Posted 2023-10-14; beta'd by Eeyorefan12

The Cullen's household routine featured a regular litany of rituals and chores. Each night the lampa were dampened, the pantry cupboard was locked, and the shutters were carefully fastened against any unpredictable squalls; each morning, a reverse procedure was carried out, and the parlor and dining tables' green centerpieces were replaced with fresh material, the pungent, rosemary-like smell permeating the lower floors.

This particular morning though, several key rituals had been disrupted. The shutters remained closed, and yesterday's greenery sat withering in dry bowls. Bella lingered in the dining room after breakfast, doing her best to stay out of the way as hectic action unfolded around her.

Esme had politely waved off her offer of help, Bella suspecting it was a kind way of telling her she'd be more hindrance than help. Too distracted to focus on reading, she entertained herself by watching the front hallway. It functioned much like a play, flickers of dialogue and activity flitting by at regular intervals: Mr. Filo with heavy baskets of jars, Esme with her scrip in hand, Penelope, the household manager, calmly waving off her husband's barked orders, Emmett frowning at Esme's frantic questions but smiling whenever Rose passed by.

"Just a few more minutes before we go, Bella," Esme finally said, stepping off of Bella's imaginary stage and into the room.

Bella nodded, squirming a little. Her dress wasn't new, but it was new to her, the yellow calico fabric starched far stiffer than she was used to. The long gloves were borrowed and loose, leaving her with cartoonishly flappy fingertips. Esme had tugged them up as far as they would go, sighing at the final effect. "Add new ones to the list, Rose," she'd murmured, yanking a pin from her mouth to tuck in the back of Bella's dress. The fine lace choker Bella was wearing was even itchier than her usual one.

Finally, she, Edward, Esme, and Rose climbed into a small carriage where Jasper was waiting in the driver's seat. Tabitha and Vanko Filo would be following behind with the wagon. Presga was an hour's drive away, and Bella was beyond excited—and nervous—to finally see what passed for a town.

To her surprise, the main roads were paved or bricked, a few patchy spots dotted with cobblestones. Despite their bulky shapes, the alogo pulled the vehicle as smoothly as she would have expected of horses.

The scenery passed slowly, giving Bella ample opportunity to examine the distant houses from the road. They were similar to the Cullens' home, and if she ignored the blue-topped trees, she could almost imagine herself in a much older version of the South. Beyond the houses were fields dotted with more blue-topped trees, swaths of high grasses, these bordered by what looked like forest, and beyond that, the blue of distant mountains.

As they crested a small hill, the newly visible structures contrasted starkly with their quaint predecessors. A clump of low-rise, concrete-like buildings sat to the side of the hill, an uneven oval of structures varied in size, style, and shape spreading out around them. Some were small, some large, some old, some modern, some . . . alien, was all the descriptor Bella could come up with.

They'd passed only two other carts and traps on their way, but now there were more, moving in orderly divided columns through intersections guided by traffic circles. The streets were edged with wide sidewalks full of pedestrians, all of whom were costumed like the Cullens. Storefronts were clearly signed with large painted letters, and heavy awnings arched over large glass windows.

Bella felt a swell of disappointment, tempered by relief. She'd harbored secret hopes of technology, of transport—of a return home. She'd also been a little afraid of what she'd find. It wasn't that she didn't trust the Cullens and what they'd told her. They appeared thoroughly trustworthy, but she didn't have a basis for comparison. Lost in these thoughts, she only caught half of what Edward was saying.

" . . . is closed today. We'll come back again in a few days." He lowered his voice. "Which should be less of a production, all things considered."

Bella nodded. Whatever was closed, she'd figure it out soon enough. Esme had gone over the itinerary with the family twice at breakfast.

" . . . not promising, no," Esme murmured.

Bella followed her gaze, as had Edward. A modest brick building with a large corral behind it sat off on its own at the end of the street. The door was closed, and dangling in front of it were a set of wooden squares hung by string.

