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English
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Published:
2020-08-06
Updated:
2020-08-06
Words:
9,040
Chapters:
5/?
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13
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120
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Swan Song

Summary:

But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof, there is no going back. - Genesis 2:17 (mostly)

Due to the machinations of some blonde witch, twenty-three year-old Isabel Martin finds herself swapping places with none other than Isabella Swan - but this isn't your mother's Twilight, because no matter what everyone else believes, she isn't really Bella Swan. Meeting Elena Gilbert and the Salvatores before she moved to Forks wasn't part of the plan.

And neither was meeting Klaus Mikaelson.

(At least, it wasn't part of HER plan.)

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Was Bella Swan

Chapter Text

But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou  eatest  thereof, there is no going back. - Genesis 2:17 (mostly)  

Isabel Martin shut the door to her one-bedroom apartment behind her and sighed. Work had felt horrifically long today.  It's not that her job was overly difficult, per se; being an administrative assistant was  pretty straightforward  most of the time. It was just that today was their annual summer barbecue, and so she'd had to mingle with all of her coworkers and the company's board members and see them with their families and their children and pretend that it didn't bother her that, for all intents and purposes, she was alone.  

Kicking off her wedge heels, the twenty-three-year-old made her way into the kitchen and checked her answering machine. No messages. Not that she'd expected any. Her father – only in name, of course – was off with wife number four, and she hadn’t spoken to dear old dad in six years. That certainly wasn’t going to change now.  

Thoroughly depressed,  Isabel wrenched open the fridge door and began poking through its contents, looking for something to eat that wasn't a kale salad.  God, I need to grocery shop.  

Hmm. Not bad.”  

A warm, slightly-lilted feminine voice had sounded from directly behind her. Isabel whirled around, ready to toss her ranch dressing at whomever had broken into her apartment.  

The voice belonged to a tall- ish , slender blonde woman who was currently studying the (few) pictures decorating her mantle. “Who are you?” Isabel brandished the ranch bottle above her head, just in case the stranger got any closer.  

The woman completely ignored her. Instead, she continued to hum, gazing at the photographs of Isabel and her grandmother. “Who is the  woman  in these portraits?”  

Isabel frowned, her hand lowering slightly. “My  mom .”  

“How long has she been dead?”  

“Twenty years, but that doesn’t answer my question. Who are you, and, also, what the hell are you doing in my apartment?”  

Huffing, the woman turned to face Isabel. She cocked her head to the side, her blue eyes running over Isabel’s stationary form. “Your future sister-in-law, should everything work out,” the woman replied calmly,  a small smile appearing on her face.  

Shutting her eyes, Isabel shook her head back and forth, tossing the salad dressing behind her onto the kitchen counter. “ This is some sort of mistake -”  

“I make no mistakes,” the woman replied firmly. Isabel opened her eyes in time to see the woman walk towards her. “There is only one match, and you’re it. Yes,” she murmured, coming to a stop in front of Isabel, “ you’re it.”  

“That’s it, I’m calling the police.” Isabel reached for her cell-phone, but the woman grasped hold of her wrist, abruptly stopping the movement. And just as their skin touched, a warm glow seemed to emanate from the woman. Gasping, Isabel tried to break-out of the woman’s hold, but to no avail.   

The woman began to chant, and the world exploded in a flash of light.  

--  

Isabel came to with a start.   

Blinking rapidly, she quickly discerned a few things. She was currently lying down in a queen-sized bed that was covered with a mound of multicolored blankets. The room around her was a pale mint green, and faint sunlight was shining through the thin white drapes covering the only window in the room.   

Groaning, Isabel ran her hands across the topmost blanket, and felt a small piece of paper touch her fingers . Frowning, Isabel rolled onto her side. A small letter was sitting on the pillow next to her, the name  Isabella  artfully drawn on the envelope. Grasping hold of the paper with shaking fingers, she quickly tore open the envelope and pulled out a rather long looking handwritten letter.  

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure where to begin,  the letter started.  If you’re reading this, it’s because – well, it’s because you’ve taken my place. No, Bella, that sounds horrifying. Ugh, why is this so difficult? Okay, let’s start over. My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and you are living my life.  

Isabella Marie Swan,” Isabel murmured slowly. “Isabella Marie  Swa  -” The realization thudded into her. “No, what? No. That’s not possible, no, no -”  

A ringing sound tore through her panic attack. Isabel looked over her shoulder to find a glowing iPhone buzzing on the nightstand. Reaching over, Isabel accepted the call and raised it to her ear.   

