Canzone Chapter 36, Strong As Death

Thanks to celebeta Nelsonsmandela, Camilla10 for the Italian and for steering me straight on certain Italian laws and practices pertaining to this chapter. Also thanks to Algie, and Feisty Y Beden, who very rightfully spanked me last chapter for letting Bella sing something she totally shouldn't and wouldn't. I changed it and we shall never speak of it again. Thanks also to my FGB auction winners- details to follow.

***EDIT*** I also want to thank whoever nominated Canzone for two Vampie awards (in Best Overall and Best Volturi/Nomads)

The list of nominees and link to voting is over here: http:/twificpics(DOT)com/vampawards/?page_id=198(DOT)

Chapter Music

Barbara Bonney sings Faure: Chanson d'Amour

www(DOT)youtube(DOT)com/watch?v=VFNVJZqmaWI

and

Aurore (this gets really amazing in the second verse)

www(DOT)youtube(DOT)com/watch?v=df4I-6CE82c

National Lutheran Choir performs Rene Clausson: Set me as a seal

www(DOTyoutube(DOT)com/watch?v=Qb6uY-y9HRI

Cambridge singers perform Durufle Ubi Caritas et Amor

www(DOT)youtube(DOT)com/watch?v=457nVpxJDkA

~oЖo~

We stay in Paris for a whole week, but apart from two conveniently timed recitals, it's mostly a chance for us to unwind and enjoy the beautiful city together. Our first concert goes as most of our concerts leading up to Vienna have gone, with a nice, responsive audience of a couple hundred people or so, which is something of a relief to me. The theater is small enough that this looks like a sell-out crowd, and afterward I finally get to answer questions and chat with people as much as I like. I have a conversation with a distinguished-looking older man by the name of Phillipe Fontaine, who turns out to be the host of a classical music station, and he asks to interview us later in the week to promote the next concert.

Edward gives him a CD of the Viennese concert, and when we finally get the Internet running in our hotel room, Alice informs us that she's already moved the next concert to a bigger venue.

"It took me all afternoon to arrange it," Alice says excitedly. "But I found a place big enough to hold your audience within walking distance from the theater we were going to have it in. Good thing he decided to take requests today. I've been working on him for weeks in the chat rooms and forums, but it was my request that made him decide to go."

"That is such cheating, Alice," I say, shaking my head. "None of this success is real, you know that?"

"It's just publicity, Bella, same as the pros have," she counters, with a don't-fuck-with-me expression. "I got him to listen to you. You made him want to listen to you. Now listen, I had a vision of an ill-fitting gown, so I've made you an appointment with a seamstress on Wednesday, Bella. And Carlisle will be in the city that day if you want to go hunting, Edward, although you could very well go together if you like. The coast is clear."

"I'm not taking any chances," he says grimly. "There are curious vampires wherever we go now, and Demetri could be anywhere."

"Fortunately we know exactly where Demetri is," Alice says softly. "He's going to Egypt to finish what you were supposed to do, but first he'll be delivering a talented vampire into the Volturi tomorrow. They had to use Chelsea to get her away from her coven, but she'll be a full guard member by the time you return."

"The lie-detecting vampire you were talking about?" I ask. "Maggie, from Ireland, right?"

"That's the one," she says warily. "It will be tricky, but I think we can get around it. You won't be able to say anything untrue, but I think you'll be able to evade or keep silent. Fortunately it's not far off from what you've been doing already."

It's exactly what I've been doing. I have no idea about Edward, but he doesn't seem worried about it.

"This could easily backfire on Aro," Edward says, looking more amused than I feel. "The Volturi court will be pretty quiet without all the lying going on. I take it that's why Eleazar took off for Egypt?"

"Yes, but Amun is an ass, and almost as paranoid as Aro."

"That's only because he's observant," Edward amends. "He's known Aro longer than any vampire outside of the Volturi. And yes, Amun is also an ass. It shouldn't be too difficult to inspire him to keep his protege under wraps."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Alice says playfully. "We've got this covered. I actually do have something for you though—I've booked you for a private engagement near Turin next week."

I try not to smile as Edward scowls.

"Don't you think there are enough concerts on this tour already?" he complains. "Just because Bella's not complaining doesn't mean she doesn't need to rest."

"I'm okay," I protest, worried he's going to ruin the surprise out of consideration for my health. "I really am. I can do the thing in Turin."

My heart starts racing at the thought of it, and Edward shoots me a funny look. I hug my knees to my chest, trying to contain myself better.

"It's not a full concert, just a couple of songs for an event, Edward," she explains, distracting him. "There will also be a touring choir from the U.S. performing, and then you can rest for three whole days before your next concert. I found a really nice country house where you won't be bothered at all. Trust me, you'll be glad I booked it."

"Three days of rest?" Edward challenges warily. "And Bella will be okay?"

"Bella will be glorious," Alice smiles beatifically. "And you'll both be very happy with the engagement."

"Sounds reassuring," I say gratefully, tucking my smile into my knees.