"Well, we'll add our name then," Esme said, moving as if to stand.

"I'll get it." Rose hopped down, marching over to the building. From a bucket by the door, she pulled a piece of wood, marking it with something.

"No secrets now," Jasper mumbled.

Edward glanced sharply at his brother but didn't say anything.

When Edward made no move to explain the current mystery to Bella, she took this as cue to leave whatever it was be. Her gut told her answers weren't far away this time. Perhaps the Cullen patience was rubbing off on her.

Once Rose was back, Jasper slapped the reins down on the alogos' backs, and the carriage lurched forward. After a few more minutes, they came to a stop near the edge of a large square ringed with merchants' stalls, at the center of which sat an imposing fountain.

"Edward," Esme said, "would you go with Mr. Filo to take the tribute? I'm sure the Matriarch would love to see you. That way I can get through the marketing with Rose and Penelope before going to the library. Bella, why don't you go with Edward too? It's a beautiful site. I think you'd enjoy it, and you can see a little bit of how our boys are raised."

Edward looked at her inquiringly.

Briefly disappointed, Bella rallied, prepared to suggest an alternative. But when she looked to Esme again, she was already going over her scrip with Jasper and Mrs. Filo, deep in discussion of remittances and how this would have to be accounted for.

"We'll come back this way," Edward said. "Don't worry. You'll get a chance to explore."

"Is it that obvious?" Bella asked.

He grinned. "That you look like a woman who's been starved of civilization?"

She glanced back at the square. "It does look interesting."

Assisted by Edward, she climbed into the back of the wagon, settling on the bench seat behind Mr. Filo. Bella watched more of the streets roll by, all the while trying to keep her toes from being crushed by the large melons that wobbled back and forth in the wagon bed as they traveled. When Edward noticed, he put a foot out to steady the offending fruit, and Bella smiled her thanks.

It didn't take long for the small town's dense streets to thin again, the tree canopy thickening in place of buildings. There was the sound of distant water running as they followed a long brick wall towards an open gate.

She was a curious enough learner to be interested in almost everything she saw, so having to wait on the market wasn't a burden.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

She chuckled quietly, and Edward glanced at her and then away, graciously leaving her to her thoughts.

He was easy company to keep, but Bella did wonder at why Esme had sent them off together.

"Ed . . ."—she glanced at Mr. Filo—"Um, Mr. Cullen?"

He turned to face her.

"Is there a reason your mother sent us together? Here?" She lifted her chin towards the wall they were riding perpendicular to. "I mean, beyond delivering things. I just—I know you've been teaching me the language, but I wondered—"

"Why I, as they say, 'got stuck with you'?" There was a gentle smile.

"Well . . . yes. Not that I mind helping but, I was wondering if she was worried if I'd do something inappropriate—like, I need you to be a chaperone or something—"

"No." Edward shook his head and shifted a little in his seat. "It's for my benefit, actually. I've been away for four years . . . my first time off-world." He gestured to the gate. "This is more to remind me of myself than for you. I'm sorry. You must be tired of my company."

"No, I'm not," she murmured. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one still adjusting, though I'll take a lot longer than you." She thought of her first days here and her near-constant bewilderment.

The wagon creaked to a halt, and a young man emerged from the small gatehouse. "We're delivering the Cullens' tribute," Edward told him.

The young man looked excited, glancing into the bed of the wagon and then running to open the gate. As they passed through, Edward looked down, giving a half-hearted chuckle.

"He looked pleased to see you," Bella said, wondering at Edward's reaction.

"Oh, not me. The wagon of food. The tributes are always hungry. A tribute day is always a good one for the boys and the Matriarch."

Tribute. Tributes. Matriarchs. She'd heard the terms before, most of them during their preparation to come to town today.

"Your mother was a Matriarch," Bella said. "You've mentioned it also—that sometimes the position took her away from the family." She'd learned that offering up the little bit of information she had to Edward was often as good as a question.

