Aufschwung Chapter 1, a twilight fanfic

Title: Aufschwung

Chapter: 1/?

Author: brokentopaz

Summary: What if it was the other way around and Edward was the human and Bella was the vampire? It is said their love could withstand anything, but could it stand a change in circumstance? Set in an earlier time in a vastly different place than today.

Warnings/Spoilers: None to Twilight books. DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns these characters.

Author's Note: Because even I can't leave this idea alone... bear with me please.

Bella POV

It was so very difficult being me. Here I am, living in a town rich with demonic fear, in love with the priest's son, and doomed to never be able to express that love without either killing him or destroying myself. I stand alone in my tower every day between sunrise and sunset, watching the square behind the heavy stones that cast shadows. Below, the children run through the streets laughing at all around them, playing games of vampire and witch, shouting to one another about the things that go bump in the night. How I envy their ease, their ability to play with such dangerous ideas. Then the market, men calling out goods and the wives and maids looking around with their sharp eyes trying to find the best food, the best goods to use in their dinners. The animals pulling carts are straining under the weight, which is only good for the splashing it makes through the muck in the streets. And then the lovers. Those young men and women who have snuck away from the prying eyes of their families to embrace one another. To kiss under the sun in the market, to whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears, to graze hands in an intimate touch... nothing negative can reach them. The burning of my gaze upon the tops of their heads, splashed with hair and entwined fingers, my jealousy at their ability to love openly, or even secretly. Their ability to love freely. Without the severe guilt of wantoness, the desperate desirous lust, the tearing in the heart at being apart... they do not suffer. They only love. I hate all of them.

As I stand alone in my tower and gaze upon the crowd below, it does not slide my attention the three humans that have entered my line of sight in the far left corner of the square, just outside the church. The priest with his gown and adorning jewelry, the priest's young wife, with her caramel hair that is plaited down her back and her dress which is fit for a king's lover, low cut and filled with un-necessary amounts of lace. And him, their oldest son, curly dark hair and pale skin, carrying a goat across the square, his muscles bulging through the thin material of his shirt. He glances around the square eagarly, looking about for a young girl to notice his stregnth and swoon. He spots a small brunette haired girl and looks as if he should go speak to her. I watch carefully, intriuged at what he might do. The girl in question is only nine, and he is in his twenties. Surely he will not want such a child to flirt with. However...

He approaches her and shows her the goat. She smiles and strokes the horns. The man throws a hopeful, sideway glance at the woman not ten feet from himself, a woman who has thick blonde hair and cold blue eyes. Her clothes are from France without a doubt the most recent fashion. Of course. The child was simply to catch the attention of the common whore. I can't help but chuckle at this. He is beyond doubt the only man that would go such legnths for Rosalie Hale, the loosest girl in London. However it works, minutes later, the man has traded a goat for the waist of Rosalie, whom he takes with him to the dark alleyway beyond my sight.

Neither the priest nor his wife seem to notice that their son is missing from the square, and they continue to look around the market for dining materials. Carlisle Cullen, a blonde man who is devoted to the God he preaches, scans the meats as if to choose the best one for the Sunday feast. His wife, Esme, is carrying a basketful of vegetables and fruits. When they finally meet in the center of the square, Esme's arms full of vegetation and Carlisle's filled with meat, they stroll back to the edge of the town from which they came, close enough to graze arms. Their love was absolute, precious to them as it was a gift from God Himself, as Carlisle had described it at church that morning. A church service that was filled those devout to a fearful God, those who believed in punishing all who were different. Carlisle and Esme of course were the head of those ideals. Carlisle had been filled to the brim with those ideas by his father, who had been filled to the brim with those ideas by his father... it was a long line of hate and fear, fueled only by ignorance. It was foolish of me, to love his son, the son that he had most certainly filled to the brim with these ideals, and yet...

The business of the square was calming, some of the merchants were packing away their tables, the sun was setting. Finally, I couldn't help but think. I needed to hunt, desperately. I could smell the meat on the outskirts of the town, their blood pulsating loudly and vibrantly. It was nice when they were well fed.

Just before the last ray of sun had vanished behind the hill, a silhoutte came through the square, stealthily as a thief. His hair was covered by a cap, his body indistinguishable from the cape that draped from his shoulders. He ran quickly and quietly through the square to the last merchant table, where he snatched a strawberry from the basket. When the daughter of the merchant snarled at him, he simply turned his head toward her. After a moment, her eyes glazed over and she nodded, a dumbstruck grin sliding onto her face. The young man's quiet laugh traveled up to my own ears, which perked at the melodic sound. And, just as quick as he had come, he was gone into the woods. The last ray of sunshine disappeared with his departure. I turned on my heel and sprinted out of my tower, and sped like an arrow through the square to the woods. The heartbeats were strong. I could smell the wonderful aroma of carnivores... a wolf pack. Due north.

