Still Stephenie Meyer's

Chapter25/Shackled

[Edward]

The cold struck him and he could not breathe, stunned by the blow to his face. His heavy lungs expanded and he choked, his throat scratchy and on fire.

He forced his eyes to peel open and he lurched forward, spewing whatever obstruction was in his throat. He grunted when the sudden movement jarred his head and a piercing pain laced through the top of his head and behind his skull, almost gagging him.

He had no more than a second to gulp in air when a shot of the same punishing cold hit the side of his head and this time, forced from his stupor and the terrible throbbing of his head, he could smell the foul icy water. He retched violently.

Dry heaves, he thought, momentarily detached. He choked more of the fetid liquid out and he tasted blood. He was lucid enough to realize that something was holding him up he was too weak to stand on his own. As if his skull weighed a ton, he turned his head slowly, painfully.

He was chained to the wall, his arms pulled wide above his head, his body dangling like gutted fish.

"Ah see yer wakin' yew lazy goat-swivin' who'rsun!" A cracking sound, like a laughing toad, said somewhere below his right shoulder. Before he could slowly turn his head to the source of the snivel, icy water hit his face again.

Sputtering, Edward bared one glaring eye – he couldn't seem to keep both eyes open – and spit water, blood and saliva directly at the stinking bastard's face.

"Go fut yourself, little man," he rasped.

Pig-face bastard growled menacingly and Edward raised a brow insolently at him. He had time only to see a swinging bear of a hand and …

Blissful blackness engulfed his world once again.


It was the smell that woke him this time, a tart and minty smell with a hint of rosemary.

He was drowning but not in water. The air consumed him and he felt nothing, only the breeze and an unknown presence. His eyes remained close, he couldn't open them. The lightness of his entire being soothed him into stillness and there was no struggle, only submission in his body.

Oblivion, he thought, so very exhausted. He wanted to sleep forever.

"My love," she breathed in his ear, tenderly.

"Yes?" He sighed deeply.

"I will cleanse you, my love. Let me touch you, heal you …"

"Yes," he mumbled, pleased.

He felt soft, grazing touches on his chest, the smooth fingers gliding upwards to his neck and higher, caressing his jaw.

A cold metal was pressed to his lips and he turned his face away.

"Drink, my love. It will heal you …"

Her voice was so lovely, her touch intoxicating.

He drank greedily from her cup.


"Edward."

He tossed his head from side to side and he could feel his eyeballs moving quickly under his lids.

"Edward …"

He opened his eyes and the heady sensation made his eyes roll back. Something hit his face and his eyes snapped open once again.

"Edward!"

Her voice finally penetrated his mind and he turned to the sound. He stared fixedly at the vision, his skin prickling in fear, in desire. He sat up suddenly and would have jumped out of the bed he found himself lying on, but his senses were dulled and he couldn't move fast enough. He went still and he kept staring at her.

What the hell was she doing here?

"Bella?"

For it was her before him, glorious, shy and blushing. Her hair, unbound, was longer with reddish hues and flowing over her shoulders. His eyes lowered and followed the path of her clinging blue dress. He gulped, flushed, his throat suddenly dry.

She was wearing clothes that revealed more skin than he was used to seeing on her.

His heart pounding with nerves and excitement, he slowly got up from the bed and tentatively approached his beautiful queen.

"Bella, why are you here?"

He wanted to reach out and touch her but he used what little control he had to restrain himself. He knew he needed to touch her so very badly, more than he needed air and water to live.

She smiled and took the step that brought her closer to him. He sucked in a quick breath and inhaled her delicious scent. God, he wanted her. There was a powerful coil of lust inside him and it was tearing his gut to suppress it.

He stopped breathing altogether when she lifted a trembling hand. It hovered near his neck before settling to cup his jaw. He closed his eyes when she ran her fingers softly along his stubbly skin.

"Open your eyes, my love," she whispered.

He did as told, helpless, enthralled. She was so alluring.

Raising herself on her tiptoes, she leaned her soft cheek against his. "Kiss me, Edward," she breathed.

He started to shift restlessly and then went still. He didn't move.

She sighed and the sweetest of smiles lighted her face.

"I want you to kiss me, my love. It is not forbidden anymore. Trust me ..."

Banishing all caution for truly, he could not help himself nor did he have any control over his emotions. He loved her, would live only for her if she would but take him, be his forever.

He touched the corner of her mouth.

"I love you," he said clearly. He bent his head lower but stopped an inch from her lips. He happened to look into her eyes before his lips touched hers. He jerked back and blinked, stunned.

