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The Joys of Fanfiction

Summary:
Emmett discovers fanfiction, much to Edward's annoyance. Need I say more? Jasper's POV.


Notes:
Stephenie Meyer owns all that you recognize in the story that follows! No copyright infringement is intended.


7. All Hail Princess Edward

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 1047   Review this Chapter

My brother rotated slowly on the spot, his eyes tightly shut, his face screwed up. The rose petal fell to the ground. I'd say that he looked constipated, were it not for the fact that that is scientifically impossible.

I stepped out of the house and into the backyard, closely shadowed by a waddling (the prosthetic belly was heavy--well, at least for a human) Bella. I wasn't going to miss this for anything.

"Open your eyes, Emmett." This time, Edward's laugh was chill; humorless. Terrifying for Emmett, hilarious for me. "And no, you're not dreaming. Need I remind you that as a vampire, you can't technically do that?" He made a tsk-ing noise with his tongue. "Yes, this is real. Realer than the empty space in your head. Realer than that heart-covered undershirt of yours that you love so much. Realer than the stash of Hello Kitty paraphernalia beneath your bed. Realer than . . . "All of this was unscripted, but it sounded as though Edward had been wanting to reveal it all for a very long time. The relish in his voice was undisguised. I raised my eyebrows as Edward continued to detail Emmett's most embarrassing secrets. Impressive.

"Oh, just cut to the chase, Edward." Rosalie, still decked out in her Darth-clone outfit, was leaning against a tree, filing her nails (not an easy task, that--her nails were rock-hard, like all her other limbs). None of Edward's scandalous reveals about her husband seemed to surprise her in the least.

"Yeah, hurry up, will you? I'm still really hungry," Bella chimed in. She was sitting on the lawn grass in a lotus position, practicing Lamaze breathing. She seemed to be taking her role-playing very seriously.

Of course, the merest suggestion that his Bella was uncomfortable was enough to bring Edward back to the Plan. "All right, all right."

Emmett hadn't made a single motion--hadn't even batted an eyelash, in fact--from the beginning of this entire debacle. His eyes were still firmly shut, and the denial radiating from him was stifling. "You heard me, Emmett." Edward's tone was dangerously soft. "Open. Your. Eyes."

Emmett clearly had no choice in the matter, and so he did as he was told.

And then he fell to the ground, convulsed--no, paralyzed--by a spasm of mingled horror, hilarity, and disbelief. The former was the strongest of the three, though.

His eyes, bulging like those of a tree frog, raked Edward's appearance up and down. He didn't make a sound.

I think that his terror was too deep for mere screaming.

My gaze followed Emmett's, and quite frankly, I could understand a small portion of that fear. Alice had taken my example of the Prom Queen Barbie doll quite literally in designing Edward's costume. He was all fluffy pink tulle and glittering gems--or maybe the sparkling was the effect of the sun reflecting off his heavily-made-up face.

All in all, I had to admit that he made a very pretty girl. And in truth, he was, by far, the most ridiculous-looking of all of us, even including hula-skirted me.

Of course he heard that. I groaned inwardly as his head whipped around, his nostrils flared and his silky extensions waving gently in the afternoon breeze. His shadowed eyes bore into mine. In a good way, I hastily amended, IN A GOOD WAY!

Only slightly mollified, he, thankfully, returned his attention back to the Root of All Evil.

It all made a very pretty tableau, really. Her Royal Highness--cough, cough--stood in the middle of the clearing, illuminated by a ray of sunlight so directly overhead that it was almost a spotlight, flanked by his "attendants": Alice-the-werewolf at his right hand-side (holding the rosebush that had so generously bestowed one of its fair petals on Emmett); Rosalie-the-anti-Jedi on his left (still engaged in the fascinating rituals of nail care); and Esme directly behind the Princess (outfitted in a sort of pseudo-medieval gown ; it looked as though they'd had a sale at the Halloween store; gingerly grasping the hem of Edward's long train).

Of course, the whole scene was irreparably marred by Emmett's very presence.

The screen door swung open with a delicate swoosh, and Carlisle, once again, appeared as though out of thin air.

Yes, it's a vampire thing.

He appeared to have traded in his scrubs for a medieval outfit like Esme's, although his consisted of a doublet, a cape, and--oh, horror of horrors--a pair of lurid red rights, rather than a dress.

Someone'd clearly been spending FAR too much time with the Volturi.

He strode past ommmmm-ing Bella and groveling Emmett to stand by Edward's side, and, after a gracious nod from the latter, pulled a very ancient-looking scroll of parchment from between the pages of his copy of Vogue. After much clearing of the throat and rustling of the parchment, the doctor opened his mouth to speak.

"Hear ye, hear ye . . ." he proclaimed, his posh accent morphed into something nasal, high-pitched, and altogether more snooty. "All Hail Princess Edward."

"All hail," we dutifully echoed in a cheerless monotone.

"On this day, there be hereby called a court of High Justice, specifically formed for the trial of one Emmett Cullen . . ." The before-mentioned visibly paled. Anguish. Ah, lovely.

"Charged of the following offenses and misdemeanors: libel, slander, and disturbance of the peace. The accused shall swear the following oath to truth." Carlisle was a master of keeping a straight face in trying situations such as this one. I wasn't.

"Raise your right hand . . ."

Emmett raised his left, dazed. I sighed patiently and helped him switch.

"Repeat after me." It was a solemn order. Alice spontaneously threw a handful of rose petals in the air to punctuate the momentous moment. Dancing on the wind, a truant petal landed directly on Edward's lower lip.

And stuck there.

Lipgloss. Edward sputtered and spat, unsuccessfully trying to blow the blossom away, until Esme stepped forward and brushed it off in one deft motion.

Edward's livid face dared me to laugh.

Having waited patiently throughout this interruption, Carlisle cleared his throat again and sternly reiterated his injunction. "Repeat after me . . ."

Emmett nodded weakly.

Carlisle's face contorted for one brief moment before he read the next sentence aloud.

"Edward is a pretty pretty princess."