A/N: Non-graphic lemon warning in place. Proceed with caution.

Chapter 42

Edward thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful.

Standing on the dais, where he'd stood many times before, Edward felt a queer ache of longing deep in his chest. They had both said the words. They had both bowed their heads to take in the blessing. They had tasted the wine on their tongues— that sweet, pale nectar, the colour of pink roses, that was brought in for every royal wedding from a small vineyard on the coast of Honeybee Point. He had savoured the taste. He had savoured the words.

"Her Grace Isabella of Marolando, Queen of the Island, as anointed by gods and men!"

Edward couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

As a man, Edward had never given much thought to the details of his own wedding. He had always known where it would be— Kings could only be married in the Temple, where men were nearest to the Gods, and he knew that it would be at high noon, as custom dictated. He had not chosen the flowers, or the suits, or the dresses, or the shoes, but he had chosen the smiling, radiant creature before him, alight with such a glow of excitement that it seemed to pulse from her with each passing moment.

Edward had known she would be lovely— Bella was always lovely, even when she thought she wasn't. He knew she would have her hair carefully combed, and her dress tailored. She would carry her flowers proudly— flowers that she had chosen especially from the garden of a florist in the center of town— and that her little ladies would be dainty and trim. He had known how she would come to him— a nervous, but happy bride, ready to take her place in the world— but when she had come into the Temple on his brother's arm, Edward had forgotten everything he thought he knew.

Her dress, which he had already seen, was a marvelous, glowing white. Edward blinked when he saw it, taking in the long, patterned sleeves and the full, pleated skirt. Her arms, darkened somewhat by the sun, were still pale beneath the lace, and the soft, white flesh at her neck seemed to blend with the ivory bodice. She did not look particularly tall— in fact, as he watched their approach, it struck him just how tall his brother had grown— but for what she lacked in inches, she more than made up for in pride.

He did not know if she saw him. He did not know if she glanced, in her careful ascent to the altar, towards her groom and her King. She did not cry, as some brides did, nor did she laugh, but when he saw the turn of her head behind her gauzy veil, he did not begrudge her any of it.

She watched the children— those stunned, eager little boys and girls from the Home at the center of town— and those faces watched her back. Edward had expected some trouble— perhaps a wailing toddler, or mischievous child— but they all stood silent, their gaze fixed on her in wonder. The unusual white of her dress caught rainbows cast by the stained glass windows. On her head, pinned tight to hold the veil, her small comb flashed golden. She had no music to guide her, nor any fanfare to herald her, but none of that seemed to matter when the voices hushed and heads turned to watch the making of a Queen.

By the time she made it to him, Jasper handing him her soft, trembling hand, it was all Edward could do to keep his eyes on the Host.

They spoke the words together, as they had practiced by the glow of the fire in the wee hours. They made the promises— the promise to serve, and the promise to cherish. The promise to care, and the promise to listen. The promise to teach, and the promise to learn, but most importantly, as Edward knew well, they had both made the promise to love. It was that last, final vow that made his heart swell, and when the Host had pronounced them married Edward had reached down with steady hands to lift that veil from her face, revealing to him not only a girl, but his own true wife.

The paleness of her face was stoppered only by the high colour on her cheeks as Edward pulled away the barrier between them. She beamed at him, her eyes strangely misty, and when he touched his finger to the soft flesh of her cheek, he felt her warmth like fire. She brought her own hand up, touching the velvet of his sleeve, and when the applause went from polite to raucous, he leaned down to kiss her.

Those lips, so full and soft, lingered only a moment before they were interrupted by the smiling Host again, whose voice carried like music through the highest reaches of the Temple.

