The Egyptian Coven's Reaction When Carlisle Asked For Help :

The egyptian coven's reaction when Carlisle asked for help :

A Sunlit Sky (a BellaxJacob Tangled AU!): Chapter One

word count: 2046!

beta read by my bestie @twilightreformation <3

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(Aster Wolffe is Jacob, Caretaker is Edward!)

The sun broke through Bella Swan’s window, shining through her tulle curtains. It shone onto an empty, perfectly made bed; the owner of the aforementioned bed had been up for hours. She was currently suspended high above her bed and floor by her own hair. She held a paintbrush in her teeth, and a few more in her hand. She was painting an intricate design on her almost-covered walls. Her brows scrunched in concentration.

Pulling the paintbrush from her teeth, Bella ran it over a penciled flower, covering the flower in a brilliant gold. Gold was one of Bella’s favorite colors, right up there with green and brown. This particular shade of gold was hard to procure, but was a beautiful sight in the noon-time sun.

Once happy with her flower, Bella tugged lightly at her hair, upon which she was suspended. Her hair stretched into the rafters of the ceiling above, going up, and up, and up, and up… she tugged once more, her hair released, and she fell gracefully to the floor below, setting her paintbrushes down upon the ground. She glanced at the window, and gave a weary sigh.

Eighteen long, long, long years in this tower of hers. Time was both everything and nothing to a girl like her. She counted the minutes as they ticked by, but had nothing to count for. Nothing to look forward to. Not that this prevented her.

She hummed softly to herself, an old song her Caretaker had taught her. An ancient, hymn-like song, that he claimed used to be sung in praise to the old goddess of the sun. It was hard to tell whether or not this was a story made up to entertain her; the Caretaker looked confident when telling the wildest fairytale or the most boring bit of history. It was hard to tell when he lied. Not that her Caretaker would lie to her.

Bella had been provided with all sorts of luxuries she was lucky to have; so the Caretaker said. Food, books, paint. More paint. Lots and lots and lots and lots—

“Flower, gleam, and glow…” Bella hummed softly, pulling a bowl down and putting ingredients in it slowly. The Caretaker liked to have food to come back to. Though he never ate it… maybe he didn’t like her food. Ah, well.

Making breakfast took approximately seventeen minutes, at which point she put her muffins in the brick oven and walked away, pulling her hair after her. Bella’s hair had a few unique qualities: it glowed and had healing abilities, it was brown but would turn gold in direct sunlight and when she sang, and it never got tangled or dirty.

Bella ran around the tower, sweeping up dust and paint and more dust and fallen hair. Not her hair; the Caretaker’s red hair. Her hair would not fall. She didn’t shed. She pulled her muffins from the oven, brushed out her hair for about fifty three minutes, and wandered about some more.

Life in the tower was boring, but that was okay. At least she was safe.

Aster Wolffe, cunning thief, dashing rogue, and popular with the ladies, slammed into the brick roof of a building. A very particular building; the palace of Corona, to be exact. He grinned, continuing on, and glanced out. At the sunrise. The sky bled a thousand colors, pastel and beautiful. He stared, stopping in his tracks.

“I could get used to a view like this,” he murmured aloud, and heard a scoff. He shifted his stance, leaning on the roof, cocking his head. “Guys. I want a castle.”

“Get your own castle, pretty boy,” muttered one of his compatriots, Jasper. “Help us get the crown first.”

“Awww,” exclaimed Aster, spinning around and placing a hand over his heart. Emmett’s left eye ticked. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Get the crown,” snapped Emmett, and Jasper held up the rope.

So Aster was lowered through a hole in the roof, down below to where the crown was displayed. How Jasper, a lean, tall man, was able to lower him, a beefy, tall man, he didn’t know. He didn’t bother asking; the Brute Brothers didn’t talk easily.

The crown sat on a podium of sorts, unchained, on a single velvet pillow. Forming a semi-circle were fifteen guards, all of whom were facing towards the door. Aster landed, lithe as a cat, and plucked the crown from the podium. He hooked it onto his wrist like a bracelet, fastening it to the loop on his sleeve. He looked at the guards again, raising a brow.

