Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I own a whole lot of cookies!
ELF
Three hundred and sixty four days.
Tomorrow will be spent shrinking presents, checking the inventory and double-checking The List; stable elves will be pampering the reindeer, especially the ever-finicky Rudolph; the boss will be donning his freshly pressed red suit and we, the elves, will celebrate with peppermint flavored liquor and rum-laced eggnog.
It's the same plan every year, a comfortable routine we elves have grown used to – deliver the presents, make toys through the spring, summer and fall and when winter rolls around, refine The List and start wrapping the presents. We will celebrate while the boss is delivering presents with the Head Elf and be back to work the next day, several of us hung over from a bit too much eggnog.
Last Christmas, we all expected the same routine.
But three hundred and sixty four days ago, the boss fell ill to his nature.
Being Santa Claus is a blessing and a curse; a blessing because he is the most loved man in the world but a curse because the gift of being him eventually ended. The downfall of Santa Claus is always the same – his son. The count down to Santa's last time to deliver presents begins with the birth of his first son and, when that son has reached his highest level of maturity – whether that is physical or mental maturity – Santa must hand over his reins.
None of us thought Santa's son would be ready this soon; he's only nineteen, after all. Even the current Santa who, I suppose, isn't really Santa anymore, didn't take over the responsibility from his father until his mid-twenties.
But that didn't matter anymore – Edward had been learning the ropes, figuratively and literally, for the last year. And tonight, he would be inaugurated.
I had a lot of faith in Edward.
I suppose that might be because I had a lot of faith in myself, too. I'm only fifteen but tonight, I will also accept my formal role of Head Elf. Father had grown too old and had decided that this Christmas would be my first to serve – fitting, since it would be Edward's, as well.
My family had always been the Head Elves; one of my very great-grandfather's had served with the first Santa Claus and, as with all things Christmas, tradition carried a lot of weight. There was certain pressure on my shoulders though – I was the first (and only) female elf to take this position and the youngest by far.
I also didn't want to mess up – especially in front of Edward.
Edward.
Kind to a fault, talented and oh-so terrifyingly handsome, the new Santa and the man I would assist for the remainder of my time on Earth.
Edward who smiled genuinely at me.
Edward who made my face feel hot.
Edward who I was in love with – and who I had almost no chance with.
It wasn't the difference in station or race, because technically, Santa Claus is an elf, too, that made my love hopeless. It wasn't another elf, either, who had drawn his eye. It wasn't even my age, because human social customs were not observed in the Pole.
It was tradition that crushed my heart.
Just as it is tradition that Santa Claus hand over his job to his son.
Just as it is tradition that the position of Head Elf is passed down within the family.
There is a certain unspoken precedent that within the first year that the new Santa serves, he will take on a human wife; bring her to the Pole and love her for his eternity.
Santa had simply never fallen in love with one of his elves – and I didn't see that changing any time soon.
But oh how I wished he would. I long to be held in his arms; I want to kiss him so badly that my lips ache.
I'm no naïve elf, though. I know that I cannot wear my heart on my sleeve around him; I know that he must never know the level of my devotion; I know that when he does find his human wife, that I will be happy for him, that I will take comfort in the fact that he found mutual love, even if I did not.
I sigh, sitting up on my bed and swinging my legs to the side so that my feet touched the ground. My head falls into my hands as I try to shake off the desolate loneliness that seems to seep into my skin; I don't have time to dwell on things I cannot change. It's Christmas Eve and I'm set to arrive at the town hall in an hour.
I hurry into the shower, relishing in the spiffy human invention that made soap smell like sugar cookies and made my shampoo smell like cinnamon sugar. Marvelous creatures, these humans, even if they did have the appalling notion that elves are four foot beings who look like children.
I wipe the fog off the mirror, pushing my hair away from my pointed-tip ears and observing my pale reflection; bright petal cheeks, a slightly upturned nose, large wide eyes the color of gingersnaps. For an elf, I knew I had exceptional looks – not that elves were ugly, just their features were usually either too large or too small for their faces. I was blessed with my mother's large eyes and small nose, which balanced out my face, and for my father's dramatic light and dark coloring, which made for a startling contrast between my skin and the darkness of my long hair.
