A/N: Concentrating on ofic edits, which is why you're getting another dose of this one again in lieu of one of my other fics. :)

SO! Most of us don't like Felix, huh? I have no idea why not. *blinks*

It was a beautiful ceremony, and his bride was beyond anything Edward could have imagined for himself. When he saw Isabella there on Felix's arm, his breath caught. Perhaps her gown had gone out of popular fashion years before, but in his eyes, she was resplendent.

As for Isabella, she seemed shell-shocked. Her face was drained of color, and all during the ceremony, she seemed blank and vacant. She followed instructions well enough, but her voice was toneless. Her kiss, when they sealed their vows, was cold.

Well, it was to be expected. Or so he thought until it occurred to him that something was very wrong. More wrong than usual, in any event. If there was one thing Isabella knew well, it was how to play this game. She knew her role, whether that of faithful subject or happy bride. Her life depended on her playing her role without faltering. It was one of the things he'd always admired about his now-wife. That she'd figured out so swiftly after her father's death that her survival depended on her vigilance.

She was anything but vigilant tonight. She hadn't touched much of the feast prepared on their honor, and she only nodded when well-wishers stopped by their table.

Edward bent his head closer to hers. "My Lady."

Isabella flinched and cringed away from him. The movement stung, and he took a careful breath, making sure his tone was soft when he spoke again. "Won't you have something to eat? Just a bite?"

She looked at him only briefly and picked up her fork. She served herself a little of the roast and a few green beans. For a long moment, she stared at her meager plate before she blanched. "I...I'm sorry, My Lord. I fear if I try to eat this, it will only come back up again."

He furrowed his brow. "What troubles you?" he asked, his voice even quieter now. Again, she cringed. She was either afraid or disgusted by him. Disheartening to say the least. Was it their wedding night she feared? Surely, she could not think he would be monstrous to her.

The way she looked at him then wasn't frightened. For an instant, he thought he saw pure rage in her eyes. She was angry with him. But why? Hadn't he told her this wedding wasn't what he would have wanted for her? Hadn't he told her this was no more his choice than hers?

Before either of them could speak to this, King Felix stood. "Friends!" he shouted in his booming voice. "Now that you've had time to enjoy the festivities and wish good health and happiness to my uncle and his bride, I have an announcement. News of the traitor to the north."

Beside Edward, Isabella stiffened.

"House Swan has been dealt a tremendous blow. We all know the traitor Emmett of House Swan has had his mother to hold his hand. Well, no longer." Felix swept his hands out in a grand gesture. "The matriarch of House Swan has been put to death. My grandsire's men were responsible."

Edward released a breath, and his shoulders slumped. Around him, the guests began to murmur. He could see many of them glancing at Isabella. Her face was blank, no trace of surprise. She'd known. Which meant the king had told her, likely right before he walked her down the aisle.

"Well?" the king said, looking irritated. "Is that not good news?"

Of course, Felix couldn't be expected to understand the rest of the crowd had a sense of decorum. They obliged their king with a rowdy cheer.

Edward turned to Isabella. "My Lady, I am so, so sorry."

"For what are you sorry, Uncle?" the king asked, his expression hard though Edward knew damn well he had to have been listening for this exact reaction. "Are you saying you're sorry for the death of a traitor? This woman wanted me off the throne. Dead, preferably, and you mourn her passing?"

Isabella's eyes went wide. She looked worried. For him? Well, with good reason. His wife was much smarter than he was, and better at the game of not yelling at their king. He breathed in through his nose.

"The realm has put a criminal to justice, and to this, I raise my glass," he said, doing so though it sickened him. "Your safety and your long, unchallenged reign are ever at the top of my thoughts." He placed his chalice on the table with a thunk that echoed through the room.

He turned to Isabella, and put a hand to her shoulder. "But traitor or no, my wife has lost her mother. I have just this day sworn to honor and protect her before all others. I am sorry for your loss."

"And why should she mourn?" the king asked, staring at Isabella. "Had my mother turned traitor, I would renounce her and forget every fond memory I had. You said, Lady Isabella, that your mother and brothers were already dead to you. It's been years since your mother's passing. You're free to celebrate along with the rest of us."

Edward slammed down his chalice and stood, glaring at his nephew. He caught his father fixing him with a gimlet stare. Heaven forbid he cause a scene. Edward took a deep breath. "I believe it is time I make my excuses." He rested a hand on Isabella's shoulder. "I'd like to have my new wife to myself."

Felix's grin turned lascivious. "Ah, it's time for the bedding, then."

