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Breathe

Breathe

You can do this, stop being a coward.

I recited the words inside my head over and over, hoping that it would only take one more go before they stuck. The small room Esme had chosen to be the bridal room in their massive home smelled of fresh flowers and old wood; the only sounds were my shallow breaths and the occasional comment from the three Cullen women as they helped me to get ready. There was no joy in any of it. I wondered why we were putting so much time and effort into a ceremony that would likely only take ten minutes.

Ten minutes and then the rest of my life.

Mary Alice, Rosalie, and Esme had taken on the task of helping me prepare. My dress was borrowed from Rosalie, as she and Emmett had been married only five years before. It was an ivory-colored silk, the skirt full with layers upon layers of lace that also covered the bodice. It was far too long on my five foot, four inch frame to be fashionable, and a bit loose in the bust, but it was the loveliest thing I'd ever worn in my entire life.

"You look like a princess," Mary Alice said.

Based on the reactions that were garnered the previous night, I'd realized that the Cullen women were far more intuitive than the men gave them credit for. Edward had made his announcement as though he were discussing the weather, drawing obvious ire from Carlisle at his lackluster performance and also his lack of formal attire. He'd arrived to dinner in his shirtsleeves and without a tie again; this time with a button or two undone. His hair was the worst that I'd seen it, sticking out in all crazy directions.

"I have news," he'd said, in between the serving of the first and second course, "Bella and I are getting married. Tomorrow."

He'd continued eating, barely lifting his eyes to meet those of his mother or sister. Esme's troubled eyes met with mine.

"Oh!" was all that she had said, after a pause that lasted far too long to be a genuine response.

Emmett had broken the silence then, his loud, booming laughter filling the void, "Eddie, I didn't think you had it in you!" He'd turned to me, "So, when are you due?"

I'd covered my face with my hands, but not before noticing the way that Rosalie flinched.

"Emmett, this isn't polite conversation for the dinner table," Carlisle had said, "It's not our place, or our business, to judge why they're getting married so quickly. I'm sure that they're happy. That's all that matters." He'd looked to Edward on his left then and said, "Congratulations."

I'd stared at my plate, incredulous at his audacity, that he was allowing everyone to assume that we were marrying because I was in trouble. Edward tensed beside me. I'd noticed from my peripheral vision how his jaw clenched and his grip tightened on his fork, but he had said nothing.

"I wish we had had more time." Esme's voice interrupted my memory, as she lamented, once again, the fact that there had been no time to buy a proper hat or veil. I tried not to balk at the way my hair hung loose around my shoulders and back, tendrils falling in waves and curls.

You can do this. You can do this.

One shaky deep breath after another filled the otherwise silent room. If I didn't find a way to calm down, I'd be a giant sobbing mess while walking down the aisle, and I'd been told, in not so many words, that I was to be happy today. It was my wedding day, after all. Carlisle needed me to look happy in the photograph.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"You're going to pass out if you keep breathing like that."

It was the most Rosalie had spoken to me the entire afternoon.

"I brought some pearls," said Esme. She slipped them around my neck where they fell and covered the silver chain that lay against my skin. If they'd noticed the necklace that Edward had given to me, they said nothing of it. I hardly noticed it anymore, I'd been wearing it for so long.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she adjusted the pearls against my neckline. They were cold against my skin, but that wasn't what made me cringe. It felt wrong to lie to her, even inadvertently.

"Your eyes are puffy. Mary Alice, can you go down to the ice box and bring ice and a handkerchief? We'll see if we can get rid of those dark circles." I'd spent much of the previous night crying and beating my pillows until they were small piles of feathers surrounding me.

There was a kind smile on her face, and I smiled back. It seemed to make her happy to have someone to care for. It felt nice to be cared for. Esme had shown me more kindness in the amount of time I'd known her, less than a month, than my own mother had in all of the years that I'd lived with her.

"Esme, I'm not-" I tried to explain, before Rosalie interrupted me.

"She just has way too much hair! I can't get it all pinned in time."

"Leave it down," Esme said, then changed her mind at Rose's shocked expression. "Alright. Hand me some pins. Mary Alice, you take the back, I'll get the right side."

Thirty minutes later, after pins were painfully stuck into my hair, long applications of ice under my eyes, and makeup had been applied, they all began to gather their things and head towards the door to get ready themselves.

