Tale III : A Charmed Little Princess & Her Prince | PART I

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 13

[PART I : Or Doomsday]

JASPER'S POV

I am aghast, appalled, astounded, and any other word that can be used to describe my utter shock that begins with the letter "a" but, mostly, I am perplexed. How did this happen? How had I let this happen? If you are wondering what the heck I'm talking about, you only need to take a head to toe look at me and you'd instantly understand my current predicament.

Look, peeps, this is a onetime offer I'm about to make so take advantage of it while it lasts and come stare away with me...

Mouth hanging agape and eyes wide as saucers with horror at the sight before me, I groan at my reflection. 'This' is what I'm talking about. As I stare at myself in the full-length mirror of my mother's closet, I can do little but groan in agony. Mainly, because my previous attempts at running and hiding until the circus left town was a downright failure. Partly, because I am a man of my word and once my word is given I do not back down or do take-backs.

My old policy is killing me, I will have you know. I need a new one. Pronto!

Because right now my reflection is a total walking and breathing contradiction, thanks to dear Aunt Alice and her talent for meddling with excellence. Right now, I can't believe I ever had a crush on her. And, before you go off telling me how gross that is, let's clear something up; Aunt Alice is not biologically my aunt in any way or form. Her and my mother do not share a drop of blood between the two. They are 'soul' sisters if you will.

So, enough about my mom and Aunt Alice, let's continue and get back to the unbelievable situation at hand, ME…

Inspection from head to toe. Right. Here goes nothing, and don't say I didn't' warn you. Oh, yes, I dare you to laugh at me. (Death Glare.) Just try it. I've got my eye on you... (Oh, God, I'm gonna hate myself for this and will need years of therapy after!) Ready? Cause I'm not!

(Insert maniacal laughter.)

Ready or not, this is how I currently look:

Head: My hair's faux hawk is currently styled to disarrayed perfection and mostly swept to the side and back, while my undercut was buzzed down by Aunt Alice herself with a one and a half razor. Se even made sure to perfectly clean up and square the lines along my neck for that clean-cut look.

Upper Body: My usual punk rock-ish attire has been put to hang for the afternoon in exchange for... (Cue in the facepalm, slam!) A stiff neck royal blue, long-sleeved jacket with ornamental tassels of steam-punk chain on a Black Bird Epaulette on the left shoulder, featuring a rose gold braided and ornate insignia in a chevron pattern on the shoulders, and accentuating the Lozenge cut of the two onyx jewels along my left shoulder blade.

A rose gold aiguillette consisting of braided loops hangs from my left shoulder and ends in points tied to the fourth middle button on my chest and obscuring the fifth and sixth buttons among the billion other rose gold buttons to match. (Okay, I actually counted and there are 47 buttons total. To be exact: 16 buttons in a row to the left and right side of the chest and another row of 15 buttons down the very middle, intertwined by a complicated design of overlapping loops of rose gold braided hussar.)

Within, I wore a detachable and a wing tip stiff collar cravat in ivory white dupioni silk around it. Next, a genuine leather thin black belt of about two fingers wide was tied around my waist and from it hung a 17th Century Italian rapier sword made of hand-forged high carbon steel blade in its sheath, which made it all come together handsomely. (Aunt Alice's words, not mine.)

So far, I like the sword. I might even ask to keep it as compensation.

Lower Body: Next, we have navy blue pants matching and for some unappealing reason that I can't quite understand, they come together like a flap at the front of my crotch to fasten with a set of six opposing buttons along each hipbone and stop two inches above my navel, but come to just below the knee, fastened along the outer calves by another set of four buttons of the same rose gold.

Legs and Feet: To compliment the 'trousers', I'm sporting knee-high white stockings and 'manly heels' –polished shoes with an ultra-shine to them and rose gold buckles on the straps to complete the Royal look. And did I mention that Aunt Alice threatened me into wearing the crown she brought along with everything else? No? Now I did. It even comes with a matching Princess Crown and everything.

Now do y'all get the reason behind my mortification yet?

Now, folks, this is the end of your invitation to gawk at me.

[CLOSED. No Further Admittance Allowed From This Point Forward.]

Shoo! Else I'll have to stab you with the pointy end of my rapier!

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"Charming, dude," says Emmett, who just arrived.

