s.w.a.n

She dreamt herself naked on the black lake. Flesh sloughed off her bones, cold as ice, and in its place sprouted warm feathers. When she raised her arms in wonder, they were white, swan's wings to lift her up and carry her away. But when she beat them, she found that she could not after all escape the lake. Her bones were still locked in place and the chains that bound her ankles went deep down in the slimy black water. And when she opened her mouth to scream, no sound emerged to break the stillness of the lakeshore.

Bella woke hard, like a sleepwalker into a wall. She was curled within a goose-feather quilt but her skin tingled as though she had just broken away from the surface of the icy black lake.

"Well you're up at least. That's good. M'lord doesn't like slugabeds." The woman who stood belligerently before her, hands on her hips and mouth pinned up in a ready frown, might have been beautiful once - it was in her bones - but that must have been a good twenty years before. She caught Bella staring and smirked. "I was once one of m'lord's bedwarmers," she said proudly, "oh the looks I had! I'd put you quite to shame, you know, but now I keep house for him. Something for you to aspire to."

Bella didn't think it sounded like something she would look forward to and it must have shown on her face for the older woman scowled at her. "It's either that or the milking market for you," she said sourly. "That or the blood banks or the flesh farms if you're unlucky. Now, up with you and look sharp about it." Obligingly, she rolled out of bed.

"I'm Celia," the woman said, "and you're Nameless since you can't - or won't, I say - speak for yourself. A spot of bad luck for you that m'lord's in between women now. Oh to be sure he has Lady Rosalie-" she snorted to show what she thought of that -"but he's not been keeping whores for sport for a while now. Told me they bored him - not that I asked, of course, oh no, I know my place well enough! But it's a spot of bad luck for you as I said, for he'll be sharper on you without any distractions. And he's sharp enough now as it is - and mean too if he's ever in his grumps. Which is often. Oh not at me of course, never me, I've been too well-trained for that but you, Nameless..." She cast Bella a critical look and then sighed as though already prepared to be grievously disappointed. "Well strip then. Let's see what you've got."

The casual inspection of her naked body should have been something she should have been used to by now, but every time she was forced to it she flinched as though scalded. She lifted her arms when Celia ordered her to, flipped around on the spot, let the older woman pry her mouth open so she could inspect her teeth...

It is snowing, she tried to tell herself, it is snowing on the little red house and the roof looks like it has been tiled in sugary frosting. But that did not help. It never had.

"You're clean enough," Celia pronounced grudgingly. "But I s'pose they polished you up from lord knows where M'lord Edward picked you up from, before sending you to us. Less work for me. Now get dressed." She pointed to a heap of clothes placed on the chair at the foot of Bella's narrow bed. "Hand-me-downs from... well you know. His older fancies." The way she said it sent a shiver down Bella's spine. What had happened to those fancies of his? Dead now, if they were lucky. "Nothing new, don't expect anything new unless you happen to please him something fine. M'lord's not sentimental over girls like some can be... he'll act as if you're furniture and I suppose in a way you are. Chairs don't have feelings. You don't choose to upholster an old sofa unless it's torn or dirty, do you?"

The underwear was of filmy lace, girlish little things with rosebuds and pink frills stitched on. The dresses, while not entirely modest, still left more of her covered than she would have dared hope for.

"Well don't dither," Celia said impatiently as Bella flicked through the small pile, wondering which one she should put on. "He's not going to notice what you put on." She laughed a little nastily. "That's not what you were bought for. That's what a mistress like Lady Rosalie is for, to be admired. You're here to be fucked."

Adopting an expression implying that she had been suitably chastised, Bella pulled the first dress off the pile and pulled it over her head. It was a midnight blue velvet that fell to her knees, with elbow-length sleeves sprouting cuffs of cobwebby lace. The neckline dipped low over her breasts but that was only to be expected. She pulled her long hair forward, in an awkward attempt to cover as much of it as she could. Celia, thankfully, did not notice for she was already beckoning Bella forwards.

"You'll carry his meals to him whenever he rings for them," she said. Really, meals? Bella thought, amused. "I'll prepare them, I know the way he likes them." She flicked Bella a scornful glance. "Or maybe he'll want to prepare them for himself." And being as unsubtle as a jackhammer, she had to add, snickering, "I hope you're not afraid of needles."

They passed into the kitchen where Celia told her they'd be taking their meals together. "You might as well watch while I get started," she said and bending, pulled out a vat of blood from under the counters. It had its own label and Celia explained that yes, M'lord was rather partial to this brand, it must be something in the water they fed them at the flesh farm. "I like to add just a pinch of vanilla essence when I leave it bubbling," Celia confessed. "Celia, he tells me, yes he knows my name for I've been in his service since I was just a young thing like you, Celia, no one brews my morning drink better than you. Though I've never told him my secret, I leave him guessing, it amuses us both..."

The way she said it, as though proud of her inventiveness with Edward Cullen's breakfast, as though she harbored some fondness for her enslaver and he for her... well it set Bella's stomach off more than the stink of the blood bubbling on the stove.

"He's not picky though, m'lord," Celia said. "You can imagine what a relief that is for me. When Lady Rosalie's over though," she shuddered to express the horror, "she'll be wanting cakes and pies and tarts and lord knows what. Has a sweet tooth that one - best keep that in mind, sweet. And she likes to bite, does my ladyship."