I wonder if Edward thinks me beautiful.
Frowning, I scoff at my reflection.
I'd seen humans, with their remarkable height and thin bodies and perfectly symmetrical faces. There was no way Edward thought anything of me, especially my body and it's embarrassing curves.
Struggling to shake off my insecurities, I brush my wet hair, snapping my fingers when the thigh-length tresses are free of tangles and feeling the warm zing of magic as it instantly dries my hair, leaving the very tips to form soft curls. With nimble fingers, I attach sparkling ruby earrings to my ear lobs and around the cartilage of my left ear. I rush to clothe myself, pulling on a dusky red dress with capped sleeves, a skirt that bells out from my hips and hems at my knees and a large bow tied over the small of my back. I giggle when the soft tulle fabric underneath the skirt of the dress tickles my bare legs when I move, bending down to tie black fur-lined calf-high leather boots onto my feet. I stand, admiring the cut of the dress; how it makes my waist seem so tiny while also managing to camouflage the swells of my breasts, which were too large in my humble opinion.
I feel beautiful in this dress, even if I will never truly be beautiful – my hips are too wide, my thighs too thick, for my body to be considered beautiful, even if my average height managed to balance out some of my weight.
Biting my lip and straightening my spine, I turn away from the mirror and slip out of my room. Mother is waiting for me at the foot of my stairs, her hand over her mouth, tears in her dark blue eyes. "Oh, my baby," she gasps, reaching for my hands. "You look so beautiful."
My face heats. "Thank you, mother."
Beside her, Father is smiling widely, holding an oddly shaped package in his hands. "My father gave me cufflinks," he says. "But I don't think those would be of any use to you. Your mother and I made this for you instead."
Gently, I take the package from my father, paper crinkling under my fingers. It's light and there is a curiously empty space in the middle. I tear the wrapping paper away eagerly, happy to have a present as all elves are.
I gasp.
It's magnificent.
The headband is complicated in design but very simple in its beauty. Random silver swirls create vines, winding around magic-touched silver stones that will change color to coordinate with what I am wearing; delicate leaves in varying sizes decorate the vines around the stones. "It's gorgeous," I whisper, feeling tears building in my eyes.
This gift is specially touching to me, as the sole point of personal pride I had in myself stemmed from my hair, and this headband would be of great use to me. I slip it on my head, feeling comforted by the weight.
I am folded into two sets of familiar arms, embraced by my parents who were confident enough in my magic to allow this position of Head Elf.
In the distance, one of our clocks chime, marking the third fourth of the hour. Father pulls away first, straightening his bright red tie. "Time to go," he states, moving towards the door.
The walk to town hall is short, as the way the Pole is designed puts town hall in the middle of the square. Twinkling lights and snow dust every surface; the hot chocolate shop is closing for the night; the cookie shop workers are carrying out several trays of delicious treats; the reindeer are being led into town hall through the back door. Many elves greet my father with happy smiles and offer me encouragement – they, too, have faith in me, having heard of my magical abilities.
While all elves have magic, the strength and affinity varies; my family's magic is strong and pure, the kind of magic that lets you do anything. Other elves only have toy magic or the ability to speak with the animals.
My magical abilities, in particular, are the strongest of my generation – the strongest in my family for generations. Perhaps my magical strength makes up for the lack of appeal my body presents.
Inside the town hall, elf bodies are packed together, all of average human height. Many elves are wearing green and red but my best friend Alice is wearing white. "Are you excited?"
More excited than you'll ever know, Alice, even if it kills me that Edward will never give me the time of day. At least I'll always be his Head Elf, I think wildly.
But I can't say that – no way. It's too embarrassing to admit that kind of defeat. No, I would keep my desires in my heart, where they belong.
Alice grins madly, bouncing in place. She's a few inches shorter, with a snug cap of dark hair and pixie features, wide blue eyes. She has a knack for fashion magic and works year round to create clothing for children. "I have a good feeling about this!"
