A/N: Hello loves! I don't know if I've ever told you guys this, but I'm actually in pharmacy school and it keeps me busy 99% of the time so I don't get a lot of free time. Sorry for the slow updates, and that it's not the summer and I can't update faster. Going as quick as I possibly can while still producing the same quality work. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! XOXOX
The Inevitable Decay
To rid herself of the infinite tedium and political tension around her, Isabella took to spending all her free time on the beach.
The beach was the only place where she could be alone with her thoughts. Now, she knew she was not truly alone; Esme's tides still rolled up to shore, tickling her toes in ice-cold waves, but there was no one around to disrupt her. There was no one to run into, especially Rose. She had become extra insufferable as a result of Jasper's unkind comments. While they were certainly warranted, no one in the palace appreciated them, as it made living with Rose unbearable. Her normal temper flared at an alarming rate, enough to rile Emmett into throwing her out of the dining hall in the morning for breakfast.
Of course, that was what Isabella had gleaned from afar. Her ears were simply tuned to hearing echoes of shouts from down the hall, and she corrected her path in the opposite direction accordingly.
The beach was calming. Soothing in a way that was rare to come by in this land. It reminded her of the creek in the Shapeshifter's land, the gurgle of the slow moving water lulling her into complacency. She missed the soft grass and wildflowers, the shade of trees. Out here, there was only a vast open desert of sand, and while it was powder soft, it got everywhere and left Isabella feeling like ants were crawling over her skin. Still, it was the best source of comfort she could find.
Strangely, Isabella found herself missing her mother. The maternal nature of the ocean, Esme's compassion, seeped its way out of the waves and into her soul. Isabella remembered what her father had told her once: the water was blue because it absorbed your sorrows. Perhaps that was true, because Esme was the most melancholy creature she had ever come across, and yet she was there, splashing at at Isabella's feet, bestowing compassion.
Then, Isabella realized the splashing was not the ocean itself, but someone else entirely.
"You are avoiding us," Alice spoke plainly and without judgement, reaching out one elbow to link her arm with Isabella's. It was a familiar gesture, one that Isabella was unaccustomed to receiving from these creatures. Still, she accepted it and stood arm in arm with Alice while they let the frigid waters lull them.
"That was not my intention."
"Yes it was," Alice refuted, once more lacking judgement. She only seemed curious. "I do not blame you for feeling stifled, for feeling unwanted. It is a commonality we both share. Besides, there is only so much of Rosalie's antics that one's sanity can bear before the urge to rip her pretty throat out becomes overwhelming."
Isabella blanched at the vivid example, nearly falling over in shock as a particularly strong swell rushed past her ankles. Looking down, the hem of her robes were soaked, as was Alice's tattered train.
"Oh dear, was that too violent?" Alice asked, looking upon Isabella with a pensive worry.
"No, only surprising."
"Really? I would think my opinion of Rosalie would be quite obvious. I know that yours is."
"I have tried not to make an enemy of her, but she seems hellbent on my destruction."
"She has always felt threatened by young, beautiful things. Always afraid of Emmett's wandering eyes."
That drew Isabella's attention, snapping her head to meet Alice's impish eyes. There was no sign of teasing there, only a slight disgust at Rose's behavior.
"Emmett? Why should she care about upon who he gazes?"
"Because then that would mean sharing him, and Rosalie does not like to share what she has claimed as her own, especially not her bedmate."
Isabella stalled, placing a hand to her chest. "Bedmate?"
"Bedmate," Alice repeated in confirmation, slowly this time in case she thought Isabella did not know the meaning of the word. "Paramour, lover, concubine. I would have thought that to be obvious as well."
"Forgive me, but are they not siblings?"
"Yes. What of it?" Alice asked, as if such a question was idiotic.
To Isabella, the notion was nauseating. However, she recalled Emily's words with a heavy heart - that there was much outside the scope of normal that happened in the realm of gods. What was considered strange or unacceptable to mortals did not apply to gods. They were magic of their own sort, lived by their own rules that outlasted Time itself.
"Nothing...it is just...where I am from, brothers and sisters do not serve as each other's bedmates," Isabella explained, hoping it would satisfy Alice's endless curiosity.
"Rose would not know that. She does not keep abreast of mortal dealings; in fact, she prides herself on her distance from mortal affairs. She would not know nor care that that was not how things were. All she sees is a gorgeous young woman, mortal and fleeting in her beauty, who has won the favor of her beloved brother. That is all she needs to hate you."
