Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

The paint looked thick and heavy, I was tempted to reach out and run my fingers delicately over the oily surface, feeling every bump and groove as the canvas came into contact with the pads of my fingers. But I didn't. It was far to old for that kind of handing. An antique that I could quite easily crush if I wasn't too careful. My hand would twitch, my muscles contract and just like that, the painting would be ruined, frame and all. So instead I settled for analysing the piece with my eyes. Scanning, looking, searching for some sense. I had been standing there for some time now, though time meant little to me, trying to unravel the story behind the image. But as hard as I tried, it was only in vain.

It was clear what the image showed; a man in a dark, worn cloak standing with his back turned. His shoulders relaxed like some great weight had been lifted from them, he stared into the menacing forest as the trees bent around him, embracing him. And in the shadows, a woman. Her face was obscured but I somehow knew that she was smiling.

I let out a long sigh, and breathed in the air around me in Carlisle's study. It tasted like books, leather, wood and unsurprisingly, Carlisle. It was a comfortable familiar taste, a homely taste.

I had been walking through the corridors of the house, trailing my hands against the white walls, casting shadows in the soft light, when I remembered the large wall of paintings in Carlisle's study. Of course I had been in that room many times since my change, but I couldn't remember the last time I had absorbed all of the extravagant pieces of art. This piqued my interest and I soon found myself silently walking into the empty room.

Which brought me here, standing before the painting of the man in the woods, a puzzled expression on my face. I let out another sigh. This time however, I breathed in new scents that didn't belong in this room, and a smile flitted across my face.

Edward was home.

"So I come home from a three day hunting trip with my rowdy brothers, expecting to be greeted by my beautiful wife and daughter only to find one of them out with the family dog and the other completely and utterly absorbed with a painting." His voice was smooth and low as he entered the room, I turned to see a smirk on his angelic face as he leaned against the door way."So now you've got me wondering; what could be so interesting about a colourful canvas in a frame that surpasses me?" He tilted his head in curiosity and crossed his arms trying to look serious, but his eyes gave him away.

"Jealous?" I asked, my voice filling the room like bells.

"Oh you have no idea." And with that he shot across the room to stand in front of me before curling his arms around my waist, constricting me against him as my hands landed on his chest. Our heads so close I could feel his cool breath wash over me as I looked up onto his eyes.

"Welcome home."

He hummed in distracted agreement before leaning down to press his lips softly against mine. I was all too eager to comply. Nipping my bottom lip between his he twisted his head to the side, prying my mouth open. My fingers grasped onto his cotton shirt, silently telling him to hold me closer and then running up the side of his snowy neck to play with the hair at the back of his neck. He let out a moan in response. Our tongues slowly danced as we made up for our lost time, silently communicating our need for each other. Eventually we both reluctantly stilled only to stay nose to nose out eyes still shut, as we savoured the moment.

"I missed you." He breathed.

"And I missed you."

"Jasper and Emmet got a little sick of my whining after a while." We opened our eyes and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Did you bag any mountain lions for me?"

"Not this time unfortunatly. How was Renenesmee?"

"Perfect as always," we both smiled at that and warmth filled my heart. "That didn't stop her asking for her Daddy though, apparently Mommy doesn't cut it when it comes to bedtime singing."

He chuckled lightly, the sound resonating through my ears.

"Well that I understand." I poked his chest in mock annoyance causing him to laugh again and I leant my head against his shoulder, Edward's hand rose to my hair, gently running through the locks.

"I'm glad you're back."

"So am I, love."

We stood in silence for a while longer, simply enjoying each others presence. His movements with his hands were soothing and as I breathed in his sweet, fresh scent I felt at peace and calmed. My fingers found their way to his neck again and he rested his head against mine, nuzzling my hair and breathing deeply.

My love for him was so deep and all consuming it was a wonder that I could even stand up at all when I was around him. And with that thought in mind I pressed a single kiss to his neck lingering as I saved the taste of his skin to memory. He was ingrained into every aspect of my mind until the very thought of him became intrinsically set in my soul. I was undoubtedly his in every way. To me he transgressed everything.

"I love you." He muttered religiously. I might have given my heart to him. But he had also given his to me. And for that I was forever grateful.

"I love you too."

A century could have passed us by then and we wouldn't have even noticed, but eventually he landed a kiss on my head and turned us to face the wall of paintings.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

I racked my brain for an answer, my vampire mind was quick to find it.

"Ohhhh, the painting?"

"Yes," he was clearly amused. "What was it you found so interesting about the it?"

"I can't work it out, the others all have a clear story, but this one..." I trailed off, distracted again by the man in the coat with the relived shoulders.

"Lankin."

"Excuse me?" I turned to face my husband, not sure of what I had just heard. He smiled again.

"Lankin, that's his name. Long Lankin to be exact," I looked up at him curiously. "He's a character from an old English folklore, this painting is called "The Man from the Moor" He spoke like a true story teller, perfectly accentuating every word. I was instantly hooked.

"The Man from the Moor." I whispered to my self as I turned my look to the painting, the forest suddenly looking a lot darker than it did before. Edwards gaze on me felt warm against my cheek, I knew at once he was smiling. Completely engaged in my reactions.