I smile at her indulgently, mostly because I don't have a good feeling about this.
I love him. Of course nothing good can come from this.
"Where's Jasper?"
Jasper is Alice's husband, even though Alice is only a few months older than me. Elves don't understand why humans can't get married at fifteen – when you know, you know. Jasper is also the new Director of Toy Creation; he's the head of all the departments and I've trained with him for the past year.
"Looking for Rose," Alice chirps. "Said something about twins being able to find each other, even in a crowd this size." She rolls her eyes.
I giggle. Alice, though she believed vehemently in many things, did not believe there was a bond between elf twins – and Jasper only proved his point because he was absolutely hopeless in locating Rosalie.
Before I get a chance to respond, a chorus of silver bells chime near the raised platform near the front of town hall. The inauguration ceremony is starting.
Alice hugs me quickly, wishing me a rushed "good luck" and pushes me through the crowd.
I need her wishes of luck, because Edward looks absolutely devastating, standing on the stage. He sends me a quick smile as I move to stand beside Father, the now former Head Elf.
Tonight makes everything so official.
Nerves settle in my stomach and I fidget with the hem of my dress, listening to Santa Claus – who will now be known by his birth name, Carlisle – as he makes his speech. I tune back in as he introduces me. "The new Head Elf will now be Isabella. Her magic is strong and will serve us greatly for many Christmas seasons."
Every eye in the room settles on me heavily as I step forward, bowing my head to Carlisle, who swears me in as Head Elf in the ancient tongue. I feel magic settle on my skin, a slow tingle that makes me feel alive and happy as I step back.
I smile now that my part is over and raise my eyes from the platform – and of course, my gaze catches emerald green. Edward. He's smiling softly at me, his eyes blazing with an intensity I don't recognize.
Perhaps I have just done something foolish? I think, retracing my last several actions. But, no, I haven't done anything to explain his gaze.
I avert my eyes.
He confuses me.
"As we are all aware, this season my son, Edward, came into his age. The title of Santa Claus is being passed on to him," Carlisle announces, turning to clap Edward on the back. "I have every confidence in you, my boy," he says as he removes a thin silver ring from his head and places it on Edward's, a riot of thick bronze locks obscuring the simple crown.
Edward stands taller as the cheers of elves erupt throughout the room.
And as happy as I am for him, I can't help but feel like he's even further from me.
Even more unreachable.
Saint Nicolas, how naïve is my love?
Festivities begin but I am withdrawn from them; I feel like I'm watching them from the outside as sadness overcomes me. I don't feel like celebrating my new position.
I duck out one of the side doors of town hall and immerse myself in the cool chill of snow falling, feeling the flakes stick to my clothes and my hair. Sighing, I begin a slow trek home, hearing laughter and music from the building behind me. Lost in my thoughts, I don't hear the crunch of snow under boots until a large hand closes gently around my elbow.
The touch is warm and familiar; my breath stutters as I turn and look up. He's so tall.
"Leaving so soon?" he asks – friendly, nearly impersonal.
He doesn't see me.
I shrug, managing to slip my elbow out of his lax grip. My skin burns from his touch. "I don't feel well."
Not a total lie.
Edward frowns. "Is it fever? Will you be okay for tomorrow night?"
Of course, I think bitterly. He's afraid I won't be able to do my job. I'm not his friend. I'm not his anything. He isn't concerned about me.
I wave off his concerns. "Too many cookies, I suppose."
His face relaxes and I let out a heavy sigh.
"Feel better."
"I will," I mutter, turning around and walking away as quickly as I am able. The further from him, the more my heart hurts; but the closer I am to him, the more hopeless I feel. I glance back when I round the corner and see him looking at me with a perplexed expression.
I don't read anything else into it. Making something out of absolutely nothing is what got me into this messy unrequited love in the first place – I thought his casual touches meant something, thought I saw something in his eyes. I was just deluding myself.
My room is quiet and dark, save for the single warm glow of my lamp beside my bed. I change clothes, dropping my dress on the floor without a care, pulling on long red flannel pajamas, carefully placing my headband on the small jewelry box I have and removing my earrings.
