Stephenie Meyer's Twilight.

Chapter23/The promise

[Edward]

Emmett and his squad arrived at the cottage within the day.

The queen stood silently watching the castle grounds below while men gathered up their belongings. She had been quiet since breakfast. Twice, he thought she was about to say something to him but she would hesitate, give him a look akin to confusion.

Edward didn't know how to react. Should he say something? What could he say? What more could have been said? The idyllic time was over. War has come.

"Montgomerie's dead," said Emmett in a clearly unsatisfied tone. He too was watching the queen.

Edward turned to him, one brow raised.

"It's not by Father's hand, unfortunately," his brother clarified.

"Unfortunately," he agreed.

It was Argyll then, which was not a surprise. It came at no great shock as well, that the bastard's army was but two days away from Saint-Kirk. That meant they had to leave immediately.

It was time to go.

He approached the queen and stood five steps behind her, a respectful distance. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence. He stood there, silent, for five minutes.

He looked around to check if anyone was within hearing distance. They were quite alone or as alone as they could be with 15 men milling around the clearing.

"We have to leave now, Bella," he said softly.

She let out a deep sigh, still not turning to face him. "Your father brought so many men."

"Still not enough," he muttered. "Montgomerie is dead."

She stiffened. Montgomerie was a traitor, a murderer and he was behind the king's assassination. He was also Bella's uncle. He continued, "Argyll killed him."

She finally turned to him. He didn't like what he saw in her face at that moment. It was bleak, hopeless. "I am next."

"That will never happen," he said, impatiently.

"He'll be here soon."

"And he'll be dead soon."

She glared at him and walked away, briskly, away from the men and the clearing. Edward saw his brother start to follow the queen but he signaled for him to stay put. They didn't have time to dilly-dally but still, he shadowed her steps. She was in some mood that he had never seen in her before.

She walked into the trees until they emerged to another clearing overlooking the vast Scottish lands below. He stood rooted to his spot when she walked further into the center of the small clearing and stopped.

Slowly, she faced him. She was as still as him, the wind gaining strength as it swirled around her, stirring her long, unbound hair and her overcoat.

"Listen to me, Edward Cullen of Kent," she said softly, solemnly. Thus addressed so formally, he bowed, waiting. He knew whatever was coming was an order from his monarch.

"I will require no heroics from you, Kent."

He straightened up at that and caught his sigh of exasperation to himself. He had heard this from her before, and so God helped him, if she tried to send him away again, he would tie her to a chair if that was what it would take to protect her.

"One of us will survive this," she said. When he opened his mouth to speak, to say that he would damn well make sure it was her, she raised her palm up to silence him. He shut his mouth.

"You will put my sister to the throne should I fall," she said, her voice strong and firm. "Swear it to me now, Kent. You will do all in your power to ensure Angela is crowned queen."

He stared fixedly at her. There was no other sound in the small clearing but the faint howling of the winds.

Slowly, he drew his sword and the hiss of the blade being freed from its scabbard was an echo of his promise, strength, and devotion to her. He struck the broad tip of the blade to the ground and knelt on one knee before England and the woman he loved, for she was his all.

"It will be done, my queen."

[Carlisle]

Argyll killed not only Montgomerie, but his two sons, eliminating the threat of succession. He knew this would either make or break the kingdom since the morale boost to Argyll's allies would be significant.

He regretted not killing Montgomerie himself but his kin, that horse's ass de Marseille, still lived and it would be up to him or his sons to end the life of this miserable excuse of a noble. And, of course, there was still Argyll.

Kent barked orders to prepare for their departure the next day. All this traveling had made his men frenzied and raring for battle. The end of the war was in the air, they could all sense it.

He waited impatiently for the queen's arrival. He had sent his son, Emmett, to fetch Isabella. He was looking forward to seeing his heir soon, too.

They all had to make haste their journey back to London for the claimant to the throne might be emboldened enough to declare himself king at any moment.

He was assured at least, that Argyll has not taken main London town and he knew the kingdom could never be divided. As long as London was the queen's seat of power, England was hers and the nobles would not acknowledge Argyll as sovereign, even if he had proven his strength by killing the powerful Duke of Montgomerie.

Still, Carlisle was not comfortable with the situation for the way he saw it, it was a draw and if they were not vigilant and cunning, Argyll could emerge the victor.

He had plans, he was prepared. He would execute these plans as soon he has conferred with his sons, especially Edward.

