A/N: Hello My apologizes for not writing for almost a month now. I've been extremely busy, but I have this story and possibly a one-shot coming up. ;)

Rating: T for language

Summary: Esme Platt is a 26 year old German woman who has been sent to America for an arranged marriage to an American man to Carlisle Cullen. What problems will arise? Will they ever fall in love?

POV: First person, Esme Platt

Disclaimer: I do not own The Twilight Saga or Sweetland.

Sweetland – Chapter 1

I sat quietly in the small Ford Model T, watching the plains go by as we drove steadily on the brown dirt road. I have always found nature beautiful, even as a young child. I would always rush to finish the complicated homework my teacher had given me that school day to play outside with my younger siblings; it was my favorite part of the day. My mother would scold us as we walked inside the comfort of our small house with our shoes covered in mud and get the freshly cleaned carpet dirty. My father would just shake his head and laugh. I miss them.

My name is Esme Anne Platt, and I'm 26 years old. I was born in Germany, and lived there happily for my entire life up until this point. Everything started to change there. People would glare at us; I've even gotten spat in the face, simply because of my race. My homeland was at war with others, and we were the ones to blame. Just as I was about to leave for good, my mother gave me a letter from the government, saying that I would have an arranged marriage with an American man.

I sighed softly as I turned on the faucet and took out the dishwasher soap. It was Friday, meaning it was my turn of the week to wash the dishes and basically clean the entire house. I was just thankful that the house was small, and wasn't like most houses that were expensive and too large for my taste.

As I started to clean a green coffee mug, my mother walked up to me rather faster than normal. Her auburn hair was in enormous curlers wrapped in a white thin towel, and she wore a pink nightgown that reached the end of her well red nail-polished toes. She gestured for me to dry off my hands and come quickly to the sitting room, where my other relatives were waiting patiently for me. With a confused look, I did what I was told and walked nervously behind her, sitting next to my younger brother named Tommy who had a smile so large that I thought it would break his teeth.

My mother handed me a letter. Before I even had it in my hands, I recognized the seal of the German government. My parents sometimes got letters similar to my own, except it was for the morgue that was due on the house. Was I in trouble with the law? Did I have a house that I never even knew about? As I opened the letter with shaky hands, my gasp was heard around the room.

Dear Ms. Platt,

With the agreement of your parents and the government, we have officially declared for you to have an arranged marriage with a man across the world by the name of Carlisle Cullen. He lives in the United States of America, and we expect you to travel and live with him until the day you die. As a woman, you have no choice in the matter and must do as you are told.

Your parents will give you a total of $10,000 to spend to get there. You must use this money wisely, as if you run out, it will be on you. You should have enough left to freely spend it as you wish. Once you arrive in America, you will arrive in Columbus, Ohio and will be driven to a church by the name of Hillview Baptist Church. A man will be there to collect $200 from you, most of the money will go to the tutor who will teach you how to speak English. Another two men will be waiting, one of them Mr. Cullen.

You will be driven to the location of his choice for the two of you to be wed. He also expects you to be properly dressed for the traditional American wedding. Absolutely no German traditions are allowed. Fate after that will be decided by the newlywed couple.

Good luck.

Sincerely,

The German Government

I couldn't believe my eyes what I was reading. I knew that it was hard for me to find a man who wanted to marry me, but I didn't know that my parents had sent a request for an arranged marriage. I had begged them to give me until the age of 30 to find a good husband, but I guess they got impatient. I could glare at them and whisper not so lady-like words under my breath.

My father gave me a large pound of money, assuming that it was the money I was to be given. I quickly ran upstairs, with the bag in my right hand, the crumpled up letter in my left, to my room and began to pack my suitcase. I decided to only take one, and pack only the things I would absolutely need, I packed my clothes, a large recorder, and a couple pictures of myself and my family; a family portrait and a picture of my teenage self-next to my horse that I would miss dearly.

Here I was now, pulling up to the old church and being directed into the small room.

Once I was inside the room, I saw that it wasn't small at all. It held hundreds of people, half of them standing and half of them sitting on the wooden benches attached to the tile floor. I noticed that all of the people sitting were women, dressed in expensive gowns, like they're preparing for a fancy event. Each of them had a suitcase or two, and some were talking to the men standing.

