Stephenie Meyer's Cullens and their fixed physical ages (or their age when they were turned): Carlisle is 23, Esme is 26, Edward is 17, Rosalie is 20, Emmett is 20, Alice is 17 and Jasper is 20. Bella is 18 when she became a vampire. Stephenie has been quoted as saying she may expand on the Cullen universe and write novellas, sort of like long epilogues (and maybe prequels) for each character.

Chapter33/Engagement Part2

[Edward]

A week before the tournament, the Duke and Duchess of Kent arrived at the castle. He didn't know how his father managed to avoid him in the two days that they had been in London, but Edward wasn't overly concerned by the impending meeting with the duke, for Lady Kent brought his son with them.

"He's so much like you," his mother murmured, cradling the child sleeping in her arms. She tenderly brushed little Willie's blonde hair. He yawned, baring his almost complete set of teeth, and opened his green eyes at half mast. He closed his eyes almost immediately and went back to sleep.

They were alone in the chambers assigned to the Cullens as the queen's guests. Their own quarters which he shared with his brothers were across the hall. The rest of their staff was in the Cullens' London estate.

His mother carefully laid his son in his bassinet. She straightened, looked at him, opened her mouth and then closed it again.

Edward raised his brow at her, his expression encouraging. Before he left Cullen Hall six months ago, he had a brief talk with her. She could not answer many of his questions for she herself did not know much about his birth mother, but while he could without hesitance put all blame on the duke, his mother could never do wrong in his eyes.

"When are you going back to Kent?" she asked, her eyes pleading.

"I am needed here, for the moment," he replied.

"Edward," Lady Kent said in a determined tone. She glanced sharply at him, her face set. "You are his heir."

He took a deep breath, looked at his son, and gave her what she wanted to hear.

"I know," he said quietly.

"Forgive him, Edward," she implored. "Come home. You belong to Kent."

He tried to say something but he realized that his throat had begun to close. He cleared it. "I will do what is right, Mother. You cannot ask me for more."

Lady Kent nodded her head sadly, a tear rolling down her cheek. He brushed it away and squeezed her hand, motioning his head to his son. "It will be as it should be. I promise you."

He took a long sip of his Bordeaux wine, peering over the edge of his cup as he listened to Lord Worth, the Duke of Aufforest, arguing heatedly with the Earl of Dundy, Bella's uncle. They were at it again, derailing discussions on kingdom affairs, as Dundy was bent on finalizing arrangements for the queen's marriage.

He felt something squeeze his heart and he clenched his jaw.

He was at the queen's council of advisers' meeting as one of the invited observers. The meeting was being presided over by his father and Dundy. He didn't want to be here, it was the last place he wanted to be, but he couldn't stay away either. He wanted to know how this would go, who she would marry eventually.

It was torture to hear them discuss each potential groom and not for the first time, he wondered what would happen if he should get up, perhaps kick his chair violently aside for effect, and in a loud voice declared his own bid for the queen's hand. He was certainly eligible, but she was a monarch not just a king's daughter. If she was a princess … Edward closed his eyes. If she was not queen his suit would be welcome. And she would be his wife.

But the obligatory reality was that she was queen and a rare, powerful queen at that. Many generations had passed since the last queen regnant ruled England and the opportunity to forge a marriage between two monarchs was something all the large kingdoms would pounced upon. Thus, enter the three princes and each of them would inherit their own respective thrones. When two monarchs marry, the resources of both kingdoms would be combined and the lands distributed to both ruling families. The children of this union would inherit both countries.

Edward understood the politics. While he was to be a duke, and Kent was now arguably the most powerful duchy in the land, he was already a subject of the queen.

The titles and wealth of all the English dukes and earls were all at the mercy of the queen. What they own – all the lands and gold – was bequeathed to them at the continued pleasure of the queen. Political-wise, marrying any one of them would not advance the throne or England's power overseas.

The princes, damned the lot of them, thought Edward, would bring new gold, other assets and more importantly, additional armament at the disposal of England. All of these would considerably strengthen English trade with the new territories, and such a marriage between two monarchs would naturally make the ruling class richer and powerful.

The Duke of Exeter has joined the arguing nobles at the main table. The council of advisers has seven members. When necessary, the dowager Queen Renee was invited to participate but only if permitted by the queen.

Edward knew Bella was aware that he was present at these discussions and he wondered if she was intentionally making him suffer. Surely she realized what her marriage would do to him.

