Chapter 7. Dreams Speak Desires.

"But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for."

-Practical Magic

I sidled into the room, holding the plate carefully so as to make sure none of the sauce for the meat escaped into the floor. I set the plate down on the table, watching her watching me. I glanced down at the dinner I had brought, hoping that she would enjoy it, determined that even if she did not enjoy it that I would make her eat something. I probably wouldn't have to make her do such a thing as eat though; the poor girl was probably half starved.

I was about to tell her to come to the desk and eat when I realised that I should probably assure her of the nature of the animal I had brought her, she would consider Narnian, that was to say, talking animals sacred. As did we. But she probably thought that everyone in the Lone Islands was Barbaric, and I could not blame her. Emmett had bought her from Gliftin, who was the personification of barbarian-ness, and then she had been brought to me, and by my beating this morning... Her impressions would be poor, to say the least.

"I do not eat the talking beasts so you can be assured it was not one," I told her, making sure that my voice was controlled, "But you may only eat at the desk, I do not care for people to eat on the floor in front of me like animals."

A flash of anger clouded her clear brown eyes for a moment; I had probably insulted her with my desk comment. It was not meant against her nature or breeding, it was in case she thought I wished her eat in her corner, on the floor. I would not be surprised had she taken that impression of me, I had been trying to keep her in her proper place, keep her in her slave frame of mind by giving her the stone floor to sleep and sit on, but despite the fact that I would see her as my slave, and she would know that was how I saw her, I could not bear to see her eat there.

She winced as she sat, and I felt a flash of guilt. Her beating would hurt her for a few days, and the sensitiveness of her thighs was probably heightened by the awful material of the dress I had given her to wear. I would find something better for her to wear tomorrow. No, tonight.

As she sat to eat her meal, which she had not pulled a face at nor rejected to my great delight, I crossed over to the dresser in which I had kept some of Tanya's clothing for when she was staying two summers ago. Even two years ago Tanya's curves had been much more womanly and well developed than Bella's much more fragile curves and rigging were, but I supposed they must have been roughly the same size, both were fairly slim, but with breasts and hips. I picked out a soft, chiffon bed dress and laid it over my sofa before going to sit opposite Bella at the desk. I wondered what kind of reaction the dress would elicit from the she-devil I shared a table with now... Would she be grateful in a broken, desperate way, or would she toss her head as though she deserved nothing less? I knew the answer.

I lowered my eyes to my desk and pulled parchment and a quill towards me.

Now to handle Tanya.

Dearest Cousin,

I am aware that Emmett told you today about Bella an-

I scribbled through that, and began again.

Dear Cousin,

I am writing to see if you are OK after how I have betrayed your trust.

No, that really wasn't right either.

Dear Tanya,

I am sorry that I didn't tell you about Bella myself.

No, no, no!

Tanya,

I'm possibly in love with Bella, who is a slave that I shouldn't be in love with, and I'm having a hard time coming to terms with it, because I'm basically screwed, therefore I just lied about her existence this morning, sorry...

It was accurate, but inappropriate even by Tanya and I's relaxed standards with one another.

I suddenly became aware that Bella was nearing the end of the dinner she was concentrating on and that soon her attention may divert to trying to see what I was doing, as I was sure she was as full as natural curiosity and need to know everything as I was. I scribbled through the last version of the letter. Hard.

I pulled a new sheet of parchment towards me, and dipped the quill in the ink again for yet another go.

I lifted the feather and was about to begin when I realised that Bella had just stood up. I put the quill back down in the ink well. Damnit, I would not let her walk all over me as such, even my own sisters would ask to be excused from the table. Even my mother, with tonight's outburst being an exception, would ask my father's permission before leaving the table. The only woman in the whole country who would leave a table without asking permission was the one I was deemed to meet the next day, the future Queen, Isabella Swan, yet here Bella was, standing as though she were the damned Queen! I would show her, remind her of her place. I would not beat her, not even spank her. But I would rebuke her; I would make sure she knew she could not go around doing as she pleased.

"Bella, did I give you permission to leave the table?"

She did not answer me, but raised her chin higher into the air and straightened her shoulders slightly. I wasn't even sure if she was aware of this seemingly natural response that she seemed to give whenever anyone challenged her. It was as if her body was asking me who I dared think I was to challenge her.

Well, I wasn't going to take from her what my own father would not abide for from my mother; I stood and walked round the desk to stand beside her, pushing that glorious waterfall of brunette hair away from one ear so that I could speak lowly and directly into it. I did not relish what I was about to do, and I hoped that despite it she would still stay, still not run tomorrow, but although I was determined from now on to treat her fairly, that did not mean I would be walked over.