"Shut-" I nearly get whiplash in my rush to growl and shout at him, set on demanding to be left alone for a while longer. Since he's here now, I can only imagine he's come for one thing and that is to ridicule me some more. 'Cause it would seem the bashing I suffered through at his hand the first time around wasn't enough for him.

Only, he is not smirking the Cheshire cat that ate the canary smile, like I suspected he would be. Instead, he looks bashful, something Emmett is not, unless extreme conditions force him to feel a shred of shame. This alone gives me pause. I take in all of Emmett's five-foot, seven-inch frame and I immediately understand why he's not laughing at me like a hyena.

"I come in peace?" He says and the geek that resides in him sprouts its nerdy head as he salutes the way only a Trekkie would. He can be such a geek sometimes. That's when I finally register what he's wearing.

"Dude..." Brain freeze cued. Much like he did the moment he saw me wearing my ridiculous Prince Charming outfit since I can't help it any more than he could then, I double over and holler with laughter at the ridiculous sight Emmett makes. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"...And then," he grumbles dejectedly, "not so charming."

"Sorry, dude, I didn't mean it," I apologize, trying to suppress another chuckle or hoping to pass it off as a cough. Tough luck.

"It's okay, dude. I know I deserved that. Even if you meant it," he says good-naturedly. "Now I understand how you feel. I shouldn't have laughed at you; I feel terrible and I'm sorry."

So says Emmett, but I can see the telltale signs of that smirk forming again. Emmett will be Emmett in any case. Whether he's laughing at your expense or his own, in this case mine, he is upfront about his feelings and makes them known without preamble. The guy still has stellar humor, simply put, which is part of the reason why I can never stay mad at him for long.

"Sure," I consent. "So, what are you supposed to be and what are you wearing?"

"What does it look like I'm wearing?" he deadpans, cocking a brow.

Looking at him properly, I notice that Emmett is pretty much dressed like me minus the ornate Black Bird Epaulette and some subtle changes to the gold-braided hussar here and there. Only, his inside shirt was twice as frilly if you can imagine, and instead his vest is red, black, and gold. And he has this little cocked hat with a feather stuck to it, front and center, over his combed curls.

"Wait, Emmett... Did you comb your hair?" Like they say in the movie What About Bob? "He never does that". Okay, so maybe it's 'She never says that', but you get my drift.

"Only because I was too shocked," he admits. "Can you believe my own mother threatened me?" I could. This is why you gotta love Aunt Alice. She takes your idea of revenge and executes with astonishing success, better than you ever imagined. The woman is a spitfire.

"As you can now see, I'm supposed to be your most loyal footman," he announces, smiling like his life depends on it, and it probably does, and showcasing those lady-killer dimples of his before attempting a gallant bow that doesn't turn out half as gallant as I'm sure he thought it would. Surprisingly, Emmett sounds convincingly proud, except for that little twitch on the left corner of his mouth that gives him away. Otherwise, I might have bought it.

"I'm so sorry man." And I mean it. "Don't sweat it, man, we are in this together," I say, patting him on the back in a show of comradeship and consolation. "But I'm curious, where on earth did your momma get all... this?" I finally asked, staring down at my costume with some unconcealed contempt and flick at the frills on my shoulder in disgust.

"I have not the slightest idea," he says, scowling at his own attire. "That's my mother for you, always coming through."

Wow... Bitter much? As not to laugh, I bite my tongue.

"She sure is something, that darn Aunt Alice," I agree shamelessly, of course.

He sighs and stands shoulder to shoulder with me in front of the mirror. Staring at our reflections our eyes meet fleetingly and we have to look away from each other with a grimace. This is bad. And wrong. But it borders more on worse than wrong. Either way, I need a Plan Z. Now. Is there anybody out there?

"Man," Emmett groans and bangs his head on the mirror. "I just knew this thing of yours was gonna come bite me in the ass one way or another."

"Uh... Sorry?" Scratch that, he is outright whining now.

"Why the hell do you think I kept this embarrassing juicy piece of information all to myself and kept my trap shut when I could have ruined you?"

"I was wondering about that," I mumble. I should have known.

"So that I wouldn't get caught up in your... whatever this shit is, Jazz," he explains. Not that I asked.

"I see."

"Do you really?" he asks, glaring at my reflection. "'Cause I honestly think you don't."

"Sorry." I really am, this time.