It didn't help that each time the word "marriage" was mentioned, his father's eyes were on him, gauging his reaction, and he suspected he knew something about himself and Bella.

For Lady Kent's sake, father and son were not so obviously estranged in public, managing to exchange civilities when in company. The duke was leaving him alone and for his part, he has steered himself away from him, and it was only in these meetings that they could not entirely avoid one another.

"The queen should marry Spain," said Dundy, glaring at Aufforest. The council did not refer to the suitors as individuals but as dominions, as if the man behind the title was not important, and they probably weren't as far as men such as Dundy were concerned.

"Her highness has not made any decision yet," his father murmured, the only calm presence in the midst of red-faced council members.

"That's because that Irish war hound, MacDermott, has not bothered to stake his bid yet. My sources tell me though, that the queen is leaning towards Spain," Dundy insisted, obviously pleased.

Edward's entire body stiffened and he forced his jaw to unclench. Slowly, he put down his cup on the table as he feared he would ruin the metal, his hold was a death grip. He was hard pressed to relax his strained expression, especially knowing he was being observed by the duke.

Spain indeed, he thought, and he could not help scowling.

Prince Raoul of Aragos and Girón was too young and way too charming for his own good. But, he understood why Spain was especially favored by many of the English ruling class, because Spain has the most advanced fleet of ships. Aragos and Girón was a very prosperous kingdom and they dominate much of the trade beyond their borders.

On the other hand, Tirawley, Prince MacDermott of Ireland, was arrogant and overly fond of war. Tirawley was descendant of the Kings of Magh Luirg, the known warmongering Vikings of Old Eire.

Ireland was still very much in conflict since the kingdom's unification was still unstable. Obviously, the Irish wanted England for her gold and men-at-arms and England wanted Ireland for its proximity. Short of a bloody invasion – which both countries attempted before with immeasurable losses – there was no other way to join the kingdoms. The choices were either a wedding or a war.

"Who do you prefer, brother?" Emmett mock whispered to him. "Spain, France, or Ireland?"

Jasper, sitting to his left, was entirely unaware of the tension Emmett's tactless taunting created in his entire being. He leaned forward and grabbed the jug of wine. "Spain, for sure. Nobody trusts MacDermott, and Grimoald is too old."

Prince Grimoald of France was 44 years old, older even than Carlisle. The thought of that lecher touching Bella's rosy-alabaster skin was so repulsive that Edward was growling.

"He may be too old for the queen but damn, they make the best wines," said Emmett, draining his cup.

"He can keep his wines and swim in it, but he won't win any wars with it," Jasper argued. "The prince has buried two wives, each leaving him a daughter, to his disgust, and also left his coffers empty." He emptied his own cup with one gulp. "He desperately needs a new wife and if it would be the Queen of England, so much the better if he wants his father's favor back," he added.

Emmett nodded. "Henry the Tall would bar him from entering Paris without a wealthy bride."

King Henry of France had two younger sons and it was not a secret that he was disappointed with Grimoald's lack of male heirs. The king could very well by-pass his eldest son's claim to France and proclaim one of the younger sons as king upon his death.

France has never declared a king's daughter or any close descendant that happened to be a woman as heir presumptive and has yet to allow a woman to ascend the throne as reigning queen, not just an escort to a male monarch. Only England, Ireland, Spain, and Sicily had ever had a queen regnant or queens that reign in their own right.

Edward deduced, rather reluctantly, that Prince Raoul was the only one who seemed to have no ulterior motive, save that he was a prince and he needed to marry as was his duty.

He shut his eyes and cursed silently.

God, he hated court intrigues and controversies. Petty rumors, back-biting, jealousies, terrific ambitions. It was a canis canem edit situation whichever way one would turn to. Nobles, for what these honorable titles implied, were basically a greedy lot, vain, and vengeful when they did not get their way.

Court life was a maze of complex contradictions and he would rather not have to do this for too long.

His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath.

But he couldn't leave, not just yet.

After the grueling, highly-charged council meeting was over to which the dissenting nobles reached no resolution to present before the queen, to Edward's relief, the Cullens were outside of the halls in a private meeting with their close allies.

"MacDermott is dangerous," warned his father. "Watch him closely during the tournament."

Edward agreed. Many in the castle were wary and anxious of MacDermott's arrival. "He wants his sister married to France, that's why he sent her here, to parade her in front of Grimoald," he said.

