"A pedestal is as much a prison as any small, confined space."

Gloria Steinem

Bella

Inside was as black as pitch, but shiny, like the lacquered, polished surface of a grand piano.

Instinctively, my mind flew to Edward. Him playing lullabies on the piano. My lullaby.

I squared my shoulders. My head went up. I felt stronger. I didn't care if I was going to meet one of the two most powerful vampires. I loved Edward: I was going to save him.

The room was large, its floor seemed to be made of shiny black tiles, hence the light.

Shivering, I looked around. There was nothing. Slowly, light flooded the room. I didn't know where from. These weren't like the torches I'd seen.

I gasped in amazement. A path of flat blocks lay imbedded within and floating on the mirrored surface of a large black pool; not a floor, but a pool of water. The light came from, not torches, but large black metal balls, wrapped in flames, protruding from the walls of the circular chamber by long iron rods.

But that wasn't what caught my attention. It was the statue that practically floored me.

I sucked in a breath. It was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, as much as Gabrielle. More than any vampire of my species.

The marble statue seemed to reflect light, turning torchlight into something akin to moonlight. It shone on the surface of the polished white stone. The stone lady's features were small and chiselled; exquisitely shaped and delicate. Her gently waving mane caressed her figure, so flawless I didn't think stone could be shaped that way.

The strangest thing however, were the details adorning the statue. It was clothed in silky white robes bordered in silver embroidery and beading. It was also lying down. It lay upon the stone slab that stood almost like an altar at the centre of the pool.

I blinked. Why would anyone dress a statue and put it like that? I mean, it was definitely marble, polished to a shine. I never saw details so exquisite, so finely chiselled, or graceful. Not even in the photos I'd seen of Renaissance artists' works. But it was dressed in clothes and placed on a stone slab like Sleeping Beauty.

Weird.

It didn't seem like the statue at the base of the tower, containing some hidden lever. And there was no one else around, which didn't surprise me. No sign of life.

I waited, to see if there was a vampire here somewhere. Knowing full well that vampires can hold themselves as inanimate for long, I used my superior eyesight to scan the room and waited to see if anyone lost patience.

Nothing. There was no one in the room. Not even this queen of vampires.

I looked around the room. Stepping forwards, I considered the facts. Gabrielle and the other wizards obviously believed that the Vampire Queen was real, and so did Yakov. But by their own admission, no one had seen her step outside this tower in centuries. Was she dead? Did someone kill her in her sleep, or did she die of starvation? Could vampires die of starvation? Carlisle mentioned that he hid in a cellar for weeks to try to kill himself, refusing to feed on anyone, until it got too much and he sneaked out and killed a deer. If no one saw her and she never left, except using her Sight to see what was going on in the world or through Astral-Projection- which probably made her invisible, the way Billy said it did the first Quileutes- could she have died and no one yet figured it out?

Radu had said that the Lady Progenitor spoke in his mind and invited me to come. I grew suspicious. What if this was a trick of some kind? I weighed my options. Should I leave? What if this was a trap? I looked around again.

The walls were covered in ornate stone friezes depicting various battles… and other events. The scene closest to the door to the left seemed to depict a woman, tall and of great power, judging by the people surrounding her. They were disciples listening to her every word, soldiers waiting for her commands, people petitioning her for audiences.

Was this the Vampire Queen? I walked towards it.

On closer inspection, there were three younger women surrounding the central figure. They were about the same height and looked similar, so I assumed they must be sisters; triplets even. I blinked. Didn't Gabrielle mention that Markus and Lady Laima had three children? Girls, maybe?

On closer inspection, I saw a couple of boys on the other side of the woman, of the same height. Unlike the girls, they didn't have as prominent a position and largely stood apart, though close enough for the audience to tell that they were family. I followed the scene; it seemed to be going around the wall from the left.

I saw the woman, the same one as the central figure in the first frieze, sitting as she was confronted by a man and a woman. The man wore armour, the kind you'd see in ancient movies. The woman lay motionless in the man's arms, her face in tired agony. She was dying. I wondered who they were.

The next scene saw the powerful woman holding out her hands and turning her head to the side, like she could do nothing about it. It was obvious that the man- it must have been the dying woman's husband- had come to beg this powerful woman to save his wife's life. But something else was happening in the next scene.

It was one of the girls in the first frieze: with flowing hair on top of a hill. A young man stood in front of her, taller than she was. He held out a hand, caressing hers. The man's profile looked familiar, though I was too engrossed in the images and the story they were telling to remember from where it came from. Then it hit me: Radu.

It wasn't Radu, I could see that. They didn't look identical. But they were similar enough. The young man and the young woman had gentle smiles on their faces and soft eyes. They had fallen in love, apparently.