"Is this some kind of social suicide experiment conducting or a dare or a new fetish you're developing, and you forgot to clue me in?" Emmett questions after an awkward silence, his imagination running wilder and wilder by the second. "Cause, you know, I've got your back, right? Regardless of how poor a sportsman you are if that's the case, I'm behind you one hundred percent of the way, Jazz," he adds, growing as excited as a maniac during his monolog. "Just say the word and we can go find those hooligans that threatened you into this, we'll show them together that you and I are no pushovers to be messed with and will kick them three ways into next year if it comes to it."

"Honestly, Emmett," I snort, grinning wide. "What are you? Some mafia Don?" I chuckle. "And man, I know that you've just discovered the dictionary recently, but 'hooligans', like, seriously? You need a new word of the day my man." I say this, but I don't mean it. I know better.

Honestly, sometimes I suspect that Emmett is smarter than our two IQs put together and he's just watering down his intelligence to make things easier on himself and fit the mold everyone keeps imposing on us. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised if he ends up valedictorian of our class, when that time comes. He'd just have to fight me for the title.

But I guess being intimidating in appearance alone has its downfall. Emmett would be a total outcast, for sure, if anyone were to get wind of how intelligent he actually is despite his jock looks. Add intellect to that massive frame he possesses, and Emmett sticks out like a sore thumb. He'd surely be bullied, since he fits the description of a "gentle giant" to a T. That's why he's played it cool all these years and only lets people see him as a buffoon rather than the dorky-ish geek he truly is.

"Or are you just that stupidly honest?" He finally asks, ignoring my totally legit jibe.

"I didn't have a choice," I admit pathetically, in my defense. "The Chief was grueling me and I caved, okay? I think he thought I was a pedophile… And I did make his daughter a promise…" I stare at him dumbly, feeling the itch of a smirk forming as I wait for his response.

"That's what I thought. You seriously need to think before you speak from now on," my cousin advises thoughtfully and a little begrudgingly.

"I can do that." I think.

"Cuz, you know you are my number one bitch, right?" I nod sagely, agreeing. "But, seriously, we've got to corrupt you some more! Beat that honesty out of you." He smirks. I shudder, nearly horrified by his sudden enthusiasm. "Whip you good!"

"Sure, sure, just don't let my momma hear ya talking like that in her house. Remember last time?" I warn. Emmett shudders, eyes widening with the unwanted memory. "Especially not about corrupting her only son."

"We'll just have to see how she holds up against my lady-killer dimples, my ultimate counterattack," he says, wagging his eyebrows suggestively after his swift recovery. I near gag. "I wasn't aware of this powerful tool last time, after all."

"You do realize it's my momma we are talking about, right?" I snort derisively.

My cousin has issues, I tell you.

"Help me think of another counterattack?" Emmett pleads, trying to look like the picture-perfect angel of innocence. Just, don't tell him, but he looks more like a devil. It'll only serve to encourage him. I suppress another laugh. "Common…" he pouts.

"No way man, leave me out of your mastermind plans." When you know you are about to enter willingly into a minefield and you are sure the outcome will be a no-win situation, it's better to quit while you're ahead.

"Party pooper!" he taunts. I punch his arm in protest. "Pooper!"

"No way," I refuse again. "Nothing you say will convince me to change my mind, so stop trying."

"But you're the one that knows her be-e-est, we have got to join forces!" I shake my head. He's incorrigible. "Besides, two thinking, highly functional brains are better than one, right Pinky?"

"You know, Brain, I think we've done enough plotting and corrupting for one day, give it a rest Cuz," I dissuade, putting an arm around his shoulder and making him turn towards the mirror. "Let's stay focused on the now and the catastrophe ahead." I point to the mirror, bringing his attention to our reflection once more. "Like a car crash waiting to happen…"

"Oh, dear God, have mercy," we both groan in unison.

Staring at our reflection in the mirror, we both know we'll need it. We look... I have no words to express how ridiculous we look. There aren't enough words in the English dictionary to describe this atrocity. I give a low, tortured whistle. Emmett scratches the back of his neck and we both grimace at our reflections simultaneously.

"We look... dashing?" Emmett goes for the full swing and fouls. And by the pained look on his face, he knows it. I know I know it. We grimace.