All the butterflies in my stomach seem to smile with me. She touches her head with the dramatic flair of a carnival psychic and mugs for the camera in another attempt to distract Edward and make me laugh.

"I have foreseen it!" she says smugly, winking before the window goes dark.

"What was that about?" Edward asks curiously.

I almost tell him then, but it doesn't feel quite right, so I just smile, stretch out on the bed and kiss him until he forgets all about it.

~oЖo~

The classical radio station is an impressive mix of old and new technologies, from walls of vinyl to a series of computers where the DJ does this thing. We crowd in next to Phillipe for the interview, listening to the end of "Aurore" from the Vienna concert on big studio headphones.

In general, the recording sounds pretty good, but all I can hear are my flaws, and it just about drives me nuts. It's a live broadcast, though, so I don't have time to dwell on it. He introduces us and gives our concert information for the first time before getting down to the interview.

"You're both very young," the host observes in such rapid French that it takes me a couple of seconds to process what he's saying. His voice is deep and mellifluous, perfect for radio. "May I ask how old?"

It's a seemingly innocuous question, but for a vampire?

"My twenty-first birthday happened a while ago," Edward replies in equally rapid French. "And Bella will turn twenty-one in September."

Technically, it's not a lie at all, given his careful wording. I shiver, realizing how many potential pitfalls there are in this interview. Edward squeezes my hand gently, and I try to relax.

"Edward, I must say, your playing is truly impressive," Philippe adds. "With your skills I'm not sure why you aren't playing sell-out crowds as a soloist."

"Edward is a wonderful pianist," I say effusively. "I should be in the audience watching him play."

"I much prefer the collaborative aspect of playing with Bella," he replies smoothly. "Any concert pianist can tell you that it's a life of extraordinary loneliness, involving up to five to eight hours of solitary practice most days."

"But it was a life you were preparing to lead before you met Mademoiselle Swan, wasn't it?"

"It was," Edward affirms quietly. "Now I still play for the same amount of time, just with a kindred spirit."

"Surely you don't sing for five hours a day, at your age?" Philippe asks me.

"No, but I like to read novels under the piano while he works on his solo pieces."

"So you do still play?" he asks, turning to Edward. "Any chance of us hearing your solo work during this tour?"

It's something that bothers me, too. Edward could probably pack a theater on his own faster than I could if he were allowed to display his vampiric speed. This is something that Aro has expressly forbidden, however, and it makes me feel like a spotlight-stealing witch. Edward doesn't seem to care, but it still feels weird that he's only allowed to play to crowds if I'm singing, unless it's to an audience made up entirely of vampires.

"I do, but this tour isn't about that. This tour is about a prize Bella won in a competition, not about my work prior to having met her."

"You weren't lonely then?"

"Solitude lost its appeal after meeting Bella. When I was assigned to play for her," he answers evasively. "We found a deep musical connection pretty quickly, and I have to say that when we make music together, the whole is bigger than the sum of its parts."

"Having seen you on stage, I think I know what you mean. The connection, please forgive me, but I cannot help but ask," he says with a shy smile. Edward is already smiling with a similar shyness. "But the two of you fairly glow on stage together. You seem to be very much in love. Or is that an illusion?"

We laugh, and I melt into Edward's side, glad that there aren't any cameras to catch my blush. The host smiles at us, and from Edward's attitude I gather his thoughts are kind.

"That's personal," he says, kissing my hand noiselessly in a clear message. "Bella and I share a very deep connection, and I suppose it comes out on stage."

"A private life is private," Phillipe agrees good-naturedly. "But on stage, this is more than the average voice recital. Perhaps it is your combined beauty, or the depth of this private connection, but I must say that to see you perform live is to witness something quite moving and universal. Something almost otherworldly, eternal."

"That's very poetic of you," Edward interrupts, as the man's inadvertently gets far too close to the truth. "I wish your audience could see Isabella blushing right now."

"Shut up," I whisper in English, making Phillipe laugh.

"That alone would be worth the price of admission. We will stop teasing this pretty young lady and play another song from your concert series now, "Chanson d'Amour," again by Faure."

By the next morning, the show is sold out.

~oЖo~

The final Paris concert goes almost as well as the one in Vienna, and Edward lets me sleep till noon the following day. We finally make it on the road sometime in mid-afternoon, stopping in Lyon briefly around dinnertime. The drive should take around seven hours, but of course Edward has us flying through Provence like a bat out of hell. I should be used to it, but I'm seriously preoccupied with his surprise. If it weren't for Alice's encouragement, I'd have talked myself out of it by now.

How am I going to ask him? I picture a thousand different scenarios, every way possible from blurting it out awkwardly immediately to waiting till the last minute. I concentrate on the words, trying on different ideas and trying to imagine his reaction while our van speeds down mostly abandoned French farm roads.

"What's wrong?" Edward asks for the ten-millionth time.

"You're driving like a maniac," I say, because I'm sick of repeating the same lame denials.

"I'm driving like a mind-reading vampire," he counters, and I snort.