"You mean to say that Rose perceives me as a threat? That she believes I am trying to steal Emmett's heart?"
"Exactly," Alice confirmed with a nod and pride in her eyes, as if satisfied that Isabella was finally keeping up. "It does not matter what your true intentions are, or what you do, or what you say. In her twisted imagination, she has already perceived you as a whore. Which, I have heard on good authority is not a far-fetched assumption."
"Excuse me?"
"What? Am I misinformed?" Alice asked, genuinely curious. "Did you not run off to the forest and engage in coitus with a dog while still married to Edward?"
The phrase was blunt and without emotion, simple curiosity and expectation written on Alice's pale face. Isabella gaped like a fish, unable to form words. She did not know whether to feel ashamed, offended, or embarrassed, and so felt all three at once.
"I did not think that such a comment would cause you distress. It was not like you were hiding your relations; you positively reek of mange," Alice said brusquely, daintily waving the air in front of her nose as she wrinkled it. "Not the most practical choice in partner, but do tell, how was the sex? I have always wondered if their raw, primal energy was comparable to my own."
Isabella could not believe where this conversation was going. It was twisted and demented and the fact that Alice was more curious about what happened than the morality surrounding it was all the more jarring. Still, she said nothing, unable to formulate a respectable response. In fact, she felt rather ill, her stomach churning. Was Esme listening to this? Was she going to reach out, wrap the tides around her ankles and pull her into the depths of the deep dark abyss for such impertinence?
"My my, are all humans so impossibly sensitive?" Alice marveled, watching Isabella closely. Isabella felt like she was some kind of animal in a cage, something for Alice to study.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, Isabella waiting for the inevitable end to come and for Alice to lash out and tear Isabella to pieces just like everyone else had. Instead, what came was entirely opposite.
"Isabella, it is my nearest and dearest wish for us to be friends."
"Is it?"
"Of course!" Alice chirruped, the awkwardness of the past conversation fading, at least for her. "It is not often I get to meet new people, and I sense your heart is good, something that is exceedingly rare in this world. You would be good company indeed."
Isabella chewed on her bottom lip, trying to reconcile what Alice had slandered about her compared to the statement about her good heart. Alice seemed to be honest, and Isabella had no reason not to believe her. She was refreshing and blunt compared to the games and lies all the other gods seemed to sow. Perhaps, Isabella thought, it was possible to put the past behind them and start fresh.
"I would love to be your friend, Alice."
Alice beamed up at Isabella like a child who had just been handed a shiny new toy. And perhaps, in Alice's eyes, Isabella was a shiny new toy. But Alice was more than a friend to Isabella. Alice was protection. Alice was insurance. Alice would keep her alive if Edward could not recover, and it was far past time Isabella started looking after herself.
Later that night, when Isabella was brushing her hair as she readied for bed, The River God came to see her.
He stood in the doorway, golden eyes conveying no judgement or contempt. He simply watched as she took a comb through her dark curls, hypnotized by the notion. It was strange to say the least.
"Why are you here?" Isabella asked, turning to her husband. It was not often that he approached her, and since they could not touch with the most intense pain, there was no reason to seek each other out.
"You were gone the whole day. I wanted to make sure that Rose had not fed you to the creatures as she so conveyed at the banquet."
"No, I had Alice to protect me. I believe she despises Rose more than Rose does me," Isabella replied, gazing at Edward curiously now. The expression on his face was almost...soft. "I did not know you cared, My Lord."
"I always care, Isabella," he sighed.
Then, he tried to step forward, and stumbled in the process.
Immediately, without thinking, Isabella launched to her feet and rushed over to her husband. She steadied him with an arm looped under his, careful only to touch where his skin was not exposed. She did not wish to burn either of them as she maneuvered Edward to a sitting chair near the balcony. He felt like dead weight, far heavier than she had imagined. His muscles sagged as if they had been cut, and Isabella had to practically drag him into the seat, pulling him into an upright position. He groaned as he was jostled, and Isabella knew that this weakness had to have come from his wounds.
"How can you not see?" she murmured in melancholy as she reached to fix his robes, lifting the hem of the sleeve so that she could peek down to his chest. Lo and behold, she could see gold splotches staining the white bandages, ichor slowly oozing out of what were supposed to be healing cuts.