The next scene saw the young woman and the man standing in front of the powerful woman who must have been her mother, based on the similarity in their features. It then struck me that the young woman looked a lot like the statue on the slab, the one I had just seen. Was this…

Excited, I followed the story. The young man and the girl were facing each other, cupping the other's hands. The woman stood in front of them, binding their joined hands with a ribbon. People watched. They were getting married. The next scene saw the couple on horseback, departing to a land with woods, mountains, cliffs and meadows. They walked arm in arm in the sun.

I saw them living in a fortress of some kind. Not like this castle, which looked like it might've come from the Middle Ages, but close enough.

Then the young man- he was older now- went on a journey. I saw another man, similar in appearance, waiting on a horse, while he embraced his wife. A chill spread through me.

The next scene showed the two brothers on horseback- they must have been brothers. They looked alike, almost identical.

I hitched in a breath. Were these…

Markus and William. I thought. The First Vampire and the First Werewolf. Brothers.

So that young man… the one who had been standing on the hill and getting married had been the First Progenitor Markus. Which meant that the girl was none other than Lady Laima when she was young.

I spun around. The statue hadn't moved. It was still on the slab. I blinked. Why would anyone make a statue of her only to hide it in a tower and lie it down, dressed in clothes? I turned back around.

Who was the woman, the first one I had seen her listening to? The similarities on the girl's face meant that this woman had been the Vampire Queen's mother, but Gabrielle had never mentioned a mother in the story. Some powerful woman- no… I thought. A sorceress. Like her.

I remembered the other two girls and the two boys. Siblings. I was stunned. I had heard that Markus and William, the first vampire and the first werewolf had another brother, but Gabrielle never said anything about the Vampire Queen having siblings. I wondered what happened to them and their mother. I wondered who their father was and why he wasn't depicted in the frieze. I remembered the armoured man coming to beg the sorceress to save his dying wife: Alexander and Helena Corvinus, Markus' parents. They had to be. While Gabrielle had mentioned that no one had seen Alexander and William for centuries, I wondered what became of the Vampire Queen's family. They were probably long dead, I thought. After all, only Lady Laima had been turned immortal by her husband.

Pity flooded me. I wondered how long it had been since she had last seen them- seen any of them. Her mother, her sisters and brothers. Her father if she had one. If he was dead, she would never see him again. She would never be reunited with her family in whatever afterlife there was, or as ghosts. And that weight must have crushed her like a heavy burden.

Sadness and more than a little nerves swept through me. And I remembered that I was now immortal and my mind flew to Charlie back in Forks. Even Renée, as angry as I was with her, was mortal and I would never relish the idea of having to say goodbye.

I froze. I was angry with her? That thought struck me like lightning.

I blinked.

Yes, I admitted. I was angry with her. I didn't understand, didn't want to admit it. I had never been angry at Renée. What for?

It disturbed me. Why would I be angry at my mother?

But I already knew the answer.

I was angry at myself- for being a pushover. I was a pushover to Edward, I was a pushover to Jacob. The only person I wasn't a pushover and stood up to was Charlie, even when he felt that he had only my best interests at heart- that thought made my insides twist as I started to realise that he might have been right, after all. And I wished that he had stood up to and put his foot down with me; been more stern instead of allowing me to run around like an idiot. But would I have believed him if he did? Would I have seen him as right or even reasonable? Nah, I would've just rebelled and fought against him. Shame filled me. Sue was right; I didn't respect Charlie anymore than Edward did- or Jacob.

And wasn't that a betrayal? Jacob was Charlie's best friend's son. And he'd could've gotten him killed, the same way Leah unintentionally phased for the first time in front of her father, Harry. Unlike me, Jacob would've known; he would've known the truth about how Harry died, since the Wolves' minds were all connected. Yet he still went ahead and did it to Charlie.

I was mad at him. I was mad at Edward. I was even mad at Renée. But most of all, I was mad at myself.

I was angry at myself for being a pushover, and I could see I had been one all my life. Deep down, I knew that it all started with Renée, that I had been unquestionably obedient to her, even as a child. I didn't just help her do the chores- I did it for her. Since I was tall enough to stand, I helped her with the laundry, the groceries and the cleaning, and managing and paying the bills. At eleven, I started to do the cooking. A long time ago, Gran did it for us when she came and she taught me to look after the house and look after myself, because she didn't trust Renée or think that she could do it. Renée had eventually thrown her hands up and, as much as she claimed to have resented her mother's interference, laughed about it and let us do the work. Eventually, she started asking me for help with things around the house. Too proud to ask Gran, I thought, and since I was so good at things and wouldn't make her feel bad, I could help her. I didn't know precisely when it started but eventually I started doing things for her, as opposed to merely helping her around the house. Renée barely did anything- and she couldn't do anything without my help.

It struck me then that she knew I'd been a pushover- perhaps not consciously, but she'd been aware of it, deep down. She knew I would help her, even if I didn't want to. I never questioned it, never disobeyed. Like a good daughter, all I wanted to do was to help her. And she knew I wouldn't tell Gran because then Gran would be mad or she would demand that I leave Renée to do the things on her own, when she could barely look after herself. She knew it and she took full advantage of it- of me. At some point, I'd transitioned from a helpful, obedient child to a pushover who couldn't stand up for herself.