Very ladylike, Swan.

Just then I feel and hear a simultaneous pop, something that makes the van jerk and swerve violently in the brief instant before Edward safely guides the vehicle to a stop.

"Blown tire," he says unnecessarily. "It won't take long to change it. You don't even have to get out of the van."

I get out, of course, glad to have an excuse to stretch. I sniff delicately while doing so, and am pleasantly surprised by the sweetness in the air.

"Lavender," I sigh, walking around to where Edward has just finished with the jack. "There must be lavender fields nearby."

"You can't see them?" he asks, smiling at me. "One field over to our left."

I look around, but I can only make out shapes, not colors. It's the time of day when all colors seem to be just darker shades of blue.

"Not as well as you, obviously," I admit. "Still, it's so beautiful here."

It's just past twilight, and the air is the same deep purplish-blue that Edward most likes to see me wear. The air relaxes in the fresh absence of the oppressively warm July sun, and I feel as free as the fireflies that swirl hypnotically in the tall grasses lining the road. A creek gurgles somewhere close by, nearly drowned out by the sound of crickets. A big yellow moon, nearly full has started a slow climb, and I make a fervent wish on the first star I see. It's probably Venus, but for my purposes, it seems appropriate.

Edward, as always, looks heartbreakingly beautiful in the waning light, kneeling next to the van in his old t-shirt, faded jeans, and his eternal youth, and I know there will never be a time better than this to say what I want to say.

"I was wrong," I whisper quietly, as he finishes putting the last bolt on, fast as an electric tool, but utterly silent except for a faint metallic whir. "I was wrong and I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you?"

I can't be above him for this, I realize.

"Wrong about what?" he asks, as I kneel beside him. "What are you sorry about?"

The air deepens in hue, but I can still see him, his pale skin reflecting the moonlight like snow.

"I knew you wanted..." I trail off, every word sounding lame. "But I never realized you might think—it was always about thinking you'd change your mind someday—okay, just give me a second, please."

I try to speak, but my heart is hammering in my ears and my mouth goes dry. I've thought about the precise words I want to use for days. I thought I had it all mapped out, but now I feel like a complete, bumbling idiot, and I can't remember what I'm supposed to say to get this right. He reaches out to take my hand, and I'm afraid he'll pull us up, but I want us here, knees to the dirt, with the fireflies swirling around us in their own silent pleas for love.

I'm just one of them, trying to light up and signal. "Stay like this for a while with me?"

"You're so nervous," he says, concern making his voice heavy. "Sweetheart, what is it? You can tell me anything, please, Bella. No matter what it is. Just tell me. I promise I won't get angry."

I realize, with the clarity of cowardice, that even if I say it with complete elegance, it's taking away something from him. That archaic part of him that makes this so much more to him than it is to me. Which makes it mean something to me too, because I love him.

"I just want to let you know how much I love you," I say, and the night is a thousand times louder than I am right now.

"I know, Bella. I love you, too." He watches my lips, my eyes, his eyes darting back and forth with curiosity and concern. "You know that."

"And, well, it's not like I can buy you anything you don't have," I continue, wetting my lips with my tongue. "Or change Volterra for you, though I would if I could. But I really want to give you something. Anything you want, tell me, and I'll give it to you, if it's at all within my power."

For a very long moment, he seems so still that it's far more like I'm kneeling with a statue than a man, and it's eerie. But then, the statue moves his head, looks down without shattering.

"You know what I want," he says carefully, his eyes searching mine. "But I understand how you feel, and I swore to myself I wouldn't push you—not when you're already under so much pressure and there's so much danger. I didn't want you to feel like you had—" I put one finger over his lips.

"Anything your heart desires," I insist. "All you have to do is ask me."

The crickets seem to get louder, and louder, and I swear the moon moves three feet in the time it takes him to speak. His eyes seek mine, and I'm trying really hard to let him read my mind.

"Anything?" he finally asks, his tone full of challenge. I nod, getting way more excited than I thought possible. "And you'll just say yes."

I nod again, and he leans in, holding my hands in his, caressing my cheek with the chilly tip of his nose until I shiver.

"Will you, please," he finally says, his voice a rough silk whisper, "please marry me, Bella? Say you'll be my wife?"

I nod, finding it hard to get the word out. "Yes," I finally say, my voice surprisingly clear. "I would love to marry you, Edward."

The world spins in an arc of stars and shadows, and before I realize we're twirling, he's kissing me, his hands on my face, his lips swift and smooth against my forehead, eyelids, and again and again, against my lips. Finally he slows down, giving me the kind of searing kiss where my own heat starts to warm his flesh, too. My fingers sink into his hair, and he moans quietly before laughing and twirling me around again.

"You will? You're sure?" he asks. "You're not doing this just to make me happy or because things are dangerous?"

"I thought it was ridiculous to do it before my change," I explain. "I mean, I'm nowhere near as intelligent or as beautiful as you, and I thought it would make more sense to do it as equals. But I do love you, Edward Cullen, and you're right, things are dangerous, but that just makes it even more important. Anything could happen to us, anything. And I don't want you to go through any of it thinking I don't love you enough to marry you. I do, I always have."

