Thank you Fyrebyrd, 2brown-eyes, Gabby1017, and Ceceprincess1217 for prereading, and to jayhawkbb for editing. Please remember all mistakes are mine.

Chapter 21

Steam rises around us, and the light streaming through the window illuminates the translucent wisps. I swirl a cloth under the surface of the water and bring it back up and over Edward's shoulder to wash him. Many of his scars are deep, and several burns mar his chest. My husband will forever bear the Rheman sigil displayed on their banners and shields—the shape of a serpent coiled around a wide V—that his captors branded into his skin again and again. Each time I brush over an especially angry looking wound, his sharp intake of breath tells me it is causing him pain.

"I am sorry," I whisper.

He breathes deeply and exhales heavily. "Don't be."

We are both silent. The only sound in the room is that of the water splashing against the side of the copper tub.

"It is the strangest sensation," he begins. "An odd mix of pain from my wounds and absolute pleasure of having your hands on me."

"I am sorry it is causing you pain," I say softly. Rising up on my knees, I lean over the edge of the tub, my lips reaching the side of his neck to place a stolen kiss there. "But I am glad to be the one to bring you a bit of pleasure."

He sighs, the sound of contentment in his exhale. "I know I've already said this, but it was dreams of this—your touch, your presence—that got me through the days I was ..." He trails off, his words seeming to die on his tongue. He rests the back of his head against the edge of the tub, and his serene mood seems to vanish.

I peer over his shoulder and find his eyes closed. "Do you wish to tell me about it?" I ask in no more than a whisper.

Moments pass, and I begin to wonder if he will refuse me. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, a murmur in the quiet of the room. "Do you truly wish to know?"

I swallow the lump in my throat as I consider his question. Do I really want to hear of the trials he endured? The pain he suffered? I take a deep breath and strengthen my resolve. "I do, but only if you wish to tell me."

More silence passes between us as I wait for him to speak. I rise to my feet and step toward the hearth, retrieving the copper ewers of water left by the fire to warm. I busy myself with refreshing his bath, and as I pour the warmed water into the tub, I can feel his pointed gaze on me. I focus on my task and avoid meeting his stare. Resuming my position on my knees beside the tub, I pick up the cloth again.

"You were there," he finally says, and I focus on the rivulets of water running over his shoulder. "I remember looking across the field and seeing your terrified face just before the blade struck me." He reaches for my hand as I run the cloth over his shoulder once more, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "My only thought was making sure you were away and safe," he says against my skin.

From my place behind him, I cannot see his expression, but his tone is pained. "I remember. All I wanted to do was to go to you." I lean forward once again and place another kiss on his shoulder. "Running away from you was the hardest thing I have ever had to do."

"I am not sure if it was more difficult for you to leave or for me to send you away, but that day the Gods granted my only wish." He grasps my wrist, tugging lightly and pulling me forward to meet his eyes. His hand moves to cover my belly where our babe lies, and he smiles. "You and my child were kept safe from the horrors of that night and all the days to follow. I will never be able to sacrifice enough to them in my gratitude."

I smile sadly. "But you were taken from me. I'm not sure I share the same gratitude."

He sits up straighter, bringing our faces closer together. "I would do it a thousand times over if it meant your safety," he whispers against my lips. Slow and deep he kisses me, and old feelings long put away begin to bubble to the surface. I push them away, though, for he is in no condition to act on the desires of the flesh.

Our kisses slow until we pull apart, but not completely. His hand travels to the back of my neck, holding me close while he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. His murmured words tear at my heart. "I fought them, but there were just too many."

"I know you did." My voice cracks. "I saw you with my own eyes. I know how hard you fought."

"Just the thought of them finding you, harming you ..." His brow furrows, and his closed eyes squeeze tighter still. "It made me fight that much harder. But in the end, it was just too much, too many of them. I must have lost consciousness, because I remember waking up and not knowing where I was. My only thought, for days, was wondering if you were able to get away, if Emmett was able to get you to safety." His eyes open and bore into mine. "It wasn't until we arrived in Adwen that I knew for certain you were safe. When I was marched through the gates, the disappointment on Aro's face when you weren't beside me told me you hadn't been captured."