I wanted to cry- I wanted to cry at the loss, of what I might've been, of what I should've been. Instead of being the grown woman who could stand up for and look after herself, the way Gran had envisioned and believed I could be, I became a pushover and unlike Nessie, who had the guts and courage to defy me- and Edward- I never thought more about it. Heck, I'd barely even remembered Gran until today.

I'd been a pushover not only to Renée but to Edward. Edward who had been the first person to look after me to the extent that he did. Charlie I'd barely knew, spending only two weeks every summer with him, first in Forks and then in California. I'd cooked for him, ever since I learned that he was crap and could potentially cause a fire hazard in the kitchen, not simply because he was busy. I didn't know how he'd manage to survive before me and Sue. I remembered wishing I'd had an older brother, that would look after me. When had my parents ever did?

But Charlie did work around the house; he might've sucked in the kitchen, but he did the laundry, the cleaning, he looked after the vehicles, even my truck when I was a zombie. He even did the yard-work that I was too clumsy to do. He did almost everything else, at least, until I'd insisted that we take turns.

I reeled back in shock as I remembered the day that Tyler Crowley had nearly crashed his van into me, I'd discovered that Charlie had woken especially early that day to painstakingly and labouriously put snow-chains on my tyres so I didn't have much trouble on the icy road that morning- unlike Tyler. And I'd never thanked him for it. Guilt twisted my gut. I'd been so preoccupied with my injury- mild as it was- and trying to figure out the mystery of Edward's supernatural speed and strength that I'd completely forgotten to thank Charlie.

But it had stunned me, touched me, that he would ever do something like that, because I'd never experienced it from anyone. Except maybe Gran, but Gran had been more preoccupied with teaching me how to look after myself, because she knew she was getting older and neither of us could trust or rely on Renée to look after me. And she was right: I was eleven when she'd died, almost twelve: I'd only just started learning how to cook. Gran had taught me, after shooing Renée out of the kitchen (she'd tried to butt in). But now I realised that I'd only been using those skills she'd taught to look after Renée as opposed to myself.

I was Renée's servant. Her live-in housekeeper, laundress, cook and chauffeur. I was her mother and her guardian.

But even with me forgetting the snow-chains and Charlie's labours amidst all of this, there was the matter of Edward- and how I'd never questioned or put my foot down, never stood up to him, because it felt like disloyalty.

Edward... Edward had gone the extra mile for me. Edward had gone out of his way to keep me safe. If it meant crossing the entire world on foot at a snail's pace, to fetch a single blade of grass, he would do it. And as such I'd never questioned him: not even when he'd broken into my room, because I was touched. I never imagined that anybody could take an interest in me- certainly not as far as that. Not the boy that was so beautiful he could have been a work of art done by a Renaissance master.

My skin crawled as I remembered why Edward even took an interest in me in the first place, and why he went so far as to break into my room while I was sleeping- and watch me. Watch me as I slept and dreamed. He listened in on me- no, eavesdropped on my words while I spoke in my sleep- an embarrassing trait I'd fought to keep private. He intruded on my privacy, broke into the sanctuary of my room, and for what?

Because he didn't get me. He couldn't understand why my mind was closed off to him, of all the people in town. That had never happened with anyone before. And he also couldn't figure out why my blood called to him so much- I was his own personal brand of heroin, as we'd both agreed. My scent constantly burned his throat and constantly ensured his attention stayed on me, at all times. Even to the point where Rosalie said he listened to other people's thoughts to find out where I was so he could follow me. To stalk me.

And he had no remorse. None whatsoever. He claimed as such when Esme and Carlisle- and Rosalie- confronted him. He claimed it was love, but was it?

Maybe, if I took into account all that had happened much later, I would've believed him. But now... not only did he disrespect me, he completely and totally disregarded my personal feelings... in every way. Even in regards with keeping my baby- our baby. Terminating my pregnancy against my will.

And I was angry. I was angry at Renée for making me the way I was. I was angry at Edward. I was even angry at Jacob. All of these people I'd trusted, only to be taken advantage of. My trust had been abused: I'd been groomed and moulded, first to become an indentured servant for Renée, and then into some perfect porcelain doll for Edward and Alice to mollycoddle, adorn and put on a pedestal, far out of reach from everyone and everything else- even my own opinions. To do as they wished. After all, porcelain dolls don't have opinions- or feelings. I was angry at Jacob for also manipulating my feelings of guilt and fear- my cowardice, as well as my own inability to stand up to him because I was afraid to lose him as a friend. Just as I was afraid to lose Edward again because I'd loved him and he'd abandoned me before- plus, the clock had still been ticking. So I married him in exchange for immortality and an eternity with Edward, never to let him out of my miserable sight again.