MacDermott had every reason to want to marry Bella whether she liked it or not, but the warmonger also desire a firm allegiance with France. If, and Edward tried not to imagine it too fondly, matrimonial negotiations between England and Spain would fail, and Peigin was married to Grimoald, then England would be vulnerable to a French-backed Irish conquer.

Scotland, on the other hand, remained a fugitive monarchy. There had never been out and out war amongst the three kingdoms, just uprisings and small bursts of conflict. But Edward was certain that in the next 50 or 100 years, an imminent and violent war would explode.

That was why in every generation, the English marry off a princess or a younger prince to foreign kingdoms to forge pacts and territorial treaties, either with Spain or France, or with Germany and the Norwegians that include Sweden and Denmark. The Italian kingdoms, and there were a lot of them, were too small and too concerned about their internal politicking.

And that was why the queen, during her watch, must negotiate a new and stronger alliance to secure England's future.

Edward turned to the Duke of Exeter and inquired in a low voice. "Have you anything on the witch?"

He had spent hours interviewing people about any number of possible locations where Victoria Argyll might be hiding. His Kent men had been coordinating closely with Lord Worth's trackers and spies for weeks.

Exeter, who was one of the fiercest barons in the kingdom, had agreed to help Edward find the wily witch. His family and the Cullens have always been close allies.

"Unfortunately, it is the same. I must apologize for the lack of any new leads, Edward."

He dismissed his apology and they spent another hour planning their next course of action.

Edward suspected that Victoria would make some move during the tournament. There were a lot of clans, local and foreign, that were expected to arrive any day now. Huge tents were already being set up for the event. Large tracks of castle grounds cleared for the tournament and the extended festivities afterwards.

"The witch will get help," he told Emmett later. They were watching Kent men at sword and archery practice with knights from different houses.

"She's a damn Montgomery, treachery is in her blood," his brother grunted, adjusting his bow and taking aim. He released the notch and the arrow flew at blinding speed, hitting its intended target dead center.

Emmett chuckled in satisfaction. His gaze swung to a crowd of noblewomen who were also watching the exercises. "Are you sure the princess is after Grimoald?"

Edward turned sharply and locked eyes with Peigin. She was surrounded by tittering ladies as if she was holding court herself. She smiled coyly at him and inclined her head to the side in invitation.

He felt his brows rise. Whatever Peigin was up to, she wanted to speak with him alone. He sighed. He had no time for her flirtations.

[Angela]

She had spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon in the queen's chambers. She had been trying, and failing, to catch her sister's busy attention for nearly a week, what with the suitors and the tournament, and high-ranking visitors passing through the castle doors in an endless manner.

And during the past week, she and Prince Raoul had struck a strange friendship, and this unsettled her greatly. He was different from the other nobles she had met. She wasn't sure how, exactly, except that there was something more to him. Something that made her heart twists when she thinks of him.

Angela loved her sister more than anything in the world she really did, but her growing affections for the prince was making her life miserable and hearing talks of a possible marriage between them was intolerable. He was here to court her sister. Then why did she always find herself in the same place that he was in, lately?

She told herself that she only wanted to know if the prince was a good, caring man. She definitely wasn't chasing him around. Prince or not, her sister deserved at least a friendship in her marriage, one that was founded on trust, and it was her duty to ascertain that the prince would be that kind of husband for Bella.

Angela closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. There was one trait that she shared with her sister. She couldn't lie very well, most especially to herself. And she wasn't about to start now.

She let out a sigh, squared her shoulders and stood up.

Bella was surrounded by two duchesses, several wives and daughters of earls and barons, and her own waiting maids. Her mother was not present in the little gathering, and she thanked Mother Mary for that.

She made a little curtsy, more than what was expected of her really, before the queen. A hush fell on the room. "May I request for a small amount of your precious time, my dear queen," she asked formally.

Her sister raised an eyebrow at her but she was smiling. She didn't have to say anything, the room cleared at once.

She sat at the settee opposite her, her head bowed. She was nervously wringing her hands, an action that was uncharacteristic of her.

"Gigi," Bella said suddenly, sensing something was bothering her.

She popped her head up, surprised. Her sister has not called her by her childhood name in years. She had been "Angela" to everyone since she turned nine.

"What is it?" she asked bluntly.

"I'm …" Angela gulped. "I love someone." She gritted her teeth at her cowardice, but she could not say his name yet.