"You're finally awake!" A cheery voice sang through the phone. "Phil and I have been calling for hours!"  

Isabel froze.  Phil and I? Who's – Phil. RENEE.  She clapped her hand over her mouth, muffling a scream.  

“Bella? Bella, sweetheart, are you there?”  

She shut her eyes, focusing on breathing.  Answer. You have to answer . "Sorry," she muttered out, clearing her throat. “I just woke up.”  

"No worries, Bella. I just wanted to let you know that we'll be home around lunchtime. The meeting with the Nationals went amazing this morning, so we have all kinds of news! Speaking of, have you made up your mind yet about this summer?"  

"Uh no, not yet,” Isabel replied slowly.   

"Oh." Renee's voice became more somber. "Well, we need to know by tonight, okay?"  

"Yeah, definitely."  

"Okay then. See you soon, sweetheart!”  

The call disconnected before Isabel could respond, which was probably for the best.  

Moaning, Isabel dropped her head into her hands and began to massage her temples.  " This can’t be happening.” Her eyes caught sight of the letter in her lap. Sighing, she reached down, took it in her hands once again, and began to read.  

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and you are living my life.  

And before you freak out, no, this isn’t an invasion of the body snatchers sort of thing. This is – well, it’s hard to explain, but I’ll give it my best shot.  

So, a few months ago, Renee took me to this Wiccan store in New Orleans. She’s been going through a bit of a spiritualism kick, and, well, I had nothing better to do. And she was really, really trying to make more of an effort – but I’ll explain that part later.  

Anyways, I went to this Wiccan store with Renee, and before I knew it, she ran off to get her tarot cards read or something. She left me alone in the store, which, I’m pretty used to, to be honest, but I met someone. Her name is Freya, and she’s the reason you’re here.  

We talked for a while and agreed to get coffee the next day. Long story short, she’d found a way to grant people their best shot at happiness. It’s not   a wish-fulfillment spell or anything like that; it’s more like an adjustment in the Fates’ design. The downside is this: that in order to do this magic, the person who the spell is casted on has to have a sympathetic match in a different dimension. You can’t rewrite Fate in your own dimension. The only way to do so is to have an outsider rewrite it for you. She said that she was looking to cast the spell, and wanted someone to try it out on. I practically begged her to use me.  

Here’s the part of the letter where I tell you why. God, how to do this without sounding awful? I guess – I've never really felt like I belong here. Charlie and Renee –  my  your  parents – they were  really young  when I was born. Practically kids. They had no clue how to raise a daughter, let alone take care of themselves. So, I spent most of my childhood being bounced around, being the unwanted child. And I think I’d continue being that child, to Renee at least, if it wasn’t for Phil. He walked into our lives about six months ago, and ever since he showed up, Renee’s - well, she’s different. More settled. And Phil sat me down after a few weeks and said that he knows what I’ve been through – he had a difficult childhood too – but to turn over another leaf and give Renee a chance.   

The thing is, I can’t. I’ve spent  almost seventeen  years on this planet just wanting to be on my own, to be as far away from this family that’s never really felt like a family as possible. Freya said I was an independent soul. Who’d have thought that the first person to really, truly know me would be a witch?  

In any case, I explained my situation to her, and she agreed to use me as her guinea pig of sorts, with the understanding that once the spell has been cast, I can never come back. I thought about it for a few weeks, but it wasn’t that hard of a decision to make. I want a different life.  

And that’s where you come in. The final step of the process was to cast a  l ocation  s pell, which would take Freya to the person who would best fit in my place. To the person who wanted a different life, different circumstances, just as much as I did.  

That spell took her straight to you.  

This is why you’re here. And, before you protest, she wouldn’t have actually taken you if you truly wanted to stay in your world. She would have tried again, hoping to find a different dimension. But, being  the witch  she is, she would have known the moment she saw you whether or not this was your best shot too. Your best shot at a long, happy life.  

Now, if you’re wondering what Charlie and Phil and Renee will think, they won’t suspect a thing. To them, you  are  Isabella Marie Swan, born on October 13, 2000. You’re almost  seventeen , still undecided about whether or not you want to travel with Phil’s baseball team or go to Forks for the summer, and – hopefully – you're as enthusiastic about your new life as I am about mine.  

We’ll never meet. By the time you read this I'll be waking up in your world, wherever that is. But I just wanted to say thank you. It’s because of you that I’ll have my best shot at a happy life. And  somehow, this is yours. So, please, be happy, and don’t waste this. I know I won’t.  

Good luck, girl. We’ll both need it.  

Sincerely, The-Girl-Formerly-Known-As-Bella-Swan