Like the others, Jacob had taken advantage of the fact that I easily felt guilt over the smallest things. Along with fears of getting people angry at me and my lack of ability to hold a grudge. He knew I had every right- regardless of whether or not he approved of my boyfriend or been jealous of him- not to be kissed against my will. But he did it. And he hadn't changed. Not one bit.

Jacob knew I couldn't stay mad at him- not for long. That I would forgive him easily. Anger burned in my throat, pooling into molten lava deep in my belly. It seared the venom in my veins, which had replaced the blood and began to simmer heatedly. I remembered how Jacob kissed me for the second- and third time. How frightened I was, after he had overheard me and Edward talking about our engagement, that he would fly into battle and do something to hurt himself- which he did (although that might've been Leah's fault too- he was trying to protect her). However, before that he got me to kiss him. He demanded that I prove my love to him, otherwise he would fly and join the battle, and hurt himself. So I'd kissed him. And then again when he taunted that I 'could do better than that, Bells.'

My venom boiled. As if Jacob's not-so-subtle attempt to prove that he was the better man for me by emotionally manipulating me, even reminding me of the story about King Solomon and the two women who claimed the one baby, wasn't bad enough! I could see it in his eyes, even then that he was trying to get me to choose him, despite him claiming that he didn't want to cut me in half, like he'd been doing. And not two weeks later, he'd fled. Ran off into the wilderness, leaving me and Charlie to fear for his life and safety.

I ground my teeth. I was angry at Edward too- for deliberately ensuring that Jacob would overhear about our engagement rather than allowing me to tell Jacob to his face and at least try to soften the blow, futile as it was. But Edward immediately took advantage of my guilt and shame, my pain for Jacob when I'd blamed myself- which was right on point, for once. He'd done this by blaming himself. Making me feel even more guilty and horrible about making him feel that way. I felt enraged.

They'd abused my trust and used my pushover nature, for their own benefit or, if Edward or Alice was to be believed, 'for your own good'. I could've sneered. I couldn't pretend I was blameless; but Jacob and Edward certainly weren't saints.

Or heroes. Not the way I'd made them out to be.

But most of all, I was angry at myself. I was angry at being so weak, so cowardly, such a pushover that I'd refused to see what was happening: that I'd led Jacob on, because I was too weak and cowardly, too ashamed of myself, yet selfish enough to fear making him upset and abandon me. Even when I thought that I would eventually abandon him. Because after I'd became a vampire, I could no longer enter Quileute territory, as per the treaty. If it hadn't been for Jacob imprinting on Nessie, I knew he wouldn't have wanted anything more to do with me- and I couldn't blame him. Not only was he raised to think of vampires as his ancient enemy, I led him on, broke his heart and stomped on it by forcing him to watch as I married and carried the child of his ancient enemy, before turning into one myself. But that wouldn't have happened; it might never have come this far if I had straight-up decided not to use him to gain information about Edward and the Cullens the first time we met. It would've never happened, if I'd made things clear that I'd only wanted to be friends with him- if I'd put boundaries between us and made sure of where we were going. Even if he didn't like it, it was better for him to abandon me- despite all the pain I was going through at that time with Edward's prior abandonment- than for him to feel as much pain as he did. While I liked him, even loved him later on, I certainly had no intention of ever choosing him. Even after I'd realised that I'd fallen for him, almost as much as Edward.

It wouldn't have gone as far as it did if I had done that. Not to allow Jacob or Edward make me feel guiltier than I already did. No matter how much pain I felt in causing him to feel that way. If I had just stood my ground, made things clear on what I wanted and planned to do and Jacob would have found it easier to move on. And I should've put my foot down and insist on telling Jacob and dealing with his issues myself instead of letting Edward- I gritted my teeth- do it for me. Like he seemed to do everything else: like my acceptance into Dartmouth- without my slightest input.

Nessie wouldn't have been miserable, nor would she have felt as caged as she did. And Jacob would have never imprinted on Nessie.

That thought appeared and slammed into me out of nowhere. I had no idea of where it had come from. I remembered that I had been craving, desperate for Jacob's presence during my stressful and painful pregnancy, but I had no idea why. And why it was so strong. It was as bad as craving those eggs I'd constantly wanted, and the blood.

But would Jacob have imprinted on Renesmee without me? I wondered. Would he have if I hadn't been- Oh God.

My stomach churned and flipped itself. I wanted to vomit.

If destiny stated that Nessie would be Jacob's soulmate...

Was- was the only reason for Jacob meeting me, befriending me, even falling in love with me only to be spurned, just so I could give birth to a daughter that he could then raise to be his wife?

No...

I sank to my knees, completely forgetting where I was, and what I was supposed to be doing; who I was supposed to be searching for. It didn't matter if Jacob claimed that Renesmee and he had nothing romantic now. It would eventually happen. The question was whether Nessie would want it when the time came. Because she certainly did not now. I felt betrayed: by my best friend for both my sake and my daughter's.