"By the laws of Gods and Men, I present to you your King!" cried the Host and Edward, pulling away from Bella with a grin, turned instead towards the crowd. Esme, seated in the very front row in the place of honour, held a handkerchief to her face. Jasper, on his feet and hooting just as wildly as the rest, clapped his hands together hard enough to echo through the room. The children, grown quite wild with the sudden tumult, were fairly bouncing as the Matrons tried to rein them in, rather unsuccessfully. The Host chuckled— so soft that only the newlyweds could hear it— and Bella, giggling at the noise, turned with Edward to face her crowd.

"And I present your newly anointed Queen!" continued the Host. The crowd, both inside and out, gave a tremendous shout. "As given to us by the Gods!"

Edward felt Bella's fingers tighten around his hand and he bent his head to hers, beaming.

"A thousand blessings!" finished the Host, and as one, great voice, the crowd shouted back.

"A thousand blessings for our King and Queen!"

Outside, the bells began to toll. Bella glanced up at him with nervous energy and Edward, feeling his heart swell in his chest, squeezed her hand in his.

"It is done," he said, and he felt her shoulders relax. "It is done, Bella. Be at ease. It is done."

It is done, Edward thought, and now, I have a wife. The unspoken word made him laugh and Bella, curious, raised an eyebrow.

They walked through the square like lovers, bodies pressed close and hands clasped in tight, eager grips. The city was ablaze with sunlight and noise. Edward could see, peering through the thronging crowd, how heads bustled on streets and sidewalks, desperate to get a glimpse. No one dared touch them— it was a well-known law that the royal person was not to be accosted— but that did not stop them from looking.

And by the Gods, did they look.

Edward led his bride through the tight-packed bodies that lined the road. A path had been carved for them— Emmett, with methodical and meticulous persistence, had plotted their every move from the time they set foot outside the Temple to the moment they made it safely to the castle keep. Soldiers had been placed to keep the crowds at bay. The carriage— the same in which Bella had arrived— was guarded by thirty armed men. Emmett feared the West and whatever foul disruption they might concoct, but as Edward helped his wife into her seat, Emmett's fears were proven false.

There was nothing whatsoever that could ruin this day.

In the carriage, they sat high above the noisy, cheering crowd. Bella, her ample skirt tucked around her feet by her ladies, sat pressed against his side. Edward could not take his eyes away— not from her face, which was glowing with pride, or from her dress, which shone like diamonds in the sun. Flowers, tossed by exuberant, waving hands, floated down like rain to land in her lap and her hair. She smiled when she saw them, bringing one, soft bud to her nose, and when the carriage began to move, the crowd followed.

Through the city and to the castle, Edward and Bella rode in noisy procession. Her hand did not move from his— her fingers, twined through his own, kept their hold like glue as they smiled, and nodded, and waved. He could see the wonder on her face— the sheer unexpectedness of the crowd and her disbelief at their frenzy— and each time a little hand tossed roses or petals to land at their feet, she let out an indulgent laugh.

The parade lasted nigh on an hour— a slow progress through the City East and West, chaperoned by soldiers and finished, with great aplomb, at the castle gates. The people followed all the while— children, chasing the horses, and their parents, thronging on the road. Edward heard blessings shouted from doorways and rooftops as they passed, and only once they had ducked through the portcullis at the gate did the noise die down.

Bella, bright and exuberant with the excitement of it all, beamed up at him without a word and Edward, his heart hammering, could only laugh.

"I've never been to a royal wedding," he commented lightly as Marco, the stable master, dismounted. "I didn't expect such a crowd."

She let out a small, quiet giggle.

"Are you well?" he asked, turning around to face her as the soldiers— all thirty of them— began to stream in. The chains of the portcullis began to clink as the gate was lowered, keeping out the hooting, shouting crowd. Edward knew the streets would be alive tonight— any excuse for a party, and the city would run wild.

Bella, in response to his query, only nodded. When the gate was finally lowered and the voices dulled, she sighed, her eyes closing, and rested her head against his shoulder.

Edward laughed outright.

"Are you tired already?" he asked, and this time, she grinned. One eye cracked open and she lifted her chin, shaking her head.