"She still is, though she hasn't been called upon in some time. She did several years of service, much more than some—and early too. One of the first to be made Matriarch with young children of her own. That was . . . well, more to help my father adjust to returning home. One of her friends has the charge now. Normally there are two of them, but it's a small group of boys, so there's only one. She's a fierce woman, Mrs. Leopolous. She was my Matriarch, a very long time ago."

Bella hummed in reply, not wanting to ask yet another question, but also curious about the mention of Edward's father. Except for learning recently that he had died, she didn't know much else.

"I haven't told you what they do, have I?"

"The Matriarchs? No."

"Is there a reason you've stopped asking so many questions, Miss Swan?" Edward asked. "I expected you to have many today."

He'd noticed, then. She sighed. "I'd wondered if you were a little tired of them. I'm . . . well, sometimes it feels a little tedious, always asking them. Always needing help."

"I like your questions. They help me see my world from your perspective. You see and ask about things I've never considered before."

"Ah."

"You're also very considerate with your questions. Not all learners are." Another smile. "I know my efforts and explanations go to a worthy cause."

She felt mildly uncomfortable with the compliment. "Talk about making a girl blush." Her deflective statement was accompanied by the heat of an actual blush rising in her cheeks.

Edward chuckled, stretching a bit as he sat back on the bench. "I'll admit, watching you do so is entertaining."

"Jerk," she said playfully.

He grinned and then lifted his chin towards the figures in a distant garden—young men, Bella could see. "All boys come to the Matriarchs near the age of twelve, and they are taught and cared for until they're prepared to enter the world."

Interesting. "How long is that?"

Edward shrugged. "A few years for some. Longer for others."

Bella looked at the various figures, some small and thin with childhood, others tall and fleshed out, looking about the same age as the undergrads at her university. "That's a long time to be away from their families."

"Their families visit, and they go home for holidays. More importantly, the boys learn to serve, if they haven't already learned as much at home."

Interesting.

"And the food?"

Edward was still keeping her ankles safe from the melons.

"Everyone makes tribute to the Matriarchs and the tributes in her care. They eat from a common table—what they grow and what the community provides. All things are held in common so that if one has, they all have, and if one wants, so do they all. In theory, it helps erase some inequities." Here he frowned a little.

Perhaps not all inequities then.

The road was flat, so it was easy to see when they reached the halfway mark, at which point another wagon slowed, its petite and brunette female driver pulling her alogos to a halt. She tilted her head back to regard them from under her wide-brimmed hat.

"Mr. Cullen?"

Mr. Filo reined in their alogos as Edward whipped his head up. "Miss . . . Sarris?"

"It's been too many years if it takes you that long to find my name, Ed—Mr. Cullen."

Whoa. First names? Bella glanced at Edward, whose face momentarily displayed surprise, joy, and . . . excitement?

Just as quickly, he became his formal self again. "Miss Swan, this is Miss Sarris. We've known each other since we were young."

Bella nodded, hoping it was the correct gesture this time.

Miss Sarris inclined her head. "A pleasure, Miss Swan. And we were not so young, Mr. Cullen. I was sixteen. You were not much older."

"Indeed." Edward dipped his head. "You're correct. I've just returned from off-world. The committee . . . prerje. I apologize—"

She shook her head. "I can only imagine. You need never apologize to me, Mr. Cullen. I . . . appreciate your service, as I always have."

Service? What an interesting choice of words, Bella thought, still baffled as to what the relationship was between the two. Old sweethearts?

Miss Sarris gathered up the reins into her lap, clearing her throat. "It was good seeing you, Mr. Filo. Please give my regards to your wife. I shouldn't keep you all from your delivery, but I hope for a good crossing."

"As do I." Edward gave a deep nod of his head that looked more like a bow.

"If—perhaps your family would appreciate trying our new dyes?"

Edward looked puzzled.

"I manage the apothecary now."

"Oh. I—I'm sorry for your loss," Edward said.

"I'm not."

"I've missed a great deal in my time away," Edward said. "Much has changed."

