Amor Vincit Omnia
Latin for "Love Conquers All," Amor Vincit Omnia will follow the life of Esme and Carlisle throughout history put forward by Stephanie Meyer.
A continuation of "Bridging The Gap" it will consist of a series of snap-shots through the eyes of Carlisle or Esme.
Following canon of Pre-Twilight and the four novels of The Twilight Saga.
6. Hope For An Angel
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"The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye but found by the heart."
Without waiting any considerable amount of time, my family and I had packed up our belongings and relocated within the week following Royce King II's infamous death. As always, we ensured that all loose ends were tied, and the visible marks of our lives in Rochester and our hasty departure were all wiped clear from the state of New York.
Rosalie had exhibited none of the signs of remorse that both my wife and Edward had done following their first killing of a human. While Esme had stayed beyond repentant for many weeks and months following the killing of that man in the forest fourteen years ago, our flaxen-haired daughter shrugged it off as if it had not happened and fit easily back into the position she had filled among this shocked family structure. While Rosalie was unaffected about the bloody killings of her ex-fiancé and his friends, at whose hands her life had been taken, I could not say the same for my son.
The names and faces of the many victims of my son's rebellious years still haunted my isolated boy. Four years back into this life, he had struggled at first to fit back into the position he had departed from. Yet the "depraved" act from Rosalie, as he saw it, pushed him thoroughly over the limit. Although, as I had initially yearned for, Edward and Rosalie alike had never allowed the other to get any closer than an uncertain sibling bond. Yet, the act approaching three years ago had driven a wedge between the pair. Full of derogatory snorts, sarcastic remarks and icy glares across the room our children's relationship had been tested to the limits - Edward's boundary of forgiveness was a lot more inflexible than was my mate's and mine.
In comparison to the cities we had lived in before, the Midwestern state of Virginia, and particularly where we now found ourselves was extremely sparse. The small hospital, a short drive out of Appalachia itself, was exactly that, small. Empty, in terms of staff and patient rates, the nearby coal industry was the only form of income for most families. The financial world that surrounded my family had plunged rapidly in the years since Rosalie joined us. The failure of the stock markets and banks nationwide had plummeted societies everywhere into unemployment and eventually poverty. With our seemingly endless supply of money, and our overall finite need for material possessions we did not feel the financial pinch ourselves but the effects were everywhere we looked. The barren land reminded us daily that someone's livelihood was missing; the gaunt, lifeless faces of those we lived alongside were dreary reminders of the lives that people were living and the daily struggles most around us suffered through.
The wilderness of the Appalachian Mountains scattered with rare, wild buds of spring flowers that appeared from underneath, what was just frozen grounds, surrounded the house we now resided within. Rosalie had disappeared to hunt yesterday, telling us she would be leaving the state and not to worry - leaving my wife, son and I to remain indoors, as the wickedly cold wind struck the boards of our cottage in the forest.
Esme cuddled closer into my side, emitting a content groan while the silky skin of her feet rubbed gently against my own as the warmth of the comfortable, burning hearth blanketed our cold skin. The air was full of the talented compositions coming from my son's fingers, accompanied by the frequent, huffy scribble of pencil lead on staff paper or eraser shavings hitting the floor, from where he sat a few yards away at his piano.
My lone daughter's scream ripped through the air. My own name sounded wicked, highlighted with pain and fear as it was. Tearing out of my wife's comfortable embrace, I ran straight into the surrounding trees as my wife's and son's rapid footfalls faded into the distance behind me. My bare feet scattered the dry bracken of the ground in different directions as I searched for Rosalie within the carnivorous forest.
Rounding a corner, I came to a standstill at her feet as I heard the remainder of my family do the same only moments later. Rosalie looked at us, her eyes a murky gold - shimmering with tears that would never fall. Teetering back a step, my wife clamped a hand to her mouth, her ever-darkening eyes pleading with Edward who clamped a hand around his mother's upper arm.
In my daughter's thin arms was a gigantic man, clearly weighing three times that of the petite Rosalie. His muscular limbs shook with strength, as did his valiant heart but the paling skin of his face told a different story. The bloody, matted curls that adorned his head hung loosely around a grimace, which caused indentations to each and every plane of his handsome face. His clothes hung from his form in tatters, smeared with dirt and blood, the large gaps in the fabric highlighted freely flowing blood from numerous gashes, as flesh and bone peaked through the cream skin of his legs.
Falling to her knees in mental exhaustion, a broken plea fell from her lips. "Save him," she implored, "for me."
Transferring the man into my arms, I set off back for our cottage. The boy's body hung limp in my arms, as he pillowed his head onto my shoulder - his groans and hisses of pain were muffled into the dark blue fabric of my shirt. His heart thumped irregularly against my chest as I maneuvered the tricky obstacles the forest threw at me, each uneven or jerky movement of mine would result in the boy's warm breath hitching against my exposed neck. After moments of running, my pant leg became saturated in the sanguine liquid that poured, unstoppable from the numerous wounds. Yet, all I was worried about, all I could think about, was getting this unnamed young man to the safety of my home.
