A/N: And another weekend draws to a close...
In the wake of their mother's death, Emmett was on the warpath. His people killed two of the king's best generals in covert attacks. The ensuing battle had seen losses on both sides, but Emmett won. His win and his fervor had drawn attention and support from nations across the Wide Sea. His fleet of ships had doubled.
Bella was ecstatic. Every victory meant her brother was alive, and the forces surrounding him stronger.
Bella was also terrified. This was the biggest win in Emmett's campaign against the king. Felix was a child; it didn't take much to set him off. The mere idea that someone didn't wish to fall to their knees in supplication drove him to hysterics. He bragged often and loudly how pathetic Emmett was, called his manhood into question. When Emmett continued to put his forces to shame, the King was infuriated.
This king didn't suffer blows to his pride. He'd inflicted heinous acts of retribution even on drunken patrons he happened to overhear berating him. Bella had some idea what Felix would do if he ever managed to take Emmett prisoner. She knew because he'd told her in great detail each and every time he'd beaten her in his stead.
Bella was in one of the castle's many sitting rooms, helping the Queen Mother, the king's intended, Lady Renata, and all their ladies to sew banners for the valiant soldiers to march with. When news of Emmett's win reached them, she kept her head down though her hands began to shake.
"Did you hear what news Chelsea brings us, Isabella?" the Queen Mother said, her voice carrying across the room.
Everyone else stopped talking. Bella breathed in through her nose and raised her head. "It's heartrending news. We must bring General Demetri's widow here to us to lend what comfort we can."
The other women murmured their agreement, and Jane's lip twitched in irritation. She nodded to the others. "Come. We must show our support to our king in this most difficult time."
Bella went through the motions, helping the others put their sewing away. Then, she fell in line beside Corin. She was a shy, quiet woman, who had never said an unkind word to anyone, let alone Bella. She would never befriend her, but she did reach out to take Bella's hand, squeezing it quickly as they walked.
Typically, when this happened, Bella kept her head down, as though somehow the king wouldn't see her if she wasn't looking at him. But today was different. Today, she was no longer the sister of the enemy and the daughter of the traitor. She was Edward's wife, the king's aunt by marriage, and she had no cause to be ashamed.
Bella held her head straight and tall as they approached the throne room. Her step faltered though, when she heard Felix screaming.
"You say I'm surrounded by the finest minds. That my armies have the finest generals, and yet that little welp of a nothing continues to defeat them. He is nothing. He is grime beneath my feet. He is nothing, and I want him eliminated."
Bella glanced around, but she didn't see her husband anywhere. She did see his friend-the Grand Alchemist Carlisle-in the crowd. The man spotted her, and she thought he looked horrified. He took a step toward her, but Bella was distracted by the king's bellow.
"You!" Felix leapt up off his throne and descended the steps toward the group of women, his eyes intent on Bella.
"Your Grace." Bella swept into a low curtsy, hoping to beat him to the punch. "I've heard the news that the traitor escaped again. This is most distressing news. Perhaps he has sold his soul to the gods of darkness."
The king had reached her then. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her forward, away from the other women. It was all she could do to keep from screaming. He drew her up to him, tilting his face menacingly close to hers. "Will you have me believe you're not praying for his victories?"
Bella let her eyes go wide as though scandalized. "Of course not, Your Grace. I pray only for his death, and for the happy news of your ultimate victory."
"Your Grace." Aro Masen's voice, calm and stately as ever, cut through the din. He made his way toward them, his eyes on his grandson. "Lady Isabella has thoroughly renounced her traitorous family."
Bella had never been happier to see her father-in-law. She knew well enough the man didn't interrupt for her benefit. Rather, it went against decorum for the king to bloody a member of his own family, a married woman no less.
"Has she?" Felix spoke to his grandfather but continued to glare at Bella. "You wouldn't know it from the things my spies tell me."
Brows furrowed, Bella tried to think what he meant. It mattered little as he was more than prepared to make his case.