"Not that I'm complaining, but what made you change your mind?" he asks, eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Time, mostly, and realizing that while I may not be your equal in all ways, I am your true mate." I pause, letting his growing smile give me courage. "I thought I understood, but it wasn't until we fought about my putting myself in danger for your sake that I started to realize how wrong I was. I didn't hesitate to risk my life to save you, and I think that means something."

"It means you're stubborn" he says, scowling briefly at the memory. "When? When will you marry me?"

"Whenever you want," I say, smiling secretively.

"As soon as we can," he says, laughing and swinging me in another crazy circle. "I can't wait."

The moon may be almost full and shining, but it has nothing on the pure, glowing joy that is Edward in this instant. It makes me wonder what's so different about what we already have and the official form of it. To me marriage has always been a failed idea, a dull pain in my chest. Charlie and Renee's marriage was like some ship that wrecked a long time ago, leaving me to grow up with the constant shadow over half of my heart, the ache of homesickness that comes with always missing one parent.

It dimly occurs to me that to Edward, my reluctance to marry may have been a shadow over our lives as much as Aro's threats. I feel a stab of guilt at this thought, but his happiness overcomes any feelings of regret as he takes my face in his hands and kisses me with so much fervor that I wonder if we're about to have a repeat of our impromptu camping trip the night Alice was changed.

"I wish we could do it right now," he grins, breaking off the kiss, and it takes me a second to realize he's talking about marriage instead of sex. "We'll have to get a license and all that stuff. Damn, it could take weeks. I can't wait weeks!"

"Can you wait till tomorrow night?" I ask, grinning as widely as he does.

"Tomorrow?" His face stills in sudden realization. "The private engagement near Turin? Is it our wedding?"

"If you like," I say honestly, even though Alice is pretty confident that it's going to be a wedding. "It can just be a private concert for our parents and a few other people if you prefer something more elaborate later on. But if you want, it can be our wedding. I hope you don't mind Alice's involvement with the paperwork, since she knew as soon as I decided and your birth certificate had to be forged anywmmmph—" He silences me with another kiss.

"I like. I definitely like," he confirms. "I hope you don't mind that this will be our first wedding, and that there will most definitely be something more elaborate in a few decades. We Cullens tend to get married frequently."

"I knew Alice gave in too easily to my preference for something simple," I sigh, resigned. "As long as you're the one waiting for me at the end of the aisle, I guess I can deal with it."

"Always."

~oЖo~

I crawl in the back of the van and get some sleep at Edward's insistence, barely aware of having slept when we finally stop under an inky, starlit sky. The moon is much higher than the last time I saw it, and it takes my eyes several blinks to adjust to the night before I see them at the top of a hill near a heavy gate surrounding a dense wooded area: vampires.

Six of them.

I blink several times as they approach, trying to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, and my heart leaps to recognize Carlisle's smooth movements. The smallest, no bigger than a tall child, moves toward me quickly with breathtaking grace and speed as I climb out of the van. I feel rather than see Edward move next to me, his hand a reassuring presence on my shoulder, as the interior light of the van illuminates her exquisite, doll-like features.

"Alice!" I cry, the tears flowing immediately as her cold, solid little mass reaches for me in a sister's embrace. "God, Alice! You didn't tell me you guys were coming!"

"Surprise!" she says softly, wiping my tears with her cool thumbs. "Like I would miss this? Wow, tears are warmer than I remember."

"Isn't this dangerous?" Edward asks softly.

She looks at Edward pointedly, and whatever she sees seems to calm him considerably. "It's not dangerous. We're no longer newborns, you know."

"What about for you, being in Italy?"

"We're practically in France, and way off the radar. The coast is clear," she insists. "Besides, we've got a solid getaway plan in case something pops up."

"And we can really get married?" he asks, but he's grinning again. "Is it even going to be legal?"

"As legal as it can be with a forged birth certificate for you and a well-placed bribe to speed things up," Alice shrugs. "You should read the letter you wrote; it's quite moving."

"This works now, remember?" he says, touching his forehead before embracing her. "Very nicely worded, indeed. Thank you for helping Bella with this. Not just this, for everything. You've gone above and beyond, and we both appreciate it."

"So much," I whisper, kissing her cheek.

"My pleasure," she says sweetly, hugging us both. "I'd have invited more people, but Bridezilla over here kept insisting it was her day or something."

"Thank you for humoring me," I say, leaning my head against hers. "Next time you can go crazy with the details if it makes you happy. I just wanted this one to feel intimate."

"Thank you for humoring the old-fashioned," Carlisle jokes, squeezing my shoulder while Esme gives me a too-careful embrace. "I've never seen him look this happy before."

Edward speaks in hushed whispers with Emmett and Rosalie, and I feel completely enveloped by everyone in the family, save one.

"Is he okay? Are you okay, Jasper?" I ask, noticing him hanging back a bit.

