221Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
The Rose in May
Chapter One: January Snow
'And she is as fair as the rose in May.' – Geoffrey Chaucer
The meadow flowers always bloomed early in May, spreading their fragrant scents throughout the air. The bees enjoyed it, using the clouds of yellow pollen to make their sweet honey, their food. I enjoyed it just for the beauty of it.
It was now summertime, and the couples were 'celebrating' their freedom once again, leaving me to either blast my music or run to the meadow. The latter always worked better for me, as even through the vibrating sound waves I could hear the grunts and groans, and not to mention their thoughts. It was sickening sometimes, being in a house full of imprinted couples.
This weekend was the marking of our first year back in Forks, as well; the first time Alice and Jasper had joined us. They – even Alice – had been a little overwhelmed with the close proximity of the wolves for a while, but they grew used to the tell-tale stench eventually. All of us enjoyed the tiny town by the ocean; for once, we all felt like we had a home, and not just a place of residence.
I contemplated going for a quick hunt as I stepped into my sanctuary, but disregarded the idea when I decided that the 'better' prey was too far away, and I was looking forward to some relaxing time. The meadow always seemed to move with activity, the wind rustling through the flowers. I sat down beside an old tree, where – curiously – a patch of red roses had begun to grow. I hadn't seen them in previous years, and I wondered if somebody had planted them. I decided to lean in to get a closer look.
As I was examining the roses, my eyes landed on one beautifully bloomed rose. Instantly, my entire world changed. I was reminded of Carlisle's chaotic thoughts of Esme those first few years after the imprint, until it calmed down. And of Rosalie's thoughts of Emmett… and of Jasper's thoughts of Alice. It was so mind blowing; I could feel this overwhelming sensation of need and love coursing through my body. That flower – that beautiful, beautiful red rose – was now the reason for my entire existence.
It was perfect – from its delicately formed petals to its almost silky-looking thorns. Carefully, I reached out to stroke the morning dew from its leaves, and a thrumming sensation overtook my body. I felt connected to this flower, like my family felt to their other halves. Could this really me my imprint? This little flower from my meadow, my mate?
How long could I expect a flower to live, anyways? Roses, when picked, lasted a week at most. And, yet as I thought this, I found myself pulling the delicate rose from its firm hold in the ground, thinking of the red-coloured crystal vase at home, and knowing that that was where I would place my beauty, my mate. For I was certain now, as I held it, that I would forever love this plant, even if it was a little different.
I ran home quickly, not even caring that the couples might not have been finished (but they were, thankfully), needing to place my beauty in its water-giving vase immediately. I thought of the windows in my room, and was suddenly even more glad that the sun shone directly in them during the day; it would allow my rose to stay in the sun, while safely nestled away in my room. I wasn't going to allow anything to harm it.
Her, my mind whispered, and I knew it to be true. Somehow – though I don't know how – I interpreted this rose to be feminine, though plants held no genders. As I ran, I nearly thought that it – she – was curling into my hand, as if to hide from the wind. I knew that was just from my rapid – and often random - thought process, though; flowers certainly couldn't move, as they weren't alive. But, oh! How I wished my rose could be alive.
She was still in perfect condition as I stepped inside, and – too my shock, as I hadn't been listening for their thoughts – Esme notice me right away.
Oh, my, her thoughts said. Edward's brought me another flower – I've missed getting them on Mother's Day. She watched me with loving eyes, and thought I knew she was just assuming things (why else would I have a rose in my hands, if it weren't for her?), I still hissed at her thoughts.
"She's mine," I nearly growled. The others came down quickly, watching me in shock as I carefully sheltered my imprint from their wondering eyes. "You can't have her," I continued, though I knew it wasn't actually necessary.
Esme lifted her hands, as if telling a wild animal that she meant no harm. "Okay, Edward; I won't take… her from you," she said carefully, and a quick thought went through her mind, wondering if I had lost my sanity while out. She quickly banished the idea, though, returning to her normal nurturing and mothering ways.
Carlisle stepped forward, and I automatically hissed, pulling her closer to my body. His hands lifted, as well, and his thoughts went by so quickly that I almost couldn't catch them. "Edward," he began quietly, finished the question in his thoughts. Are you alright, son?
I rose from the crouch I hadn't even known I'd began, and looked down at my rose to make sure she was alright. I hoped she was fine without water for a few more moments… "I'm perfectly alright, Carlisle; aren't I only acting exactly how you would act if you felt your imprint was threatened?" I questioned, letting him know about the situation.
They were all silent and in shock for a while, watching me carefully.
He can't mean… Jasper thought, though he quickly scanned my emotions directly after that, and – much to his astonishment – he decreed that I felt exactly the same way as all of the others felt when their imprint was close. "Your imprint," Jasper breathed as his eyes widened.
The others realized what he meant right away, and looked at the red rose in my hand. I followed their gaze, and new my face had taken on an adoring quality, as the others were reflecting on it through their thoughts.
"Esme, do you mind if I used the red vase?" I asked, already walking to the kitchen, knowing she would agree.
As I expected, her reply came, though it was slower and riddled with wonder. "Of course, go right ahead."
I smiled, quickly filling the vase in question with water, finding some packages of plant food, as well, and adding that. I placed my beauty in her new home, and took in her lovely fragrance deeply. "Welcome home, love," I whispered to the unhearing plant, before gathering the vase in my hand and returning to my awe-struck family.
Well? Good or bad?
This story is going to be updated – hopefully – every Thursday. For a better look at my schedule, go to my profile.
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