"Which will be a private affair," Edward said loudly. He offered his hand to his wife. "Come, My Lady. Now." He knew he shouldn't snap at his wife, but he had to get her out of there before Felix could insist on the archaic and degrading bedding ceremony.

Flinching at his tone, Isabella looked between Felix and Edward. She looked a little green, but obviously, she decided Edward was the lesser of two evils. She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

Felix looked as though he was going to protest, but Aro rose and spoke over the crowd. "A toast, to the growth of House Masen."

Edward and Bella exited to the sound of hearty cheers. Once in the hall, Edward released the breath he'd been holding. "Are you all right?" he asked his bride.

She took a shaky breath and attempted a smile he didn't believe at all. "Of course, My Lord."

Edward huffed and led her down another hall. "You're right. That was not a very smart question. Oh, my sweet girl. I'm not doing a very good job of taking care of you."

"You needn't concern yourself, My Lord," she said, her voice again taking on that monotone as it had during the ceremony and the feast. "This is my wedding day, and I am very happy."

Edward opened the door to his room. He went to his bed and sat down. She lingered in the doorway, and he could tell by the quick rise and fall of her shoulders that her heartbeat had sped. She knew what was expected of her. She clasped her hands in front of her, awaiting his order, no doubt.

"Come here to me," he requested, making his voice as soft as possible. Brave soul that she was, she hesitated only a moment before she walked to him. He gestured to the bed beside him, and she sat.

Edward took her hands and raised them to his lips, kissing her knuckles. He could feel the way she trembled. "I would like for you to call me Edward, and I would like to call you Isabella. Is that acceptable?" As though she would say no.

"Of course, My L— Er. Edward."

His lips twitched. My Edward had a ring to it he quite enjoyed. But, alas, it was unlikely he'd ever have someone who called him something so tender.

"Good," he said. "Now, there is something I have to say to you."

She readjusted herself so it was clear she was listening attentively. She looked drained, and there was no light in her beautiful eyes. He squeezed her hands. "I would like very much for you not to be frightened of me."

He hurried on, interrupting her before she could protest. "Isabella, I'm aware you have no reason to believe pretty promises from anyone in this city. Anyone in my family least of all. But for what little it may be worth, I was genuine in my vows. From now until death parts us, you are under my protection. I will not beat you, nor will I allow anyone else to harm you." He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her head. "Do you understand?"

Her eyes searched his. He could see in them that she didn't believe it, but she nodded anyway. "Yes, Edward."

For the time being, it was as good as he could hope for, so he continued. "I want you to know, I had no idea about your mother. Had I known, I would have insisted the wedding be put off. Truly, I'm sorry. Lady Renee was good and kind. You're a credit to her."

Isabella's breath hitched, and her eyes shone.

"Tonight, you should be able to mourn your mother. I will respect that," Edward said. "Further, I want you to know I recognize that you've had enough of your choices robbed from you, and your future decided by people who have no love for you.

"In light of that, I make you this offer. If you'll promise to try to consider the fact you can trust me, I will promise not to touch you or come to your bed unless you ask it of me."

Isabella's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "But, My Lord. It's expected of us." She paled and looked somewhere beyond him. "Of me."

"Eventually, yes. But there's time enough for that."

"I…" Isabella put a hand to her cheek and swallowed hard. "A...a little time. If I had just a little time, I swear I would not put you off forever. It's just—"

"Hush. I understand. Younger than you have been happy mothers made, but I do want you to be comfortable." He offered her the smallest of smiles. "We'll get to know each other, and won't think about all that for the time being. Agreed?" He raised his hand to shake.

She studied him another moment, as though not daring yet to believe him. Then, she took his hand and shook, the smallest of smiles tugging at her lips.

"Good," Edward said, pleased to think they'd made some progress. He stood. "Now, it's been a terribly long day. Sleep if you can, wife. Our new life begins on the morrow."

He retreated to the chaise lounge and promptly turned his back, giving her some semblance of privacy. After a few moments, he heard the rustle of her gown falling away. He closed his eyes tightly, trying not to imagine how her slight body would feel under his hands.

Isabella climbed into his bed and silence overtook the room. Maybe a half hour had passed before Edward recognized the quiet sound he heard only intermittently.

She was crying.

Of course she was crying. She had every reason. He only hoped that none of her tears were in fear of him.

A/N: By the by, if anyone is interested, I do have a Facebook group under my penname (Stories of LyricalKris because I'm SO creative). Discussions can be fun.

A less than ideal wedding night, but how are we feeling?