One sneezed.

“Gesundheit.”

“Thanks.” The guard sniffed, shaking himself slightly, and stood at attention. The others didn’t budge.

“Hay fever?” Aster tugged at the rope, and was hauled upwards.

“Yeah, I—hey. Hey, wait!”

Aster grinned and landed on the roof. He held up the crown, unfastening it and putting it in his pocket, and took off at a run. The brothers ran after him.

“This is gonna be a great day!”

“Great day, today.”

Bella sat at her table, alone, picking at one of her muffins. The Caretaker was due to be home soon. She pulled her muffin clean in half, and pulled the half into a quarter, and the quarter into an eighth. The eighth fell on her plate, slumping uselessly. Bella stared at it blankly, and stood, walking in a circle.

“Flower!”

Bella crossed to the window and looked out. There stood the Caretaker. He waved at her. Bella slung her hair across the hook and dropped it. Once the Caretaker had grabbed hold, she began to haul him up. A distinctive sting ran across her scalp, but her hair did not tear out. It never would.

“Good morning, flower,” said the Caretaker, releasing her hair. Bella wound it back to herself. “How’s the day been?”

“Monotonous.” Bella crossed her arms, looking at the Caretaker. He looked the same as always; like a seventeen year old redhead boy.

The Caretaker smiled. He had learned to take Bella’s commentary in stride. He pulled a basket from his cloak, setting it on the table, and took a long drink from the metal flask he always carried. Bella watched him like one enraptured.

“So,” she began, licking her lips, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away, petal.”

Bella tried to smile, but suspected it came as more of a grimace. “Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday.”

The Caretaker’s eyes, golden as the tides, gleamed. “So it is.”

“I wanted to go see the lights.”

The Caretaker raised one eyebrow. He watched Bella, maybe expecting more. Bella did not say more. The Caretaker shook his head, sighing as he rose, and adjusted the clasp of his cloak. Bella’s eyes darted to it. The clasp was some sort of opal, smooth and polished. It was a white gemstone, and it often seemed to glow in the moonlight.

“The stars?” The Caretaker prompted in a soft voice, like Bella was an animal he did not want to frighten. He stepped towards her, separating a few locks of her hair and running his fingers through them. “You know how dangerous it is.”

“Not the stars. The lights.” Bella turned on her heel and marched to the empty fireplace, yanking the curtain string. She pointed at her illustration of the lights imperiously. “The lights that go into the sky on my birthday. I know how stars work, Caretaker, and stars are constant. People use them to navigate. If you use these to navigate, you’ll navigate yourself off a cliff.”

The Caretaker chuckled, shaking his head. “You aren’t to leave the tower, Bella. You know that. You know what’s out there. Ruffians—”

“Ruffians,” Bella interrupted, parroting what she’d heard a thousand times, “thugs, poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals, snakes, the plague, large bugs, men with pointy teeth—”

“You’re too young, my flower. Too naive.” The Caretaker was by her side in an instant. “Anything else you want?”

Bella sighed, closing her eyes, and shook her head. The—no, her Caretaker chuckled, and kissed the crown of her head, before he turned to leave.

“I’ll make hazelnut soup tonight, yeah? Your favorite?”

“Sure, Caretaker.”

There was a pause. Bella opened her eyes. Her Caretaker watched her, and broke into a smile.

“You’re nearly an adult, flower. It’s high time you call me by my name.”

Bella watched him a moment longer. “If you want, Edward.”

“That’s my girl.”

And he was gone.

“They can’t ever get my fucking nose right!”

Jasper shot Aster a death glare. Aster jabbed a finger at his wanted poster, which, while devilishly handsome, much like himself, had the completely wrong nose. He glared at it. Jasper sighed, and it came out mingled with a snarl.

“Let’s go, Wolffe,” snapped Emmett, gesturing.

“Fine.” Aster glanced at the brothers’s posters. “You guys look amazing, of course. They even got that weird fuc—”

A horn blew in the distance, and Aster looked up sharply. Jasper swore under his breath, and Aster took off at a run. The forest was… forest-like. Forest-y. Forest…esque? Damn, Aster needed a nap. The palace guards had horses, and the three of them had, well, feet. Weee.