Her eyes were blazing and a darker brown than he remembered them, almost black. She looked away for a moment and he could tell that she was breathing hard, as if containing a strong emotion she feared of unleashing.

"What is it, Bella?" he asked, worried. He touched her face and gently lifted it to his. He leaned forward slowly but she backed up a step. Confused, he dropped his hands to his sides.

Her gaze did not lose its coldness and he frowned. Did he do something wrong?

And then she smiled and his heart began to pound faster.

"Lay on the bed, my love," she said coyly, running fingertips down his chest, stopping when it reached his navel. He felt his body tremble and stepped back, moving back to the bed as instructed. He shook his head at his obedience but he must follow her command. He simply has to do her bidding.

He settled down on the bed. She slowly approached, his eyes following her sensuous movement. She veered to a long table by the bed frame, her hands floated over it. She picked up a gleaming object and turned back to him.

"You say you love her, Edward?" She bared her teeth in a predatory way.

Edward eyed her curiously. Her?

"It's you, Bella. Only you," he said fervently, his eyes roaming over her face.

She sighed and her eyes grew faintly sad. He started to get up, he hated to see her sad.

Her expression changed again, became steel. She hissed at him. "Don't move." He went still. A rush of awareness shivered across his skin.

Bella climbed on the bed and straddled him. Still, he didn't move, only his eyes followed her. She raised her left hand above him, revealing a thin blade. He knew he should be worried but he wasn't. He felt strangely relaxed, subdued.

She undulated on top of him, grinding against his groin. He stiffened and forced his body to remain unmoving.

She moaned and bit her lower lip.

He started to raise his hands to hold her waist but she growled at him to stop, to hold still. He froze.

He didn't see her move but suddenly, he felt the blunt tip of the knife slicing across his chest, ripping his tunic apart cleanly. She dragged her hands along his exposed torso and he grunted when she raked her nails across his heated skin.

His grunt turned into a groan when she bent her head and licked his stomach. "Bella …" he begged, for what, he couldn't tell. There was something irresistible about her, a chain that he couldn't break, bonding him to her in avid longing. He only knew that he must have her or die in the wanting.

Slowly, she lifted herself again and in one fluid motion, she raised the knife and smiled at him.

Mesmerized, he smiled back wistfully. He just couldn't stop from looking at her lovely face.


[Alice]

She heard a horrible, bloodcurdling scream and her eyes shot wide in an instant.

"Me lady! Me lady!"

Shocked, she turned her blurry eyes to her maid who was crying beside the bed. "O me lady! Yew's scairt me witless, me lady."

"W-What?" Alice croaked. Who screamed?

"Yew screamt dae castle doon, me lady!"

"I – I did?"

Oh, God.

She sat up quickly and hopped out of her narrow bed. She saw that the maid, in her panicked haste, has left the chamber door open. She quickly walked to it and shut it close.

"Under my bed, the cedar box, pull it out and drag it by the window. Hurry!" she barked when the maid just stood there, blinking.

She ran to the windows and gazed up. It was early evening. She must have slept all afternoon out of pure exhaustion.

For three days, she barely slept, worrying about Edward and what was possibly happening to him. Most of all, frightened for Bella and what this was doing to her.

She and a lot of Bella's close retinue had been barred from entering the queen's private chambers. Alice hasn't seen her since her arrival at Aufforest days ago.

The queen has not allowed anyone to come and see her. She has refused all attempts at solace and turned away all expressions of sympathy. It was as if she refused to be comforted until she knew where Edward was, alive or dead.

No one knew what was going on within the confines of Bella's chambers, no one was permitted inside except Edward's father, the Duke of Kent, before he left the castle to search for his son.

It was as if in Lord Kent, Bella recognized a similar agony of the not knowing. There was a strange comfort in shared grieving and that was what she seemed to seek from Lord Kent.

But, now even the duke was gone. He had left two days ago with Sir Emmett. She heard talk in the hall that two squads of men-at-arms from Kent and Lumberland, two powerful fiefs controlled by the Cullen family, were at this moment scourging the whole of England in search of Edward.

Alice sent a momentary prayer of thanks to Mother Mary that Jasper was still at Forks Hall guarding the queen's family. He was safe, for now.

She was brought abruptly to the present when her maid paused at her side, panting. She has dragged her cedar chest containing her mother's grimoire in front of her.

"Leave now and lock the door," she said.

She stood up and created a circle of safety, of sanctuary, and began the ritual.