"You look gorgeous, Bella," Esme said as she kissed my cheek and hurriedly left the room.

"Thank you," I said quietly. The reflection I saw in the mirror was of a woman that I didn't know, and I quickly looked away. They'd pinned my hair in a much looser style than I was accustomed to wearing; the front framed my face in loose waves and was pinned in the back into a bun, along with several tiny braids which had been executed by Mary Alice. They'd made me look stylish and smart and almost like a princess. A large bouquet of flowers had been placed in my shaking hands.

I wasn't alone for very long before Rose came back into the room, quickly closing the door behind her. She walked up to me, with a look of determination on her face, and removed the flowers from my hands, placing them on the dresser top beside us. She placed her hands on my upper arms, gripping them in an almost painful grasp.

"You're a milquetoast, Bella," she said, her expression serious and grim.

"What?"

"Everything you're thinking is always written all over your face," she said. "Do better. If you don't, you'll be eaten alive."

She turned away from me and rushed toward the door.

"You know?" I managed to stammer before she left completely. She looked through the door, I assumed to see if anyone was watching. "You know what they do?" I whispered.

Edward had told me that none of the women in his family knew anything about their criminal activities, their true profession.

Rose turned on her heels to face me. "Of course I know!" she said in a loud whisper. "They'd like to think that we're idiots, that we don't know that they put themselves in danger every time they walk outside their damned door—" She stopped, her voice breaking, and I knew she was talking about Emmett.

"I used to just go along with it all, pretend that I was above their strict rules and laws, and that I could eventually do whatever I wanted." She swiped tears angrily away from her cheeks. "I was wrong. They all follow him blindly; they tell him everything, every intimate detail - even if it hurts themselves in the long run. It's as if he's God and they're his faithful worshippers.

"Edward is different, though," she said, "or he seems to be. I don't know why, or if it's just an act. Just… be careful. You are going to have to grow a thicker skin, Bella. Don't let anyone see that they've hurt you.

"Do. Better."

She emphasized each final word before she turned around again and left, leaving me alone with my flowers and ridiculous reflection and I realized she was right. No amount of makeup could hide the way that I felt inside: a small, frightened girl who was following yet another path laid out for her by someone stronger and more important than herself.

I was spineless.

For far too long I'd run from my demons, hiding under my blankets and hoping they'd go away. My fear had driven me to the place that I was in, trapped by my own cowardice in a situation over which I had no control, in a gilded cage in their lavish house. I walked to the door, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn't.

He knew I had nowhere else to go.

I lurked through the hallways quietly, my heart in my throat, and walked up to Carlisle's office door three times. Being so close to his office, and him, made me feel ill-at-ease.

I raised my hand once more, the final thought of possibly being able to free Edward from this marriage, the catalyst that pushed me to take action. I would talk Carlisle out of it, convince him that I was the wrong woman for his son.

I was the wrong woman.

So I knocked.

"Come in, Isabella," Carlisle called from the other side of the door. I hated the sound of him using my formal name, and the fact that he knew I would be here when I hadn't even been sure of it myself. I hesitated, opening the door slowly. He was sitting at his desk, a stack of paperwork in front of him, a silver pen in his hand. A pipe sat near him, the small delicate tendrils of smoke wafting through the air like incense.

"Close the door behind you, please."

"You knew I would come."

"I knew you would eventually seek me out on your own." He glanced up at me and the wrinkles on his forehead were more prominent. "I didn't expect you to wait until right before the wedding to do so. You have some questions, I assume?"

Anger flashed through me. He'd wanted me to make the first move, but he clearly had the upper hand.

I refused to beg for crumbs.

He saw the expression on my face and smiled. "You remind me of your father. I saw that same expression on his face more than once."

His admission blew the wind out of me. "You knew my dad?"

With that one revelation, I was once again under his thumb.

He pulled out a small key that was attached to his belt, the kind that was used for small jewelry boxes or filing cabinets or desk drawers, and a flash of pain and the image of a key bathed in a river of red and feelings of heartache swam through my mind.

I closed my eyes tightly and shook off the feeling as he opened his desk drawer and rifled through a file. I peered over the desk to see that it was one that was crammed full of things. He caught me watching and I backed farther away, sitting in a chair that sat opposite his desk.

