A/N: I do not own Twilight

IMPORTANT: From this point on, especially, I completely suggest listening to Map of the Problematique by Muse. I said in the intro that this story is inspired by this song, but it really connects to pretty much every chapter from here on.

This was a short chapter so I was able to get it out quickly.

Thanks to everybody who has reviewed !

Chapter 6: In The Hands of the Devil

Edward POV

The devil haunted me in my dreams. The devil put me as I was. She seated me down on the black wood and placed my shaking hands on the ivory keys. She picked my fingers up one by one and dragged them on the white and black spaces. She created the sorrowful melody flowing around the room like rushing water.

It to the sea…we to the tomb…

And the devil, all of her wit, charm, appeal, reason…all of her hidden motives and all of her brilliance had made me cry. She had torn my heart right out and spread it across the keys singing with a legato rhythm. Though isn't that always what she wanted…didn't she always want to rip my heart out.

Oh how she had tried…

But I didn't know her. I knew the angles more than I knew the demons. And although that was probably for the best, I didn't crave the white glow of the good and the gentle. I craved the dark seduction of unknown beauty hidden behind a very deep secret to tell. I craved fire instead of gold. I craved blistering red instead of soaring blue.

She had been here two days…her red cape and flaming pointy horns I had only seen a few times. They were kept secret behind a head of long brown hair and glorious chocolate eyes. I wanted to see into them. I've heard my whole life that the eyes were the window to the soul…and I wanted to see if they were right. I heard the devil couldn't have a soul, but I bet this one did. And I bet it was beautiful.

I didn't care at that moment as I watched my tears fall, my body going numb, the sobs becoming as normal as my heart beat. I didn't care that I was being a complete and utter hypocrite. That I was betraying what I believed, what I had built, over a woman I didn't even know. Over a woman I never could know. Because I knew, somehow I knew, that she was here to slaughter me. That she was here to end my life.

Yes. I knew that. I was surprised I didn't realize it before. When father was saying that some girl was going to stay here, I should have seen it. No girl has ever been allowed to stay at the palace. That has never happened before. And then when she tried to kill me herself, although it appeared just out of instinct because I startled her, it should have been a dead give away.

Last April I had heard the plan. I had heard about my planned assassination by accident but I didn't think anything of it. I'm naive, a boy who thinks he can't be touched. But look what she had already done. Look how close she had already gotten…

I am so stupid.

I head the entire thing one night after talking to Emmett, one of the guards. The door to the planning room was locked and I became curious as to why it was closed at such a time. My father was busy discussing pointless politics with Newton. He would not be down here. I put my ear to door, trying to listen in on whatever they were saying.

They were whispering. I couldn't here a word. I could hear the hushed murmurs of voices but nothing else. I was about to just let it go when a man in a deep voice shouted "But she can't be trusted with murdering somebody like the prince!" This was followed by a chorus of gruffs and harshly spat "be quiets."

At first I didn't think much about it. I thought it was just a funny coincidence. Why would my own guard discuss my death? It seemed like such a silly conundrum. But I didn't see…I didn't even notice.

And now…well now I was a fool. It had struck me out of the blue. I had seen it in my dreams. I had relived the conversation. His loud shrieks, my confusion, her attempts at murder, her smirk, her beauty. I awoke, stunned. I was such a fool. How did I not see this before?

I was already involved in the death game for it was far too late for me. It was only a matter of time before she came to finish her assignment. I was already being hunted. Who knew what the plan was. Who knew how this was going to conceive. But I was a target. And I was being targeted by the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The thought made me stop playing. The sobs continued to rip from my cold chest. I continued to see her eyes in my mind…to see the possibilities. How she would drag that sharp blood-encrusted blade down my flesh. How her eyes would burn as she watched with pride and brilliance. I didn't want her blood-lust…I wanted something. I just didn't know what.

I could tell my father, I always thought. I could tell him that she was going to murder me. I knew, though, that I could never bring myself to do it and the thought didn't hinder me whats-so-ever.

I strayed around on the piano, lifeless. I drifted back into the comforting melody. I watched my stiff fingers move over the keys in the moon light. It was soft and pale…like her skin. I would give anything to feel it. Even if it was for one moment. Even if it was my last.

After a few moments longer, after I could feel my aching heart about to explode, I slammed the lid over the piano keys shut. As I did so I could hear a faint screech, a soft echo in my ears. I think I asked something. I could feel the roughness in my throat but I didn't notice if anything came out.

I was like a block of ice. I didn't know how to react or what to do. How do you respond to knowing that you are on your death sentence? How do you respond to knowing that you were such a fool for putting this little fact aside for so long? How do your respond to the fact that you can't get your murderer out of your head? Well I had no fucking idea. And it was tearing me the hell apart. I had never felt this vulnerable or helpless in my entire life. I could see my tears spread across the black wood of the piano and I could see the tears slip from my frail cheeks and add to it. I wiped my eyes clear of the traitors, finally deciding it was all fruitless.

I was going to die.

I looked up, glancing around the ballroom for the first time.