"Your brother was most bereft to hear of your forced marriage," Felix said. "He has plans to rescue you from your most unhappy circumstances. He believes you're my prisoner." He tugged on her wrist so she stumbled, crashing into him before she righted herself. "If you're a prisoner, does that not make you also my enemy?"
Dread made it difficult for Bella to think on her feet. One would have thought she'd be used to it by now. She swallowed hard. "My brother labors under the mistaken premise that I'm on his side. I am not, Your Grace. I have always been and remain loyal to the crown. I am most happy in my marriage to my good Lord Edward. Had I been forced to marry, would I not scream and beg?"
Someone off to the side, Lord Afton she rather thought, scoffed. "No, for the coward has given you no reason to scream."
As though on cue, one of the side doors opened. Edward strode in with Carlisle close behind him. Her husband looked furious, and for a wild moment, she thought he was mad at her. He reached for her, taking her opposite arm. "Your Grace, I can promise you, my wife knows nothing about the movements of any army, neither ours nor the traitor boy's."
"I wouldn't put it past her. We were just discussing her allegiance," Felix said, not letting her go.
Edward shouldered his way bodily between them. When Felix released Bella, he pushed her behind him. "My King, I trust that you're not suggesting Isabella is anything but a biddable wife and servant to the House of Masen, the house of your own mother."
Bella took a deep breath and took her place at her husband's side. She should stand with him to reinforce his claim.
Felix looked between them, and his scowl turned into a dangerous smile. He nodded his head regally. "Of course, Uncle. You're right. I cannot suspect Isabella anymore than I could suspect you."
Edward's cheek twitched. He reached to his side and took Bella's hand. "We don't wish to disturb you further, Your Grace. We shall take our leave."
Felix looked to Bella and, Gods help her, she couldn't help herself. She smirked at the king. Just a touch to the corner of her lips, but she knew it was a mistake. He narrowed his eyes.
Edward gave her hand a tug and led her quickly away from the throne room. Bella's heart pounded, adrenaline singing in her veins. Her husband was walking so quickly, she was running. Thus, she was breathless when they got to his room-the closer of the two.
"My Lady. I'm so sorry." He took her face in his hands looking at her. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
He dropped his hands to her waist and looked her over. He took her right hand and pulled it toward him. Her wrist was red where the king had grabbed her. "That son of a bitch," he said under his breath.
"I'm fine," Bella said again. "You came for me."
"Of course." He brought her wrist to his lips and kissed her tender skin. "He won't hurt you again, Bella. I swear it."
What she wanted was to stand straight and tall and say she wasn't scared. But when she lifted her head to face him, her lower lip began to tremble. He said nothing but gathered her close, stroking her hair as she shook and tried to catch her breath. He walked her to his bed, pulled her into his lap, and held her, rocked her as she got a hold of herself again.
"You came for me," she whispered again when she was calmer. She traced the lines of his face, marveling. "I'd stopped praying that anyone would come for me."
Years ago, it had seemed to her that someone would speak up. She knew that some of the court reveled in her pain. It was entertainment to them. Like the king, they wanted to punish someone for their own helplessness. But she'd seen others. Those who, like Corin, looked at her with pity in their eyes. She'd been hurt often enough that she had no pride left. She would take their pity if only it meant one of them would make the king stop hurting her.
None of them ever did. They might take her aside and tell her what to put on her cuts and bruises to heal faster, but they never stopped him.
"Bella," he whispered. "I tried to stop him. Every time I could, when I could get there in time."
She stared at him, confused.
"You never looked at me," she said quietly. "I was always relieved when you were there, but it didn't seem to me like you did it for me. It felt more incidental. You hold the king in contempt for any number of reasons and never withhold a barb. I was relieved for your distraction, as it gave me time to slip away unnoticed."
It was well known at court that Edward had a sarcastic streak, and he was known to have a sharp tongue with the king. Bella had always thought of him as arrogant in that way-defiant because he could be.
"You never looked at me," she said again, ducking her head.
