Stephenie Meyer will co-produce the two-part movie version of Breaking Dawn.
Part2/The hunt
In old King Charles' court, among the three most powerful noble houses, the Cullens of Kent were the most favored.
The Duke of Kent's unimaginable authority and wealth made him and his sons the target of endless envy, so much more so since they were not even relatives of the king, like Argyll and Montgomerie.
In a pretense to solidarity (and to keep the wealth within the clans), the Duke of Montgomerie attempted to negotiate a marriage between his niece, Lady Victoria Montgomerie-DuFour and Kent's heir, Lord Edward. The king, secretly petitioned by Kent, declined the proposal from his cousin, but agreed to a marriage between the eldest Cullen son to the daughter of Lord Mullineaux's, Lady Tanya.
Victoria and Edward were born on the same year, and while the latter has for the most part of 22 years, ignored the other's existence, the former grew up insanely fixated on Kent's heir. The fact that Edward was married now did not repress Victoria's enthrallment. And unfortunately, her fatal obsession was a source of hilarity between the Cullen brothers, Jasper and Emmett.
As for Edward, he hated Victoria's obvious enthusiasm for him. He was a bit wary, and often times downright frightened of the woman because it was rumored that she was adept in the arts of witchcraft. For years, if he knew she was in the same room with him, or the same manor or castle, or even in the same town as her, he would refuse to touch any food or drink that was untested by paid tasters, for fear of bewitchment.
He was greatly relieved when just last year, Montgomerie arranged a marriage between his niece and Edward's nemesis, Lord James of Argyll. The Cullen brothers Jasper and Emmett, and also Alice and Rosalie - although neither set of siblings were aware they shared the same sentiments – rejoiced in the joining of Victoria and Argyll. Alice referred to the union as the un-holy matrimony.
That Alice felt animosity towards Victoria was justified. The Brandon sisters had suffered many years of insults and ill treatment from Argyll's new wife. Victoria certainly didn't pass up any opportunities to humiliate the sisters whenever she was visiting at the castle. Now, Victoria would never speak against the princesses Isabella and Angela, not out loud and never within hearing distance of loyal subjects. But Alice and Rosalie knew the witch had been backstabbing the king's children for years, most especially Isabella.
There was no love among the Kents, the Argylls and the Montgomeries, and the hate extended to their children and kin.
[Victoria]
She bit her lower lip hard until it bled. Then she took her dagger and with trembling hands she stabbed her leg, relishing the pain. It was a shallow wound but she screamed bloody damnation.
Imbeciles!
Festering, worm-gutted idiots!
Cursed all men!
She threw the blade and it hit a tree trunk. She growled and tore at her clothes, her nails scratching her pale skin until they were raw and very red.
Argyll had gone berserk, chasing after shadows long gone.
He's a fool! He doesn't deserve to be king! She hissed to herself.
She was kneeling on the grass, breathing harshly. She raked at her open wound and squeezed, closing her eyes tight at the blissful pain she was inflicting on herself.
Edward, Edward, Edward …
"Victoria!"
She removed her bow and arrow from her back sling and pointed it at the intruder.
"Put that away, woman!" Laurent snarled.
Victoria slowly, gingerly stood, her hold on the string and arrow unwavering. Her gaze was equally unflinching.
"Did you capture him?"
Tell me you have Edward!
"Nay," he said cautiously, backing up. His eyes were glued to the blunted tip pointing directly at his forehead. "However," he said, his palms up in mock surrender, but his voice has started to tremble. She laughed, already scenting his blood. "They sighted Cullen's direction and by light's dawn, we will have him."
And then Laurent smiled, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Him and the queen."
"She's no longer queen," she spat, relaxing her tight hold on the string. No man, or woman, can save her now, she thought, slowly smiling.
No one!
She lowered her weapon and took a step towards him. She abruptly stopped, hissing in pain.
"Victoria, you're bleeding," said Laurent, surprised, but unconcerned.