By the time Aunt Alice nearly makes us jump out of our own skins with paralyzing fear, we've sunk so deep into our own painful forms of mental mutilation that neither of us can see a feasible way out of this deplorable debacle. Unless... I am beginning to entertain the merits of death by strangulation or an 'accidental' tripping down the stairs, when—

"Oh, bo-O-o-ys!" chimes Aunt Alice's all too happy, singsong voice with a summons from downstairs. "Are the both of you two ready or do I have to go up there and make you ready myself?"

"NO!" Emmett and I scream, partly in horror and dread at the frightening idea. God forbids! But mainly it is because the woman downright terrifies us when she's in her "let's get down to business and get things done" mode. She cares not about your opinion or if you are a willing participant. In the end, she'll get her way and you won't even know how it happened. "W-w-we're ready! We're ready!"

"Then hurry it up, put it in gear, and get your darling asses down here, before I see to it and get them down here for you!" she bellows threateningly, a near sweet promise, yet merrily so. I shiver at the mere thought and Emmett shudders right along with me. I know then, we are of one mind. We flinch.

"Language, Alice," Momma's disembodied voice warns from somewhere.

"We want to take some pictures before leaving now, hurry!" she adds, ignoring my momma. Now I know where Emmett gets his amazing potty mouth and vocabulary, though I've had my suspicions for a while now. "We can't afford to be late now, can we, Prince Charming? After all, your little Swan Princess awaits."

"Doomsday," Emmett mutters under his breath. Understatement of the year. "Damn it, I really, really hate it when Mom gets like this." I nod, fully agreeing. But it would seem that neither of us is brave enough to be able to make the conscious decision to put one foot in front of the other and move, even an inch, to comply with Aunt Alice's request and get our asses downstairs to face her or her camera as the case might be.

"I'm coming up, you slowpokes…!" The threat hangs ominously in the air for a moment, before it registers, and when we finally make sense of the looming threat that is Aunt Alice, Emmett and I practically trample over each other to be the first to obey and lessen then repercussions of not complying fast enough for her taste.

"NO! Coming!" We holler downstairs and scamper out the door, rubbing shoulders painfully and looking like deer caught in the headlights as we hasten to our doom in a flurry of stiff fabric in red and royal blue with chevron gold-braided hussar, not to mention itchy.

Ready or not, the first part of the show's about to begin.

"You so owe me big time," Emmett breathes as we round the last steps. I say nothing. There's nothing I can really say to make this okay for either of us. I doubt it'll even be remotely gratifying when all is said and done.

"There you are, my boys!" greets Aunt Alice as soon as she spots us, accosting us in the very center of the living room with her big, gray eyes as she takes in our appearance in stride.

"We're here…" I say unenthusiastically.

"Well, let's have a look at you." Taking a step back, she watches us as we walk toward her with a critical eye of trade and fully takes the time to examine the lines and silhouettes of her design, appraising the quality of the materials and how well we the fabric lends itself to unrestrictive movements. After some time, to our immense relief, Aunt Alice seems satisfied with her work and gives it its seal of approval. "Rose, come look!"

"I'll be right there!" Momma sings from the kitchen.

"Oh, how handsome you both look!" she gushes, and we feel like we're about to gag. We scowl instead, but that doesn't seem to deter her in the least. "Come see how handsome they both look, Rose! Rose! Rose, where are you?"

"Oh, how handsome you both look!" she gushes, and we feel like we're about to gag. We scowl instead, but that doesn't seem to deter her in the least. "Come see how handsome they both look, Rose! Rose! Rose, where are you?"

"On my way, Alice…" Immediately, I hear my mother's steady footsteps echoing our way from the kitchen and start hyperventilating, but Emmett elbows me the next second and forces me to inhale a sharp, painful breath of hot air.

"Ow!" Nursing my ribs in protest, I glare at him and give Emmett a curt nod in resentful thanks.

"Don't mention it," he mouths.

There's no trademark smirk when I look at him, only his ears are growing redder and redder by the millisecond, and I know Emmett's just as mortified as I am. As I continue to fidget in place, Aunt Alice approaches and starts fussing over Emmett's costume some more, removing imaginary lint here and there and re-straightening what's already straight to add to his mortification. Regardless of what she does, Emmett won't say anything to stop Aunt Alice, not unless he wants to lose the privilege to use his X-box for a year. No joke, the woman's a savage who won't compromise an inch. It is the Alice way or the Highway.

"Oh, stop your fussing you two, you guys look great," Aunt Alice, admonishes.

"So you've said," I mumble resentfully. You've got to admire how she lies with a straight face, even when it's directed at you, and at five feet, three inches tall to boot.

