la belle dame sans merci | carlisle cullen

57

Minerva's New Year's resolution, six long months ago, had been to drink more. She'd followed through on that. However, just a fourth of the way through the year, she'd decided to alter it a bit. After the March fiasco, Minerva had made the healing decision that she was not her enemy. Every time a knife had been planted in her back, she had never been its wielder.

She didn't like to play victim, even less did she like to be made one. It was always easier to be the perpetrator. Her dear friend, Carlisle Cullen, put the 'traitor' in perpetrator. Just as she'd told him, there was a gratitude to be found in the betrayal.

She'd mistaken her weariness for growing old. The deep rooted ache in her bones, the loathing for life, it was none to blame for aging. It was the complacency. Mortal motions weren't for the semi-immortal. Carlisle had reminded her of that.

Well, not just Carlisle. Getting the shit beaten out of her by his enemies had helped as well. Her pride had been bruised. In all her years, Minerva had never been on the wrong side of a one sided battle. It kicked her ass in gear.

It wasn't enough to just have the magic. She needed to use it and for something more than making plants grow in the rainiest region of the continent. In her down time, Minerva was putting it to use. Her body and mind needed to be on the same page, everything needed to be sharper— faster. After a decade of depreciation, she couldn't describe herself as sharp anymore.

It hadn't occurred that her edge would dull without persistence at the sharpening stone. Her magic was innate but her ability was far from. It wasn't just a sleeper agent waiting to be activated, it was a version of herself that she'd let fall to the wayside with years of retirement.

The month after her blow out with Carlisle was spent under a pile of anguish. The heaviest of the burden was owed to her old friend but it was the debris that accompanied it ignited a fire. She'd grown soft. Once she started crawling out of the wreckage she'd less than politely asked him to leave her in, she found she couldn't stop.

Even if it was a vow she might not be able to keep, Minerva had solemnly sworn that never again would she be caught slipping. The next fight that came her way would be a fair one, as long as it wasn't one she was picking anyway.

After a long day at work, Minerva fight for her life against enemies of her own conjuring. At times, it was magic versus magic. Others it was a purely physical fight or a dead sprint through the dense woods. She'd gone to work with more than a couple hard to explain bruises but it was worth it. She could feel the change in herself, the lift out of the monotony made her feel like a new person: A different person.

Bella was the only one to notice, given that Minerva didn't make a habit of seeing anyone else. It would have been easy to fire Bella given everything that had transpired but Minerva's soft spot for the girl remained. Even if she didn't know it yet, Bella was in way over her head with the Cullens and Minerva was waiting in the wings for her to realize that.

It was a relatively ordinary Tuesday, rain tapped against the newly replaced front window of Little Leaf. School had just finished for the summer and Bella was itching to be anywhere besides work. It was a pretty easy guess that she wanted to be with Edward.

Minerva would have envied the young love if the other end of it wasn't a century old. She couldn't quite get past that.

"You seem different." Bella stated from the flower wall. It had been quiet for quite some time, the calming rain and the gentle tenor of Bob Dylan had been the only things to break the silence for the last hour.

Though her pen hesitated in its motion, Minerva responded without letting the statement hang for too long. "How do you mean?" She didn't bother looking up.