"No," she said, her smile widening. "No, Edward. I'm not tired."

"We have guests to welcome," he continued. "Many guests. Many important guests…"

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I know…"

"Then what is it?"

He would remember her always, he thought, by the look she gave him just then. Her face upturned, brilliant in the summer sun, and her veil, dancing in the breeze. The feel of her arms, snaking up around his back, and the touch of her slender fingers dancing on his cheek. Her lips parted in a smile, and her eyes shone like jewels beneath those dark, full lashes… he would remember always like this, as lovely and sweet as she was now, with her hair in the wind and her hand on his face.

"Nothing," she said, and she pressed a sweet kiss to the place where her fingers had been. The spot burned, even after she had pulled away. "There is nothing at all the matter with me."

They danced until the sky grew dark.

In the great hall of the castle, so seldom used in days of late, Edward and Bella sat together at the high table, presiding over their first official dinner as man and wife. Bella, on the King's left side, felt herself rather a spectacle, seeing all the goggling eyes and curious whispers, but she felt all of the glory and none of the sting as she took from platters of scrumptious, steaming foods, brought directly from the castle's own kitchens.

She had been expecting this. She had known, from Esme's careful teachings, just what to expect when she arrived at the palace in her horse-drawn carriage. She had known about the feast— miniature versions of which were taking place in taverns and inns all across the Kingdom— and she knew about the guests. She had pored over the lists with Edward, giving her input whenever he asked and staring, perplexed, at the long tally of names and titles.

"Officials," Edward had told her plainly when she'd voiced her confusion. "From all over."

There were Councillors, of course, and their wives and children, seated together at a long table on the hall's left side, nearest the great, blazing hearths that kept away the damp. Bella had watched them as they entered, each family coming to bow or curtsey to show their respect. Bella knew the men, of course— she had spent many an hour with them in the Council chambers, debating policy and setting rules— but she did not know any of the women. There were older wives and young ones, and sons and daughters galore, and Edward, greeting each with a bubbling enthusiasm that seemed the very picture of grace, made Bella feel at ease. They all smiled at her, bowing low over her outstretched hand and even the children, the smallest of whom was just six, offered her a clumsy, stilted curtsey.

Bella, laughing, had thanked the child and kissed her. Bella knew how dearly children loved to be taken seriously, and it had delighted her beyond measure to watch that little creature hop away after her mother, her face alight with a fierce and glowing pride.

Edward, grinning, had said nothing.

After the councillors came the next table— this one filled with knights. Bella knew some of them on sight— some she had seen in the grounds, others on the battlements, and a few, though she could hardly make them out without their armour and their shields, who had guarded her tower door. These, too, brought families, and Bella, in a whirlwind of greetings and pleasantries, gave her blessing to as many as she could.

There were merchants, too, and craftsmen, hailing from City West and other corners of the realm. Wine makers from the Southern Watchtower, and apiarists from the east. A group of wealthy millers from the Farmer's Village greeted her with unusual exuberance and a shy, solitary weaver from the island's northern coast had dropped a bow so low that his fringe had touched the floor. There were fishermen, and butchers, and healers, and greengrocers, all with husbands and wives and children, filling the hall to bursting by the time the last of them was seated.

At the head table, on either side of the newlyweds, sat their most especial friends. Jasper, taking up his place at the King's right side, sat beside his aunt and uncle. Emmett's place was next to Carlisle's, with the little page, Roberto, on the far end. On Bella's side, the group was stranger— first Alice, beaming with pleasure, and Rosalie just beside. Finn, perched on two cushions to keep him upright, and baby Leila in a basket beside her mother. The final two chairs had been harder to fill— Bella, unlike Edward, did not have her own family to take up the empty seats, and so she had given them instead to Marta, who had brought her sister's son as a playmate for Finn.

The food was delicious.

