A/N: Hello, my ducks! Hope you're having a wonderful weekend thusly.

Every night, Edward escorted his wife to her rooms. For form's sake, he spent an hour or so there with her. They played cards, mostly. Isabella was a cunning cardplayer. She also had enough pride left that she didn't let him win, though the first few times she looked nervous about it. Edward was delighted to find she had a competitive streak at least a mile wide.

She also wasn't as ignorant as he might have expected of any woman, let alone a girl her age. More than just survival instinct, she was savvy in the politics that went on between the great houses. It was clear that she was only playing at being meek and mild.

Oh, what this woman would become if only she could see she didn't have to fight for her life anymore. As it was, it took him the greater part of two weeks to coax opinions out of her about the guests at court and some of the complications facing the realm. She was insightful and gave him some history about the Denali clan—a group of wild hill country dwellers from the North—that would go a long way toward improving trade negotiations with them. Before talking to her, Edward hadn't suspected it was possible. As they were from the north, it was natural to assume they would be no friends to the crown.

He was right about that, but the Denali clan had no allegiance to any king or lord. They traded with her brother Emmett and the Northern lords. They would fight with Emmett if the crown got near their own lands. However, they were not averse to trade with the capital city.

One day, as he was extolling Bella's virtues and retelling how thoroughly she'd bested him at their last game, Carlisle—one of his only true friends in the capital city—laughed. Edward stopped to let a group of courtiers go by, nodding as he did, and eyed his friend. "What's so funny?"

"You are, my friend. When your father handed down his edict, you howled to the heavens about the future—both hers and yours. And how you were sure to be miserable. Yet it seems to me that what you've discovered is that you like your wife. More than admire her; you genuinely enjoy the pleasure of her company."

Edward was silent for a few moments, considering this as they continued walking. "You're right. I didn't expect to find so much in common with a woman half my own age." He huffed. "In my experience, men my age have only one interest in a woman that young, and it has nothing to do with her brilliant mind." He paused a beat. "Yes, I like her. I like her a great deal. I wonder, though, if it's even possible for her to come to like me. The way she watches me sometimes… It is as though she still believes my kindness is some kind of ruse."

"It must be terribly difficult to let your guard down when you've had no one to trust but yourself for years." Carlisle frowned and shook his head. "And as a child, no less."

Carlisle clasped his hands behind his back, his expression thoughtful as he continued. "I've often thought how blessed I am. I was able to marry for love, and yet I have enough wealth to keep me and mine from the back-breaking labor that plagues the lower classes. For all your privilege and outward power, Edward, you're as bound by duty as a peasant is by poverty. Differently. Peasants don't marry for any reason but that they wish to."

"Your relationship with your wife is admirable. I have often wondered if it was possible for a marriage born of necessity and duty—marrying someone you're commanded to—could ever end in a true union such as you and Esme share."

Carlisle was quiet for a moment. Then he chuckled. "I'm sorry. This conversation is making me miss my son. But I hope I am not overstepping my place by giving you, if not advice, then something else to think about when it comes to marriage.

"I don't think that love or fondness is unique. It may blossom anywhere, with most anyone who isn't abhorrent to you, but only if it is allowed to do so." Carlisle's lip twitched. "Many of my peers believe I'm unnatural to think so, but I think that what cultivates fondness, even love, begins with respect. Though the law may not agree, I think my wife is my equal and my partner." His smile became tender. "Esme is many times wiser than I, and I wouldn't be as good at my position on the council without her consideration and advice."

Edward grimaced. He glanced around them and lowered his voice when he spoke again. "It has often struck me as a cruel twist of fate that our beloved king sits on the throne while Bella sits at his mercy. She's only a year younger than him, and yet she would be a thousand times the king he is."

"Oh, I think we have a few too many claims to the throne at the moment," Carlisle said with some humor. Emmett Swan wasn't the only one rebelling against the crown, after all. "Although, I must admit they're all correct on one point. Any one of them would be more fit to lead than your nephew, or so I've heard it said." He looked around carefully. They were getting closer to the council room, and it wouldn't be good for the wrong people to hear such treasonous talk. "I've also heard some people say our good king believes it's his duty to exert the power of the throne as his personal, abhorrent whims dictate."

"No doubt the one who made that claim is the same traitor who has called our king a sadistic prick." Edward made his eyes wide, his tone awash with aghast innocence.

Carlisle shot him a warning look. "It may well have been." He held the council room door open for him. "After you, My Lord."

As everyone had not gathered yet, the two paused for another moment of conversation. Carlisle turned and put a hand on Edward's shoulder. "From a father to a son, I hope you will permit me to say you're a fine man; among the best I know. You deserve the happiness a good match can bring you." His eyes sparked with merriment. "And not to sound like a gossiping lady, but I think you'll find that your wife rather likes you too. I don't think I've seen her smile in years, but she does when you come into the room at times."

Edward arched his eyebrows. He had noticed her small smiles, but he'd thought perhaps the married women had accepted her into their fold now that she too was wed. Could she really be at least a little pleased to see him?

The idea warmed him.