"Get this through your head, woman," I murmured, "You are mine. You are my property. You do what I say and only as I say. For your refusal to answer you will sleep naked again tonight."

She turned her head and I realised that this was the first time she has seen the bed dress. Her shoulders sagged. Perhaps if she had seen the bed dress first she would have not acted so...

Perhaps I had to show Bella what the rewards for her good behaviour would be. And I intended to make sure they went beyond simple matters such as bed dresses, but I would not spoil her now, she would earn simple things, learn that she had to earn these things, that they were not owed to her. But I would show her that if she did co-operate, behave... if she did not run tomorrow, if she stayed... I would give her wonderful things, show her wonderful things, teach her wonderful things. She had been reading my book the first time I had seen her, we would read together, discover things, discuss things. But she would learn to behave first.

And I would get her some better clothes, I decided, pulling the hideous thing that clothed her now off her body so hard that it ripped at the shoulders and fell in a heap on the floor. She cried out in pain as it pulled against her, and I wanted to put my arms around her, but I restrained myself. Tomorrow, Edward, if she is still here tomorrow...

And tomorrow would also bring the burning of that dress.

"Get to your corner now," I ordered, shoving her to get her on her way, I didn't trust myself to be so close to her naked form. I shoved her too hard though; she fell slightly, letting out another slight cry. I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut upon hearing it.

Aslan, I was useless. I watched as she half crawled to the corner and settled down, her back to me, allowing me to witness the angry, livid red marks I had left on her that morning. I didn't deserve her to still be here tomorrow.

I returned to the desk and picked up the quill again, but as soon as I raised it over the page a large angry blot dropped from the end of it, seeping out over the parchment. I silently cursed. Left too long in the ink meant overload. Like me, left too long in control and feeling nothing meant that now I was in overload and spewing ink blots everywhere without control. Well, maybe I was as well sending Tanya a piece of paper with a large blot on it; it was probably more of an explanation than I could coherently come up with.

I crumbled the piece of paper and threw it into the bin under my desk, along with my other failed attempts.

I failed several more times within the next hour and then decided to give myself a break by getting up to blow out the candles around the room. I was unsure if Bella was awake or asleep, but I knew I always slept better with darkness surrounding me. I left only the candle on my bedside table and the candle on my desk burning, but as I crossed back to sit again and resume writing I caught sight of the bed dress. Damnit, I was going soft. I picked it up, then crossed to the corner where she lay. Her eyes were closed and her breathing indicated she was sleeping, though only lightly. How could anyone sleep other than to sleep lightly on a cold stone floor? I deposited the dress on the floor next to her. If she woke up, she would know I had moved it there for her and she would feel free to put it on.

I returned back to the desk. What was I supposed to say? How did I explain this?

Dear Cousin,

As I am sure you are aware, I owe you a huge explanation. I lied to you this morning, when I denied the existence of Bella, and to add insult to this injury, you had to find out that it was a lie from my half wit of a brother. Truly, I am immensely sorry and I beg your forgiveness.

I did not purposely lie about Bella this morning out of badness, or a wish to hide anything from you, you know I trust you implicitly, but I was entirely unsure of how to explain who she is. Truthfully, my darling cousin, I am still unsure. Bella is a slave that my afore mentioned half wit of a brother bought for me for my birthday... She is a strange girl, around my age I should think, haughty, stubborn, wilful, disobedient, and entirely too beautiful for a slave to be. She makes me... When I am around her...

I have ripped up several attempts of this letter already Tanya, and so I am giving up and sending this, despite its ridiculousness and the immense amount of unended sentences. In truth, I have no end for those sentences, no coherent explanation for anything, and I cannot offer you anything more on this page than these jumbled and insensitive words. I wish I were more blessed to be able to put such things into words, if I had the brains of the High King Peter, I am sure I would have many explanations and theories on Bella and her effect on me, and why when she comes into question I should tarnish the relationship I have with a person I cherish to dearly by lying to this said person.

I hope she forgives me.

Awaiting your reply,

Your cousin,

Edward.

It was undoubtedly the worst letter I had ever written, and if Tanya never answered it I wouldn't blame her. I could not make it any clearer, could not put down in words... Well, I could put it down in words, but they were words I cared not to see in incriminating black and white, nor words I cared for my cousin to read. She knew me, knew me better than anyone, knew that I was too sensible supposedly to feel this way after a day...

I would sleep. I needed to stop thinking of this altogether. Though I did not doubt that my dreams would be plagued by her. Welcome plague.