Celia fetched a salver and a narrow silver cup, the handle ornately curlicued and embellished with what was evidently an attempt at coy woodland dryads. "He has a light stomach in the mornings," Celia explained self-importantly, pouring some of the blood into the cup and sprinkling a pinch of cinnamon over it. "I send him something more substantial in the afternoons." She tipped a finger into it and then, satisfied that it was the right temperature set it in Bella's hands. "I must say, you're quite good company even if you don't talk. Go up to him now. Yes, I know he hasn't rung for you or his breakfast yet but t'will do no harm to give him a good impression on your first day."

Bella looked at her helplessly.

"Oh silly me, I forgot you don't know your way round yet. Not that it'll be hard, Lord Edward maintains bachelor lodgings now. He hasn't been joined yet, though I suspect Lady Rosalie's niggling for a real ring now. Good for me though, not much to clean. Follow me now."

Bella trailed after her, her bare feet making no sound on the velvet carpets. Her soles left no imprint on the soft twill. This was her life. No sound. No impact. Celia knocked on a door at the end of a hallway that looked much like the others. "It's me, m'lord," she announced after a moment, "Come with your breakfast and the new lass."

There was an indistinct murmur and Celia bravely pushed her way through, Bella following a footstep behind.

The man who bought her was on the sofa but it was not he who caught her eye. Instead, it was the woman beside her, a woman so luminously beautiful that she seemed to glow in the dark room. Pale gold hair, twisted into elaborate braids, fell to her hips and her face when she raised it would be angelic... except for her eyes. She smiled and it turned Bella's skin to needles of ice.

"Sweet," the woman murmured but Edward Cullen frowned.

"I don't remember ringing for you, Celia." He said it softly but it sent Celia into a frenzy of terror.

"I beg your pardon, m'lord I thought-"

"You don't think," the man said. "You cook." He jerked his hand in a dismissal. "You can leave. Take the girl with you."

"Now now, Edward," the woman beside him tsked. "Don't be such a bore. Celia, you can go but you must leave the little one with us. Come here, child."

"Rosalie-" Edward sounded weary but she only laughed and slapped his thigh playfully.

"You're boring me," she complained. "Celia, shut the door behind you."

Celia bobbed a curtsey and after pushing Bella in front of her, made haste to shut the door behind her. Bella stood uncertainly in the archway, the tray with the cup raised in front of her like a shield - as flimsy a shield as the lace on her cuffs.

"Child, I know you can't speak but are you deaf as well? Come here now. I won't eat you up." Lady Rosalie giggled. "Not now at least."

One foot. Then another. It wouldn't be so bad. It couldn't be.

Lord Edward had tipped his head back, his eyes half-shut as though the business of living in inexpressible luxury was an exhausting burden. Lady Rosalie, however, had enough enthusiasm for two. She took the tray from Bella's hands and put it on the little glass table before her. "What little hands," she murmured, holding Bella's hands and caressing them. Her long nails were painted a girlish pink, light and playful, and she moved them up and down Bella's palms and then around, to prick playfully at her wrists. Just a pinch, not enough to hurt. Just to test. "Like a child's, really. How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Lord Edward grunted beside her.

Rosalie held Bella's limp wrists up to her nose and took a long whiff. "Sweet, perhaps a little floral, but I am disappointed, Edward. I expected more from your little pet."

"You imagine too much, Rosalie."

"From the way you acted at the warehouse-"

"Were you there?"

"I was told-"

"You were told." Lord Edward gave her a lazy smile. "That's your answer, my love."

Rosalie pouted, like a child denied a toy. "How dull. And here I was thinking you'd gone lost your wits over some little tart. That's what Runnerspring gave me to understand-"

"Runnerspring runs a slave warehouse. What did you expect from him?" Lord Edward sighed. "The girl can't speak. I found that a refreshing notion. A slave doesn't need a tongue."

"A slave doesn't need words, you mean," Lady Rosalie corrected him. "I can think of a great many uses for their tongues. Served up in pies for once, perhaps." She pinched Bella's wrists, her talons just breaking the skin. "Mind that you're a good girl, child. Lord Edward doesn't take to lazy, disobedient little sluts and neither do I."

"Here's our breakfast, Rosalie," Lord Edward said, draping his arm over his mistress's back. She curled around him defensively, one hand on his chest, her dark eyes burning daggers in Bella's skin. "Let the girl go. I have a few things I'd like to talk to you about."

"Is it the matter of those country estates?" she said, making a face. "Edward, I have no wish to talk about my investments with my lover, of all things!"

"Very well then." He was in the business to capitulating to this woman, Bella realized, and perhaps with good reason. She looked like the sort who, once she sank her teeth into a particular cause or idea found it hard to let go. "We'll talk about anything you like."

"Balls then," she said brightly, taking a dainty sip from the cup that Bella had brought upstairs with her. "I have one planned for next week and you'll just love-"

Edward jerked his head at Bella and grateful, she took it as her cue to leave. Lady Rosalie didn't notice, she was too busy describing the pastoral paradise that she would make of her ballroom and how she must have sheep and shepherdesses with staffs twinned with ribbons...

Celia was lingering just outside her door, her hands twisted nervously in her apron. "Oh forgive me," she burst out when Bella gently shut the door behind her. "I had no idea that woman was with him! She must have got some whiff of you, she's a mighty jealous sort, Lady Rosalie, and raced pell-mell for her."

Bella shrugged, as though to say mistakes would happen and Celia's tense face relaxed a little. "You're a good sort, Nameless," she said amiably, "most about any other girl would have been screeching and clawing at me something awful if I left her in such a bad situation. Not that I don't know if you might pour spiders into my soup someday but you seem a good sort... poor girl. Lady Rosalie's out for you and I don't think it'll end up pretty."