I ran, keeping my body low to the ground and my face turned to the heavens. The scent was so potent that my limbs were shaking in anticipation. There were at least four of them, one male and three females. None of the females were carrying, and the male was young and spry. It would be a good night. After five or six minutes of tracking, I spotted the youngest female. She was about a year old, her fur pitch black against the darkness of night. Her heart leapt at the sight of me and she took off through the forest. I caught her easily, draining her quickly and tossing the tattered corpse aside.

The sharp choral of howling led me to the other two wolves. The alpha pair, the female protected the male to her death. The blood dripped over my chin as I drained her. The male, young, strong, powerful, and very large came at me with a snarl in his throat. I matched it with a feral growl of my own, advancing myself. We met in the center and his jaw went straight for my neck, futilely attempting to dislodge my air pipe. I let him struggle for a moment, satisfied in his inability to penetrate my skin. Then I raised the back of my hand to his stomach, crushing his ribs against his spine. He fell against the tree, and with a whispered growl attempted to rise again. He struggled and dropped to the ground. I quickly was hovering over him, my lips at his throat, which I snapped quickly and easily. Then I drew his warm blood from his body, draining him until there was no blood left in his veins. That was the time I picked up another scent in the air. This scent was so sweet that I couldn't help but be drawn to it. Honey and sunshine... if it was even possible to smell of sunshine. A hint of the Spanish sweet chocolate and the thick smell of meat within the blood. And vegetation. Another well fed meal. I was nearly breathless from the desire of this blood.

I tracked it. Not that it was far, just around the bushes. Quickly I pushed my prey onto the dew-kissed earth and straddled it's waist, preparing myself for the wonderful feast. I closed my eyes and took a long drag on the scent, allowing myself to lean against the prey until I was laying on top of it, with my open mouth against its beating pulse in the neck. I wanted to take my time, to savor the complete experience of drinking this wine. I paused when timid arms wrapped around my waist. Confused, I pulled myself away from the pulse and looked down at my prey. It was the silhoutte from the square. The cape was draped across the ground and his hat had fallen so it was sitting a few inches above his bronze hair. The hair was thick and framed his angular face with casual finesse. The straight nose was straddled by the piercing green eyes and below them were the high cheekbones that tapered smoothly to his soft, thin mouth. I knew the rest without looking, for this was Edward Cullen, the youngest of the Cullen's, and the soon to be priest that would take over when his father, Carlisle retired. His neck was long and elegant, his shoulders broad and his chest appealing. He had a firm, statue-like torso and long, lean legs. For an instant I reveled in the fact that I was laying against him and his arms were wrapped around my waist, but then I looked into his green eyes.

Looking at Edward Cullen was like falling into a vat of cream. It was hard to move, hard to breathe, and hard to concentrate on anything but the cream. The difference was that it was very difficult to mind looking at Edward Cullen. It certainly wasn't pleasant falling into a vat of cream. Furthermore, the emeralds that were sparkling in a very human way were so soft and smoldering that my entire body felt as if it were on fire. There is hardly ever a fire in a vat of cream.

"I'm so sorry." Edward Cullen said quietly. "I didn't mean to frighten you." his breath fanned across my face. I felt the flames tear at my throat.

"No problem." I said through gritted teeth. I propelled myself away from Edward as quickly as I could, holding my breath and keeping myself from looking at him again. I knew if I were human I would have been so flushed I would have been like a pulsing light.

"My name is Edward." he said as he made a small, polite bow in my direction.

"Bella." I said again. My air supply was running out. I decided that I should cut the conversation short and leave before I did anything I would regret. "I'm terribly sorry for attacking you. I was startled. I shall not do it again, I swear it. Please excuse me." I darted away before anything worse could happen.

End Author's Note: Okay guys I need to know what you think about it. Perhaps a review or two? That would be really nice. (: I'm planning on updating soon, and I think this story will have more direction than my other ones so I won't get writer's block as often or as severe (I'm planning on a hope) but anyway. Perhaps if I don't let it then it won't bother me... if only that worked. Well, reviews are always great.

Until next time,
Brokentopaz