Aster skidded to a halt, grinding his heels into the stone below, and looked up. He’d run himself into a—canyon? A small cliff stood before him. Aster huffed, spinning around. He pointed at Emmett.

“Give me a boost, and I’ll pull you up.”

Emmett raised both eyebrows. Jasper rolled his eyes, held out a hand, and said, “Give us the satchel.”

Aster gasped dramatically, taking a step back and clutching the satchel. Jasper’s fingers curved, resembling claws. Aster stared at him and threw a hand over his heart.

“I can not believe—” hoofbeats in the distance, they’d soon be caught—“after all we’ve been through—” the hoofbeats were louder, they couldn’t be far—“you still don’t trust me?”

Jasper did not look apologetic. Aster looked from his hand to him, huffed, and dropped the satchel in his hand. Jasper gestured to Emmett, who walked to the cliff.

After a remarkably slow climb up the two brothers—during which Aster stole back his satchel—Aster was up. He huffed, popping his neck.

“Help us up, pretty boy,” he said flatly, though Aster saw him twitch. He must have heard the horses.

“Oof, sorry,” Aster smiled, tossing the satchel out and catching it on the end of his finger. Jasper’s eyes widened, one hand flying to his side, where the satchel had sat. “My hands are full.” And with that, he was off.

Jasper’s scream of “WOLFFE!” could probably be heard for miles. Aster laughed, and took off running again. Another horse was following him, though it sounded like just one. He kept running, till he came to the edge of a real cliff. Who knew this kingdom had so many f—

“Wolffe!”

Aster, seeing a branch, promptly just—lowered himself down the cliff till he met the branch, and held onto it for dear life. For some reason, the horse followed him. He stared at the horse in some mixture of shock, awe, and confusion. The horse landed on the branch, which promptly snapped, dropping them both into the foggy abyss below.

Apparently it wasn’t that long a drop. Aster landed on his back, dazed, and scrambled to his feet, running inside a nearby cave with a curtain of vines. He backed into the shadows, hearing the horse snuffle around. That thing would not give up. Aster backed away further, almost falling through the curtain. He blinked in surprise; he’d thought the curtain covered solid rock. The horse snuffled ever closer, and Aster ducked away, spinning around.

There stood a tower. Aster stared at it, and, on an impulse, took off towards it, finding arrows in his satchel. Man, he needed to clean that thing out. He hadn’t shot a bow in…

…but that didn’t matter. He produced two arrows, and used them to haul himself up the stone tower.

Up…

And up…

And up…

He kicked the window in, leaping inside and landing on his feet and one hand. He straightened, shaking himself out, and patted his satchel, ensuring it was there. He grinned, pleased with himself, and—

—was knocked out by a frying pan to the head.

hiya! thanks so much for reading!! i hope you liked it <3 feedback is appreciated

Alec & Jane moodboard

I’m not a big Twilight fan, but when I was 9 I remember my first conflict was looking at my friends fighting over Edward and Jacob VIOLENTLY and me on the side, kind of embarrassed, trying to find a way to tell them I liked Aro better. Aro turns to me and says “You have an useful paranormal gift, wanna join?” and he doesn’t even have to finish THE SENTENCE, I’VE PACKED MY BAGS. Italy here I go bitch. The Volturi have such nice aesthetic and like, how Evil are they really? If you read their “rules” it’s all like “Oh, don’t go near humans” “Oh, uh, maybe hunt low key” like all common sense shit that’s not even THAT bad, it just makes SENSE. Of course you could ARGUE that their family structure is all emotional manipulation, and the reason why they don’t leave is that they are compulsively attached to one another – and you’d be right, but also they have someone to make you feel as if you are happy with that ALL THE TIME and honestly? I’ll take it. Sign me up.

Carlisle : Stefan! Vladimir! It's nice to see you two.

Stefan : You poor thing. What kind of life do you have...

Vladimir :...if seeing us brings you joy?