Bella, chattering to Edward over the noise and tumult of their guests, found herself subject to such a feast as she had never seen before. She had tasted island cuisine— she knew how she liked her pork, soaked in a sweet and spicy marinade, and the chickens stuffed with cheeses and herbs. She tasted biscuits, light as clouds, with sweet cream butter, and piles of potatoes and carrots, glistening with steam. There were turnips and parsnips, and braised duck in sauce. Sausage and meat pie with thick, sizzling gravy. She tasted salad— leaf lettuce with peppery arugula, tossed with vinegar and oil, and sliced tomatoes, almost as thin as paper, with layers of fresh, green basil. There were mussels and clams, and baked fish and crab, all slathered in a lemony butter sauce that made her mouth water. Before long, all she could do was nibble, and when Edward, grinning over his own loaded plate, offered her another morsel, she shook her head with a laugh.

"I couldn't possibly," she said, and at once, a footman had appeared to take her plate. "I couldn't eat another bite!"

The dancing had started not long after.

Though Bella was a notorious disaster on any dance floor on which she had set foot, she knew it would be her duty to dance at her own wedding. The music had started before the feast had even ended and together, among the crowds of people that trailed out with them, they had made their way to the ballroom where, much to Bella's surprise, the torches and hearths had both been lit to cast their glow across the floor.

"Come with me, sweetheart," Edward said to her, pulling her through the parting crowd as the musicians finished their song. At once, they were alone, her hands in his, at the center of the dance floor. "Don't be afraid… just follow my lead."

The night flew by in a frenzy of laughter, songs, and chatter.

Looking back, Bella wondered how it ever could have happened in a single day. Was it only that morning that she had awoken, in the early light, and donned her dress? What is just that day that she'd seen all those children seated in the pews? She could not be sure. She wheeled around the dance floor, her clumsy feet made sure by skillful guidance, and once she'd danced with Edward, and Jasper, and Carlisle, she had gratefully retreated back to her table, laughing and out of breath.

Moment by moment, and bit by bit, Bella watched as the afternoon melted into evening, and evening into night. Hours after dinner, when the dancing had died down for a brief reprieve, footmen arrived again with sweet nibbles on platters and plates. Bella ate her fill— Edward, grinning like a child, had all but insisted on it— and by the time the plates were empty, the wine had been brought in. The barrels stayed below stairs— Bella had watched their unloading just three days prior— and the head butler, Lorel, with the under-butler and head footman supervised the distribution of the vintage, bringing Bella a generous cupful of the same fizzy wine she'd tasted at the New Year. It warmed her and soothed her, easing the nervous energy that had reemerged with the necessity of small talk, and when her first was finished, she gratefully accepted a second.

By the time night had fully set in, the room had grown quite wild.

Men, proper and constrained at the start of the evening, were finishing off the party with a bang. Wine first, and then beer and ale, turned many esteemed gentlemen boisterous and noisy. Wives gathered in throngs around the grates, some worn out from dancing, others red with laughter as the crowd began to thin. Bella danced another song with Jasper, letting him twirl her frightfully fast about the crowded dance floor, and she knew Edward was laughing when she felt the wine cloud her head on her way back across the room. Carlisle and Esme danced more slowly when a gentler song began, and Rose, whispering secretively to Emmett by the eastern doorway, held the baby in her arms. Finn, having made quick friends with Marta's nephew and the unknown little girl who had curtsied, had been enticed to a corner to play, where both boys had promptly fallen asleep, leaving the girl sulking on her own. Finn had his head on his fine, velvet coat, and the girl plucked moodily at a loose, hanging thread.

Bella did not know the hour or how long the party had lasted by the time Edward finally stood. She watched him rise, halfway out of her own seat before he raised his hand for silence, and at once, as the last song died down, all heads turned.

"Alas, a marvellous feast!"

There was a hooting applause.

"I hope you are all feeling fed and sated," Edward continued, raising his goblet of wine in a toast. "I hope that you have all enjoyed your evening!"