A loud thump drew both men's attention. Edward turned his head to see his father had entered the room and set down a large tome—the source of the noise. However, it seemed to Edward that Aro was looking at him with a disapproving expression. Not exactly atypical, and he didn't speak to it as Edward took his typical seat at his side.

However, when their business was concluded some time later, his father called to him before he could take his leave. "Join me, Edward."

Edward grimaced. A private audience with his father hadn't been a good thing when he was a child; it was even less so now. "As you say, sir."

"I will be direct, and I expect a clear answer," Aro said when they were behind closed doors. He looked across his desk at his son. "Do you consort with men?"

Edward furrowed his brow, not understanding his father's meaning. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you take men to your bed?" His father's nose wrinkled. "Or you to theirs?"

"I… What? No." Taken totally off guard, Edward couldn't form a coherent sentence.

Aro didn't look convinced, but he sat back in his chair, contemplating his son. "Your wife is young and very beautiful, Edward. I'm at a loss to explain what the problem may be."

Edward noted that the serving boy must have left a flagon on the desk in preparation for his father's arrival. Hoping it was filled with wine, he dragged it toward him along with an empty goblet. "There's no problem, Father."

"Is there not?" Aro's voice was wry. "I would have thought a man of your age wouldn't need to have this discussion."

"What discussion is that?"

"It is difficult to get her with child when you don't share a bed."

Edward opened his mouth to deny his father's claim, but knew from the look on his face he was caught. Irritation sparked in his blood. "What now, Father? Do you have the maids bring you our sheets?"

"That's hardly necessary when you and your wife retire to your separate quarters every night."

"Many married couples don't share a room. Perhaps we prefer our privacy."

Aro waved a hand. "You've already admitted you haven't bedded her. I'm not going to ask you why, as I'm in no mood for nonsense today. The girl has had her courses these many years now. I know you're capable. I've paid bills to the brothels often enough."

Edward clenched his jaw. "You exaggerate, Father." He was thirty-four years old, and while he didn't indulge in carnal pleasures often, he was no monk either. "And if there is one thing you may say about whores, it's that you can be certain they're willing."

Aro cocked his head. "Is that what this is about?"

Edward stood, needing to spend some excess energy. He paced a few feet away and turned his back to his father. "I won't force her. She will come to my bed willingly or not at all."

"You little fool," his father said with disgust. "Women get very silly about such things. She would not be the first woman to go to her marriage bed unwillingly, and she will not be the last. It is her duty, and your duty as her husband to guide her if she is remiss."

"That's barbarous," Edward spat, turning to face his father again.

"That's marriage," his father returned plainly. "You're aren't a child, Edward. I grow tired of informing you of things you should already know. You're a man twice her age. She should not be the one in control of this marriage."

"And what will you do, Father, if I don't obey your will? Are you going to come into our room and have your men force me on her?" He shook his head. "Sometimes I am nothing but glad my mother didn't survive my birth. I'm not sure I could have stomached seeing what you would be like as a husband."

"That's enough," Aro said, his voice harsh and his eyes narrowed. "You vex me, boy, and any fool could tell you it's not a wise thing to do. Not to me." He took a deep breath and sat back. "There is a natural order of things. This is the way the world works. You owe a debt to your family that will be paid. Whether you or your wife like it is of no concern to me." He pointed a finger at him. "Don't force my hand, Edward. I can promise you'll like that even less. Are we clear?"

Edward had to swallow hard past the lump in his throat. "As ever, Father."

~Bella~

Edward had been in a strange mood for several days. He was quieter than usual, and he drifted into his own thoughts easier.

Bella was hyper-sensitive to mood changes. With Felix, any mood swing, from jovial to furious, didn't bode well for her. His mother, Queen Mother Jane, wasn't as mercurial. Still, when her moods turned dark or sickeningly sweet, Bella was always on high alert. At least the Queen Mother never physically harmed her, but she seemed to take some pleasure from toying with Bella's mind and emotions.

Strange that Edward's moods didn't twist her nerves. Rather, Bella found that she was more concerned than anything. This was no ordinary upset. Edward got headaches frequently when he was trying to figure out how best to manage the money of the realm, but he would talk to her about this. Whatever was bothering him went deeper than that.

One evening, as they strolled the grounds outside the castle, Bella saw an opportunity to distract him. She knew he was curious about her. When they spoke, Bella was always careful about how much she revealed about herself. She was too used to people using her memories and personal information against her.

They walked in silence for several minutes before Bella decided it was worth a chance. After all, Edward had shown nothing but kindness to her. It pained her to see him in this troubled mood. She pulled him to a stop to the side of the training grounds where a few knights still practiced their sword play.

Bella had to swallow several times, overcome with emotion as she always was when she thought of her family. She missed all of them so dearly. "When I was little, there were times I used to beg my mother to let me be a boy. Once, I suggested a replacement. I could switch places with my littlest brother, Eric." She smiled fondly. "Eric had an appreciation for fine, lacy things, and when he was very small, he used to watch Mother and I sew. I think he would have liked to learn to sew, and as I would have liked to learn to wield a sword. It seemed a fine trade to me."