"Had he ordered me to be taken as well?"

He pulls away but does not release me, his firm hold moving from the back of my neck, down my arm to grasp my hand. He nods once. "He had."

"And Aro willingly shared that with you?"

Again, he nods. "Aro is many things, but able to control his anger is not one of them. He was sure to take out his displeasure on his returning soldiers when we arrived and you were not with us." He turns his head to meet my inquiring eyes. "More than a few men died when they returned to Adwen without you."

"Why—"

He squeezes my hand, silencing me. "They failed their king, Isabella, and their failure meant you were alive."

"They died because—"

"You were alive," he stresses, his pointed gaze meeting mine. "I refuse to feel guilty that it cost them their lives."

I ease my hand from his and reach for the cloth once more, wringing the water from it and resuming my task of washing him. I stare distractedly at the marks and scars littering his body.

"Do you know how they were able to ambush our camp? They say Alec had a part in it," I say quietly.

"That bastard was a traitor," he says, his teeth gritted. "Apparently, he was able to be bought. Who knew he would barter the lives of his brothers for a purse of gold coins?" His breaths come faster as he speaks, his pulse racing just under the skin of his neck.

I lean in close and place a kiss there in an effort to calm him. Soon his breathing slows, and the anger burning beneath his skin calms.

"Were you ... did they ..." I stumble over my words, unsure what it is I want to know, or if I should even dare ask it.

"I was thrown into a cell when I first arrived." He chuckles humorlessly. "I'm not sure they knew what to do with me at first. I truly believe they planned to kill me—well, us—if we'd been captured together."

My hands falter, and the cloth slips from my hold into the water. It isn't until Edward grasps my hands that I know I am trembling.

"This is too much." He sits forward, intent on rising from the tub. "I should not have told you," he says, berating himself.

I shake my head and place a hand on his arm, pushing him to sit. "No, I am fine. It is just"—my wide and frightened eyes flash to his—"I'd no idea how close we both came to—"

"But we did not." He reaches up and cradles my cheek in his palm. "Don't you see? You were protected, even I was protected. The Gods saw to it you were safe, and therefore I was as well."

My gaze falls to the slow-healing marks on his chest, and my fingertips reach out to trace them. "But you weren't. Not really." I meet his eyes, and the emotion I find renders me speechless.

The corner of Edward's mouth turns up in a wistful smile, and he rubs his thumb over my cheek. "No, not in the strictest sense. But I was kept alive. I even had someone care for me between their ... abuses."

"Who?"

"Susan, your father's courtesan. She was even instrumental in my escape." He smiles sadly. "She was a good woman with a good heart. You should know that she truly loved your father, despite what you may have thought of her."

"Was?"

He exhales heavily. "I do not know for certain, but I believe she likely lost her life once I escaped."

"Because she helped you?"

"Yes. And I would not be alive, if not for her."

"Then I will be sure to say a prayer for her, for I will be forever grateful for her sacrifice." I clear my throat. "If King Aro and his men were so quick with the sword, do you know why he decided to keep you alive?"

"To barter with my father for Galon," he says plainly.

My brow furrows in confusion. "But how? Your father would never have agreed—"

"No, he wouldn't have. As I said, we were meant to be taken together, both of us were likely to be killed. Then Aro would have had his claim to Adwen, by way of Jane's marriage to Aro's son, Marcus—"

"Jane is married to Marcus? You saw her?" I ask, interrupting. "Did you see Bree as well?"

He nods. "Yes, Jane is married to Marcus, and yes, I saw them both."

"Were they well?" I ask, already knowing the answer as I watch his face fall.

"They were alive," is all he says. "I did not get to speak with them, but they were alive the last time I laid eyes on them."

"Oh," I say softly.

"As I said, Aro would have had his claim to Adwen, by way of Jane's marriage to Marcus, and he would have had your father's army at his back. He would have been a formidable opponent, even to Galon's army."

"My father's army?" I ask, trepidation coloring my tone.