"Hear, hear!" Feet thumped the floor, and Bella suppressed another grin. Several of the men on the dance floor swayed, and Bella had to avert her gaze.

"You have been most welcome guests in our home!" Edward said and this time, he reached down for her hand. She let him take it, feeling him pull her to her feet, and when she stood, she saw the heads turn instead to her.

Her ladies— all but Alice, who was standing next to Jasper— woke from their stupors where they sat by the fire, and did their best to look alert.

"Most welcome guests," Edward said again, and this time, the maids began to move. "I thank you for your generosity."

The crowd clapped again.

"I thank you," repeated Edward. "I thank you, and I beg your forgiveness."

At once, the rumpus rose again. Bella felt her cheeks warm, her eyes fixed on the table as the rowdiest of the men— and the drunkest— began to titter. Edward said nothing in rebuke— indeed, there was nothing much he could say— but when he took her hand in his, she felt at once at ease.

"I beg your forgiveness," said Edward again, "but the time has come for us to part."

And this time, her ladies began to move.

"To the King!" shouted a man that Bella did not know and at once, there was a scramble to collect goblets and pour more wine. "To the King!"

"To the Queen!" bellowed another, and this time, she felt Edward's squeezing fingers. "To our our new Queen! May the Gods bless and keep her!"

"To the Queen!"

And to her utter embarrassment, Edward raised a glass to her as well, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"A thousand thousand blessings," he whispered, his head bent to her ear. "A thousand thousand blessings on your head."

Bella turned her face away, hiding her blush from the crowd. Edward laughed outright.

"Gentlemen, ladies… I take your leave!" said Edward and the crowd bustled noisily. "I take your leave, but I beg you… dance, and eat, and drink as much as you'd like, for the night is still young, and the city is still alive! I bid you all good night!"

Bella, unsure of the protocol, simply allowed Edward to help her down from the high table. Together, they walked through the throngs of people— past Esme and Carlisle, who looked tired, but joyful, and past Jasper who was drunk with merriment. Past the Council, who bowed and chattered, and past a hundred other guests who curtsied and waved. Her ladies fluttered after them like a crowd of little birds— Alice, resplendent in her purple gown, and the rest, as green as her little parrot in his golden cage. Bella found the procession rather funny— she was not yet used to being trailed like a mother hen, though she knew without a doubt that these were most definitely her chicks. Bella and Edward led them from the hall, disappearing down a darkened corridor lit with merry, crackling torches, and once they could no longer see the blazing light from the ballroom, Bella felt her shoulders sink.

The girls, silent as nuns, stayed far enough back to avoid the pretense of eavesdropping, but when Edward looked back and sent them into a nervous flutter, Bella laughed outright. The noise carried on the stone, sending little ghostly echoes back from the vaulted ceiling, and the girls jumped.

"You may leave us," said Bella quickly and at once, she saw their surprise. "There is nothing more for you to do tonight. Go off to bed, and have a good rest."

Alice, glancing nervously at Edward, was the only one who spoke.

"Should we not help you undress?" she queried and Bella, quite red, bit her lip. "Should we not… assist?"

"Do not worry about anything else tonight," said Edward gently and Alice, more nervous than perturbed, retreated back into the shadows. "Take yourself and the ladies back upstairs… tell Marta that you've been dismissed for the night."

"Yes, Sire…"

"And you may sleep upstairs with the others tonight if you wish it, Alice," continued Edward. Bella felt him squeeze her, his hand cupped around her elbow. "We will not be returning to the Queen's rooms tonight, and I know how dark and lonely it can be without a companion."

Bella wasn't sure whose face was redder, but the girl only nodded, grinning quickly at Bella, before she shepherded all the little girls from the hall, disappearing around the corner with whispers and sighs. Bella said nothing until the footsteps died down, retreating down the hall and around to one of the narrow back stairwells that the servants used to avoid the galleries and rooms. The girls were all tired— they had been for some time— and she knew it would be no great hardship for them to retire into bed. Children loved a party— especially one where they were allowed to play the grown up— but Bella knew, from her own youth, that half the fun of a party was remembering.