He pulled out a piece of cardstock. Though I was looking at it from the back, I could tell from the design on the edges that it was a photograph. He looked at it for a moment, a small smile on his lips, then he laid it on his desk and pushed it towards me.

I watched his face, suddenly unsure if I wanted whatever it was he had offered. He nodded slightly and I picked it up with shaking fingers and held it up to my face.

It was a wedding photo.

The bride and groom looked to be happy and in love. On either side of them, a man stood. I recognized Carlisle standing to the left of the groom, a wide smile on his young, handsome face. It took me longer than it should have to recognize the groom.

"Is this… Charlie?" I looked up at Carlisle and he nodded, smiling.

My dad was much younger than I remembered him. Through the thin mental images of a child, there were far fewer lines around his eyes and his hair was dark, like mine, but without the salt and pepper streaks that I remembered. He stood tall and proud and happy. There were days when I was living with him that I could remember him looking that way. But there were far too many days that he seemed lost in his own world, buried in a sadness that I was too young to understand.

"We were friends. I was his best man," Carlisle said.

It was hard to imagine my father becoming friends with a man like Carlisle Cullen.

Tears filled my eyes as I stared at my father's face, wishing that I could get one of his large bear hugs, wishing that a single photo showing his larger than life smile was not all that was left of him.

I shifted my gaze to the woman beside him. Though the photo was sepia toned, I knew that it was my mother. We shared the same large, dark eyes, the same heart-shaped face.

"I don't remember ever seeing her smile," I marveled to myself quietly. Carlisle chuckled.

"And who's this?" I asked him, turning the photo around and pointing to the other man, the one who stood beside my mother. He was shorter in stature than the other men, only an inch or two taller than the bride. His hair was dark and slicked back. Even from the somewhat grainy photo, I could tell that he wore a very expensively cut suit.

Carlisle's pale blue eyes met mine for a long moment, as though he was waiting, and for the first time since I'd met him, he seemed hesitant.

"That's Aro," he said, his eyes holding mine and I found I was unable to look away. "Your mother's father. Your grandfather."

I stared at him.

"That's why I'm here?" I asked my voice sounding puny and pathetic to my own ears.

He nodded and said, "That's part of it. I made a promise to Charlie before he died, that I would keep you safe."

"Why would I need to be kept safe from my own grandfather?"

He picked up his pipe and placed it between his teeth, sitting back in his chair. "That is somewhat of a longer story."

"Tell me."

It was a feeble demand, but he smiled once again, the lines in the corners of his eyes crinkling, and I wondered if this was the man that Esme had fallen in love with. He seemed a different person, as though procuring the photograph had transformed him into someone relatable. It didn't make him seem less dangerous, only more human.

"Aro was never exactly… stable. It was rumored that he began to lose his mind when his wife died in childbirth." He gestured toward the photo with his pipe. "With your mother," he said.

I looked at the photo again; at her hair that I remembered and her face that I didn't.

"She was treated very badly under his care. I never knew the details, but when she met Charlie, she grasped at the chance to get away from Aro. She and Charlie met at a dinner and were smitten with each other immediately. He was a good man. When he found out that she was… in the family way… he agreed to marry her on the spot."

I looked up at him, surprised and shocked. She was pregnant with me in the photograph.

She liked whiskey. She didn't like to be hugged or kissed. I'd always just assumed that she was a horrible person. Now I wondered if her actions were due to her circumstances and upbringing.

"Do you know why she left my father?"

Carlisle shook his head. "He would never tell me."

I took a deep, shaking breath and I was afraid, but knew I'd have to ask the question.

"What is the other reason? Why is it so important that I marry Edward, and so soon?"

"Aro apparently thinks that you have something, some sort of information that was stolen from him. Something that could destroy him."

"I don't know anything. She never told me anything. She hardly even spoke to me."

"That's what Edward told me," he said, and the thought that he was asking me all those questions just to report back to Carlisle was hurtful and it made me angry.

Rosalie's words echoed in my head, "They tell him everything - every intimate detail. As if he's God."

I stared at the photograph again.

"If Aro was so horrible to my mother, then why does he look so happy here? Why was he even allowed at their wedding?"

Carlisle set down his pipe.

"You were not brought up in this life, so I don't expect you to know the way that we do things."

I chose to not let his tone offend me.