"Not see what?"
"That your empire is falling around you," Isabella said, arms gesturing to the once-grand space covered with hair-pin cracks and layers of dust. "And I do not just mean your palace falling into ruins, I mean you. I mean all of the gods who claim to be so powerful and yet...you are wasting away like relics."
Edward heaved out a defeated sigh. From a distance, he seemed to wear all of his many thousand years on his face, looking so much older than Isabella thought possible.
"You do not think we know this?" Edward asked, no trace of patronizing or anger. He merely stared at her honestly, an exhaustion in his eyes that had nothing to do with his physical wounds. "The first and foremost power of any god is that of illusion. We are powerful because we believe ourselves to be, because the world and its creatures need us to be, regardless of whether or not it is true. We hold ourselves together with our pride and our belief that things are exactly as they were a thousand years ago, and in response the world keeps turning."
"But how much longer can you live this way? How much longer can you pretend?"
"Not much longer, I am afraid," he said resignedly, leaning back in his chair, looking out into the horizon. "Every day, my father creeps further into atrophy. My brother cannot handle both domains and my sister is imbued with a vengeance that will consume her until the bitter end. The balance of power is skewed. War will be upon my own domain when I return, and should I perish in the battle, or from these damned wounds, the River will run wild and wreak havoc on the mortal world. Everything is falling apart, and it is my fault."
Edward looked so miserable, wallowing in self-loathing. And while Isabella thought that this was the penance he deserved after the terrible things he had done to her, it was not easy to witness.
"All this time we have been here and I have heard nothing but accusations of your guilt, of these stories that Rosalie and Alice mutter under their breath as you pass by. Every day I grow more confused and you grow weaker."
"Isabella..." he said wearily, annoyance creeping in his tone as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I may not be a god, but this world is my home now. This is my life too, and if something is going to happen to you, if you are so set in the idea of your own death, then you owe me the truth so that I can protect myself," she continued, not letting this go. "Let me help you, please."
"Help me?" he scoffed incredulously, looking upon her with pity. "You have already done enough. Had you not shown up on my shores, none of this would have happened."
"What has my role in your life done other than speed your inevitable decay?" Isabella challenged, proud of herself for leaving her husband stooped. "You said yourself: the gods are dying. That would have happened whether I arrived on your shores or not."
Abruptly, Edward rose from his seat and started walking out of the room.
"I have heard enough of this."
"Who is Irina?" Isabella called out behind him in a desperate bid to regain his attention, her voice echoing off of every wall.
Edward spun around and looked upon her with wide, surprised eyes. The name seemed to hit him in the heart like a dagger, the pain written in the frown lines around his mouth, in the way his breath stuttered for only a moment.
"Where did you learn that name?"
"Alice told me. She said you used to play the harp but have not since Irina died."
"Alice should learn to mind her tongue," Edward grumbled, more than likely thinking of ways to silence Alice in the future. "Her stories are as wild as the mountains she calls home. You cannot trust what comes from her mouth."
"Pardon the offense, My Lord, but the only words I cannot trust are your own," Isabella replied bluntly. The words hurt him, she could tell, but they were not without truth. At least honesty was a virtue she had acquired. "You are the only one who has given me reason to be wary."
Edward sealed his mouth shut, his lips pursed in a tight line hard enough to rival Jasper's infamous scowl. He looked pointedly in the other direction, and just like that, their relationship diverted back to the original cycle of disrespect and patronization. Isabella was so tired of this cycle. She was so tired of being pushed around and toyed with like a play thing. Just the previous night, Rosalie had called her a pet and no one had batted an eye. It was sad and frustrating that, even now, in her husband's eyes, she was not worthy of more attention and respect than a lap dog.
"Fine. Keep your secrets, remain in silence for all I care. It matters not," Isabella said with finality, not in the mood to argue. She felt weary and broken, tired of being constantly disappointed. "Just know that the longer we stay here, the closer I will come to uncovering the whole story. I am bound to piece the details together, and I can only pray that I find the true sequence of events, and not some distorted recounting. You have the chance, here and now, to set the stage. Whether you seize the opportunity or not is up to you."
"No matter what version of the story, Isabella, the ending is not a happy one," Edward said heavily, the look in his eyes apologetic, and by the tone of his voice, she could not tell if he meant the past or the present.
"Funny, from where I stand, I see no difference."