[Edward]

"You look like hell, Father," he said without preamble. They were in the long hall of the dilapidated castle. The keepers did their best to clean house, but while the stronghold would likely be around for a hundred years more, the inside interior was sadly begrimed with years of filth, certainly not fit for the queen.

His father had just spent an hour with Bella, going over the routes and plans for her return to London. All the local nobles of the towns were at the castle, some brought their wives. He felt relieved when he saw the women. They were now attending the queen in her chambers. They would at least distract her until their departure.

Carlisle rubbed his face tiredly. "Son, do me a favor. Tell me something, now, to end this blasted war, for I am sorely missing your mother."

Edward glanced sharply at the duke. The Carlisle he knew would never admit to such weakness, not to mention a longing for his absent wife. The war has raged on for far longer than anyone of them had anticipated. However unlike his father, he was in no hurry to go home and for that, he felt wretched.

Before he could reply – and in truth what could he say to his father – Emmett coughed meaningfully and they all looked up. Sir Alistair Leoncorte and his daughter, the aptly named Sigourney, were standing behind Edward and his father.

"Ah, Leoncorte, I trust you have acquainted your daughter with the queen's wardrobe?" said Carlisle, indicating that both should join them at the table.

Both Edward and Emmett stood up and offered Sigourney a seat. She gracefully sat down and the brothers did the same.

Edward already has an idea why Sigourney was brought to Saint-Kirk. She was no stranger to the family and many times in the past, had visited Kent to train in sword fighting along with the three younger Cullens. She was small to look at, dainty even, but she could fight like a conquering warrior.

"She's been invited to have supper in the queen's chambers this eve," said Leoncorte. "Not much time to learn her mannerisms, but Sigourney can do it."

Carlisle looked at his eldest son and raised his brow. "As you already know, Mistress Sigourney here has agreed to be the queen's decoy."

Sigourney blushed, pleased with her important task, and gave him a shy sideways glance. Edward nodded his approval.

It was an excellent plan but there was more to be discussed and he needed to clear a few things. As they threshed out the plan, it was decided that Sigourney as "the queen" would ride first with the bulk of the men-at-arms while a smaller group would guard Bella, but this squad would still be part of the riding army.

The plan was solid, except for one thing and while he realized the wisdom behind the plan, he was reluctant to give it a final go.

Bella would be disguised as a young page and she would be riding with Emmett, Leoncorte and Sir Garett. He, as the head of the queen's guards, would have to ride with Sigourney to keep up pretenses.

He hated this part of the plan, especially because he knew there was no use arguing. He couldn't ride alongside Bella. As soon as Argyll located him, he would know the queen would not be too far.

"Prepare the queen, Edward," his father said, concluding the meeting. "We leave at dawn."

[Bella]

It seemed to her as if she had been waiting for him for a long time, and when he did finally came to her, she had nothing to say to him.

They arrived at the castle at mid-noon and soon as her feet were on the ground, the Duke of Kent ushered her inside and the briefing commenced. She understood the urgency. There was no more time alone with Edward and especially not right now, when she was surrounded by the wives of her loyal subjects.

The women were all a-twitter, flustered and nervous by her unexpected presence in this remote fief. It didn't seem to matter that she didn't speak Gaelic. Expressions of "We're so honored you're here," and "Will you accept this token ..." needed no translations. To all their smiles and pronouncements in the lovely old language, she simply nodded her head and returned their smiles.

"Have you written all their names, Breton?" She turned to one of the squires that came with Carlisle's army. The young man was from Kent, the son of a knight, and was fortunately not only fluent in Gaelic, but could also write both in the Scots and English language. It was this skill, more than his arms-bearing training, that earned him the next stage to knighthood.

"Och, aye, me lady," he croaked. The poor lad was sweating, obviously not used to being surrounded by so many women.

The sudden appearance of Kent's heir had the effect of hushing the excited giggling and chirping in the room. An admiring, awed silence was the same in all women too, regardless of language, spoken or not.

Edward, confronted by staring women, cleared his throat. "My apologies, your grace, for this interruption," he intoned, very formal. He bowed to her and to the ladies. "Feasgar math."

The women responded the same to his greeting and everyone, Bella noted with narrowed eyes, were quite pink-faced and the room's level of buoyancy seemed to have gone up a notch.

And then Bella caught herself staring, too. She roused herself enough to turn to Breton, the biligual squire. "Translate for me," she ordered. Giving Edward, who was now patiently standing near the door a nod, she addressed the women. She thanked them for their graciousness and requested for their return during supper tonight.