Bella stood up and was across the room in an instant. She sat beside her and clasped her hands in hers. "I am happy for you, little sister. Who is this man?"

When she remained silent, her tongue stuck in the roof her mouth her sister narrowed her eyes at her. "He's not married, is he? Or betrothed to someone else?"

"Not yet," she said quietly and with meaning.

"And, so? Do I have to torture his name out of you?" she teased, and she squeezed her hands in encouragement.

She took a deep breath and commended her soul to God.

"It'sPrinceRaoulI'msosorryBellaItjusthappened!" she blurted out in one breath, stopped, and waited for the ax to drop. She knew she was being silly. Her sister didn't love the prince, she was in love with Lord Kent.

"Oh," she murmured, and she said no more.

She peeked at Bella and she was looking at her thoughtfully. "And does he love you back?"

"Yes," she said at once, and her heart skipped a beat for she knew it was true. Raoul felt the same way for her, she just knew it.

"He told you he loved you?" Her sister asked skeptically, closely watching her. She knew her so well.

"Not yet," she repeated, blushing.

And Bella laughed, cupped her face with both of her hands and kissed her cheeks.

"You are one brave soul, Gigi," she said, smiling.

She took her praise with delight and returned it to her. "So are you," she said sincerely.

"No, not I." She shook her head. "You have no fear, or restriction. You loved and will love wholeheartedly," her sister said quietly, looking away.

"And you don't?" Angela asked. "Or, you won't?"

"I can't."

She took her sister's hand and squeezed it. "Bella, I … I know about … I mean I know you love Edward Cullen," she said hesitantly, for she didn't know how her sister would react with her knowing about her secret.

Bella's face seemed to drain of blood and she shut her eyes. She went quite still before she turned back to her, and when she did her eyes looked pained.

"Yes, I do," she whispered.

Angela gave her sister a hug it was the only way she could think of to comfort her, to sympathize with her.

"What will happen now?" she murmured. She felt tears in her eyes and she wiped them away.

Her sister said nothing, she was sitting very still. Her head tilted to the side and she let out a thoughtful, little sigh.

Angela swallowed, waiting uncomfortably for what she would say next, and considering how tensed she was, her life – specifically her love life – would depend on her sister's actions.

Bella's lips twisted thoughtfully. She finally looked at her and blinked, gloriously clear-eyed and focused, as if she had just reached a conclusion to her internal debate and pondering.

Her sister glanced about, her gaze finally settling on the doors leading outside, where the faint murmurs of her numerous subjects could be heard.

"I have duties to perform, decisions to make, but more importantly, I have to look after you," she said. She leaned closer and kissed her forehead gently. "I will take care of you, dear sister, and one day, you will be ready."

She nodded sadly. "Duty comes first."

Her parents have instilled in them a strong sense of duty as heirs to the House of Cygne. And then she frowned, just now registering her sister's last four words.

"Ready for what?"

[Alice]

Day of the tournament, opening ceremonies

"Let the games begin," Alice murmured, gazing around the many rows of tourney participants, the gaily festooned stands around the lists and melee, the beautifully dressed women, the heavily armored-plated knights who were practice-wielding their shiny broadswords, lances and maces after the pas d'armes where they had tested their fighting skills against one another.

The dozens of squires running around the lists, their expressions exhibiting both nervousness and excitement, were hilarious to watch. Many were stumbling in their frantic haste and getting yelled at by their masters for clumsily dropping bascinets or the scary-looking heaumes.

Members of the English court, the queen's family and honored guests, all of the wealthiest and powerful in the land, were all sitting and impatiently waiting for the official ceremonies to begin.

There was a color dress code, all Alice's idea, and spectators had to wear red or blue colors. All of the tourney players and competitors, in the meantime, were wearing dark green robes and the only distinguishing feature was the banner that they would carry, which was of their respective houses or clans, for display in the Tree of Shields.

The grandstand was designed around the raised platform where the queen's imposing throne chair was located. Bella certainly would be the center of the whole show, Alice thought, amused. Her cousin would hate the utter separateness of the dais for it was raised higher than normal and she would have to lean quite a bit to talk to the queen mother, already seated to the throne's right side.

Bella has not yet arrived and she frowned. She should have been here half an hour ago.

"Save this seat for me," she murmured to Rosalie, as she stood up.

"As if anyone would take your seat," replied her sister, smirking. "They're afraid of you, you know," she whispered conspiratorially.