He gives me a sad smile. "Yes, your father's army. Rhema's attack was swift and unexpected. By the time Charles realized his city was under attack, he was cornered in the castle. Aro made his demands, and your father ... Isabella, I believe he thought Aro to be a man of his word, so he agreed to Aro's terms. He was willing to sign a contract with Aro similar to the one he signed with me, marrying Jane to Marcus and having an equally binding agreement for the throne of Adwen on your father's passing. Aro likely has plans to marry Bree to an ally as well. Perhaps even another member of his house."

"And if either of them produces a son, Rhema has a claim to Adwen?"

"Well," he begins, "it would have given Aro a legitimate claim to Adwen once Jane bore Marcus a son. When I arrived without you by my side, though, the agreement they made was irrelevant, because any child you bore me would have the same claim. Aro made a show of publicly denouncing your father, telling the crowd he'd gone back on his word. He saw no need to keep your father alive."

"How—" I clear my throat, willing away my tears. "How were they able to attack? You left a garrison in place, yes? Left behind your own men to protect them, in addition to my father's army? How was it so easy for them to infiltrate the castle?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, he reaches for my hand. "When we departed Adwen, I had a feeling there would be trouble for the men I left behind. And there was. The attack by Rhema was coordinated with an attack from within the castle walls." He watches me as realization dawns on my face.

"Within? You mean—"

"Many of your father's men betrayed him. And the man leading the charge was Sir Jacob Black."

"Jacob betrayed my father?" I ask in disbelief.

Edward nods in response. "Jacob and those loyal to him initially turned on the men I left behind, killing all of them as they guarded the city. Then it was really nothing more than opening the gates and allowing the Rheman army to march in."

"But I don't understand. What did Jacob have to gain by betraying my father—his own king—a man he swore an oath to protect? Our people were already saved from their fate. Why would they help Rhema to take over the city? It makes no sense." With each word, my voice has risen, and my confusion only adds to my distress.

"Shh, I will tell you anything you wish to know, but you must calm yourself, Isabella. I will not continue if it causes you any distress." Again, his hand moves over our child.

I take deep breaths, and my anxiety begins to wane. "I am calm."

Edward eyes me speculatively.

"I am." I swallow, willing my voice to remain even. "Tell me ... please."

"Even though I was in a cell in the bowels of Broadcove Castle, I heard guards talk, other prisoners—those loyal to your father—talk about what they had seen and heard. Rhema was not invited into Adwen by your father. I learned early on that it was Jacob who sent a messenger to Rhema the night our betrothal was announced. He was incensed that Charles would marry you to a Galon prince before Jane, ruining his chance at your hand, and, therefore, his chance to take the throne."

My brow furrows in confusion once again. "But he was a knight, not a lord or prince, or anyone with a title worthy of the throne. How did he believe he could have a claim to it?"

"The clause allowing any of his daughters with a firstborn son to claim Adwen for their husband's kingdom was apparently enough to inspire thoughts of treason."

"But the clause was written in a contract between our kingdoms, not as law of Adwen. It would not have seen him on the throne. And even if it did, could he not just marry Bree in my place? I do not understand."

"Nor does it make much sense to me. He was angry and bitter, and angry, bitter men make rash, illogical decisions. I believe he has been so focused on you he dismissed the mere possibility of taking Bree as a wife. Even as he took part in my torment, he taunted me with threats of taking you as his after he'd killed me. Jacob's decision to go to Aro was enough for him to gain favor, earning him a place in Aro's army and promises of the spoils of seizing Adwen and Galon when the time came."

"Are they still a threat? Are they coming here?" I ask, panic bubbling up inside me.

He tightly grasps my hands. "Shh. Isabella, I—"

"What if they come here? With my father's army, they could—"

"Stop!" His voice rises over mine. "Please, stop," he says softly. "Yes, if I were in Aro's place, I would plan an attack. But I also wouldn't send my men into the mountains in the coldest days of winter. We have the advantage of time. Aro will need time to plan, to organize, and it would mean the death of half his army if he were foolish enough to send them to Galon now."

He pauses, and a wide smile lights his face. "It is a wonder the weather broke long enough for us to make the trek over the mountain range." He strokes my cheek and cups it in his warm hand. "I suspect you had something to do with that?"