"I'm erring on the side of caution," he says, obviously embarrassed until Alice takes his hand. "I may have to hunt again before I can hug you... but it sure is good to see you, Bella."

"Me too, Jasper," I say, tearing up again.

"No more crying, or your eyes will be puffy during the ceremony," Alice warns. "Your parents are in the villa, sleeping off some jetlag, but they're expecting you for breakfast. Edward and Jasper should go hunting—"

"And me," Emmett says, grinning. "I'm not missing Edward's only real stag party. You comin' Carlisle? I have the feeling that even though your boy's virtue may have been compromised, he could probably use a few pointers on married life."

Edward hesitates, but a quick look passes between him and Alice, and he nods reluctantly.

"We'll take good care of her," Rosalie insists, with a teasing smile. "Alice can see anything coming, and you know I can more than hold my own in a fight. Oh, and Edward? I know you've always avoided certain topics, but Emmett here? Is a fucking genius. You should really listen to him."

~oЖo~

"You've gotten pretty good at that," Alice remarks as I apply a subtle shade of lipstick. "Are you sure you don't want a fancier hairstyle than this?"

She's brushing my hair, styling it into soft, loose waves, the heaviest of which is partly held back from my face by my one jeweled comb.

"It's perfect," Rosalie smiles, shaking her head. "It really goes with the dress, which goes with the classical architecture and the size of the wedding, everything. I get it. It's simple and understated, but elegant, too. You want it different from your stage persona, more you."

"This is nothing compared to my stage makeup," I agree, relieved to have an ally against Alice's not-so subtle pushing for a more ornate wedding. "I'm usually applying eyelashes about now. I want to be completely me for this."

"You look lovely," Renee says from the doorway. She's holding a bouquet made up of lavender and wildflowers, beautifully arranged and artfully tied with a simple blue ribbon. "Edward and I just picked these for you on our walk after lunch. What do you think?"

Alice scowls into my hair, refusing to acknowledge this new development. The tamed wildflowers perfectly complement my long, simple wedding dress of soft white silk. Thanks to Alice, the dress was perfectly fitted for me in Paris, and a bit of subtle draping over the bust adds a sensual touch. The overall effect is just what I want: it's free and unencumbered, but elegant too, as Rosalie put it.

"They're perfect," I gush gratefully. "Wow, they look so stylish, like something you'd see on a magazine cover for simple living, but in reality you either have to pay a fortune for it or be Martha Stewart to pull something like that off."

"I wish I could take credit for the arranging, but that was all Esme. Look, the ribbon criss-crosses and is tied up like a ballerina slipper."

I smile, fingering the faded blue satin.

"Hey, is that Grandma Higgenbotham's ribbon?"

"The one," Renee says softly, obviously thinking about her mother, who died while I was still a baby. "I'll tell you exactly what she told me: it's old—because it was first her mother's—obviously blue, and technically borrowed, since someday you'll give it to your own daughter. Or a daughter-in-law, if you only have boys. And of course the earrings your father and I gave you are new."

I don't have the heart to tell her that there wont' be any children at all, but the lie by omission doesn't go unnoticed. Rosalie's expression hardens almost imperceptibly in the mirror, and she excuses herself, leaving the room without giving a reason. Alice looks after her sadly as Charlie appears in the doorway.

"Everything's ready," he says, looking uncomfortable.

"Boy, you look dashing, Chief Swan." Alice looks from me to Charlie and back again, smiling encouragingly. "I'll give you guys a minute. Just come to the hallway whenever you're ready."

"You look so happy, baby," Renee says, kissing me goodbye. "And so beautiful. My god, you two could make pretty babies. Not anytime soon, though—remember, you promised me you wouldn't make me a grandmother before I'm fifty!"

Charlie watches her go, and turns to me abruptly. And after that minor guilt-festival that I'll be depriving Renee of grandchildren, now it's home-sweet-awkward with the family Swan.

"Your friend Alice seems like a keeper," he says, tilting his head toward the hall. "She gave me and your mother some stuff from your tour. Looks like everything is going well."

"She's a pistol," I smile. "Thanks for the earrings. Mom said you helped."

"Uh-huh," he says, frowning at me with alarming determination. Charlie nervously takes my hand, but it's weird. It's almost like he's testing it. Even weirder, he looks really relieved, and slightly embarrassed. "Your hands are warm. How are the feet?"

"Even warmer." An unnatural silence hangs between us like a curtain. "Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing, just..." He looks at me sheepishly, and the mustache twitches slightly. "I don't even know how to say this without sounding crazy, but something Billy said has been bugging me ... but it's nonsense."

"Yeah?" I ask, stalling for time. "And what did Billy have to say?"

I have no idea what to say if Charlie asks me a point-blank question. I can't tell him the truth, but I've never been good at lying to him. He always knows. Just like Grandma Swan.

"Billy... Billy told me a really interesting tribal legend."

Well, damn. At least I don't have to make Charlie seem crazy. I just have to stop him from adding two and two.