She hoped they would all find sweet dreams and restful sleep.

When the coast was clear, Bella felt her shoulders fall, her arms reaching up to wind themselves about Edward's waist. He did not deny her— did not pull away, as he'd been so wont to do— and instead let her settle herself against him, standing on tiptoe to rest her chin on his shoulder.

He hugged her gently until she brought her heels back to the floor, feeling his fingers trailing up and down the line of tiny buttons along her spine.

"Come, Bella," he said softly, and at once, she felt herself alive with anticipation. "Come with me, darling, and let us settle in."

In the privacy of his chambers, in the quiet firelight, Edward felt his heart pounding in his chest like the hooves of a racing horse. The room was warm full of sweet sights and smells, prepared well in advance for his return this evening, and as he glanced quickly at the table, laden with fruits and the fire crackling in the grate, he suddenly felt very hot.

Bella stood by the fireside, her back towards the window as she glanced down into the flickering flames. She still wore her gown— that soft, silky cloth of purest white— and it caught the light in a burnished glow. Her veil was gone— from the moment they'd entered the palace, it had been whisked away by her ladies to be returned to her chambers, though she'd kept the gold and emerald comb fastened in her braids and curls. Her hands were folded before her, her fingers clasped tightly over themselves as she wrung them together, and though she said nothing and did not meet his gaze, Edward found that he did not mind.

They stood together in silence, her gaze fixed on the fire and his on her, until the quiet grew intrusive and Edward sighed, which made her turn to look. She seemed almost shy, clutching the skirt of her dress, and when he reached out to take her hand, he felt her tremor.

"Did you like your day?" he asked quietly, and at once, her nervous face melted into a smile. "Did it suit?"

"I loved it," she said quickly. "It was lovely, Edward. Absolutely perfect."

He felt some of his nerves drain away.

"And the party?"

She let out a short chuckle.

"Quite wild," she teased. "But great fun."

"They'll keep on until sunrise," he said quickly. "Especially since we don't charge for wine."

She laughed outright this time, and he felt his own lips twitch.

"Did you enjoy it?" she returned quietly and Edward, feeling rather foolish, simply shrugged. "Was it to your taste?"

"It's not for me to say," he returned merrily. "It's not a groom's business to like or dislike a wedding."

Bella scoffed.

"You're entitled to an opinion, same as anyone," she replied. "Did we do well?"

"Extraordinarily," he replied. "You saw the turn out."

"I certainly did."

A beat passed between them.

"Are you hungry?" he offered softly, glancing at the heaping bowl of fruit left on the table. "It's been a long day…"

"No," she said quickly. "No, Edward. I'm not hungry."

"Thirsty, then?"

"No." She shook her head. "Thank you."

And again, as if she had run out of words, he saw her eyes flicker back down to the rug before she sat, gingerly, on the edge of a sofa.

He sat across from her, equally silent.

In the long moments that passed— a full two minutes, at least— Edward looked thoughtfully at his bride as he fought to find his courage. They were one now, he and her, and though he felt an extraordinary thrill whenever he remembered it, with every jolt of excitement came a queer and queasy nervousness. They were one soul, joined together before Gods and men, and they were rulers now, in tandem, but though he knew the duties of a husband to his bride, he knew not what she might expect. She fiddled with her dress as she settled on the couch, shifting the ample skirt this way and that to get it flat, and though her face did not belie even the slightest anxiety, he could see the shadow of her pulse hammering in her throat. It brought him joy and regret to see it, knowing that she was just as nervous as he, and when he found the courage to sit himself beside her, he felt her tension like a bowstring.

"Relax, Bella," he soothed and he saw a quick, self-deprecatory grimace cross her face. "Don't be nervous."