The first thing I met was a pair of concerned chocolate eyes swimming with unfathomable regret and sorrow. As our eyes connected and as my heart contracted with the site of her, I could see the tears begin to roll down her eyes. The tears reflecting her sympathy for me.

Her target.

Isabella POV

I've heard somebody say once that the soul mate doesn't exist to recount all the bad deeds you've done. They don't care where you've been or what you've said. They don't care if your the anti-Christ or if your Jesus. They see through your walls and your strong holds and just see the person you are…or, in my case, the person I was always meant to be. As I gazed at him, my heart crippling and chiseling away the ice, I didn't care who I was supposed to be. I didn't even comprehend the image that I was supposed to portray. In one glance, it was like he had melted away what I'd been taught my whole life. I didn't even consider him my assignment.

And I couldn't fight it anymore, though I wasn't even sure what I was fighting in the first place.

I could feel my feet unconsciously moving across the marble. They dragged tirelessly towards the sad man on the piano. He didn't take his eyes off of me, fresh tears forming around the green. I stepped onto the platform where the piano stood and it felt like a dream. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be me, in the middle of the night, attempting to comfort a man I was sentenced to kill.

But this was reality.

And part of me couldn't be happier.

"Bella," he whispered, taking my hand when I was close enough. Every nerve in my body stood still, like the universe had changed course. Again, like the first time I saw him, beauty was not the blood I always craved. I promised not to revisit that place, but, I couldn't stop it this time.

I leaned against the piano as he stood up, still holding my small hand in his palm.

"Bella," he breathed again. I felt weightless, my mind going blank. Maybe it was because I had never experienced this before. Maybe it was because I had never known this because I was forbidden to explore it.

He pressed my palm into his cheek. He leaned into it, his eyes closing in solace. I could feel his tears staining my trembling hand. My heart was beating fast and I could hear it pumping in my ears. His sob broke out again and he cried into my hand.

"Shhh," I whispered through my own threatening tears I did not know what else to do but I couldn't bear to hear him cry like that. I didn't even know why. What could make him feel like this?

He turned his face completely into my palm soaked with his tears. I could feel his lips place soft kisses on the damp skin. The feeling was comforting like a hushed lullaby after a bad dream or a full moon on a crystal clear night.

I placed my hand on his exposed cheek wanting to comfort him as he was comforting me. I stroked my fingers gently across his delicate skin. It almost seemed frail like he was very sick. Though really it was just etched in dried tears.

At my touch, he stopped kissing my palm and tilted his head downward so my hand was grazing the top of his hair. It caught in the strands and twisted around the edges of my finger tips. He moved his hand downward from the top of mine to the curve of my elbow. I kept my hand placed against his forehead until he drew his hand back up and grasped my wrist gently. He placed it on the back of his neck. My breathing increased, my body becoming almost unstable, as he pulled me closer until every line of my body was pressed against his.

He whispered my name again almost inaudibility as he touched his forehead to mine. There were no sounds but our breathing and his retreating sobs. I twisted my hands into his hair over rot with ecstasy and desperate need for the man I didn't know. For the man who I had to leave bleeding.

His face leaned into mine until our lips were inches apart. I could feel his sweet breath in my mouth and my whole body tightened against him.

Then, like some inevitable form of bad luck, Edward's name being screamed across the large room brought us back down from our cloud. He tensed, his muscles flexing around me, as he drew his head back. He looked passed me, his eyes menacing, at the figure that stood across the room.

The king looked absolutely furious. It was almost like you could see the rage exploding out of him.

"Father." Edward said impassively.

"Son." The king replied sternly. They glared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. All was silent again in the gold room.

"I suggest you go to bed, son." He sighed before releasing me. I immediately felt the lose of contact. I watched him leave the room without another glance at his father.

"Isabella," he said when I started to follow Edward's retreating figure.

"Yes sir."

"Stay away from him," he ordered shrewdly.

"Excuse me," I almost shouted, caught off guard.

"You heard me." His tone was final.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Did he know who I was? No that couldn't possibly be true…I would already be dead if he knew.

I huffed, aggravated, and stocked off to the foyer. I could almost hear him fucking smirk. What the hell was that assholes problem? I fucking hated that guy.

I hated all of the dark corridors. It heightened my instincts and made me completely paranoid. The candle in between my door and Edward's door had been lit and I could see a shadow pressed up against the wood.

"Hello?" I asked cautiously. The figure moved, turning its head, and his face caught the light. Edward's anxious sad eyes looked at me.

"What are you doing?" I questioned him.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course…why do you keep asking me that?"

"My father has been very strange lately."

"Strange…"

"Did he tell you anything."

"He said I couldn't see you. I don't know I-"

"Exactly. Come with me."

"Edward!" I whisper-cried as he grabbed my hand and dragged me into his bedroom

"Your father!" I shouted.

"Listen to me!" He shut the door and paced around the room for several moments.

"Something is very wrong."

A/N:

" It to the sea…we to the tomb…" -This is from Claude Debussy's "Beau Soir" It's one of my favorite lyrics and I just wanted to throw it in there. It's supposed to illustrate Edward's depressed state of mind.