Alice opened the old chest and took out the book, candle, frankincense, and the Oil of Seer's Sage.

Calmly and with precise motions, she opened the windows and lighted the candle and incense. She took out a ceramic bowl and poured the oil. She ripped her clothes off and bared her upper torso. She applied the oil over chest and arms.

Without her moving, the grimoire stirred and she watched her hand as if they were someone else's, open the book to a marked page. She felt her lips moving, chanting the words. She held a small knife in her hand, she wasn't aware how it got there, it didn't matter. She knew what has to be done.

"Here I lie, servant of the Goddess of the Moon, hear me now, O Mother!"

She raised the blade that was Esme's and passed it over fire, a blessing from the Goddess. She chanted the words no one else would speak after her, and none has spoken before her.

"Fire, fire, blessed fire

Unto fortune I aspire

Now I hope that I may see

The future that will come to me …"

She took a deep breath and let it go lightly, and she felt freed. Slowly, she raised the blade and ran it across her arm. She didn't feel the sting, only euphoria. When her blood merged with the oil and her skin has absorbed the essence of its power, she felt a jolt of life deep inside her and she leaned her head backwards, her eyes staring adoringly at the moon.

Ilyatari, she sighed in a soundless chant and waited. As she felt more grounded, she said louder, Tua amin!

The flame of the candle burst higher in respond to her voice, at the same time that her skin turned cold and tight, tingly, as if a powerful entity was holding her up.

Amin naa llye nai … Amin naa tualle.

Alice gazed steadily into the fire, now burning low, and waited, transfixed, until she heard the voice.

Speak, my child, the voice said clearly in her head. She bowed.

Eadbhard, manke lye.

Entula tuulo i'ba, Eadbhard.

Tua amin! Tua amin!

She kept her head low, respectful and in awe, as she received the vision she has sought from the Queen of the Moon.

N'tess gothamin, the voice intoned, the words floating around her, shielding her.

Naur tinchor ostring ...

The gentle breeze, supporting the flame of the candle into a steady burn, suddenly roared fierce and blazing and whipped her hair against her face. The fire bloomed into a brighter flame. Her heart, which had been beating slow during the ritual, was thrumming faster until she felt faint.

The winds changed direction, swirled once around her body, and whooshed out of the window into the dark night.

Alice felt a great force has let its hold on her go and ease, and she lay down on the floor, drained yet empowered, her eyes dimming as the fire slowly died.

"I bind you, Victoria of Argyll, daughter of DuFour," she breathed, her voice far away and fading. "I bind you until my kin and blood is free. I hold you in yoke until my kin and blood is safe, and I restrain you until my kin and blood is with his people once more."

She took one more deep breath before oblivion claimed her.

"I bind you in your own blood, Victoria of Argyll, daughter of DuFour, until you are no more …"


[Bella]

She was where she has been for the past many hours, maybe days, by the window looking up at the skies. She watched it turned dark, giving way to light, back to dark again and an endless hole of black.

Night and day, it didn't matter. The world was moving on without him.

She was hoping that by not moving herself, keeping still, she could stop the alternating of the skies, prevent the light from turning to dark.

Her dried lips parted slightly. But that was impossible, she knew that. A mortal queen such as herself couldn't stop the heavens from its dance of change.

Edward once told her that she was born with the power of choice. She had disagreed with him. At the time, she thought he was referring to the kingdom and the crown.

How could she have chosen otherwise? Her father was king. His father before him was king and so forth. Her royal line had been on the throne for almost 200 years ever since her great, great grandfather seized the crown from the French occupiers.

Unbidden and of a sudden, Edward's voice swarmed inside her head. She squeezed her eyes tight as if to keep his strong yet kind, velvety voice from leaving her head.

She missed him!

Merciful Mother, I missed him so much, she sobbed.

She couldn't live without him. This thought, the same thoughts that have plagued her for days, came crashing back and she bit her lower lip hard to keep from screaming.

Her eyes still closed in agony she grabbed the small pillow behind her and unleashed her pain. Her muffled screams went on and on.

She cried for her lost chance, when she could have chosen him. She crammed her voiceless scream back down her throat to punish herself, because she was weak.

She loved him, she always did. Love should have been the most important part of her life, and should be the only one.

She loved Edward, only him. And she did not choose him.


[Edward]

Eadbhard.

Entula a' moinayamen ...

Wake up!

His eyes snapped open. His head felt so light there were little pinpricks of sensations on the top of his head, like bubbles trapped in a bottle.