I was half asleep when Bella turned over in the corner. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, but even if they had not I would have rejestered the movement, it was not gentle.

Wake, Bella, wake and put on that damn dress, I willed her.

"I shall not," Bella whined, and I sat up in bed, wondering with a wild chill if I had spoken out loud or if she was truly some sort of spirit or witch who could read my thoughts.

I opened my mouth, prepared to ask her as much when she slammed her fist down and snapped, loudly, "But I want it!"

I got out of bed and crossed the room to where she lay. Her eyes were closed.

"Give me it," she demanded, "I want it."

I didn't know whether to laugh, smile, or be disgusted. Even in her sleep, when she sleep talked, when she dreamed, Bella was stubborn and demanding and haughty.

"No!" she snapped.

I half chuckled and headed back to bed. So, Bella was a sleep talker, that was interesting.

"No!" she snapped again.

I got back into bed and lay down.

"No!"

Clearly someone in her dream wasn't quite getting the point. Oh to be in that dream, even if I wasn't getting her point...

"Give it to me!"

And she wanted something from whoever she was dreaming about. If only there was something she wanted from me other than the end of my existence, I would give that angel the world if I could. If I could do it and stand to look in the mirror, look in the eyes of my family.

"No."

I lay back down and laughed. Obviously the person in her dream wasn't co-operating. It was an amusing thought, she refused to co-operate with me, and in her dream someone wasn't co-operating with her. Maybe a headstrongedness and lack of will to co-operate was something she also found highly attractive.

"Edward… come back…"

I froze. Did she just... ? Did I hear...?

She seethed in her sleep, her breath through her teeth, flailing from side to side, irritated.

"Edward! Come back! Come back, I say! Edward!"

Yes, yes I definitely heard that. She was saying my name. But was it me? Perhaps it was another Edward? And if it was me, would that even be a good thing – she was clearly sleeping restlessly, badly. If it was me in the dream obviously her dreams about me were so bad she tossed and turned.

"Aren't you just going to spank me if I don't?"

What the... ?

"Edward… No… Come back! Edward… Don't leave…" I pleaded, I begged, I nearly cried.

If it was me then despite the fact I was obviously distressing her... she wanted me to stay with her... I couldn't comprehend it... It couldn't be me, it couldn't be. She couldn't want me to stay in her dream, there was no way she wanted me to stay anywhere near her...

"Edward, no! Make me say please! Come back here and spank me and make me say please! Spank me for not saying it. Teach me what happens for not saying please. Please, Edward, please!" she was almost screaming, "I need you to make me say please Edward. I need you. Please."

I sat back up, reaching out to her, confused. I wanted to go to her, take her in my arms, rock her, hold her, tell her that yes I would spank her, discipline her, teach her what happened when she didn't say please, but that I would love her, keep her safe, keep her secure, that I would spank her till she learned her lesson then cuddle her and kiss her tears away and tell her that after she had been punished she was forgiven, tell her to forgive herself, explain to her that to be punished was a blessing for her, that it meant she wouldn't hold onto all the self guilt that the guilty, who knew in their heart of hearts that they had done wrong, did hold. And Bella held that, the very fact she asked to be spanked in her dreams told me that. Her stubbornness told me that. Everything about her told me that. She wanted someone to take care of her, you could see it in her eyes, she had never relinquished control, and she craved the ability to.

I was about to slide my legs out of bed and cross to her to wake her and hold her when she sat bolt upright and gasped out a loud "PLEASE!"

She was awake. I knew it, she had woken up. And I didn't know what to do, I was frozen in this ridiculous sitting up position, with an arm reaching out towards her. What would she think? Did she knew she talked in her sleep? Did she... would she?

Her head swivelled towards me, and I couldn't stop staring at her and our eyes met across the darkened room. What did I do? Did I go to her? Did I pretend it never happened? Did I lie down and in the morning we just acted like our usual selves. Did I forget what I had heard her ask me for in her dream tonight? Could I? Should I tell her to put the bed-dress on and throw her a pillow?

And in all the time I had spent here frozen considering these options she must have thought I was a complete imbecile. I quickly dropped my arm and lay back down.

The problem with having never been one to show my feelings meant that when they did overpower me I didn't know how to deal with them, and having never dealt with feelings that could overpower me I had no knowledge of what to do or how to act, how to respond positively.

Forget her thinking I was an imbecile, I clearly was a complete and utter imbecile.

And despite the fact that I didn't know how to act when I felt this way, I was sure, I berated myself, that lying back down had been the wrong decision.


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