"If you mean praying for hours each day for you to return to me, then yes, I suppose the Gods may have taken pity on me and held back the cold and snow." I cannot help but smile at the thought. I would like to think my prayers made a difference.

The first genuinely happy smile graces his face, so wide it lights his eyes. "I have missed that."

"What have you missed?"

"Your ... spark. Your witty, sharp tongue. It's been a long while since I've had the pleasure of witnessing it."

"And how do you know I do not jest? Perhaps the Gods truly did hold back the weather to assure your safe passage home."

The corner of his mouth rises higher. "Perhaps. If anyone could convince the Gods to do anything they did not plan to do, it would be you."

I roll my eyes and smile.

"What? Do you think I jest? I assure you, I do not." His smile softens, and his tone lowers. "You have a pure heart, Isabella. The Gods must recognize it. And I know it as surely as I know my own name—your prayers carried me home."

I close my eyes and rest my forehead to his. "It does not matter how it happened. I am only grateful that it did."

"As am I."

We sit in silence, absorbing everything that has been said. The only sounds in the room are those of our even breaths and the crack and hiss of the fire.

"You should probably get out of the bath," I whisper. "I do not wish for you to become ill. I fear it would be too much for your body to overcome."

He chuckles, a mirthful sound I've longed to hear. "What? Do you think me weak? Did you not just this night extol me with tales of my strength?"

I pull back and look him in the eyes with absolute certainty and seriousness. "And I stand by my words. You are the strongest man I know, Edward Cullen. You've survived things I cannot even imagine. I will tell anyone who will listen. Our son or daughter and those to follow—everyone will know how hard you fought to return to us."

He nods but says nothing.

A sharp and forceful wind blows against the window, rattling the shutters and allowing in a chilled draft.

Edward visibly shudders. "I believe it may be a good idea to get out. Warming by the fire sounds like an exquisite idea."

I nod and rise to my feet, extending a hand to steady him as he stands. The sight of him, thin and pale from weeks of captivity, still tugs at my heart, especially now that I know what he endured. But I did not lie when I told him I believed him to be the strongest man I know. Underneath the scars and lingering bruises, I see the kind of strength that can only come from the soul of a warrior. The kind of strength that matters—not the physical, not the brawn some men use to do the work of an ox. No, Edward possesses inner strength that is only tested when the body and mind are subjected to trial.

As he lifts one foot from the water and steps over the edge of the tub, I offer both hands for him to grasp. I look up at him. "Steady."

He nods once and breathes deeply, gathering what strength he has.

I look down and watch as he lifts his other foot from the tub and places it on the floor. I swallow hard at the sight of his mangled foot. He must notice my reaction.

"I know. It's quite hideous, is it not?" he asks, his tone a poor attempt at making light of his missing toe.

I take a deep breath and exhale before looking up at him. "If that is all they took from you, I should say we are blessed. You've returned to me, to us, and I do not care one whit about a missing stub of useless flesh."

He leans down and kisses me chastely. "Thank you," he whispers.

As he pulls away, I feel him sway in my grasp. "I believe I am ready to rest for a bit," he says with a strained chuckle.

I reach past him to grasp a thick linen that has been warming by the fire, pressing it gently against his body to soak up the water trailing down his skin. Once he is dry enough, I reach for a blanket, warmed the same way, and wrap it around his shoulders.

Once settled in the chair before the fire, Edward closes his eyes to rest. The whole ordeal of bathing has been taxing on him. I can see it in the tiredness on his face. I leave him to rest while I clean up the remnants of his bath, emptying the water into the ewers and mopping up the drips that litter the floor.

I call for the servants to retrieve the ewers and the tub, all of it quietly removed before Edward opens his eyes. As the last one steps toward the door, he reminds me that His Majesty is expecting to call within the next hour. I thank him and see him out, closing the door behind him.

A groan and shifting of the blanket return my attention to the sleeping man in the chair. I return to his side and wait for him to fully wake.

"You stayed." His voice is low, rough from his brief sleep.

"Of course I stayed. Where else would I have gone?"

He smiles, exhaustion still clear on his face. I know he needs more rest, but it will have to wait.

"Your father is still expecting an audience with you."