"But not your kindness," she said softly. "My father passed away just after you left. I'm finally free to try my own techniques. Our dyes are now some of the fastest and brightest. I know your mother prefers her own, but if she changes her mind, I'm at the market in the last quarter and at our shop otherwise."

"I'll ask her." Edward smiled gently. "It's good to be reacquainted with you, Miss Sarris."

"The same to you, Mr. Cullen. Miss Swan. Mr. Filo." With a bob of her head, she snapped the reins and moved past them.

At Edward's nod, Mr. Filo did the same, and they lurched forward towards the stone colonnade ahead. Full of questions about just what the hell that had been about, Bella pressed her lips together and smiled politely when Edward looked her way.

Before they came to a stop, a tall woman in a dark blue dress emerged from the building. "Edward Cullen?" she called. "Weaver's strings! It is you!"

Edward hopped over the wagon sidewall, landing nimbly on his feet, then leaning down to accept her kiss to his cheek.

"There's no more boy in that face, not that there has been for awhile," she said, sighing. "And you've brought a guest?" The woman looked to Bella, tilting her head. Behind her, a lean, tunic-clad man with dark and slightly unkempt hair emerged from the building. He nodded to Bella and Edward.

Edward nodded to the woman and the man in turn, but spoke only to the woman. "Matriarch Leopolous, this is Miss Swan, a guest in our home." Edward walked back to the wagon, helping Bella down.

Bella wasn't sure if she should curtsy, shake hands, or bow to the woman who appeared to be about Esme's age. She settled on a polite nod and a quiet, "I'm pleased to meet you."

This earned her a strange look from the Matriarch, who glanced questioningly at Edward. The other man remained behind her, gaze averted . . . or empty. She couldn't tell.

"Miss Swan is new to the area. She's learning our customs."

"Ah," the Matriarch said. "A southern southerner, then?" She chuckled, like she'd made a joke. "Did you want to give her a tour of the matriarcha?"

"Not today, no, but thank you. I promised Miss Swan time in the market." Edward smiled conspiratorially at Bella.

The man behind the Matriarch gave Edward a hesitant smile, which Edward returned, and they grasped hands, meeting each other's gazes. "You're well, Lucas?"

Lucas nodded, though this was marred by a twitch of his shoulder. He blinked and half his face contorted.

The Matriarch patted his forearm. "I can see how the market would be far more interesting than watching deliveries, hmm, Lucas?" She chuckled, turning back to them. "The boys are about to go to service. I should go and make sure instructions are sufficiently refreshed. Or perhaps you can give the recitation, Edward? I seem to recall you knew it quite well."

At this, Lucas appeared to lose interest in the conversation, turning and wandering back into the building.

Edward followed him with his gaze, looking thoughtful, before turning back to the Matriarch. He grinned slyly. "I recall the instructions very well, thank you, Matriarch. But I wouldn't dare disrespect your duty by attempting to overtake it."

She winked at Edward. "It's good to know things have changed, then." She glanced briefly at Bella. "I hope you'll continue to show my trust was merited."

Edward's reply was much more solemn. "I will, Matriarch."

"It was lovely to meet you, Miss Swan. Enjoy the market. And Edward, give my regards to your mother."

"Of course."

The wagon was almost unloaded, a small group of adolescents and younger boys scurrying away with its contents. Mr. Filo was leaning against the side. "The alogo will need watering," he said to Edward. "Do you want to wait or go back on foot?"

"Would you mind walking back to the market?" Edward asked Bella.

"A walk sounds great," she said. The weather had cooled a little, the previous night's storm blowing away some of the oppressive heat.

They headed back along the pleasantly shaded path, passing by the gate, the now empty porter house, and then through a park that jutted out from the river. In the distance, Bella caught glimpses of the water through a thick stand of trees. It looked inviting. She fantasized about taking off her slippers and stockings. Surely that wouldn't be too scandalous, if no one else was around?