She laughed, though the noise was strained.

"I think it is my duty to be nervous," she returned, though to his delight, she did not seem frightened. "I don't know how I could be anything else."

"That makes two of us, then," he admitted and then it was her turn to stare. "You make me absolutely wild with nerves, Bella, and I'm afraid I'm not quite sure how to tame them."

She said nothing, but continued to stare. Edward felt his stomach twist, like a nest of snakes rising to strike, but he tamped the feeling down at once, searching.

"I'm not sure what exactly you know," he said slowly, trying to keep himself as diplomatic as possible. "I'm not sure what Esme's told you…"

And all at once, he felt her sag, her face turned away as she broke into a fit of giggles.

"Oh don't," she pleaded through her laughter. "Don't Edward. Please."

He felt his ears burning.

"I only meant…"

"I know what you meant," she said. "And I'll spare you that, at least. Rest assured that I know just as much as I ought to, and no less. I know what's expected of us, now that we're married."

This time, it was Edward who snorted.

"I don't care about expectations," he returned. "I care only for you, Bella, and what you might want. What you need."

She sobered up at once.

"You are my husband," she said, and the words sent a thrill down his neck. "And I am your wife. I knew exactly what I was getting when I agreed to marry you."

His throat felt dry.

"I see." He shifted in his seat, turning his body to face her. "And you…"

He did not know quite how to ask her, but she seemed to understand just the same. It was she who leaned forward, she who pressed her lips to his for a sweet, gentle kiss, and he sagged with quiet relief, letting his fingers trail over the lace sleeve of her gown. It was intricate and fine, the needlework and embroidery, but she refused to let him linger when she put a finger beneath his chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. Her liquid, honey eyes met his with confident certainty and he let his hands wander down to the taper of her waist.

"So you want to…?" He could not find the words. "You will…?"

"I do, Edward," she said in a whisper. "I will. I am your wife, and I want us to fulfill our roles in every sense."

"Have you ever…?" he began, his grip tightening as she leaned in closer. "Have you ever been with anyone? Before?"

She shook her head at once.

"No," she said. "Not like that."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, trailing down to her chin, her neck.

"And you?"

"Never."

"Not even once?"

"Not even once," he confirmed, pulling his face away. "It would not do, Bella. Not for me. There is no one else I'd share myself with— no one else I'd want to share with."

He could not quite identify the look that crossed her face— part pride and part relief, and, dare he think it, perhaps part desire.

He spoke again before she could answer.

"I love you," he said, and this time, her own hands began to wander. "I love you, Bella, and if you're willing, I'd like to show you just how much."

Her silent assent came in the form of a kiss, before they moved towards the bedroom, where the fire was laid and the sheets turned down. There was a screen in the corner, thoughtfully placed for Bella's comfort, but she did not move towards it as he gently closed the bedroom door. They would not be bothered until the morning— the servants, in a flurry of anticipation, had done their duty and prepared the room for an undisturbed wedding night. There was water on the sideboard— pitchers for drinking, and basins for washing. Warm cloths and towels lay on racks by the fire. Marta and Alice had packed Bella a small trunk, in which lay her nightclothes, her day dress, her comb, and her soap, all ready and waiting for when they would be needed. There was firewood, piled neatly against the wall, and sweet biscuits in a jar, and finally the curtains, usually open to let in the sun, had been drawn tight to keep out the light.

They would not be bothered, and there would be no one to see them, so when Bella asked him to help with the buttons on her dress, he was all too eager to take it on.

One by one, her buttons came undone, and as each came free, the fabric parted in soft, supple folds down her back. He tried not to look— indeed, he fought to keep his gaze fixed solely on those buttons— but he failed when his fingers found the last of them at the base of her spine, her warm skin erupting in gooseflesh the moment he touched her.