"I hope you're not disrespecting your aunt, Jasper Hadrian Whitlock."

"No ma'am," I say. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Stand still, Emmett!" Aunt Alice admonishes with a stomp of her tiny, size five foot.

"Mom, stop it, leave me alone, it's fine!" My poor cousin whines, momentarily distracting me from my jitters.

"Don't be such a baby, Emmet McCarty," I hear Aunt Alice tell Emmett with a pout. "I just want my handsome baby boy to look as dashing as possible." Guilt trip, if I ever heard one. "Is that too much to ask?"

Emmett groans in protest as she finally backs away with a pout to drive the guilt straight to the gut.

"Mom, look, I'm sorry…" And it works. "You know I'm not a baby anymore, right? So you seriously need to stop doing stuff like this."

"But you'll always be my baby," Aunt Alice pouts, eyes full of tears that we both know won't fall. Still, they do the trick, like a punch to the heart. Emmett rubs a hand over and down his face in frustration and struggles to find the right words.

"Sure mom," he mumbles, knowing that he's lost the battle. I would be laughing, but then, I'm in the same boat as he is and it isn't nearly as funny when you see things from that perspective.

It's now my turn to elbow Emmett in a 'head's up' gesture as I spy Momma rounding the corner out of my peripheral and manage to do so just in the nick of time.

"Let's see our boys…" says Momma before glancing our way. Standing at attention, I look anywhere but at my mother as she stands before us and I can just see out of the corner of my eye that Emmett is doing much the same. We wait and wait and wait and… Nothing.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I chance a glance at my momma to see why she isn't saying a peep. I gape. Momma's staring at me, biting at her lower lip, and she has this look on her face that I can't decipher, since I've never seen it on her face before... It's like... But that can't be right, because it almost looks like Momma's eyes are full of near brimming tears!

"Momma?" I ask haltingly. Alarmed by Mamma's lack of response, I look to Emmett for answers, but he's already looking at me and my own alarm is mirrored on his face, he is just as clueless as I am.

At that moment, I watch in fascination as Momma's composure begins to falter and waver before my eyes, unraveling until her entire frame starts to shake and she finally snorts and can't hold back, her suppressed giggles turning into outright uncontrollable peals of laughter as she points her index finger between the two of us. Emmett and I glance at each other and scowl.

Of course!

"Hey!" I hear Emmett protest for the both of us, but I can't look at my momma. She's betrayed me.

"Rose!" Aunt Alice protests a beat later. "Be supportive, remember?"

"I know. I'm so sorry, Emmett… Jasper, sweetie, I was trying so hard not to laugh," she apologizes in between chuckles. "I'm sorry, honestly, I just couldn't help it..."

"

I sigh.

"This is all your fault you know?" I accuse, sounding more hurt than I intended. Crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to shield myself from her ridicule, I glare at Momma and begin chewing on the inside of my lower lip furiously until I taste blood.

"I know, baby, and I'm sorry," she apologizes, sobering up once again. "But you can't put all the blame on me, young man. You were the one that made that little girl a promise," she reminds me gently and reaches out for me. "You need to own up to that, my baby."

"I know," I sigh and take a step closer and then another in her proximity. As soon as I'm within arm's length, Momma gives me a bone-crushing hug that leaves me breathless.

"That's my good boy!"

"Whatever," I mumble against her hair, a goofy little smile playing at my lips as she ruffles my immaculately disarrayed hair. Aunt Alice isn't going to like that…

"ROSALIE HALE! Hands off the boy!" Aunt Alice screeches. We jump and Momma has the decency to look slightly guilty. "You're messing up his perfect hair! Do you know how long it took me to get it that perfect?" she further protests. Oh, but I know…

"Oh hush, you, I'm sure some more gel will do the trick just fine," Momma tells her, rolling her eyes.

"Really, Rose, 'more gel'? I can't even look at you right now..."

I smirk, staring at Momma as Aunt Alice disappears out of sight, muttering obscenities under her breath as she goes.

"What?" Momma asks defensively.

"Nothing…" I shrug in answer.

"Aah..." she says, as understanding dawns on her. "Well, don't you be gettin' any ideas young man," she warns. My smile wavers. "Do as I say and not as I do, remember? Just because I do something doesn't mean you should."