"That's nice," I say carefully. "Did he tell you about the one about the Quileute ancestors who could turn into wolves whenever they feel like it? Some of those stories are pretty out there."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I said," he says, scratching his neck. "Anyway, he said a lot of stuff that made for a good story but didn't make a lot of sense; but he asked me to just humor him, check to make sure you weren't cold, and stay away from the Cullens, because, well ... anyway, he told me to, and it just makes me need to ask you if you're one hundred percent sure about all this."

Charlie has always politely ignored it when people start talking about religion and miracles, and Billy's legends fall squarely into that category. It's a painless route out of this situation, for now, and Charlie's safety is more important than telling him about horrors none of us can control.

"I'm one hundred percent sure," I say with absolute sincerity. "Come on, have you ever seen anyone on the res, or anyone period, turn into a wolf?" I add, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I guess not. But all I'm saying is, and maybe I'm just feeling like every father does before he walks his daughter down the aisle, but I just want to know I'm giving my baby girl over to someone I can trust."

That, I don't have to lie about. I'd tell him how many times Edward has saved my life if it wouldn't completely freak him out, not to mention delay the wedding.

"Dad, forget about Billy's stories for a second," I say, looking into his eyes. "What do your cop senses tell you about Edward and the Cullens? What does your gut say?"

"They're a little unusual," he acknowledges, "but they strike me as being thoroughly decent. And Edward's obviously crazy about you."

"I'm crazy about him, too, Dad. And you're right, they are exactly that— thoroughly decent. They've never been anything but supportive. And Edward's been a lifesaver, in so many ways. I want this, truly."

His mustache starts to lift on one corner, and he looks almost as embarrassed as I feel, but it seems like this little bomb has been diffused, at least for now.

"Okay, I get it. You tell me if that ever changes, okay? Just because you're getting married doesn't mean I stop being your dad."

"I know."

The emotion proves to be too much for us, and he holds his arm out to me, and I take it gratefully.

We join the others in the hallway where Alice and Rosalie wait, looking as otherworldly as mermaids. My eyes hungrily take in the changes in Alice as she winks at me, and my mind sees Rosalie as human, me as vampire.

The choir is singing in Latin, a simply gorgeous piece about charity and love bringing everyone together under divine protection, that Alice and I agreed was decidedly Cullenesque, and I get lost in the glowing column of their sound. There are probably only ten or twelve singers, but their voices sound lush and angelic, twining silkily in tight harmony, the architecture of their voices echoing beautifully against the stone arches, a structured contrast with the gentle gurgle of the courtyard fountain.

The song ends, Alice nods at someone, and the chamber choir begins singing the one song I begged Alice to try to find for the procession. The words are simple, taken from the Song of Solomon. They also happen to be the exact words etched into Grandma and Grandpa Swan's shared tombstone. It was their favorite Bible verse, and—as Grandma used to say—all a person ever needs to know about real love. It makes me wonder if this shield business is an inherited trait.

Set me as a seal upon thine heart,

upon thine arm,

for love is strong as death.

We're moving, and I peek around the corner, seeing the contents of my heart in human and vampire form here, because of love, when so much of our lives are ruled by fear. I'm grateful, and humbled by this small gathering of men and women who have done so much to love and protect me, and I can't wait to be changed, to shield them all in return.

As I listen to the words, mentally following the soprano line, I'm overwhelmed by the depth of meaning to these words of love and death, and all the nuances they've taken on in the past two years. As I walk I struggle to memorize my father's arm under my hand. Someday, this moment will be nothing but a fading memory while my mind gathers new memories in perfect recall, no matter how trivial. It almost makes me wish that Charlie had found my hand cold after all, because I want to keep this forever.

Charlie's free hand covers mine, and he leans over to whisper to me.

"You chose this music?" he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

"We sang it once in my high school choir," I whisper back. "Grandma loved it, and I wanted her here in some way."

His hand tightens on mine, and it feels like a blessing as we walk steadily toward my future, through the double row of singers, and emerge into the villa's beautiful interior courtyard. I get the distinct impression of all of us safely tucked in a stone vault, under a protective blanket of gray clouds tinged with rose. While I'm vaguely aware of how perfect everyone and everything looks, all I see is Edward, standing at the center of it all.

Charlie, with his signature eloquence, takes my hand and puts it in Edward's, patting him on the shoulder in a message that needs no words. And now it's all up to Italy.

The representative from the mayor's office, a tallish man with light brown hair and a slightly French-sounding accent, starts to speak, oblivious to the non-Italian speakers in the room. He begins with a brief introduction, and then starts reading Italian legalese from some papers in a perfunctory tone, like someone in a commercial announcing side effects for an expensive new drug. Alice had warned me that the Italian Civil Ceremony would be kind of dry and that we wouldn't be able to do it in English or use any other vows. Carlisle, while preferring a church wedding, had balked at offering bribes to priests, and we all agreed that a quiet, intimate wedding would be safer for everyone involved.