Once I'm in bed, though, sleep evades me – I change positions, grab another blanket, get rid of a blanket, switch pillows, count reindeer. Nothing works. My mind is sad, which is so unlike an elf. By nature, we're happy, joyful creatures.
Love has got me all mixed up.
I just have to get through tomorrow night and then I won't have to see Edward for at least a week, maybe more if I can fake an illness. Perhaps distance is the way to get rid of this persistent ache in my chest.
But don't humans have a saying? Distance makes the heart grow fonder…?
Morning arrives too quickly and I wake with a heavy disposition, laying in bed for well over an hour, looking for the motivation to get up. I'm procrastinating. Getting up means that I'll have to see him sooner.
I'm not ready to see him.
Mother, however, doesn't know about that. She comes briskly into my room, flipping my warm covers off my head, breaking up the cocoon I'd be contently hiding in. "Wake up, sleepy elf!"
I wonder if Mother and Father ever felt like this? It's absolutely miserable. I wouldn't wish it on anybody, I think to myself. My eye critically scans my mother's figure. But then again, she's very trim. Nothing like me. Perhaps it's different for elves with desirable bodies?
"I'm up," I tell her, reaching for my blankets. "And now, I'm cold."
Oblivious, Mother tugs my blankets away, happily grinning. "I've made your favorite for breakfast, Bella. Wild berry pancakes. Raspberry syrup."
It's raspberry syrup that got me this body, I think bitterly, glancing down at my plump figure. But still, I perk up at the thought of food, even though my stomach already begins to feel full. I'd never been one to turn down a cookie. Maybe I should have.
With a sigh, I sit up. "I'll be down in a second."
Breakfast is a rather quiet affair, with forks scraping against plates and glasses of milk being set down on the wooden table with muted thuds. I eat slowly, almost forcing myself. I have absolutely no appetite, but I don't want my parents to worry. I've always been a good, responsible daughter; I've never done something wrong.
But I feel wrong.
I feel all sorts of wrong.
I should be excited. It's my first official day as Head Elf.
I just want to go back to bed, though.
Don't want to see him.
There's no avoiding it, though.
Eventually, evening rolls around and the clocks chime. I find myself back in the shower, listlessly working through my routine, dressing in supple fur-lined red leather pants and a red leather jacket with a white fur collar and cuffs. I put on my headband, watching as the stones mix themselves between varying shades of red and brilliant white. In the mirror, I look ready, wearing the same boots as last night; the leather outfit I have on is warm and doesn't seem to add any unwanted lumps onto my body, which mildly pleases me.
I look okay, even if I don't feel okay.
Mother kisses me on the cheek as I go, handing me soft white gloves and a white scarf for extra warmth, which I slip on as I make my way to the toy warehouse. Jasper is waiting for me, going over a clipboard, which lists all the toys he has in inventory.
"All of the presents know who they belong to, right?" I ask, looking critically at the large, neatly stacked piles of presents, all wrapped to perfection, all nearly touching the ceiling.
"Elf magic is never wrong," Jasper answers. "All toys are present and accounted for. Even bicycles," he says, motioning towards the neat rows of bikes, all in different colors, some with three wheels, some with only one but most with two.
I nod. "Okay. Then I guess I better shrink them."
"I'll step out," Jasper says quickly.
I laugh a bit at that. He had the oddest fear that I would accidentally shrink him – as if my magic would go to waste like that!
I wait until I hear the warehouse door close before I shut my eyes, summoning magic from the air around me, from the depths of my being, feeling a sudden joy rush through me.
My eyes open and my hands rise; sparkling white magic swirls from my fingertips and around the presents; and when my magic touches the gifts, they each shrink down to the size of my thumb.
When each present is tiny and my magic jolts back into my body, I let out a breathless laugh. I feel tired, of course – it's a lot of magic that I've just done – but I also feel relieved.
Even if he doesn't love me, I at least can love my job.
Someone claps from behind me.
I snap my head to the side, my heart dropping to my feet when I see his perfect crooked smile and his dancing green eyes. "That was amazing!"