Soon, the receiving chamber was emptied of chattering women and there was only her and Edward.

"Close the door," she said, letting out a long sigh and slouched deep in her chair. She had been sitting rather stiffly the past hour.

"That's not allowed, my lady," he said, but he was smiling.

She sighed. "We leave on the morrow and I'm likely never to meet these enthusiastic but gentle women again. So sir, be kind, and close the door."

He rivaled her deep sigh and moved to shut the massive double doors, finally.

She hid a smile of satisfaction and then she felt shamed by her obvious delight at his discomfort. She couldn't help but feel accomplished somehow whenever she was making Edward do things he didn't like to do, especially if these things were opposed to his prudent upbringing. She musn't bedevil the man anymore. They had so little time and soon, they would part ways.

"Sigourney tells me that you grew up together," she said, surprised to hear a hint of jealousy in her tone.

Edward had walked near the windows. "Yes. I have known her for a long time."

"You will protect her, Edward? I don't want her harmed for impersonating me."

"I will protect her as if she was you," he said.

It was that familiar tone of his voice - that soft, intimate voice that always made her face bloomed red. It momentarily distracted her from what she was thinking, what she has to ask him to do.

She stood up and forcibly shook herself. This has to be done.

"Edward, I want you to cut my hair."

"You want me to what?"

"If I'm to ride as a boy, I must look like a boy," she said firmly.

"Ruin your beau -" He stopped abruptly and now his own face was flushed.

"You very well know I have to do this," she said. She indicated the small and bent blades called scissor daggers on the table near the hearth. Without waiting for his agreement, she dragged a tall stool and sat where the light was brightest in the room, near the big windows. Her hair was already unbound.

She stared outside, where men were camped. The higher-ranked officers and all of the nobles were inside the castle but the majority of the men-at-arms and archers would be sleeping under the stars tonight.

She didn't turn around when she heard his hesitant movement. She gulped nervously when she heard him lift the scissors and test it for its sharpness. She almost jumped when she heard him speak. She didn't hear his approach.

"Are you certain you want me to do this?"

"Yes," she whispered, suddenly teary-eyed.

Don't be ridiculous, Bella! She chided herself. It's only hair. It will grow back.

Her hair was very long, past her waist. It was mostly straight but some strands tend to curl and if left uncombed, she knew she looked rumpled.

She sat very still and waited. She worried that Edward would just hack off chunks of her hair but she never even considered one of the wives for this task.

Gently, carefully, she felt his hand smooth her hair, from the top of her head to the small of her back. She couldn't quite contain her shudder, and for a wild moment, she thought he was smelling her hair. She frowned at her silliness and forced herself to sit motionless, face forward.

Why would he want to smell her hair? The last time she washed her hair was the night before but she was fairly certain that her mane of dark brown locks were clean and still shiny.

His hands parted her hair and she heard the first snip of the scissors. Her deep intake of breath seemed to be echoed behind her and she realized that he too was holding his breath. More snips and with each cut, her head felt lighter, unencumbered, freer.

She closed her eyes when his hand lightly rubbed her nape, as if she was a horse and he was trying to calm her. She made an effort to relax and commanded her muscles to untighten and submit to his soothing touch.

She swayed and sighed, biting her lip to stop a little moan from escaping. She opened her eyes and was stunned by her actions. She forced her body to still.

When her heart has stopped its erratic beating, her hearing cleared. She only heard silence.

He had finished cutting her hair and she didn't even noticed it. He was just standing there, behind her, barely breathing.

Slowly, she raised a hand and placed it on the top of her head. She smoothed her hand down, holding her own breath and stopped just above her shoulders.

Edward had cut her hair short, like a page. She had mixed feelings when her hand touched skin instead of hair. She straightened up and felt the cold air brush the back of her neck. She shivered involuntarily.

She swiveled around in her stool and looked down. Edward was standing close but he didn't utter one word.

"Do I pass as a boy now?" she asked, her eyes still lowered. She felt shy, as if she was sitting naked before him.

"Only an idiot would ever mistake you to be a boy."

He surprised a laugh out of her and she looked at him at last. Suddenly feeling elated and adventurous, she jumped up and strode across the room. She opened the connecting doors to her bedchamber and beckoned him to follow.

There was only one mirror in the castle and it was attached to the huge room's armoire. She slid the heavy wood open and stood still.