"Maybe this way first?" she asked, gesturing towards the water.

Edward practically grabbed her elbow as she started to turn. "Not that way," he said quickly, steering her away.

"Why?" She looked wistfully at the water, mentally sighing.

"Because the tributes are nearly at service." Edward kept walking her away from the river. His steps were brisk.

"And?"

Sabellians didn't blush. At least, she hadn't seen one blush, but she watched Edward's musculature shift, and she could have sworn the movements in his cheeks would have accompanied a blush, if there had been one.

"Edw—Mr. Cullen?"

Edward slowed his pace and lowered his voice. "The boys offer service in many ways, the older in particular, to the young women in the area, who . . . enjoy the fruits of a certain aspect of their education."

They what?

Bella stopped walking. "No," she said, appalled. "No way." The very notion of what he'd just told her flew completely in the face of the stiff propriety she'd seen and been trying to master. "I have to dress like this"—she dragged her hands down the front of her bodice—"with this damn itchy thing"—she gestured to the choker—"and god forbid anyone sees my hair without it being up, but the kids can go and—"

"Might we find a more private place for this conversation?" Edward spoke more firmly than she'd ever heard him do before. Admittedly, the tone of her voice had risen along with her sense of outrage.

"Fine." She took his proffered arm and walked beside him, wondering at his clenched jaw. After a few minutes, they reached a much more manicured park that bordered the river, settling on a stone bench.

"Spill," Bella said.

"Pardon?"

"Spill the beans—the tea—whatever."

At Edward's confused look, Bella huffed, "Please explain why the tributes can have so much . . . freedom, but I have to act like I might die if I don't follow these stu—etiquette."

"There is no breach of etiquette." Edward lifted his shoulders, almost in a shrug. "Until they reach the age of their full reasoning, unmarried, unmated young men and women may take pleasure in each other. After that, such an attraction should be partnered with several bonds. Children are not subject to the same expectations as adults."

Well that was damn well unfair.

Bella thought of the propriety expected of her. Then she thought of the low growl she'd heard in the barn from Jasper and then from Edward. She knew very little about a Sabellian's physical or cognitive maturation and development. They're not human, she reminded herself, not for the first time. Perhaps there was some wisdom in this . . . system.

"Like Rumspringa," Bella finally said. "For the Amish."

Edward shook his head. "No. Not at all, though I can see why you'd make the comparison. The Matriarchs are strict. They prepare us for the bounds of the society we'll need to keep."

She pondered this, though another and much more salacious question remained stubbornly present. "So, um, you said something about the fruits of—"

"A certain aspect of their training. Yes, I did."

Bella cocked her head to the side. "Did that have something to do with what the Matriarch said to you about giving instructions?"

Edward lifted an eyebrow in reply.

Thinking it was a good thing she hadn't inquired about the young woman they'd met on the road—who'd seemed mighty thankful for Edward's "service"—Bella sat in silence, contemplating the river. Edward was always gracious about her missteps, but she liked to give him recovery time between fielding her blunders. In the moment, she also needed time to process everything she'd just heard.

A couple walked by, the woman resting her hand on the man's arm just as Bella did walking with Edward. The Matriarch's comments took on a whole new meaning.

"Did the Matriarch think that we—that I am more than your guest?" she blurted out.

Beside her, Edward gave a curt nod.

She wanted to apologize, but he'd already asked her not to. Lightness seemed in order. She switched to English. "Well, dang. I'm putting your good reputation at risk, Mr. Cullen."

His chuckle was a low rumble beside her. He also replied in English: "Rest assured, it's very entertaining, risking my reputation with you."

They continued their walk towards the central square and the market, Bella grinning occasionally to herself and shaking her head, thinking of what she'd learned. She'd made a good many assumptions about the Sabellians, filling in gaps with incorrect information. She resolved to be more open-minded about them and about Edward. There was far more to him than she'd imagined, and there was a surprising swell of . . . peace, thinking of the comfort their friendship seemed to bring to both of them.

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.