I'm slightly alarmed when the officiate mentions that the banns have to be posted in public for 15 days before the ceremony, partly because I've kept this wedding a secret from the Volturi, and partly because I know it hasn't been nearly that long since I asked Alice for help. Either she started the paperwork when I first started thinking about it, or we're cutting some serious corners here.

I peek over at Edward to get his reaction, but he just seems too enraptured by the whole process to care about insignificant details. I get a little lost, just looking at him, until the droning pauses, and the man's tone shifts, and deepens as he begins to say something far more meaningful.

"Signor Edward Cullen, intende prendere in moglie la qui presente Isabella Swan?" he asks, and I notice that it's almost exactly like our Do you take Isabella Swan to be your lawfully wedded wife?

Except it sounds so gorgeous in Italian.

"Si," Edward affirms, his rich baritone echoing in the far arches across from us.

"Signorina Isabella Swan, intende prendere in marito il qui presente Edward Cullen?"

I look into Edward's eyes, and my own "si" sounds embarrassingly loud, but I don't care, because of how unguardedly happy he looks when I say it.

"A seguito della vostra risposta affermativa io, Ufficiale dello Stato Civile del Comune di Torino, dichiaro in nome della Legge che siete uniti in matrimonio."

I can't believe that all it takes are these few words, and it's done. He should have a magic wand, because, now that I think of it, it should take nothing less to make Edward officially my own.

"Anelli di nozze," the marriage magician says, and the sunset clouds above our heads blaze peach and gold as the rings slide on our fingers.

What if I never take it off? What if never means forever? We'll have to take them off in Volterra, right? I really don't want to.

"Si può baciare tua moglie," the magician says, as Edward leans toward me.

"Did you hear what he said?" he asks, not bothering to wait for an answer. "He said I can kiss my wife."

His nose nuzzles mine, and his sweet breath makes me a little dizzy as he makes a huge show of it, gently kissing my forehead, my lips, each cheek, and then finally my mouth again. I've never felt so cherished, so adored.

"My Bella, my own" he murmurs in the barely audible but unmistakable tone of someone who has finally gotten exactly what he wants. "My wife."

"Don't tell me this is going to make you even more possessive?" I'm teasing but I'm a little concerned, too. "Are you going to keep saying my wife and my Bella throughout the reception? Because this could get a little awkward for everyone involved."

"Well, you have your Bible verse, and I have mine," he says, kissing my nose. "I like Jeremiah: But if I say 'I will not mention him or speak any more in his name', his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot."

I have no words, but my face flushes hot from the intensity of his gaze.

His dark, soft laughter tells me I haven't begun to see the worst of it, but his mouth covers mine again, and I just can't bring myself to worry about it.

~oЖo~

"That was a fun reception," I murmur, as he slowly works the buttons down the side of my dress, placing soft, feathery kisses along freshly bared skin. "Who knew Emmett could give such an elegant toast?"

His hands slide smoothly up my arms until they reach the silky wide straps of my gown. He kisses my shoulders, neck, and finally the hot spot behind my left ear.

"Didn't you hear what Rosalie said?" he whispers, sending uncontrollable shivers down my spine. "'Emmett is a fucking genius."

"I guess—oh my—I guess so?" I pant distractedly, as my dress slips into a silky puddle around my feet.

"I know so," he says into my other ear, and the air feels good on my skin where my bra falls away.

Something cool and smooth slides down my back, over my spine, and Edward laughs darkly as my knees buckle and he has to hold me up. I sink my fingers into his hair as he kind of does this low, slow growl and begins an erotic, almost worshipful exploration of my breasts, his long fingers gently teasing until I melt into him and my mind makes one last attempt at coherent thought.

"And Renee ... I thought she might demand a wedding night with you, too ... dear holy mother of what are you doing to me, wicked man?"

He pulls back and sniffs nonchalantly as if his tongue hadn't just done something magical and inexplicable to my nipples.

"I like this dress," he says, tossing it gently over a chair. "I don't want it getting hurt."

"That's not what I meant," I say, my eyes widening as he does it again. "Okay, yes, that! What was that?"

"Just the beginning of Emmett's fucking genius," he observes, cocking an eyebrow at the side ties on my fancy bridal panties. "Kind of like how genius it is to put ribbons right here, like a present. Happy wedding to me..."

Yes, he's singing. I'd laugh, but I'm too busy watching in fascination as he keeps moving his lips in such a way that they skim deliciously over my skin with each word. Just a tug, a slick slither of silk, and another, and I am completely unwrapped. I feel incredibly nervous, more so as he kisses further and further down.

Navel.

Flickering tongue.

Hip bones.

I've never made that noise before.

Lower Belly.

His hands slide under my hips as my back arches in automatic response.I am not silent, but they assured me that we are so far from the main house that not even vampires would hear us.

These are new tricks. Definitely new, tormenting, amazing vampire tricks.

"You've still got your suit on," I whisper, like an idiot. "I really like that suit. But you should, um..."