I sat next to the nearest seat, and dropped the heavy carriage that I brought softly to the ground with a sigh of relief. I immediately noticed that a young woman was sitting next to me. I stood to find another open seat, but she pulled my elbow down gently, forcing me to sit down again.

I pulled out a small brown leather book that I was given to as soon as I landed on American soil. It contained English words that I could not understand and many sayings that they used commonly. "I could eat a – horse." I said slowly, trying the best that I could to say it correctly. Why would someone want to eat an entire horse?

The woman next to me glanced at me and laughed softly at my attempt to speak the language I assumed was her native language. Shockingly, she began to speak German, almost as if it wasn't a huge deal for her. She told me that her name was Rosalie Hale and that she was an American who took German classes at school. She was to be married to a man named Royce King and everyone here was getting an arranged marriage as well. Each woman was to give $200 to a man for something involving their new lives, and hers was to be new furniture for her new house with her soon to be husband. She also told me to quickly get out $200 as more men became nearer to us.

As I reached inside the brown leather bag, I noticed that the money wasn't exactly the same as German money. These were green, and clearly had the words "In God is our trust." written on it. Each one had a different face, but there was a pattern. Each $5 had the same man; each $10 had the same man, and so on. I didn't know how to count $200, I would have to learn how and adapt to the American life. I nervously asked for help, and by the time the man came, I had $200 in my hand.

He spoke in a language I didn't know, which I assumed was English. He collected the money from Rosalie and smiled at her. He turned to me and rose out his tanned hand, raising his eyebrow. I gave him the large amount of money. It was almost like he knew that I was German. He just shook his head, gave me back my money, and took Rosalie to his car.

The next thing I know, I'm falling asleep with the thought of never getting married in my head.

I woke up to the sound of banging on a wooden door. My body perked up in alarm at the frightening sound and I look around the room, only to see that no one was there. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I realized that the noise was just coming from the door. I stood up from the uncomfortably bench and straightened out my long tightly fitted skirt, quickly making my way to the door. The door was locked, that would explain why they were banging on the door.

"Esme Platt?" I heard a man say. As he came into view in the small mirror, I was surprised at how young he looked. He looked about 18 or so, of course I wasn't expecting an old man, but not this young. He had bronze hair with green eyes to match. He was slightly tanned, but not that tan either. I realized that I didn't answer and I was being impolite by not answering the young man's question. I simply nodded.

After several minutes of knocking, I heard the owner of the church come up behind me and unlock the door. Two men came into the room and grabbed my luggage, but I didn't recognize one.

The first thing I noticed was his odd color of blond hair. It was beautiful, but strange: I had never seen a color that blond before on someone's head. His eyes were sea blue, you could get lost in them if you stared for too long. He was much paler than the other man, but beautiful nonetheless. I wonder which one I will marry.

Quickly, we were in a car and on the road again. I think I learned their names. The younger one was Edward, and the blond one was Carlisle. They also learned that I didn't speak English, and that I was German. Edward looked at Carlisle strangely; it was almost as if they didn't know this apparent new information to this. Maybe it wasn't in his letter.

As we arrived closer to wherever my wedding would be held, my hands began to shake and I felt like I was going to cry. Everything is happening so quickly. Not even 24 hours ago, I was on a plane and now I'm minutes away from being married. To make matters worse, I don't even know this man. He could be a serial killer, for all I know. My family isn't even here, but I know it's not their fault. They didn't have enough money to come here.

Finally, the moment was here. I was at the alter with Carlisle, the priest in front of us, Edward to my left, and a crowd of complete strangers to me behind me.

As the priest began what I assume was our vows, I couldn't understand a word. He turned towards me and nodded, inviting me to say what he had said mere moments before. At my luck, Edward took my side and most likely said I couldn't speak any English. The priest glared at me and started yelling at the two men. For what? I would never know.

The only words I could manage to understand were "war," "Germany," and "German."

I had heard many things since the moment I got here about war. Each time, I got slightly angry. Just because a man and his army decided to start a war, doesn't mean we all hated Jews and we were evil. I started to scold the priest, the reaction wasn't very well. Everyone in the room gasped at the outburst, some even fainted as soon I started to speak.

I guess there was no wedding.