When she slipped her arms free, pulling first one, then two white limbs from the delicate lace sleeves, Edward had to turn his face, reaching instead to pull down the sheets of the bed. Only when he'd seated himself on the edge, his heart racing, did he dare to look again.

She did not hide herself from him, and for that, Edward was glad. She let the dress fall, pooling in a heap at her feet where it would stay, untouched, until the morrow. In the firelight, he saw only the back of her— the curve of her shoulders, the dip of her spine, each a beckoning invitation that drew his eye down to her waist, and then her hips.

She did not turn herself fully around, naked as she was, but rather looked over her shoulder at him, instead, eying his tunic and his breeches.

"Your turn," she said rather quietly and Edward, grinning, removed his shirt at once. His breeches were another matter— she had seen most of him before, that night at the Springs, and he'd seen enough of her— but as he watched her now, standing so bravely for him to see, he knew it was only fair to return the compliment.

His clothes went with hers, falling to the floor as they each stared, her still facing away, to take in the other.

When she did turn, fidgeting awkwardly as she let him look, he felt a sudden thrill so powerful that he had to close his eyes for a moment, lest he lose control. Bella watched him studiously, her gaze fixed on his face until he could take it no longer.

"You are lovely, sweetheart," he said honestly and some of the tension seemed to die away. She stepped a little closer, coming to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. "You are absolutely lovely."

"As long as you think so," she returned, her neck and chest flushing red. "You're the only one who's ever seen me."

"And how glad I am," he returned. "How glad I am…"

She kissed him, then— not like the sweet, chaste kisses she'd given him earlier, but a deep, resounding kiss that he felt in every muscle from his head to his toes. Her mouth was soft and supple, her lips plump and full, and as he drew her down onto the mattress beneath him, there was no resistance or reluctance. She let him touch her— let him trail his hands down her face, her neck, her sides… and she returned his exploration with curiosity of her own. When he reached up to pull the pins from her hair, loosing twisted curls and braids, he felt her hands tickling his stomach and his sides with soft, gossamer touches. She was delighted when he squirmed, and her mirth turned quickly to devilish delight, until her hand trailed even further down before she stopped, questioning.

"Alright?" she asked and Edward let out a laugh.

"As you like," he whispered, pressing his face to her neck for a kiss. "As you wish, darling…"

And like two explorers, they journeyed together through the uncharted waters of married bliss. Edward let himself grow bolder as bit by bit, his wife was revealed to him. He discovered her, with all her mists and valleys, and he let her discover him. He let her touch him— let her feel his angles and curves with tentative fingers and lips— and by the time she'd found out everything she needed to know about his body and his form, he'd already brought her over the edge. He would never love her more, Edward thought, than he did when she fell apart, and he'd held her, shaking with his own need, as she'd pulled herself back together. She tried to reach for him, to make him as happy as he'd made her— but Edward shook his head, resting his forehead against hers. He held her hands fast so she wouldn't try, and kissed her.

"Not that way, Bella," he'd said, his voice only a whisper. "Not like that…"

When they finally came together, his body melting into hers, Edward felt as if the world itself would come undone. He pulled himself towards her, pressing every inch of himself to her so that his warmth became hers, and her breath became his. He heard her gasps, felt her tremors and her jumps, and though their motions were slow, deliberate, the two of them began to fly. Slowly at first, and then all at once, Edward felt himself drawn higher and higher into the heavens until he was sure that he would meet the Gods themselves. He could not stop— not now, when they were so close— and just as he reached the peak, his vision flashing brilliant white, he heard her quaking, soft moan before he gasped. He fell, hard, and clutched her trembling body to him, letting her anchor him back to the Earth as he fought to catch his breath with her hands rubbing circles on his back.

When they came apart, spent and exhausted, neither one of them said another word before she pressed herself to him, letting the world fall away in a realm of peace and dreams.

A/N: I'm assuming at least some of you will be happy? We've only waited almost 280,000 words.

Thanks again for all your support!