He was right. She didn't look like a boy, despite the short hair. But she felt different. She tipped her head to one side and stared at her pale face. She viewed all her angles, frowning, and then she knew who she looked like.

"Georgie," she said sadly. Her brother had this same exact length of hair before he ... when he died.

"Bella -" Edward started to say, "I promise you, I will not let them take you."

"Not at the expense of your life, Edward," she said. To her horror she felt tears roll down her cheeks.

"My life is not important. Only your survival is important."

She smiled at him through gritted teeth. She could never tolerate to hear him so casually refer to his own death.

"Your life is precious to me," she whispered.

She saw that he was about to say something but abruptly stopped as soon as her words were out of her mouth. He watched her intently and in his eyes, she could see him struggle with himself, trying to deny the meaning behind her words.

"You ... you are always gracious as a queen, Bella. You care about your subjects," he said slowly, as if testing the truth behind his reasoning. He couldn't quite meet her eyes and he looked around with a blank expression on his face, hiding his thoughts from her.

Fool, she thought. One day I will tell you I love you and you better believe it!

Briefly, madly, she thought about signing this declaration into law for the whole kingdom to know.

And what will you do with his wife? You do remember his wife, don't you? An insiduous voice inside her chose that moment to speak up.

She sighed. She sat on a long bench and waited until both of them was comfortable again. The bedchamber was clean but the furnishings were shabby. It looked as if this room hadn't been occupied for at least two decades.

There was a scuffling noise by the door and they both turned, gratefully, at the sound. Breton was staring wide-eyed at his short-haired queen.

"Yes?" she said, eager for a distraction.

For a moment, it seemed the boy was incapable of speech.

"Och, err, me lady? Ye, uhm -" he stammered.

"Out with it, lad," said Edward, mildy irritable.

But the boy just stared, mouth falling open.

[Victoria]

The night has finally come, what she had been waiting for days.

A full moon.

She took the small bowl of water and flower from the altar. She took the flower and sprinkled the ground with the water clinging from the petals. She created a circle, chanting.

"From water I am born, with water I am sated.

This eve, tempus vernum, I create a pool of sacred circle and hear my summons!"

Victoria faced each direction as she spoke, lighting the candles she has placed on the ground.

"Senterio, I call to the north, realm of earth. Be here this night.

Oriens, I call to the east, realm of air. Be here this night.

Meridians, I call to the south, realm of fire. Be here this night.

Occidens, I call to the west, realm of water. Be here this night."

She smiled as she felt the spirits stir the air around her.

Yes, I bid you welcome. Hear me, hear me. Make him mine.

"I call to Nepture, Poseidon.

I call to Boann, Aphrodite.

Tonight I ask your blessings on this water. May it hold power for my ritual this night."

Victoria started to sing and chant. "Listen to the voice. The voice of the water. Calling you and me." And with heartfelt intent, she stated her wants, and called his name.

She extinguished the candles and chanted her farewell to deity.

And still, she called his name.

This wasn't part of the ritual but she took her knife and drew a thin, shallow line across the soft flesh of her palm.

I bleed for you, Edward, and there be no more failure. For I shed my blood for you for the last time, my love.

In the middle of the night, Argyll summoned her. It was a good thing Laurent has left the manor and did not stay the night.

Her husband's men insolently knocked on her door, disturbing the whole household. And they told her what she already knew.

That bastard has declared himself king.

[Alice]

"Power of light, cast out darkness.

Set to flight things unwanted that hinder me.

This is my will; so mote it be."

She brought her chanting to a close and did her grounding, signaling to spirits that she was ending the enchantment of her circle.

That's done, she thought.

She was about to extinguish her ritual candles when the hair at the back of her neck prickled and she felt the telling tingles on the top of her head.

Without warning, she felt a horrible pain in her abdomen and she fell on her knees, clutching her burning middle. She moaned and cried, and squeezed her eyes shut, but the visions still came.

What she was seeing in her mind's eye was so frightening, so terrifying that she screamed and screamed until she was hoarse.

It was Edward. He was in danger.

Help him.

Oh, God, the pain. Stop this pain. She felt as if she was being split in two.

Go to Edward, daughter.

Through the haze of pain, she still saw him, heard his roar of anguish and formidable rage.

Breathing hard, she bit out. "How, Mother? How can I help him?"

Help your brother.

"W-what?"

***a/n

Feasgar math – Good afternoon