My breaths came in short sputtering gasps as I'd realised what I had done- what I had allowed.

What my weakness had allowed.

Somewhere, dimly, I recognised that it took me being a mother to realise what I had become. If it hadn't been for Renesmee... for my daughter... would I have remained as ignorant as I was back then? I had gone for months without realising what I was doing to her; that I was smothering and confining her, without any real plan as to how to introduce or let her out into the world. Renesmee lived in a gilded cage- which I had helped build, at Edward and Jacob's behest, as much as any real threat the Volturi and the humans had posed.

I swore if I got out of this I would become a better mother. I would listen to my daughter and ask what she wanted. I would prepare her but I would protect her too. I had been determined not to do as Renée did- I wanted to protect my child, to look after her the way Renée never did for me. To make sure she would stay safe for all her days. I'd listened to Edward. I'd listened to Jacob, unwilling to take any more from him than I'd already had. But at what cost? Was it right for my daughter to pay the price of what I had done? Even to him?

Was I such a fool to not see what was happening in front of my own eyes?

I didn't notice someone's presence behind me. I was too preoccupied- yet again!- with the overwhelming horror of my inner revelations that I didn't even jump when I felt delicate hands- surprisingly warm- cup my face.

My breaths barely faltered in its stuttering.

"Easy," a woman's voice murmured, sounding more like sweet music than speaking; a moonlit sonata. "These images serve as a reminder from whence we came, but sometimes... sometimes memories may be overwhelming- along with regrets."

I swallowed. I looked up.

Instantly, I sucked in a gasp. I forgot my anger, my sorrow. My regret.

Peering down in front of me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, apart from Gabrielle Delacour. More beautiful than any vampire, even Heidi and Rosalie. She had skin like moonlight, every bit as pale and bright. Her black hair gleamed and shone in a way I'd never imagine dark hair could, gently waving like the ocean under the night sky that had been illuminated by the moon. Her lustrous eyes were dark blue, soft and serene, kind and concerned, but tired, weary. They were framed with long, silky black lashes, thick and curling that gave her an air of mystery. There were no dark circles under her eyes, like ours, no creases on her lips, no visible veins, moles, freckles or blemishes, but I was stunned to see that she had a rosy hue that looked luminous on her pearl-bright cheeks.

The lady gently dropped her hands and helped me up. She sighed. "These were among the first depictions of my life," she murmured, her voice soft as a nightingale's in a breeze. She nodded towards the friezes." I had them built so that I could never forget- always remember. Otherwise... the longer you live, the easier it is to blur and then fade." She gave me a warning look. "Even the memories you cherish."

My heart- and the rest of my insides- froze.

Instinctively, I looked towards the slab, like an altar, where the statue had been, only to realise that it was missing. There was no sign that it had been there. My eyes flew back towards the lady who didn't seem to notice. My jaw dropped when I saw that she was wearing a white dress embroidered in silver at the borders. Just like the statue.

I gasped.

The Vampire Queen nodded knowingly. "Millennia I have lived," she murmured, voice still soft. "And often I sleep. The mortals claim that vampires are corpses, that we sleep in coffins. They may not be correct, but they do not claim this without reason. When you have lived for as long as many a century, you will feel a tiredness, a bone-aching weariness that cannot be relieved, even with mortal sleep. It was not for no reason that some immortals- older and more renowned than vampires- claim that death is the Gift of Mankind. For it allows you to rest. Your bones may not ache, your organs may not malfunction, your mind may work as well as always, but you will still feel the numbing, burdensome weariness of immortality. Many vampires seek turns to sleep, receiving memories upon awakening when their turn comes to awaken and the others to slumber. We cannot die, but we can seek to be as close to receiving the Gift of Men: rest. For centuries or decades, if possible." She sighed.

My jaw dropped. I was speechless.

"In my case, I often appear as stone to onlookers. But whilst I am asleep, part of my consciousness remains awake," the first female vampire, continued. "Enough to See using my gift, enough to appear in places where I once walked or have never been. I have seen so many things. I am always searching."

I found my voice. "Searching for what?" I could barely make a whisper.

"Truth." The Lady Progenitor spoke. "Threats against our safety. Lives that may yet be lost." She gave another sigh, the only thing that seemed ancient about her apart from the look in her eyes. "Families that have yet to be found." Her look grew mournful.

"I was born along what is now known as the Baltic Coast." She told me. "Perhaps in Latvia or Lithuania. But if you were to ask me precisely where my birthplace was, I do not know. I cannot tell. I have long-since forgotten." She went back, tracing my steps to where I had came.