A smiles ghosts across my face. "Thanks."
Edward's expression falters a bit. "Do you need help putting them in the sack?"
I shake my head quickly. "No," I answer. Because I'm still not ready to see you. "Don't you have a certain list to be checking twice."
"I checked it three times," he counters, picking up the red velvet bag, large but no bigger than one of the bean bag chairs I just shrunk. The bag itself was as old as the first Santa and would expand inside with the use of my magic.
Edward holds open the bag and I sigh.
Looks like he intends to help.
I summon my magic again, this time only using one hand and circling my wrist around, gathering and guiding gifts into the bag with ease.
Edward smiles brightly at me the entire time.
It makes me happy.
It also hurts.
He's so handsome when he smiles and tonight, he looks even more handsome. He's dressed modernly, in black leather with black boots and a black belt with a silver buckle. Edward doesn't look anything like how humans depict Santa Claus – in fact, the only thing that shows who he is might be the sack he puts on his shoulder.
We walk out of the toy warehouse together, meeting an calm Jasper, who is checking his watch. "Just on time," he says to Edward.
"Great," Edward replies quickly. "Let's go on to the sleigh."
As we go towards the stable, which is on the outside of the Pole, a procession of elves begins to follow us, young and old. Some are drunk already but most are cheering and singing Christmas tunes. It really is a time for celebration.
The Head Stable Elf, Emmett, greets us at the door. "They're ready to go, boss," he laughs, clapping Edward on the back. "Even Rudolph is glowing. I think he might like you better than your old man."
I follow behind quietly; glad to be out of the sight of the crowd of elves and inside the stable. I watch as Edward heaves the sack of toys into the modern sleigh and chats with Emmett about the condition of the reindeer.
Tuning out their conversation, I take a closer look at the sleigh – I've never been this close to it before. It's not the same sleigh the first Santa Claus used; it's not even the sleigh Carlisle used. Edward, like all the other Santa's before him, designed this one and it is elegant in it's simplicity. The lines are sleek with curves, painted black, with a soft glass bubble to protect from wind, rain and snow – something sleighs before this one did not have. The reindeer are hitched together with strong black leather and rows and shining silver bells.
Hearing twelve chimes in quick succession, I step away from the sleigh and towards Edward. Emmett is opening up the large stable doors and elves move quickly out of the way, making room for the reindeer to run.
I look up at Edward, craning my neck. "It's time."
He holds his hands out to me, palm up, and I touch mine to his, absently admiring how large his hands look compared to mine, before I feel my magic swell again. This time, I wouldn't be shrinking or moving gifts.
No, this time, I would be stopping time.
The only reason I was touching Edward was because I couldn't do it alone – Santa Claus had to chip in some magic, too, or we wouldn't have long enough to deliver all the presents.
Together, as we had practiced, we chant the ancient elf spell, my white magic mixing with his and then suddenly disappearing. It's hard to tell when time stops – except for the frozen elves that stand outside of the stable, that is.
I step back, moving towards the frozen reindeer, waking them up with a single magic touch, as Edward settles into the sleigh and takes the reins that come though a tiny compartment, connecting the leather that binds the reindeer and bringing it inside the sleigh. I check Rudolph one last time, satisfied that his red nose indicates his happiness.
Edward is waiting for me, adjusting his hold on the reins. He has designed his sleigh with quiet efficiency and comfort in mind; it's aerodynamic, it's shielded from the frozen-time weather and even the bench seat is fluffy and comfortable. He sits in the middle, leaving me enough room to squeeze in on one side, our thighs barely touching.
I go through a mental check list before I nod at him. "Ready?"
"Yes," he smiles, handing The List to me.
The List really isn't a list at all – it's more like a leather-bound book that weighs twenty pounds. It's tradition for the Head Elf to hold onto the list and make sure that each child receives a present, Naughty or Nice; The List is designed with magic and marks out the name of the child as the toy is delivered.
It's heavier than I imagined and I make a startled sound when he hands it to me. Edward frowns. "Are you okay?"
I nod.