Inside my brain is chanting Emmett is a fucking genius, Emmett is a fucking genius, but I'm really freaked out, too. What if he keeps going?

What if he stops?

"I thought we couldn't do that kind of thing till after you change me."

"Please do not ask me how he knows this," Edward confesses, shedding his clothes faster than I can help him. "But Carlisle swears my venom can't hurt you as long as my teeth don't get involved."

I lose balance, falling back into the oversized bed as Edward follows me smoothly, set on his goal. His talented hands part my knees, and I feel unbearably vulnerable and exposed.

"Your scent, Bella," he groans in pleasure leaning in, and I feel the cold-tipped something, a nose? "Your taste, to taste and give my wife pleasure."

My last semi-coherent thought is that Carlisle is a fucking genius, too. Then I'm introduced to the wonder of his tongue, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I have no way of comparing it to a human doing the same thing, but it can't possibly be this good. All reason dissolves into wave after crashing wave of wordless euphoria, and I feel pushed and pulled by currents of pleasure and desire.

When I come out of it I hear someone begging, ... and Edward laughs, because it's me.

"That good, huh?" he asks with a silly grin, bringing my ankles over his shoulders as he positions himself to enter me. It's kind of an odd position, and I realize he intends to do this with my rear end suspended in the air, held firmly by his strong, smooth hands.

"So good, you have no idea. God, Edward, wait," I say, ashamed of my selfishness. "I want to do that to you too. I want to make you feel like that."

"Soon," he says, and I squeal embarrassingly loudly as his his movements trigger a completely new, blinding kind of orgasm. "Right now I'm busy making love to my wife, and it's even better than I thought it would be."

I'm being really loud, but can't seem to stop as the waves start coming so fast it becomes impossible to tell them apart. Edward looks almost demonic in his pleasure, but his eyes soften as he watches my mouth. I realize I'm talking again, only this time instead of begging I'm just saying IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou as his touch becomes nearly warm against my overheated flesh. I convulse around him, every part of me that touches any part of him hot as flame.

I think he feels it, too, because he lets my legs drop from his shoulders, and I wind myself around him as he comes into me, my name on his lips as they find mine, my taste on his tongue as his growl of pleasure vibrates in my mouth. The soft bed engulfs us both, and I begin to feel the cooling air on my limbs in our spent stillness.

"What the hell did they tell you last night?" I ask wonderingly, rubbing my fingers into his scalp. Sometimes I do it just to hear the happy rumbling in his chest, but when he's covering me like this it's incredibly sweet.

"Just how to take care of you," he murmurs happily into the crook of my neck. "Now sleep, my Bella, and know that you are well and truly loved."

~oЖo~

Sometime during the night, I'm jostled from a deep, boneless sleep by the roar of the van's engine, a slight jolt and the squeal of tires as we peel out of the villa's small parking lot.

"Edward?"

"Go back to sleep, Bella." It's like some brilliant light has dimmed, he sounds so wary.

Bleary-eyed, I make my way to the passenger seat and fasten my seat belt. His expression is tense as his voice.

"I'm sorry," he says, regret flashing in his eyes. "I know we were supposed to have another day at least."

"Alice saw something?"

"Curiosity," he says, tense. "Demetri may be exiled from Volterra, but he's still watching our location for Aro. This is just a precaution."

"So everything is going to be okay now?" I ask, playing nervously with my rings. It feels weird to have two on one finger.

His brow furrows, then relaxes. Alice must still be close enough to read.

"Looks like it. Carlisle left a few minutes ago, and we seem to have gotten out fast enough," he confirms. "There's no reason for them to come here now. I'll give you a real honeymoon someday, I promise."

"Don't worry. Beats the hell out of surprise visitors," I joke, but he doesn't seem to find the humor in it. "Hey, I've got you, and all of my people are safe for now. That's all I care about."

I tilt my head and adjust the passenger side rear-view mirror so I can get a last look at our stolen moment of happiness. The lights of the villa grow smaller and smaller, until they seem as distant as any other star in this infinite darkness.

~oЖo~

A/N: See, some of my surprises are happy!

The rented Villa loosely based on this one:

http:/www(DOT)tenutaberroni(DOT)it/Villa_Eng(DOT)html

and you can see Bella's wedding dress here:

http:/tiny(DOT)cc/w1x0d

Special thanks to those who bought my ass in the FGB auction: Just4ALE, Mechcat, Mortangel, Tanglingshadows, belli486, Alixmaret, Ksuvoge, Mycrookedsmile, lisf22, m81170, BHBabe and Read444. I still owe someone a chapter from the last FGB auction, but she's still deciding what she wants, I think. Feel free to PM me if that's a dirty lie and you told me and I forgot like a damn fool. That's a lot of extra Canzone and for a very good cause. Thank you all for helping out. I'll be posting whatever they want to share with you in Canzone Outtakes.

OH, also, remember that story I wrote with Feisty and NelsonSmandela? Yeah, we dropped another chapter into that mess. It's wretched and horrifying, and under Feisty Y Beden. Look for the word "masochistic", if you must.