"No, I didn't." His words were soft, and he stroked the back of his knuckles against her cheek. "If he thought I did it because I cared about you, he would have hurt you more just to spite me."
Bella raised her head, looking at him in surprise.
"I was always aware of you, Bella, and I have long admired you." He drew his fingers along her cheek, crooking one knuckle under her chin. "Brave, brave child. A delicate mouse in a pit of vipers." He kissed her temple. "I try not to spar with the king unless it's something, or someone, that matters. He's the type to count each slight and take his retribution where he can."
"Like marrying you to the traitor's daughter?"
Edward smirked and kissed her sweetly on the lips. "My father's idea, though I'm not altogether uncertain the same rationale doesn't apply. It was a politically sound maneuver, but I do think he was trying to punish me." He kissed her again. "Though he quite failed in that regard."
Bella smiled slightly and obediently raised her face for another kiss. He pulled away after a moment, studying her. "Bella." He moved his hand to her back, rubbing in slow circles. "You know you can tell me when you don't want me. Not even a kiss."
Before she could comment to that, he shifted, setting her on the bed and putting some distance between them. She couldn't help her relief, as much as she didn't want to feel it. She wanted to revel in her husband's kisses and tenderness as she had so many nights that week, but adrenaline had drained away into anxiety.
"I'm sorry," Edward said. "I forget, sometimes, what this must be like to you. It was wrong of me to refer to you as a punishment even in jest. Particularly when the king so recently tried to use you as a means to spend his aggression."
He took her hands and squeezed them. "Bella, I swear to you, some day you will know that your body and your will are your own. This will not always be your life." He massaged her fingers one at a time. "Someday, you will be the mistress of a fine home. You'll be the lady that your crofters look to. Where you go, you will be looked on with naught but respect. You will fear nothing and no one." His smile was sad as he raised a hand to cup her cheek. "Not even me."
~Edward~
For a week after Emmett's victory, Edward kept Bella in his room. He slept on the couch, leaving her to his bed. Evenings, when they practiced with her new sword, they didn't end up entangled in each other's arms. She was too much on edge for that, and he wanted to make it clear he wouldn't encroach on her when she needed space and bodily autonomy.
Edward had never thought he'd be married. Now that he was, he didn't want what many men he knew had-obedient wives who publically nodded and bowed to their husbands every whim and privately held them in contempt. He wanted what Carlisle and Esme had-a true partnership. In public, she played the part of the agreeable wife, letting Carlisle lead, but the fact of the matter was simply that they agreed.
That and Esme genuinely enjoyed her husband. Edward had seen her initiate a tender kiss-or a more passionate one, for that matter-as often as he'd seen Carlisle do so. She did not kiss her husband, as his sister had, to manipulate him. She did it simply because she adored him. Because she wanted to.
Before this last upset, Edward had thought there were times Bella wanted to kiss him. For that matter, he thought she wanted to trust him. Still, a large part of her held back from even speaking her mind, let alone giving the gift of her kiss of her own volition.
She was a very strong woman, but wounded, confused, and very young. He thought she wanted to like him. Perhaps she even wanted to love him, but she hadn't convinced herself she could yet.
He also wanted to say they had all the time in the world. Had he thought of wedding, after all, he would have wanted to woo a girl-gain her trust and admiration before he ever laid a hand on her. He considered himself a philosopher, and had read many writings by men who wrote of what it was to know a woman. To have her, heart, mind, body, and soul. And that, to him, was far preferable than to simply have dominion over her body.
Still, such was not the case for them, and Edward knew only too well that people were watching. His father was one, but he was sure there were others who knew the truth of his relations-or lack thereof-with his wife. For a wife to be cold to her husband was a dangerous thing.
After a week, there was another battle. Emmett Swan was forced to retreat, and the king strutted about as though he'd claimed some major victory. Bella returned to her room, and they returned to their old habit of cards and conversation, with the odd swordplay lesson thrown in.