"Yes, Momma." I roll my eyes, putting emphasis on the 'yes' and glancing at Emmett so Momma doesn't catch me doing so. Emmett smirks and covers for me.

"So, what do you think, Aunt Rosalie?" Emmett askes, posing this way and that for Momma to see. He wiggles his eyebrows dramatically and Momma chuckles at his antics, whereas I am too ashamed for him to keep looking. "How do we look?"

"You both look handsome?" she supplies. Emmett and I grimace. I give her credit for trying.

"Yeah, right!" we snort, doubtfully. We can't help it, so we don't try and giving in; we start laughing and Momma and Aunt Alice join in on our laughter.

"Okay," momma squirms through fits of giggles, face slightly flushed. "I love you, both of you, but you do look ridiculous in those outfits." Emmett and I hang our heads on cue, earning another few chuckles and fist bump each other. "No offense, Alice. Though, you did do a good job. As always."

"None taken," Aunt Alice, says with a small pout that lasts only a second before she has her camera out, reminding us of the true purpose behind us submitting to this humiliation, and starts taking pictures and asking Emmett and I for all sorts of equally ridiculous princely poses.

After another flurry of candied pictures and some more posing that involved Emmett looking like he was licking my manly heels on his knees in supplication, we are finally on our way and out the door to willingly travel to the truest form of humiliation, death by toddlers.

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By the time the winding road leads us to the main gate of the Chief of Police's residence, my nerves are fried and my stomach is in knots with overeager butterflies clawing all over the place. In other words, I feel sick. And the utter silence in the car as we all take a moment to admire the grandeur before us is not helping.

"Nice," Emmett whistles appreciatively, capturing my attention.

"What?" I ask quietly, feeling too queasy to speak any louder.

In answer, Emmett jerks his head straight ahead. I look again and I am just as impressed as I was five minutes ago. The Swan residence is a sight to behold.

"Yes, who are you here to see?" the gate guard asks politely, the picture of detached interest. Isn't it obvious? I wonder, looking down at the ridiculous costume I'm wearing and then at Emmett's in turn.

Unable to say or think anything else coherent, I take in the view before us and echo Emmett's words. There's a small gathering up ahead but one could tell the party just began and everyone's having fun. We can even hear the quiet hum and thrum of music all the way over here and I wonder if it's live music that is playing...

Distractedly, I feel the vibrations from my cell phone as the alarm I set goes off and fish it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen I see that it is 1:15 p.m., meaning we are fifteen minutes late and the Chief had emphatically asked me to be on time today. Great. Just. Great.

When it rains, it pours... The Chief is going to murder me, I just know it. And he will get away with it.

"Yes, we are here for Isabella Swan's birthday celebration," I distantly hear my mother inform the guard as my ears start to ring as I spiral into a panic attack. "I'm bringing Prince Charming." I can hear her giggle at the words. Of course, the guard is none the wiser, but I am. More seriously, and after the guard's surly look, Momma adds, "We should be on the list under Jasper Whitlock."

"One moment, Ma'am."

"How mortifying..." I groan halfheartedly and shift impatiently in my seat.

The party is going full force and there are children running merrily all over the place, some doing the chasing and others being chased. And in the middle of it all stood a gigantic baby blue and lilac funhouse modeled like a castle, the reason for our 'nice' comment.

In fact, as I see it, I realize that everything is either baby blue and lilac or lavender; from the decorations to the tablecloth. Also, I note that everyone is dressed like a princess or prince with the occasional odd frog or lion thrown in. Go figure.

"Ah, yes, Jasper Whitlock, I do see him on the list. You are right, ma'am, please, go right ahead," says the guard with a degree of warm civility and obvious relief lacing his voice. A moment later he opens the great iron gates to allow us through and I have to force myself to not control, to not shrivel up or shrink inwardly like a turtle, no matter how tempting the idea sounds at the moment. "They've been eagerly expecting you since a little while ago."

"Thank you, Sir. Hope you have a nice day," Momma bids sweetly with a smile that leaves the guard in a daze and Emmett in a grumpy mood as she puts the car into gear, propelling us forward and into the realm of my impending doom and inevitable humiliation...

Trying to distract myself from the woes of my mind, I busy myself with trying to find the birthday girl in the throng of people. Where is Bella? After a while, I locate her sitting underneath a white tarp next to a woman that must be her mother, because they look remarkably alike despite the obvious age difference. Bella is a contradiction, a juxtaposition of all the merriment and frolicking going on around her as she shakes her head at something her mom says and frowns deeply, her lower lip jutting out with a suspicious tremor, looking like she's about to give into a tantrum of immense lung capacity in spite of this being her day and a joyous occasion.