She raised her skirts and showed him her bloodied thigh, and once again, he cracked a smile. The glint in his eyes was lustful.
[Argyll]
He waved the torch away and wiped his palm across the large overhang leaf. He brought his fingers to his lips, licking the blood. He stood up and sniffed at the night breeze.
"Bring over the tracker," he ordered his general.
Agaston was suddenly by his side and instead of the tracker, he pushed forward one of the archers before him.
"Sir, I shot 'er, dae queen. I got 'er wit me arrow," the young knight boasted, his face flushed with pleasure.
"Why are you smiling?" James dipped his head to the side, regarding the boy curiously.
The archer's grin faded and he paled. He threw a desperate look at his commander and turned back to him. "B-because I … ah w-wounded 'er, me lord."
"Did you kill her?"
"I-ah dun know, sir," he stammered.
He smiled at him and drew his sword slowly from its scabbard. He looked at Agaston and with one swift movement, the young knight jerked forward. His eyes widened in shock and he tried to speak, but all they heard was an ugly gurgle as blood poured out of his mouth.
He looked down at the sword protruding ghastly from the boy's stomach.
"Don't smile." Distracted, James admired his reflection glinting on his clean blade. "And don't lie."
Agaston removed his sword from the young knight's body and he fell dead, his mouth open in a grisly grin.
James sighed and turned to his staring men. His mouth twisted to a poor semblance of a smile. "Anyone else wants to claim my arrow as his?"
[Edward]
He knew they had to stop soon. They couldn't ride for too long and risk her bleeding to death. She was barely alive as it was, he thought, grim.
At the top of a knoll, he stopped his horse and whipped his head in all directions. Argyll's men were in pursuit but for the moment, by God's mercy, it appeared that they had eluded the enemies.
Edward quickly surveyed the dark woods. He could hear the faint tinkle of a river and he spurred the horse to a moderate trot deeper into a copse of trees.
He carefully alighted and rounded the area, checking all possible entrance and exits to the small clearing. There was light enough from the rising moon to help him. Satisfied of the place's relative seclusion, he ran back to the horse and took the satchels and blanket, and chose a spot where there was enough moonlight to see what he had to do.
Edward slowly, gently, carried Isabella's prone body. He breathed a sigh of relief when she emitted a ragged moan and gritted his teeth for he knew that in moments, she would be doing more than moaning.
He strode to the secluded spot and cautiously laid her down on the blanket. He delicately removed her cloak and coat, and slit portions of her dress where the arrow was stuck. He quickly shed all her outer clothing until all she had on was her linen chemise. Her skin pebbled as a cold breeze touched her.
The pressure of the arrow has stopped the bleeding but he very well knew that as soon as he tore the arrow's tip out, the puncture wound would rupture. He closed his eyes briefly and braced himself. What he wouldn't give for a blazing fire and hot water, but all he had was chilly river water and a healing balm made from Klamath weed.
Dear God, and Mary Mother, he prayed fervently. Save thy faithful servant and deliver her from all pain.
He snaked his arm around her shoulders and raised her body to an angle to staunch the inevitable flow of blood. He gripped the arrow's stem. He expelled a deep breath and commending her soul to God, cleanly ripped the embedded blade from her body.
She screamed and jerked against his tight embrace. He threw the arrow away and held her against his chest to prevent her trashing, and with his other hand, he quickly pressed a wet cloth to her wound to stop the gush of blood.
"Be still, my lady," he grunted. Her body has started to shake very badly and her eyes flew open, sightless, staring right up at him. Her eyes were black orbs of pain.
"Isabella ..." He felt as if her name was cleaved from him.
"Isabella," he repeated, his voice hoarse, his own stomach muscles were knotting in sympathetic pain. "You will live, do you hear me? You will damned it all to hell survive this or I will beat you! I swear to God!" he pleaded harshly. He tightened his hold on her and buried his face to her neck.
"I beg of you," he choked against her soft, cold skin. "Don't leave me."