He smiles, reaching for the dashboard in front of me and hits a button, which makes a whirring noise before a tilted shelf unfolds. Edward takes The List, places it on the shelf and opens it, smiling triumphantly. "Great," he enthuses. "It works. Now you can see The List and get the presents without having to open and close the book all the time."
I blink at him – this type of mechanics had never been on a sleigh before.
It's almost like he designed it for me.
But that's just silly. Right?
Right?
"Alright," Edward says, pressing another button that makes the glass top of the sleigh close. He holds the reins a bit tighter and, with a flick of his wrist, snaps it; the reindeer are running and then we're in the air, moving quickly, breaking through suspended snow flakes. His sleigh plays quiet music, some of it Christmas, some of it instrumental, and the silence between us is comfortable.
At least, the silence is comfortable for him.
The glass bubble that protects us from the harsh weather in some places also keeps his scent in my nose. There's no escape from it, not even when he materializes from the sleigh and into the living rooms of houses to deliver presents. He never opens the glass bubble, never makes a move towards a chimney; he stops at a house, smiles at me while I pull the correct presents shrunken from the sack and then once I've handed the normal sized packages to him, he vanishes into the house and is back again before I can catch my breath.
Sometimes, he brings us a cookie – each cookie is perfect, made by a child's hands. He breaks the cookie in half and hands one part to me, watching with gentle eyes as I nibble on the treat.
His gaze makes me so nervous – has he always looked at me this way? Why does it seem more intense now?
I convince myself that I'm reading into things and begin to refuse cookies.
He frowns the first time I don't take the half.
The second time, I see a light go out of his eyes.
He seems disappointed.
He doesn't try a third time and I can't help but feel like I've done something wrong.
After that, the silence between us is tense and there is a calculating look in Edward's eyes as I hand him the correct presents. I spend my time flipping through The List and checking for the proper crossed out names, instead of watching him fly the sleigh like I had done before.
Edward sighs beside me.
I don't look up - I can't.
The sleigh stops at a particularly large home and I have to pull a load of presents out of the sack; it's too much for just one trip. Edward insists that I help bring the presents in and I can't refuse him.
The tree is decorated in opulent décor and is almost as large as the trees that are near the Pole. We set the presents down and I take the time to arrange them while Edward hurries off, probably in search for cookies.
"Bella," he calls. "Come here."
My heart clenches when he says my name and I turn, seeing him gazing contemplatively at the ceiling, looking at something I can't see. I stop beside him. "Yes?"
"You're not facing the right way," he whispers, putting gentle hands on my shoulder and turning me to face him directly. His voice sounds deeper and my breath catches. "There."
"What?"
Edward's eyes are a shade darker as he looks up pointedly.
I follow his gaze.
My heart lodges itself in my throat.
Mistletoe.
Oh, Saint Nicholas.
My eyes snap to Edward, who has taken a small step forward.
My mind is racing – there has to be a way to get out of this. I don't know if my heart can take this.
But tradition is tradition.
And mistletoe is one of the most sacred among elves.
I can't stop this from happening.
I don't know why I would want to – maybe because I'll want more of what I can't have.
But…
But hadn't Edward seen this?
He'd called me over.
He knew that this would happen.
My heart starts a stucco rhythm that I can't manage to slow down.
I don't understand. What does this mean?
There isn't enough time for me to think about it.
Edward is leaning towards me, a determined glint in his eye that I don't have the time to think about – and then, his lips are on mine, soft and insistent, moving with a gentle, addictive quality. I kiss him back, not thinking about what I'm doing, feeling blood rush into my cheeks as he pulls me closer, kisses me deeper. His hands fall to my waist, moving down to feel the curve of my hips and I pull back quickly, embarrassment rushing through my veins.
Edward's eyes snap open, confused. "Bella-" he tries, but I'm already gone, back in the sleigh, my head in my hands.
Stupid girl. What did I just do?
Edward is beside me in an instant, leaning towards me again but stopping when he sees tears in my eyes. His expression falters. "Bella-"
"Nicole Dunn," I say, cutting him off. "She's next. Wanted a series of dolls based on a popular book."
