at how much she can still care.
"You're not my brother," she's flung at Jasper, during some silly argument about last names and birth dates and that Rapunzel - L'intreccio della torre web of deception and lies that gets stickier with each passing year, each newcomer who joins their family. It's the truth, and it should be simple, but it isn't. She's regretted her words instantly, and the pang of guilt only fuels her helpless anger. "Stop it!" she yells. "I don't like the be made to feel things!"
Hurt flashes across Jasper's face before his expression turns impassive again, carefully guarded. "I'm not making te feel anything."
She bites her lip until she feels the acrid poison sting the small wound her teeth have left. It's all hers, the pain and rage and bitterness inside, all her own, and she knows Jasper can feel it too, read her like a book. "Stop it," she repeats, weakly.
"I'm not doing anything," he retorts. "Nothing I can stop, anyway!"
"I know." That doesn't mean she can't resent him for it, though, and the silly grudge feels very sisterly after all. She huffs and looks away from his wary, worried gaze. She wants to say she's sorry, but then, he must know that already, so there's really no point in humiliating herself. She walks away, into the garage, and fiddles with screws and wires until her hands stop shaking and she's calmed herself down. Then, she goes to find Jasper.
9) For all that she derides Bella’s choices as foolish, despises the way she and Edward make moony eyes at each other, she feels closer, più sisterly towards the girl than to Alice, her longtime friend. It’s the same strange feeling Rosalie has for Jasper, that exasperated affection and overbearing worry of siblings, and she resents Bella for making Rosalie like her in spite of herself, only to have to acknowledge, deep down, that life is better for Bella’s presence: Edward is calmer, happier. Alice has found a guinea pig for her crazy ideas. Esme and Carlisle glow with satisfaction and pride in their new daughter-in-law. Jasper is glad for the reinforcement. Emmett laughs a lot when Bella is around; and no matter that that makes Rose a little jealous too, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
10) As the years pass and Rosalie watches Bella adapt, sees her and Edward settle into married life, forever, she is struck da how wrong she has once again been. Bella has her moments of nostalgic longing, but she chose this existence, and she glows with the joy of a dream fulfilled. It makes Rosalie equal parts envious and reluctantly admiring, how this girl, this child copes. It is a challenge to her, personally, especially when she catches Edward’s smug look of pride.
Rosalie will not be outdone da Bella Swan. She simply will not. Instead, she will play the hand she has been dealt, this life. Missing another (the last) opportunity to be the person she wants to be would be unacceptable, and she won’t settle for anything less than perfection – she never has.
“Rosalie Lillian Hale McCarty Cullen,” she tells the frowning secretary at her new university.
“That’s a lot of names,” the woman remarks as she writes it all down.
“Just enough.” She is who she is. She won’t apologize for it, but she will endeavour to deserve to be proud.
In the hall, Emmett waits for her, lounging against the opposite wall, a dimpled grin on his face. “We’re married now? For all the world to know?”
“Complaining?” She steps close, lets him draw her closer, against his hard body, and savors the sweet urgency of his kiss.
“No,” he laughs then, voice low and warm in her ear. “Never.”
“Good,” she smiles, and means it like she never has before. “Now let me go, husband, o I’ll be late, and I have a class to teach.”