Edward chuckled, and she felt his curious gaze on her. "I don't think that I would like to sew, nor do any other women's pastimes. The piano, perhaps. It might be nice to learn to play. You play so beautifully, Bella."

"Thank you," Bella said, surprised when a warm blush tinted her cheeks.

"I'd never thought of how it might be to do as women do. Do you find it all dull?"

"Not all of it." Bella's lips twitched as she remembered well her mother's exasperation on the days she couldn't seem to sit still. "I suppose I was strange in that way. I wanted all of it. I wanted to make my own fine dresses and dance with handsome knights. And I wanted to be out in the mud wrestling with my brothers. Well. Perhaps not Emmett." She sighed, missing her eldest brother terribly. "He was frighteningly large even when we were children, and overly rambunctious."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, wondering if she had pushed too far. To mention her dead mother and her littlest brother—still a child if he was still alive—was one thing. To mention the traitor, Emmett Swan, was quite another.

But Edward was looking at her with curiosity, not anger. "So did you ever get to dance in a fancy dress with a handsome knight?"

Bella sighed, wistful. "There was talk of a ball, but it was only that—talk."

"Hmm." Edward took a step back and offered her his hand. "I'm no handsome knight, but may I have the honor of a dance in any case?"

Again, she felt heat flush her cheeks, and she gave a small laugh. He only looked back at her patiently, his face soft but serious. "It's been years since I've danced," she said.

"Well, we'll go slowly."

She took his hand and let him draw her close. She felt a thrill go down her spine when his hand went to her waist. She blinked up at him, breathless for reasons she couldn't figure. Though it had been years since her last lesson, she found it effortless to follow as Edward led them in a slow, easy twirl.

"I could teach you, you know," he said. His voice had such a curious, deep timber to it that Bella almost missed the words.

She blinked. "What?"

"I could teach you to use a sword, if you wish. It would be no trouble."

For some reason, Bella felt almost dizzy as she looked into his eyes. He had such beautiful green eyes, and her thoughts were thick. Surely she was misunderstanding something. "Teach me to use a sword? But that's… You don't think it's unseemly?"

He laughed, and his arm curled slightly tighter around her waist. "I'll admit that's a word people use that I have never understood. Why would it be bad for you to know how to use a sword, hmm?"

He tilted his head toward her, a more serious expression on his face. "I hope, my dear wife, that you'll never be in a city while it's under siege. It's a terrible thing. It happened to me once, when I was a child. I recall vividly how the women and children gathered, and all they could do was wait while men decided their fate."

Edward stopped dancing, but he didn't drop his hands from where they were around her as he studied her face. "It is a husband's duty to protect his wife, so they say women have no need to learn the basics of battle and sword play. Yet, it is only husbands who fall in battle. Then what? If the city had fallen, the women would have been subjected to the whim of the winning army. They would have been helpless to protect themselves or the children."

Bella's throat tightened at the idea. They were, after all, at war. The opposing armies had come threateningly near the capital city twice already. It could happen to them. To her.

She was startled when Edward pressed a palm to her cheek. She looked up at him, and was further surprised to see he looked pained. "May I ask you a question?" His voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper.

For some reason, the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes made the knot in Bella's throat all the worse. She could only nod.

Edward didn't ask right away. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, his eyes sweeping her face. "Did Felix…" He swallowed hard, and it seemed to her that his jaw was taut. "Did he ever come to your bed?"

A cold chill washed over her, and Bella had to stop herself from taking a step backward. It wasn't that she was afraid of her husband, but the question was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

Had he changed his mind about letting her come to him? That was his right, of course. And if that was the case, was he asking because he thought he had, perhaps, gotten a bad deal?

Bella ducked her head, shame and an old anxiety flooding through her.

"I'm sorry. I could have found a better way to ask that." He took her hand and squeezed it. "I only want to know if he hurt you in that way." His voice turned dark, dangerous. "I know my nephew. You were betrothed to him. I'm not sure I trust him to understand the difference between betrothed and wed."

She shuddered, closing her eyes. That had been a fear that kept her awake so many nights. Felix had threatened, implied, more than once. If it hadn't been for the warnings he got from his grandfather, Bella was quite sure he would have acted.

Taking a steadying breath and releasing it, she found her voice again. "No. He didn't do that." She found she couldn't look up at him.

His thumb pressed lightly under her chin, and he raised her head up. "Bella," he said softly.

It took every ounce of effort she possessed, but she looked up at him.

His eyes were burning and sincere. "I will tell you again, what I promised before still stands. I don't want you to fear me, Bella. Never."

Taking a few shallow breaths to steady her racing heart, Bella nodded. "I don't, Edward."

Surprisingly, that was the truth. The subject matter had unnerved her, but he hadn't.

He nodded. His eyes lingered on her, his gaze drifting down to her lips. Bella held her breath, though she didn't know why. She may have been mistaken, but she thought his breath stuttered before he took a step back. "I'm sorry. I've ruined a nice evening."

She shook her head. "No. Of course you didn't."

Smiling, he offered her his arm once more, and they continued their walk.

A/N: Many thanks to MoH, Packy, Songster, and Eleanor for their help.

How goes it, kiddos?