For: winterhorses

Prompt: That picture of Carlisle in period dress from New Moon, looking all sexy from his time w/the Volturi

Pairing: Carlisle/Bella

A/N: This is NOT canon.


It was her fault she was in this mess, Bella knew. She tried to tell herself she had no one else to blame for her predicament. She knew her place. As a servant of the castle, she'd had no right to look up at her master's guest. Her lot in life was to keep her head down and do what she was bidden-to keep her master's guests in drink in this case.

Truly, she had not meant to look up when she filled his goblet. And when she did look up, she hadn't meant to stare. She'd been struck by him. He was handsome-breathtakingly so. His look, as he stared back at her, was regal as befitted his class-entitled and arrogant-yet kid somehow. Or so she'd thought. She'd blushed, stammered an apology, and hurried away.

Too late, it seemed. That night, Mrs. Cope, who kept the girls in line, came to her with sad eyes but a no-nonsense command. The master wished for her to be bathed, brushed, and taken to his guest's chamber. She'd warned Bella not to resist. After all, the master and his guests would take what they wanted regardless.

"Don't make him hurt you, lovie," Mrs. Cope had said.

Bella repeated the mantra to herself as she sat, dressed simply and cold to her core despite the fire in the hearth, on Lord Carlisle Cullen's bed. When she heard him step into the anteroom, heard her master's voice with him, she clutched her hands into fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms.

"Aro, what is this?"

"A gift," her master said. "It is not good for a man to be so chaste, Carlisle. It's unnatural."

He left quickly, and the lord approached. Bella closed her eyes tight and clamped her jaw when he reached out to touch her cheek, but despite her resolved, she whimpered. "Please," she whispered. "I'm a good girl."

"Shh," he said, his voice soft. "How old are you, child?"

"S-sixteen." Many girls her age or younger were properly wedded and mothers already. Her youth would not deter him.

He retreated. "You have nothing to fear from me," he said, sinking into a chair near the bed. "I will not hurt you, and I will not touch you."

Bella allowed herself a furtive glance, long enough to see he was watching her with compassionate, curious eyes, and then looked back down again.

"You have my word," he said.

Somehow, she believed him. She relaxed ever so slightly.

"There now," he said, sounding satisfied. "Since it appears we have some time yet, let us talk."

And that was what they did. True to his word, that was all they did.


A/N:One more, I think.