When I finally reached the cottage, I placed the boy on our couch, hurrying to my black leather bag. My fingers encountered the plastic needle and vial, which I searched for before running back to the man and administering the morphine into his large bicep. His uneven heartbeats did not slow; neither did his labored, pained breaths when his head slumped against one of Esme's scatter cushions - the deep, dimples of agony not leaving his rotund cheeks.
"Are you sure you want this Rosalie?" I asked quietly towards the front door, where I knew the remainder of my family was standing.
"Yes," came the short, but certain squeak from my daughter. "I have never wanted anything more."
Turning towards the reply, I was shook by the amount of unity that I saw between the three members of my family. My son stood behind his mother and sister. Where I would have expected a grimace or a frown of disdain, instead his lips pulled into a half smile as he stood seemingly content against the doorjamb, nodding when I met his yellow eyes. Rosalie stood in my wife's arms, her feline fingers clasped with her mother's as she looked at me with fragile eyes. I could see the love shimmer within the molten depths when they flickered quickly to the broken man, and then to mine where I saw prayers and pleas issued from within.
Finally, looking into my wife's eyes I knew my mind was made up. Just as our children did, she looked... content. Her golden eyes shined with happiness and love, her plump, luscious cherry lips pulled up at the corners as she tipped her head in agreement.
That was all it took, and so I leaned down beside the unnamed young man. Voicing a silent prayer, the exact same prayer that I had thought three times before, and hopefully never again, I bit into the boy's neck and wrists - smoothing the ragged edges quickly with a lick of my venom.
As I saw Rosalie rush forward to take my place by his head, I staggered back only to land in the arms of my son. Biting down on my marble hand, I shook with bloodlust that I had not experienced many times while my son's hands at my waist kept me steady.
I felt Edward's strong arms disappear, only to be replaced by the soft limbs of my wife. She pressed her smooth forehead to my collar bone as I clung to her, almost painfully tight.
When the tremors of craving had left my system, I looked over at Rosalie. She sat by his head, one of her small hands was engulfed within one of his larger ones, as he thin fingers brushed the dark, damp curls back from his face. Without letting go of my wife, and having her not relinquish her hold on me, we made our way over to the pair. Placing my hand upon his muscular shoulder, I gave a gentle squeeze.
"Welcome to the family, son."
Two Weeks Later,
His name was Emmett, Emmett McCarty. He was a Tennessee boy, born and bred and Rosalie had found him picking a fight with a bear.
Just as Carlisle had done with Edward, Rosalie and I, my daughter had stayed by Emmett's side the entire three and a half days that he burned. Just as Carlisle's eyes were the first that I had encountered upon awakening, the golden eyes of my daughter were the first the young man encountered. His fingers had moved, extremely carefully for his newborn state, and sheer size, to touch Rosalie's cheek after he had opened his eyes. "My angel," were the first words he had uttered in the booming voice we had come to know and love.
Despite his overall size and the mass and number of his muscles, Emmett had an extraordinarily soft heart. His medicine was his humor; he was the piece of all of our lives that we did not know we had been missing. His loud laugh was the accompaniment of Carlisle's composure; his playful nature was the accompaniment of Edward's level-headedness and his weaknesses were Rosalie's strengths. We all had our special place within the integral mesh of the Cullen family, and Emmett had become within a couple of days the glue that held everyone together.
When my husband had changed Rosalie, there was a constant air of carefulness that surrounded his decision. It had been a mistake - yet, a mistake that had brought my mate and I much happiness. While in the same situation as Rosalie, Carlisle brought Emmett into our lives without knowing him, yet it was hard to class Emmett's turning as a shame.
It was hard for me to feel any degree of hate to what I had become after I had been changed, or place any blame on my husband's shoulders. Yet, I knew that both Edward and his sister harbored thoughts that did not follow along those lines. Yet, not once in the eleven days Emmett had been with us had he showed any remorse, nor hatred to the thing he had become. "How bad could it be?" had become his mantra after we had explained everything to him.
The boy had taken to this life with more finesse than we ever had imagined. While Rosalie had initially struggled with understanding the concept of vampires, or looking up to Carlisle and I as parents as Edward did - Emmett did not. He had fit into the position of a second son that neither my husband nor I knew was missing. He had become, to Edward, a big brother. Their relationship was fueled by teasing remarks between the pair, rough housing in the garden and hunts alone. Emmett had brought out the youthful side that had always been buried underneath Edward's levelheadedness and protectiveness to the family.
The biggest change that we had witnessed since the introduction of Emmett McCarty was in that of Rosalie. Rosalie had always fought with who she was; she had always prohibited both Carlisle and Edward getting close to her, understandable when considering how she came to this life. However, Emmett, just as Carlisle was mine, was Rosalie's soul-mate. She had found, in a dying, bloody man, her kindred spirit, she had found her true other half. She had laughed more times than any of us had ever heard her, she had found her true calling with the help of Emmett in restoring both Carlisle's and Edward's cars. Everything about her had changed, and with that the Cullen family had shifted into a new and happier realm.
While Edward still remained mate-less, we were all now able to see the light of hope on the horizon for my first son. Finding an unknown boy buried within the forest had brought naught but life to my family and seemingly for the first time ever, we were complete.