For some odd reason, my heart feels unsettled at the sight of the smiling girl I met just the other day at the mall crying. As if compelled by something, all my jitters evaporate and I find myself speaking before the words fully form in my mind.

"Momma," I hear myself say quietly, urgently. "Stop the car."

"Jasper, what's wrong?" Slightly alarmed, Momma skids the car to a stop.

"Thanks Momma," I say, ignoring her question, opening my door, and swiftly stepping out.

"Jasper, dude, what's—"

"Emmett," I say, silencing him and start walking without a glance behind. "Just get off and come with me!"

"What?" Emmett ask, slightly dumbfounded, but I don't have time to waste on explaining myself to him or my momma. Having said my piece, I run for it and I soon hear Emmett's uncertain footfalls following after me.

"Jasper!" Mamma calls indignantly through the car window as I slide across the hood of our car and hit the ground running on the other side, ignoring everything but the call of this pull that leads to Bella Swan. I don't really wait for Emmett, but I know he doesn't follow immediately, probably remaining behind long enough to appease our mothers.

"Sorry, Aunt Rosalie, I'll go after him!" I hear Emmett say to my momma as I race ahead, running up a small slope that stretches perpendicular to a charming cul-de-sac. Once I'm over the slope, I cross over to the other side of the expanse to where the birthday party is going full force and take a moment to sort out my plan of action in hopes of giving Emmett enough time to follows my lead. "I'm his wingman so, I have to catch up to him or who knows what he'll do!"

"Emmett, don't!" I glance behind at the sound of my momma's voice and watch as Emmett waves at our scowling mothers and turns, making his run for it.

"Just find some parking and we'll see you when you catch up!" Emmett suggests and follows my lead to the T, also sliding across the hood of Momma's car under the glare of her incredulous look. Only, when he reaches the other side, he stops and smiles triumphantly, doing a little victory dance before saying, "I'm really going now!"

"What just happened?!" Mamma demands of no one in particular…

"I haven't got the slightest," responds Aunt Alice, not really caring one way or another. "So, are we finding parking or should I be following the example of those two?"

_________________________________________________

"Jasper!" Emmett pants behind me, finally catching up. "Wait up man!"

"Remember what Aunt Alice told you to say?" I ask him as soon as he reaches my side, having made up my mind, and start walking at a fast pace, which Emmett manages to match.

"You are not serious..." He remembers. I smirk. Good.

"My princess has been crying," I explain matter of fact, innately knowing I'm right. "I think she's been waiting for me to show, but I'm obviously late and now..."

"Shi—" Emmett starts to say, only catching himself as a group of gleeful toddlers squeal by us and their small feet are but a blur of movement as they chase after one another while blowing bubbles that instantly and soundlessly pop out of existence the moment they appear.

"Careful," I say, "you don't want to go corrupting this bunch." Chances are they might corrupt Emmett, really.

"Shoot." That is a start, I smirk meaningfully. "You are serious..." I nod. "You and your mystery Swan Princess are killing me man."

"Sorry?" Nope, I'm not the least bit repentant. "Though, she's not my princess."

"Right." Emmett rolls his eyes at that. "Well, I for one can't take the suspense any longer," he says, rubbing his hands together maliciously and grinning like a maniac. "Let's get this show on the road, so I can hurry up and meet this little princess that's got you all wrapped around her little finger since the moment she singled you out as her Prince Charming!"

"Thanks man." Though, did he really need to add all that?

"What are wingmen for?"

"To serve as my footman?" I jab. However, what I really want to say is… Can I say that they are for cannon fodder?

"Funny." He doesn't know the half of it.

"I try." I point at my little princess, saying, "Look, Emmett, that's today's special little lady."

"Well then, showtime it is..." Emmett announces and clears his throat dramatically, ready for the show.

"Here goes nothing," I mumble under my breath and let Emmett get ahead of me. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and stand tall, realizing that maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Hear ye, hear ye! O gather 'round, young and old!" I hear Emmett say, voice booming like a town crier as he flourishes a scroll from within his vest, ready to read his announcement, and my lip quirks into a sardonic smile as I open my eyes to see everyone staring at a pink eared Emmett, including a very curious Isabella in all her birthday girl glory.