"I'm having a dagger made for you," Edward told his wife conversationally. "It would be ostentatious and unseemly for you to carry a sword at court, but it seems to me that a dagger can be easily concealed. You may slip it into your carrying bag, or I shall have a specially made holster to keep it concealed in your sleeve. In any event, tomorrow we shall interrupt our sword lessons to teach you more about the fine art of driving a dagger into a man's heart."
Bella looked at him, her eyes wide. He had to cover a smirk. "Would you enjoy that, wife? Or do you think it ghastly."
"Do you mean I could have it on me at all times?" she asked, incredulous.
"I can't see why not. I always carry a dagger tucked into my boot." He lifted his foot and showed her. "And many men carry their swords and daggers about. Why should you not?"
Bella laughed and put a hand to her flushed cheek. "I cannot think if my father would roll over in his grave to know my husband gifts me not with jewels and fine combs, but with swords and daggers." She laughed again.
"Would you like jewels and fine combs more?"
Smiling, she shook her head. Then she flushed again, looking uncertain. "Do you know how to shoot a bow?"
"Of course. Would you like to learn that as well?"
Her eyes danced with pleasure. Edward had enjoyed designing first a sword and then a dagger for his wife. He was not as well-versed in bows, but he knew Carlisle's son, Jasper, was an excellent bowman. He made a mental note to send a letter to him. "So it will be done, wife, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. First, you will become proficient in daggers as you are in swords. You're coming along quite nicely there."
They passed several hours until the night waned into the early hours of day. When he took his wife's leave, she stopped at the doorway, her eyes gentle and her head tilted up. He thought she wanted his kiss, and so, he tilted his head to oblige her. He kissed her softly and sweetly, intending to pull away. But it had been too long, and he lingered. He lingered and let his tongue press against her lips, begging entrance. She granted it, and he held her tightly against him, exploring her mouth and eliciting her precious, soft sighs as he did.
When his head began to get too muddled, his cock begging for attention, he pulled away. "Good night, my beautiful wife," he murmured, kissing her chastely.
He was buoyant when he left her rooms. So buoyant that when he found Angela, he took the young maid into his arms and danced with her about the corridor. She laughed. "You're in a rare mood tonight, Lord Masen."
"So I am," he agreed, keeping a hand on her shoulder even as he let her go. He tilted his head in so he could speak softly in the still of the night. "You will see to my lady?"
"Of course, My Lord." She tilted her head, her expression teasing. "I've waited up this night to attend to her."
Laughing, he kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Angela. I'm glad she has you."
He let the maid go and continued down the corridor, smiling and happy until he rounded the corner and came up against none other than the king himself.
"Your Grace." He nodded, his tone easy though he was automatically on his guard.
Felix smirked. "The maid, Uncle? Grandfather would be most displeased."
Edward's eyes narrowed, and he had to work to keep his tone even. "I don't take your meaning, Your Grace. I was simply having a word with my wife's maidservant."
Felix scoffed. "A word. You have no need to speak carefully around me. I know to whom you're married. I know of her coldness. It's no surprise that you may seek your pleasure elsewhere."
"Your Grace speaks out of turn," Edward said, an edge to his voice and his fists clenched at his sides. "My Lady is beyond reproach."
Again, Felix scoffed. "Your lady is a whore with a title."
Before he could think on it, Edward struck the king hard across the cheek.
Felix was large and naturally strong. Because of it, he thought he need not take lessons on fighting and defense. As such, when he rushed at Edward, it was no difficulty to have the king on his back, his boot against his throat. All the fierceness left Felix's face, and his eyes went wide. Before he could call out, Edward put pressure on his throat, cutting off his shout. "Speak of my wife again, and you will regret it, Your Grace." Edward sneered the title. "Touch her again, and I will end you, boy."
With that, he took his foot off the king's neck, and hurried down the hallway before he could make good on his oath right then and there.
A/N: So far, my favorite names that Packy and Mina have come up with are Fuckface Rex for Felix and Grandad Asshole for Aro. Bwah hahahaha.