Emerald eyes study me as I look away, turning my head and wiping the tears from my eyes – I don't want him to see me or see me cry over him.
My heart feels broken.
That kiss was…wonderful. Everything I imagined it to be.
But it was a trick, wasn't it? A mere tradition. He didn't kiss me because he wanted to.
He kissed me because I couldn't refuse.
Right?
The rest of the night it bitterly silent. Edward doesn't try to speak to me and I avoid his eyes at all costs. It hurts to look at him.
We reach the Pole in less than twelve hours; the reindeer are exhausted and Rudolph has developed an attitude. With an empty sack in my grasp and the retired 2012 List, I wait for the glass bubble around the sleigh to recede; when it does, I scramble out of the sleigh.
Arms around my waist stop me and I am pulled against his strong chest. "Bella."
I want to cry.
"Let me go, Edward," I whisper.
"No."
"Let go!"
"No!" he says fiercely. "Not until you listen to me!"
I struggle weakly against him. "What is there to listen to? You kissed me, Edward! Under a mistletoe and I couldn't refuse! You tricked me! You don't even care that I'm in l-"
I stop myself.
He can't know.
He can't ever know that I love him.
"That you're what? Bella?"
"Let me go!"
Edward holds me tighter, spinning me around and holding my chin so I have to look at him. His eyes are unguarded, soft, warm, and determined. "I don't want to let you go."
He can't mean that!
I begin to cry. "Please," I plead, trying to push away from him. "Please. I can't do this!"
His lips fall on mine again, moving against my mouth with confidence. I can't resist his draw and I kiss him back, even as I cry. His thumb moves to wipe away my tears as the kiss becomes more intense.
When he does pull away, I keep my eyes closed, feeling his forehead resting against mine. "What can't you do, Bella? Don't you love me back?"
Even though time is frozen already, it feels like the world stops.
What did he say?
Edward caresses my face, pressing small kisses over my face, hugging me tightly to him. "Beautiful girl."
He thinks I'm beautiful.
I try to pull away from him again, sure that I must be dreaming and if that's the case, then I need to wake up and do my duties as Head Elf. But Edward is warm and real and strong and he doesn't let me go. Instead, he whispers in my ear, words I've been dying to hear. "You mesmerize me, Bella. It's been pure torture being with you everyday for the past year and yet not being with you. You're all I've ever wanted."
Without my knowing, my body relaxes against him and I find comfort in his spicy sweet scent. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. "I love you. And I see it in your eyes. I know you love me, too."
I'm crying again and he's smiling, patiently wiping away my tears. "Is this a dream?"
"No, sweetheart, it's real."
And then he's kissing me again, holding me against him and pouring passion into the movement of his lips. I surrender to him – because this is all I've ever wanted, too.
Just him.
Just Edward.
When he pulls back, we're both breathless and blushing and we can feel the magic of frozen time fading by itself.
Edward reaches for his pocket, not sparing a glance to the slowly moving elves who are being reintroduced into moving time. I can see eyes moving and the torpid shifts of expression as the elves watch Edward kneel on one knee before me.
"My mother is human," he says needlessly while my heart pounds. "She told me of a tradition humans use when they propose marriage. Bella," he whispers, ignoring the idle gasps outside as he takes my left hand. "I present this ring to you, asking you to share your life with me as my wife."
The ring is beautiful and almost matches the headband I wear – but that doesn't matter.
This beautiful, kind, selfless man is asking to share his life with me.
Me.
An elf.
Something I didn't think was possible.
But it's happening.
And I'm accepting.
And Edward is sliding the delicate ring on my finger and kissing me and the elves outside are clapping.
Edward pulls back. "Marry me now."
"Now?"
"Now," Edward grins, leading me out of the stable and towards town hall. The elves follow us.
I'm laughing, because I can't contain my joy.
He loves me, too!
"Wait!" A high voice sings from behind us. "Wait a second!"
Edward and I stop and see Alice pushing her way through the crowd. She's smiling so brightly, relief and happiness apparent in her eyes.
"Alice?"
"You cannot get married in that!"