Ah, yes. The spawn of the Bride of Baphomet, she thought, grimacing.

She was well aware that she seemed to have replaced Victoria Argyll as "The Witch" in court. She shivered at the thought and not for the first time, thanked the Mother Mary that they were not in Blackheart's time otherwise she would have been burned at the stake a long time ago.

Alice, with some difficulty, maneuvered around the many bodies occupying the queen's grandstand, stepping on a few of the ladies' toes. Of course no one dared to hiss or snarl at her, one of the perks of being feared.

She marched straight to the fanciest pavilion immediately to the left side of the grandstand, the queen's purple tent.

The area was curiously deserted but for Emmett Cullen who was standing about 20 feet from the tent's entrance, which was tightly closed. To her annoyance, he deliberately blocked her way when it became obvious that she meant to enter the queen's tent.

"I have to get the queen, everything's all set." She waved her hand in the direction of the melee.

Emmett shook his head and refused to give her entrance. She was about to snap at him when she heard faint voices coming from the tent. She went still and listened hard. It sounded like two people, a man and a woman, arguing.

She frowned up at Emmett and he shrugged.

And then she knew, and her resolve hardened.

"Lord Lumberland," she said slowly. "I think I should break that up before their shouts reach all of England."

Emmett sighed, rolling his eyes. He nodded, still wordless, and stepped gallantly aside with a bow.

The nearer she got to the tent, the louder their voices became. She took a deep breath and half-shouted to be heard. "My lady! Your tournament awaits!"

To Alice's surprise, the tent door was ripped open and a hand reached out and pulled her inside. Edward closed the flap door and turned back to glaring at Bella.

She glanced at the queen and then at him.

"Err, what seems to be the problem?" she squeaked very, very hesitantly.

Bella rounded on her and she stepped back without thinking. Her expression was furious.

"He's an insufferable … stubborn …iffrriiin!" She grumbled in frustration.

"And you are reckless," Edward bit back, though his voice was now quieter.

Alice cleared her throat and wished there was a hole on the ground where she could sink into and hide. She wondered, briefly, if there was a spell for that.

"Ah, I think I should go? But, Bella, people are waiting."

"I don't give a damn about them!" she hissed, back to glowering at her brother.

All of a sudden, Edward released a long exhale and moved closer to Bella. His annoyed expression softening as he looked at her.

The queen frowned at him for a moment, then she murmured, "don't come near me."

Edward sighed. "You summon me in here, a chuisle, asking me why I am keeping my distance, and now you don't want me to come near you?"

Bella's lips parted then she paused, blushing. She appeared to be not quite sure of what she wanted to say to him.

"I just don't understand you, Edward," she said in a disheartened tone. She looked up at him, blinking. She waited for an explanation but he didn't seem inclined to offer any.

After a few moments of exceedingly awkward silence, Edward seemed to suddenly remember that she was a reluctant audience to their lovers' quarrel, and he moved his gaze from Bella to her.

He offered her a grave nod. His brother did not appear flustered by the question.

What has been happening between these two? Alice thought, baffled. She narrowed her eyes at him, somehow assuming that whatever brought this on, that it was his fault.

"The queen will be out in a moment," Edward said, and he smiled slowly.

Alice stared at him for a beat. She realized that she didn't need the Sight to see that he would fix this - whatever this was. She could see it in his smile, and in his eyes.

She nodded to the both of them, curtsied out of habit, and quickly exited the tent.

[MacDermott]

His head swung around, surveying the majestic castle grounds. He could hear the thunder of huge crowds beyond, yelling cheers.

His retinue followed him as he rode amidst the line of pavilions and smaller tents that had been set up for the tourney combatants and their servants, surgeons and other visitors.

He was pleased with his appearance and timing, it was exactly as he had planned it - an impressive entrance to capture everyone's attention, most especially Isabella's. Not that he needed to work at it, he thought with self-satisfaction. He glanced at himself and nodded with approval.

He was Tirawley MacDermott after all, the future king of the united kingdoms of Ireland, England and oh yes, those Goddamned Scots.

[De Burgh]

Gold.

She promised him gold.

He watched the queen intently.

And he watched Kent watching the queen.

Something would happen soon, and it would alter someone's life.

If he was lucky, it would be his.

Because she promised him all of the Argyll gold.

***a/n

Latin:

Canis canem edit – Dog eat dog