I can almost hear the trumpets… (No, scratch the above realization.)

You can do this Emmett.

"What's going on?" a young boy asks curiously.

"Aye, laddie, behold!" With a deep breath Emmett faces the young boy, focuses on him, and bravely plunges through to say the embarrassing spew of lines his momma suggested he say on our way here. Aunt Alice literally forced Emmett to practice each line ten times or until he had it memorized to perfection and kept him at it under threat of destroying his newest gaming console if he did not comply with a nice attitude.

And that is what Emmett delivers, a perfect introduction for the most Charming of them all...

"Citizens of the Swan Kingdom behold!" he hollers, looking sideways at me with a painful smile. I nod encouragingly. "Whitlock Palace proudly announce 'tis His Majesty, Prince Jasper Charming, on this 13th September the Princess Swan's Day!"

Now my ears are the ones going pink! Next, I feel my cheeks warm as Isabella perks up at the announcement and her little hands shooting up to her mouth in an attempt to hide her gasp. Mortified and ready to have the earth swallow me whole, I smile and valiantly saunter forward.

"God save the Queen!" Emmett finishes, improve, and I have to try very hard not to turn around and clobber him with the scroll he's now putting away as I nearly miss a step and eat grass thanks to his shenanigans. Thankfully, my little princess Isabella is none the wiser to my near blunder.

However, it looks like she's figured out that I'm heading in her direction and shoots up from her seat like she's been electrocuted, panicking. Acutely aware of all this, I focus on Bella, though I want nothing more than to backtrack and hide. Instead, I hold fast to my resolve and determination to see this through to its mortifying end.

"Bella, darling, are you okay?" her mother asks, having witnessed Bella's little episode and rushing over to her daughter's side. Bella's mother is followed closely by a man with an impressive mustache and I instantly suspect he might be the Chief of Police and Bella's father. "Charlie, stop being so useless and say something to your daughter! Do something!"

"Bella, honey…" the Chief tries, too. The two then fuss with growing concern over their awestruck child who continues to pay them no mind, while they each take turns attempting to get her attention to no avail, since Bella is solely focused on my approach. Rather, I take not, she looks like she might be on the verge of short-circuiting and passing out from the shock she just received to her system. Any minute now…

This girl seriously stopped breathing in her eager, singular focus to keep me in her sights at all costs?!

Breathe, I silently beg her, mouthing the words, and continue to walk straight up to her, feeling the eyes of every single partygoer on me, while I keep mine on Bella. Her astonishing eyes are wide with adoration and they are the warmest shade of brown I've ever looked upon and I find myself momentarily unwilling to break the spell that's made me Bella's captive as much as she is mine.

Now that I am but a foot away from her, I hear Bella gasp audibly as she glances up at me and meets my eyes with her fervent ones, straining her little neck to stare into mine. A genuine smile graces my lips at the vision she makes, and I bow, willingly going on one knee before my Little Swan Princess.

"Princess Swan," I begin, gentle and probing, and my voice seems to animate her into some kind of visceral reaction as twin pools of a lovely blush begin to bloom on her cherubic cheeks and she manages to take a few shaky steps in my direction. "Madam Swan, Chief Swan," I greet the flustered parents next with a courteous nod, but my eyes remain steadfast on the spellbound little Swan.

"Prince Charming...?" she mutters shyly and every single one of her friends of the girl variety gasps in surprise. I nod and Bella manages a brilliantly coy smile, and surprises me by curtsying before going back to shuffling excitedly on her feet. Amused, I smile just as brilliantly at her.

"I'm here to accept your cordial invitation to attend your Grand Ball, Princess Swan," I tell her. "I hope I'm not too late and that I am still invited?" With that, I stand and bow yet again, returning her curtsy and wait for a response.

Feeling slightly apprehensive, for some reason, I watch as Bella searches for something within herself and I can almost see her mind working overtime to come up with the right thing. Finally, just when I can't take the suspense and begin to grow slightly impatient with her prolonged silence, Bella shakes her head and decidedly stares up at me again.

"You're right on time," she says sweetly. "Thank you for coming, Prince Jasper Charming!"

Now I see and understand, she'd been looking for the right words to say.

But all these nuances were inconsequential in the face of the little girl that now stood before me, beaming; Bella is smiling, the universe is right once again.