I blink, looking down at my leather clothing. She's right. I don't want to remember my wedding clothes as being red of all colors. I look up at Edward. "Can we stop by my home?"
"Of course, love. Alice, would you grab the High Elf?"
Alice nods, bouncing away and several elves follow her while others branch off, obviously making plans for a celebration.
It isn't everyday that Santa Claus gets married.
If my parents are surprised by the turn of events, they don't show it. Mother helps me curl my hair with her magic as I change into a flowing white dress with a knee-high hem that I created when I turned fifteen, as was tradition among elves since that was the marrying age.
Edward's face is priceless – and, I think, appreciative – when I come down the stairs. He kisses the ring on my finger and then my lips.
And then, we are kneeling before the High Elf, who, upon seeing us, muttered a joyful "finally".
The ceremony speeds by; I don't think my heart stops pounding the entire time. And that's okay, because Alice is taking enough pictures that even if I don't remember every detail of my wedding, I'll have evidence of every moment.
The High Elf prompts our vows, which we utter in the ancient tongue.
And then, Edward's mouth is on mine and his tongue is touching mine and all thoughts about anything are irrelevant.
There are cheers from the elves and the High Elf finishes his speech but I'm distracted by the raw lust in Edward's eyes.
I feel the lust, too.
It's part of Elf marriage – only being attracted to your love.
We skip the festivities.
Edward takes me to his home, a modest dwelling on the outskirts of the Pole – humble, just like he is.
He banks his – our – fireplace, the flames warming our home as he takes me into his arms, his lips warm and perfect on my own.
Then my back is bare as his hands stroke the skin he finds there, pushing my snow white dress off my body.
A moment of embarrassment hits me; I try to cover my body, ashamed of my curves that most elves to not have.
Edward stops me with a look, gently taking my breasts in his hands, licking his lips in desire as they fill his palms; my nipples harden against his warmth and he kisses me with unbridled passion.
"You're so beautiful. So sexy," he groans, lips moving down my neck, sucking on my skin, surely leaving a mark. My face heats as he admires my body with his hands and eyes. Edward pauses. "Don't you believe me, love?"
"I-"
"I'll convince you," he promises with a husky voice. His warm hands move to my breasts. "You're so full, perfectly rounded and perky. A perfect weight in my hands and your nipples are such a wonderful shade of pink," he whispers, his lips following his hands, tongue flicking out to taste pebbled flesh. "Your waist is so tiny and gives way to these mouthwatering hips. Love, you don't know how I have fantasized about these hips."
His hands move to my bottom and I blush, burying my face in his clothed chest, hearing him laugh lightly. "Oh Bella, I've had even more fantasies about this part of your gorgeous body. Not to mention…" he trails off in a whisper as a single hand moves, gently cupping my center. His lips move back to my neck, sucking harshly on the spot between my neck and shoulder as his fingers move on my moist flesh. "My love, I need you."
"Yes," I gasp into his shoulder, heat moving through my body.
Oh, I need him, too.
Edward lays me down on his large bed and sheds his clothing; not once does he remove his eyes from my body, whether his gaze be on my breasts or the special place between my legs.
His kisses leave me unhinged, wild as he coaxes my knees wide, making room for his narrow hips.
And then he's pushing against me, in me, holding himself above me and rubbing the little nub on my sex until I am panting underneath him. He moves, creating a mind-blowing rhythm as I urge him on faster and harder, my back arching underneath him and his lips catching mine as we complete the ancient act together.
"I love you," I murmur as he pulls me towards him, my head resting on his heart as he covers us.
I'm sleepy, thinking about how absolutely perfect my life will be with Edward by my side; and thinking about how lucky I am that I found the love of my life at fifteen…and that he loves me back.
I woke up yesterday, expecting to live alone and unrequited, expecting a predictable Christmas.
I got so much more than I ever hoped for.
"As I love you."
Merry Christmas.
A/N: Happy Holidays to everyone!
I've kind of sucked with updating Blood for the past week but I'm on Winter Break until Jan. 6th, so we'll see how many updates I can cram in there!
Hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!