He blinked as he fought for lucidity. His first barely coherent thought was Bella and how to get back to her.

God in Heaven, keep her safe!

His second thought was an immediate reaction to his body and his surroundings. There was a weight, albeit light, on top of his burning chest. It snaked an arm around his neck, pinning its body closer to him. He felt a hand attached itself on his thigh, kneading and squeezing.

Edward brought his gaze to the woman's eyes and he froze.

"Get off me," he said quietly, forcing his body not to recoil in revulsion when Victoria's red lips formed into a slippery smile, her eyes were filled with satisfaction.

He tried to remember what happened to him, why he was in a bedchamber with this woman instead of the dark dungeon. There were shadows and a vision trying to surface from the blackness that was his memory but it was elusive, vague.

One thing was clear. He had to get Victoria's hands off himself before hatred of her overwhelmed him and she would end up dead, her traitorous neck throttled by his bare hands.

Her face crunched into a confused expression as she absorbed his words. Her head tilted to the side, looking uncertain at him.

"Get. Off. Me. Woman," he gritted out, just barely holding on to his self-control.

Alarmed, Victoria finally removed herself from him, jumped off the bed and was against the wall in a flash, panting, staring at him wide-eyed.

Edward paled when her movement brought his attention to the stinging pain on his chest. He looked down and stared at the trail of thin, dried blood from his navel up to the point where his heart was beating furiously. At the back of his mind, where he had miraculously remained calm and detached, he noted that the wound was not deep enough and that he wasn't cleaved, only marked.

He lifted his narrowed eyes at Victoria. As he stood up, his gaze unwavering from her, he shook off his ruined tunic and that was when he noticed more dried blood on his arms. He inspected the tiny wounds closely. His eyes snapped back to her.

Bite marks.

The vile, disgusting woman has bit him and drew a knife on him! He nearly doubled over and gagged, his loathing of her knew no end.

How? How did it happen?

Victoria whimpered and he looked at her sharply. Her eyes were huge and filled with terror.

Bewitched.

The woman has ensorcelled me, he thought, still stunned and repulsed.

Edward's eyes slid down lower on himself, below his navel, at his manhood. He shuddered, suddenly cold. He looked up at her again.

"Victoria ..." Quietly, purposely nonchalant.

He stepped forward. And another.

"It appears that it was you who masterminded all this -" he waved a hand in her direction, "devilry." There was a hard edge to his voice now and she almost crumpled unto herself in fear.

He leaned closer, without touching any part of her. "What in God's Hell did you to me?"

Victoria screamed and he snapped. He quickly turned around and pulled her arm roughly, intending to escape through the window with her as hostage, and he didn't care how high up they were in this fortress. His focus was to get the hell out of there and fast.

Her men must have been posted just outside the door because only seconds passed before they broke down the heavy wood and burst into the room.

Edward took another step towards the window, about to hurl the both of them outside and into the air when a brute hand yanked him back and smashed something metallic against the back of his shoulder.

He fell down, dragging Victoria with him. His hold on her weakened, she was snatched away from him.

He rose up and shoved his shoulder against the hulking bulk and they both sprawled on the floor. In a blink, they were swarmed upon and he was trapped. He struggled with all his might to break free but there was too many of them. He roared savagely in frustration, overpowered.

"Don't kill him!" Victoria screeched at her men. "Keep him in chains and wait for my command. But by God, don't maim him," she snarled. The excitement and violence must have given her back her spine and vicious depravity for she began to laugh.

He was pinned to the floor by four men holding his arms behind him, one holding his head locked in place in a vice almost choking him. A deep, threatening sound erupted from his throat when the woman knelt before him. She dared touch his cheek and he growled.

"Don't struggle, my love," Victoria cooed, making his skin crawl in revulsion. "We've only just started."


***a/n

Thanks for reading.

Fut – possibly the earlier version of "Fuck" (from the Latin word futuere). The dictionary of old vulgar words I'm using said the word fut, which is fuck in the Olden Times, is very possibly Scots in origin.

Some Elvish:

Ilyatari - Queen of All

Tua amin - Help me

Amin naa llye nai. Amin naa tualle - I will do as you command, I am your servant

Eadbhard, manke lye - Edward, where is he?

Entula tuulo i'ba, Eadbhard - I seek his resurrection, (our) Edward

N'tess gothamin - Hold him (Protect him)

Naur tinchor ostring - Shield him in fire

Entula a' moinayamen - Remember (Remember who you are)