"Would you like me to tell you the story?" All I did was nod, unable to tear my eyes away from "Lankin". Edward shifted to move behind me, locking his arms around my waist and resting his chin against my shoulder so he too could see the picture hanging on the wall. His voice was deep, it filled every corner in the room as he spoke. I was pulled right into the story.

"In the north-east of England, there is a county called Northumberland it's of the emptiest places in the country. In Northumberland there are many forests, woods, swamps and moors, there was also a Lord. The Lord decided that he was going to build a tower, a tower that would show all his might and wealth, the tower would reach up to the heavens itself and all in the land would know his power. To build the tower the Lord hired a stonemason named Lankin, the Lord would see that he was paid fairly for his job. So through night and day Lankin built the tower, his only motivation was knowing that the pay would be worth it in the end.

Half way through the building of the tower however the Lord was approached by other wealthy men in the land. They told him to stop the building at once, he was not allowed to do this, for it was against their laws. Eventually, the Lord was forced to comply and so ordered the building to halt. But, he went against his promise and never paid Lankin.

Because of this action Lankin lost his home, he became an outcast and was forced to live in the unfinished tower he had built himself. In order to survive Lankin became a highway man; he stole from and killed those travelling through the woods. In the meanwhile he plotted his revenge against the Lord. It wasn't long until news spread of the Lord's newborn son and that's when Lankin took action."

I was so immersed in the world of Long Lankin that I barely noticed that we were no longer alone. The rest of the family had now entered the room, Carlisle was leaning against his dark wooden desk with Esme beside him, Emmet and Rosalie stood in the doorway together, Alice was standing right next to me and Edward with Jasper standing loyally at her side. All, like me, where staring at the painting and were listening to Edward attentively. He continued in his perfect, velvet manner.

"Lankin crept into the Lord's castle one night once the Lord had left. He found a nurse there and managed to convince her to help him. No one quite knows how he did this, the legend is rather blank on her, though in some telling a she is referred to as "The false nurse".

But anyway, on with the story. Lankin found the baby and took his revenge out by mercilessly murdering the innocent child. When the Lady heard the child's crying she rushed down the stairs only to fall to Lankins ruthless killing spree as well. When the Lord returned he found his Wife and child dead and Lankin and the nurse were nowhere to be seen."

"So what happened to them?" Emmet questioned, pulling me out of my trance.

"No one really knows," Edward answered. "Some versions of the story say that Lankin hung himself, others say the Lord drowned him."

"And the nurse?" Alice added.

"She's an even bigger mystery."

"So the woman in the painting," I said as I moved closer to the image slightly, "That's supposed to be the nurse?"

"Yes."

Carlisle stepped forward and placed a hand on Edwards shoulder in a very fatherly manner.

"A very interesting story son, I've always wondered about that particular piece." This confused me,

"What?...But I thought it was your painting Carlisle, surely you would know the meaning behind it."

"No Bella, that painting doesn't actually belong to me." This only made me more confused, and I felt my face twist as I contemplated what he could have meant by that, but Edward was quicker.

"It's mine." He said, I turned around in his arms so I could see his face. I couldn't detect anything but truth in his eyes, but my face still stayed twisted with confusion.

"I've had it since I was human, of course my memories are dim so I don't remember receiving it but it's still special non-the-less."

Suddenly the painting became a lot more important and fragile, it was from my husbands past, the human side that I only knew a little about.

"Wow" Was all I could say. We all stood and took a moment to take in the image of The Man from the Moor before Emmet loudly announced

"Right c'mon kids, story time's over."And with that we all left the room.

Edward and I were the last ones to leave and I closed the door with a turn of the smooth, wooden door knob. We walked down the corridor taking our time, swinging our intertwined hands between us.

I skimmed the wall with my fingertips again, watching the shadows dance off the white surface. Edwards gaze was warm on my face once more and I turned to face him with a smile on my lips. He was looking at me with such devotion it took my breath away.

"What?" I asked him timidly. He answered by stepping forward and carefully pushing me up against the wall. He took my face in his hands and ran his satin finger pads over my skin, I leaned into his touch and pressed a kiss onto his palm before turning back to him.

"What?" I questioned again.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are today?" I looked down at my feet, a natural embarrassed reaction of mine. He waited for an answer.

"No." I all but whispered. Keeping my eyes on the floor I noticed the corridor fill with light as the sun moved out from behind a cloud. I knew what would happen next, but I couldn't not look at him now. My eyes raised to him and I marvelled at his beauty. The light refracted off his skin making him look more angelic than ever. It looked as if he had thousands of diamond all placed underneath his skin with such precision that a Greek god would grow green with jealousy.

"Well Mrs. Cullen, I think I should inform you are particularly stunning today, in fact I think you are unbelievably beautiful every single day." He spoke in a very matter of fact voice that made me giggle, I loved this carefree Edward. Then he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, his voice full of reverence, honesty and brilliance.

"You are the epitome of all that is beautiful, my love. And I will worship the ground you walk on for the rest of eternity." All I could do was exhale in awe as he lifted my lips to meet his.

I don't own the legend of Long Lankin, yup it's actually real.