Do better, Bella.

"There are certain things that are ingrained in us at such a young age that we don't even remember learning them. We learn our place in our families before we're old enough to even know our own names. We learn that with our many enemies that want to destroy us, family is the most important thing that we have to live for. If I were to break it down into it's most basic form, Bella, there are two things that every one of us in this business live for: survival and legacy. There's no point in any of it: what we build, what we gain—without having a family to pass it down to. Your mother knew this truth, so when she married your father, it was never a question of whether or not she would have her own father at the wedding.

"Edward knows this truth, also. Though he isn't mine by blood, he's proven to be more fit for this life than any of my other children. Even despite his recent… discrepancies… he's the one who will take over for me, continue my legacy when I'm gone.

"Which brings me to this: I've given you the information that you wanted. Now I need something from you."

I tensed.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's not that difficult, really. I need you to help ensure that this family, my legacy, continues."

It was clear that he meant grandchildren. I could feel my face getting hot; the entire conversation had taken a turn that made me extremely uncomfortable.

"Why would I do that?" I became bold then, my mind in too much of an emotional overload to curtail my thoughts. "I came here to ask that you let him out of this. To let us out of this," I said, gesturing to my beautiful, borrowed dress.

Carlisle smiled, a look of sadness in his eyes that I didn't understand. "I'm afraid that I can't do that. As much as I'd like to see him with someone who would be a bit more fitting…"

He paused and I blushed.

"No offense, Bella - but, you are far too frail - but I made a promise to my friend that I would make sure that you were kept safe. This is my way of fulfilling that promise."

I became desperate, grasping at straws. The more I learned about this life, this legacy, the less I wanted it. "He doesn't want children," I whispered.

"Yes, I know. I also know how Edward feels about this family, about this business. I need you to convince him that he's wrong. Judging from the way I've seen him watching you when he thinks that no one is looking, I don't think it will be very difficult."

I stared at him, incredulous, knowing that the complete opposite was true.

"I think you're wrong," I said, and then after a moment, "What about Emmett and Rosalie?

"They're unable to have children, it seems. You'll have one year, which should be plenty of time."

"And what if I say no?"

He smiled at me and whatever humanity that had been shining through the surface disappeared. He reached into the file and brought out another paper, this one a note that had been written on a yellow sheet of paper ripped from a legal pad.

It was a crude picture of a terribly drawn girl with long, dark hair and comical, enormous eyes. In black ink, there were lines drawn on the wrists and ankles of the cartoon person and blobs of black ink surrounded her.

"What is this?" I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the drawing, but something within me felt the wrongness of it.

"This is our latest letter from Aro," he said, his voice grim. "At the moment, everyone who lives with and works for him is afraid to get near Edward - after what he did to their best man." He smiled, the look of a proud father doting on his son, and I could only assume he meant the way he'd killed the man who had broken into my apartment.

"Aro used to understand the way that the world works and the importance of family. Not anymore. This was addressed to you, Bella. This is what he wants to do to you."

I stared at the image, the dark drawing of a girl with, what I now knew was blood, surrounding her.

"So, you're telling me if I don't follow through on your plans…"

"I'll let him have you."

His words were delivered with an eerie calmness.

"But what about Charlie?" I asked, my voice higher and more frantic than I'd wanted it to be.

Carlisle stood and smoothed the wrinkles from his fancy dress suit. "I fulfilled my promise when you were a child. I'm giving you to my favorite son. From this point on, you are an adult. You have to decide your own way."

I looked at the cluttered mess behind his head, and the image in my hand, and wondered if perhaps they were all a little crazy—that maybe this life of violence left no one unscathed. I wondered what that meant for Edward, for Mary Alice, for Rosalie, for whatever children I was asked to bring into this world.

"Do I have your promise?"

There was nothing left for me to do but nod.

"Does… Edward know that Aro is my-"

"No. It's best that it remains that way. For now." He snuffed out his pipe and rose. "I'll give you a moment of privacy. Don't take too long to come downstairs." He patted my shoulder and turned to leave me alone.

"Wait." There was one question that was gnawing at me and I knew I'd forever regret it if I didn't ask, no matter what it cost me. "How did you know him? My dad?"

Carlisle's face softened and he looked down at me with an express that could almost be described as pity.

"He used to be my advisor."

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