"My mother." She pointed to the powerful sorceress. "My sisters and I." She pointed to the three girls. "My brothers." She gave a bitter smile. "If I ever had a father, all memory of him has long since faded. I cannot recall his name, his face. His presence- anything. Perhaps he had been there at one point- but I have long since forgone any ideas of searching for the most minute of traces of him. And at this point, there is no possibility as such. Nor of returning to my childhood home. Everything has been buried under earth, water and stone. Perhaps the mortal archaeologists may find something." She conceded. "If so, they will find small pieces, such as farming tools, weapons and pottery for cooking and storage, shards dug from the earth. Perhaps even skeletons of the men and women I might have known as a girl, or their family members, to be examined and preserved, their DNA scrutinised to see what relations we may have to the various Slavs and Balts of today." She shook her head gracefully.

I remembered Gabrielle telling me that this lady came from a group of people that were the ancestors to modern-day peoples living in the Baltic Coast and all the Slavic nations. That she spoke a language so ancient, it pre-dated writing. I couldn't imagine ever being so old. So ancient that I would be so tired as to seek a way to be as close to death as possible; to turn to stone. I gulped. I remembered that I was now immortal. And that while I was young at some point...

Horror filled me. Would I- would I forget my father, my mother, my grandmother, the ones I loved? In time, would I even forget where I was born? Where I lived as a child? Would some archaeologist dig up remains of my everyday life someday, like the pans I'd used for cooking, or worse: the skeletons of my father and mother? Venom rose in my throat.

"My mother was among the first to leave the original settlement populated by those the archaeologists call the Proto-Indo-Europeans." She murmured. "That was her native tongue. She left to go northwest, and there I was born. Perhaps if I had remained and lived the span of my mortal life, my children and their descendants would count themselves among the Balts, or the Slavs. Perhaps I would have numerous descendants among these nations today. At least one of my sisters did." She looked rueful. "My second sister. My brothers' children had disappeared and my eldest sister never wed."

She gave a sad, painful smile.

"I keep a watch over them, the descendants of my sister," she laughed softly, like twinkling glass and silver chimes. But there was bitterness there, and pain beyond imagining. "I do not speak to them. They do not know me. But they are plentiful and they live." She breathed a sigh, and her form seemed to relax. "For that I am grateful. I do whatever I can to prevent them from coming to harm. Perhaps... perhaps because I have missed the ones I lost." She gave me a knowing look. Her eyes pierced my soul. "As you someday will. I need not the gift of sight for that."

Ice swept through me, from my head to my toes. I sucked in a breath.

The Lady arched a delicate brow. "Did you not consider this?" she asked. "When you made the choice to forswear your human life and embrace immortality?"

My tongue felt tied. "I- I was just-" the Lady cocked her head expectantly. "I was just thinking about Edward!"

The words were blurted; rushing out of my mouth like when I'd been moving by tripping over my own two feet. Then I just realised what I'd just said. First, I grew worried, afraid she might be angry. But I noticed the look on her face was more sad and weary than anything else.

I hadn't realised just how stupid I'd sound, or how shallow and selfish, until I'd said it.

It hit me. Here I was, speaking to one of the oldest remaining people on earth, who had told me just how long she had lived for, and of her lost family and home. How much she'd missed them- every single one of them. And what it was to know that the closest she could find anything about her dead family- even the father she'd forgotten- was when some archaeologist dug up something, like cooking pots. Or the skeletons of people she might've once known. Perhaps even her family, but since she'd lived before writing, there was no way to tell.

And here I was, telling her that I didn't think one bit about my family, or my friends, or my home, of where I was born and the places I'd lived, before jumping into this.

I felt ashamed. I sounded callous.

I was even more ashamed than when Leah confronted me about Jacob and rubbing my domestic happiness in his face when he was hurting, without even thinking that I had been the one responsible. Of course, that might have been not only because I felt easily guilty and it was my fault, but also because I was too much of a coward and a pushover to withstand any confrontation without Edward- or Jacob- holding my hand and making sure the big baby was alright. And because like all cowards, I was selfish- truly too selfish to think about the price I was forcing others to pay in exchange for my personal happiness.

I wondered if this was what Edward felt; what Rosalie felt; what they were trying to excuse me from. It still didn't excuse what Edward had done- or Jacob- but it explained a lot about them. I remembered that Rosalie mentioned she had two younger brothers. What happened to them? What happened to her family- and Vera and her son Henry- after she'd disappeared and was presumed dead?

Lady Laima sighed. "It sounded amazing, didn't it? But even if you were forewarned, you have no way of comprehending the meaning of loss until long after you have lost everyone and everything you have ever known. Even the languages spoken are not the same." I flinched. "I do not recall many of the things which were familiar to me, every single day as a girl. Do you not yet realise that the memories you have had of your human life are blurred by comparison to the ones you have of your vampire existence?"

I gasped. The Lady nodded grimly. "It has only just begun." She warned. "Soon, it will fade. The longer you live, the less clear your memories of your previous existence. Even the ones you cherished."

I shook. No, it can't be! I didn't want to forget Charlie or Renée. I didn't want to forget Gran. I didn't want to forget my house, where I lived. The town where I was born. Anywhere I had been.