He nods slowly as he turns his head to stare into the fire. "I have not forgotten." He looks back to me. "You know you will not be able to stay, don't you? He would probably not be very pleased with me if he knew I've told you about my ordeal before I've told him."

"I thought as much." I offer a reassuring smile. "I do not plan to announce it to anyone, so please know your secrets are safe with me."

"I know," he says softly. "I have never doubted that."

We work silently to dress him in loose-fitting clothing, though everything of his is now loose-fitting. We both notice, but neither of us says anything. When the final lace is tied and his hair is brushed, I once again offer my hand to help him to the bed.

"No, I think I would like to remain in the chair."

"But won't you be more comfortable in the bed? Surely, you would want to rest while you speak with your father."

He shakes his head. "No, I do not want to appear at all weak to him."

I open my mouth to refute his words, but he silences me.

"Please, Isabella. This is important to me. I cannot give my father any reason to think I cannot return to the man I once was. It may take some time, but I know I can regain my strength and once again fight for my father." He reaches out a hand for me to take, and I do. "Please," he reiterates.

I nod once.

"Thank you."

Before I can reply, a knock sounds on the bedchamber door, signaling the king's arrival. He is preceded by his herald and followed by several of his advisors, Emmett, Michael, and Peter among them.

I curtsy. "Your Majesty."

"Isabella." The king acknowledges me with a slight nod.

"If there is nothing else, My Lord, I will return when you are finished speaking with your father," I say to my husband.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he says with a slightly amused grin.

I see myself from the room and walk straight to the chantry to pray. I have many things for which to be thankful.

It feels like hours pass. Elder Afton gently interrupts my prayers, reminding me to stop and eat, so I find my way to the kitchens to search out a small repast. Those who work in the kitchens are quite familiar with my presence there at odd times. Once I have had enough to satiate me until it is time to share a meal with Edward, I return to the chantry. When I walk through the doors, though, I am met with the concerned gaze of the priest.

"What is it?" I ask, panicked, worried that something has happened to Edward in my absence.

"Nothing, Your Highness. I am merely a messenger. Your husband has sent for you. He is requesting your presence."

"Oh." I sigh in relief. "Is that all? The expression on your face had me worried there was something wrong."

He smiles. "No, child. Go to your husband. I am sure he just misses your company."

Something in his tone belies his words, but I nod, turning on my heel and returning to my husband's chambers.

When I reach the door, I hear a loud crash, followed by my husband's angry voice. It is too low to understand his words, but the tone alone has me rushing into his bedchamber.

Pushing my way inside, I am met with the concerned eyes of Emmett as he stands next to Edward's chair, a hand on his cousin's shoulder, attempting to calm him.

"Edward, you should—"

"Leave us, Emmett."

"I do not think—"

"I said leave us!"

Emmett looks to me and back to his cousin and heaves a heavy sigh. "Very well." He looks back down at Edward. "Please remember what I told you."

Edward's gaunt jaw is tight as he nods once in acknowledgment, but he says nothing.

Emmett steps away from his cousin and walks toward me, stopping just before he passes. "Give him a moment. And please come find me if you need me."

"I will," I whisper, suddenly fearful of why I was summoned.

Emmett leaves, and the click of the door echoes in the silence left behind.

A/N: Just when we thought they were getting back on track ... What do you think the issue is? Why is Edward so upset? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I actually have recs for you this week!

A new WIP by the lovely Fyrebyrd was just posted. Let us Snow is a holiday inspired drabble that promises daily weekday updates until Christmas. Summary: A "25 weekdays of Christmas" drabble gift to my readers! Well-endowed Edward and broken-hearted Bella. AH. HEA.

And a one shot caught my attention recently. Solitaire by Dustybritches01. Summary: She's like a solitaire in the finest setting. Day after day, she stands alone, brilliant and multifaceted and she has chosen me; my life, to adorn.

You only have until this Sunday, November 24th to donate to the Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation fundraiser to receive the Captive outtake! See the Facebook group or their blog, batbcomp. blogspot. com. for more details.

And remember, for exclusive weekly teasers and pics, be sure to check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics! You can also follow me on Twitter at CSunshine1220. 'See' you all soon!

Lots of love

~Sunshine