I swallowed. "What can I do?" My mouth and throat felt dry.

"What can you do?" Came the response. I recoiled in horror.

I tried to imagine some archaeologist digging up the remains of my house- my father's house- and his skeleton, along with those of my friends: Angela and Ben, Jessica and Mike, Erik- even Tyler Crowley, my teachers and Mrs Newton- all without shuddering.

I failed.

The Vampire Queen glided over to the pool. Instead of stepping on any of the stones, she glided seamlessly on the surface of the water. My jaw dropped. Then I realised she wasn't walking on the water, but floating on top of it. A misty light illuminated her bare feet, as luminously pale as the rest of her, and as dainty as a fawn's, as they daintily, gracefully glided on top of the mirror surface.

A stone seat, like a throne had appeared in the place of the stone slab. I inhaled sharply. I didn't even realise it had been replaced. Torches sprang to life on both sides behind it.

I didn't know what to think. My mind had crashed to a standstill.

"But you did not come seeking an audience to discuss your regrets over choosing immortality."

"I don't regret it," came the immediate denial. It was instinct, just as my big mouth opening to defend Edward was. I couldn't even stop it.

The Lady raised an eyebrow and I wondered, like Maggie, if she could tell I was lying. If all vampires on earth contained a portion of her genes in their DNA, and they were more powerful the closer they were to being turned directly by her or her husband, I suspected that telling the difference between a lie or truth, was easier for her than blinking. I was an idiot; Alice had said I was a bad liar anyway, and I had no reason not to believe her.

I didn't even believe myself.

The Lady looked sceptical. she gestured to a bench in front of her. "Please sit."

Slowly, gingerly, I walked on top of the stone blocks to sit in front.

"You are not a very good liar," the lady said flatly, observing me.

I would've blushed if I was still human. Less than a year ago... it seemed to be for years, and yet it was in no time at all.

I was still a newborn.

Slowly, I took the seat.

"Do you intend to lie in front of the court? Even if the Truthsayer may tell the difference, I should warn you if you do, even on instinct, you may cast your reputability and trustworthiness into doubt, Truthsayer or no." Lady Laima said dryly.

I winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

The Lady held up a hand. "It's quite alright. It has become natural instinct for you, I see. To defend your husband."

Her eyes changed colour. I nearly gasped when they glowed a rich, burnished gold, not like Selene's blue or even any of the Cullens' shades. Her eyes were richer and brighter.

And then they went back to normal. "Eleven months?" She arched an eyebrow. "Thirteen, if you count the time period since you first saw him, until your wedding day."

Embarrassment surged through me. God, do I never think before I act?

"I was under the impression that mortals tended to... wait and see for themselves, before deciding to enter into marriage." She remarked. "Time was certainly a luxury many could not afford when I was born, any more than choice. If the one who had sought my hand had not been a skilled warrior and the son of a wealthy and powerful lord- and immortal at that- and a skilled sorceress, my mother and the rest of my family would have never permitted me to wed him." She blinked. "These days, you may choose whom you wish to marry, regardless of your parents' preferences. And as soon as a young girl started bleeding, she would be considered eligible for marriage." She scoffed. "If only they knew."

I couldn't help the appalled look on my own face when she said it.

"It's true. Many a young girl died as miserable young wives, in childbirth or burying the immature offspring that they were forced to bear. Even with my years, Sight and knowledge, there have been too many to count. Things have improved for future generations now, at least. Yet you not only defied your father," she tilted her head to the side, studying me with her dark blue eyes "in your choice of husband, but you jumped into marriage and immortality."

I flinched.

"Why?"

My head snapped up at the question. "I love him!"

Lady Laima shrugged. "I loved my husband. I love him still. I've loved him for thousands and thousands of years. More than you can imagine." She had a rueful smile. "We are the longest-married couple on earth." I agreed with that statement. "I've loved him even though I see him every two centuries." She sighed. "One above, two below. This is the Chain." She looked mournful. "And yet the Chain has not merely tested our love, but made it stronger. I know never to take him for granted. So does he. We cherish the time we have together. Yet we also savour the time apart, including in rest."

I blinked at that fact. "For our kind, a year-long separation is no different from mortal couples venturing separately for the weekend." Lady Laima admitted. "Our separation may be longer than that, but it does not negate the fact that instead of splintering and pushing us apart, it has brought us closer together. Especially when we are together. We can come together and be apart, not because we are obliged to do so as a wedded couple, but because of our connection, in our hearts and souls. Time together can be as freely given as time for oneself, which is incredibly important for reflection, awareness and growth of oneself."

I was stunned. "I never thought of it that way." I admitted.

"Do you feel it is of great importance for a wedded couple- or one that is promised in marriage- to spend as close to every waking moment with each other?" A hint of incredulity tinged her voice.

Lady Laima saw my look and shook her head. "You are young. You are also newly-wed. The mortals now call this the 'honeymoon phase', that period of bliss where one cannot believe one is bound to such a wondrous person, and you cannot get enough of one another. All your dreams appear to have either came true, or will soon come true." She sighed. "Unfortunately, fairytales and romantic literature by Byron, Shakespeare, the Brontë sisters and who knows who else..." she shook her head. "Few of them are grounded in reality."

I winced when she said that. It sounded like a lesson I should've learned in high school. But it wasn't Shakespeare's fault. Or Emily Brontë. On second thought, I remembered that Heathcliff and Cathy were not a good example of a happy, functional relationship. Nor the Romeo-Juliet-and-Paris/Rosaline situation. They might have been better off, but how old did Shakespeare say that Juliet was again? Oh yeah, not even fourteen.

As if I couldn't feel anymore stupid than I already did.

Was Jacob Heathcliff? I wondered. He might have been one at some point, with Renesmee.

"Our separations makes us cherish one another more. And with two people who may not necessarily agree on everything, and need to retain a sense of their own individuality and free will... well, vampires are not the only immortals to do this. The few immortal races that I knew of also spoke of couples who spend years, if not decades apart. Even a century. It does not make them unhappy with each other, nor unhappily married. But strangely enough it brings them closer." She remarked.

"Do you think it will for us?" I blurted.

Lady Laima shrugged. "Perhaps. If your love is genuine. But that is not why you are here today. You wish for, if not clemency, some form of leniency for your husband."

I swallowed.

I considered my options: I knew it was futile, but it was worth a try. I'd come this far. I may have been a fool- in all likelihood, I was still one. But I refused to be an even bigger one than I already was by backing out when I'd gone as far as I had at that moment.

"Yes." I whispered. My voice was hoarse for a vampire, but I didn't care. "Please. I... I don't want him to die. None of us do."

She regarded me in silence.

I tried again: "We have a daughter- I don't know how much you know-"

"I know about your daughter." She stated calmly.

I was unnerved by the fact that she didn't even seem to bat an eyelash when mentioning my hybrid- Dhampir- daughter. Were they normal here?

"Then please..." I was ready to get down on my hands and knees, to beg for mercy. For Edward.

Lady Laima sighed. "The trial has not been concluded. In fact, it hasn't even started." She said, wryly.

I winced. Evidently, I'd failed in trying not to seem stupid.

"I suppose it would be cruel to forcibly separate your child from her father." She stood, as graceful and regal as a queen, and strode over to one of the torches. Her hand passed over the flames. "But only if you believe- truly believe- she would be much better- happier and better off with her father at home."

I cringed. Even though her back was turned, I suspected she knew that I did.

"I don't need to see your face to know that you know that it would be a lie. And that it would be futile to lie to me." Lady Laima remarked. She twisted her hand above the flames. To my amazement, the flames wrapped themselves around her hand, caressing it gently before going back to its place.

Unwittingly, I remembered Benjamin- one of the few vampires of my species whose power was not purely mental but physical. Benjamin who, along with the other witnesses and the Denalis, was probably here right now. My insides burned in shame. Benjamin, as Edward put it, had a strong sense of right and wrong. And now he knew that despite our vegetarian lifestyle, we were selfish and stupid. He and just about every vampire on earth had been put in danger because we'd pretty much broken an ancient treaty that would've caused a curse to fall on all of us or kick-started a conflict with wizard-kind, even if we didn't know about them. That and that we had accidentally caused the deaths of a two-year-old girl and her father, due to our stupidity, mine and Edward's.

Most vampires would never even go that far. Some may have created Immortal Children I doubt that Benjamin would approve.

We'd asked him to stay and support us during our confrontation with the Volturi. He'd stayed, even when Amun and Kebi had left, along with Tia his mate; ready to fight, and if necessary to die to protect us, particularly our daughter. I didn't look forwards to looking at him in the eye if he was going to be there during the trials- or worse, after we had all testified and all the witnesses were allowed to speak to each other. It was the same for everyone else who had come to testify on our behalf.

I fought back a wince. "Please." I whispered.

Lady Laima was still, for a long moment. I feared that she might turn back into a statue without giving me an answer. Finally, she sighed.

The world's first female vampire slowly turned and walked towards me. Her eyes were dark blue but the intensity within them pierced into my soul.

"What would you do?" She finally asked, slow and emotionless. "For the ones you love?"

I took a deep breath. She already knew the answer:

"Anything." I croaked. And somehow, despite not promising or receiving anything, I felt like I'd just crossed a line that I couldn't go back from.

I chose to have this in Bella's POV, but I won't do it for Edward's trial. Like I said, while she had many pivotal moments, including this one, whilst narrating and looking back (which was the point of her whole first-person POV) which she can do with vampire memory and clarity, Bella tends to desensitize and gloss over certain events, particularly the ones that bring her pain. She's not a reliable narrator. And this isn't a mere painful moment for her, like last chapter and the ones before: this is when she stops merely hating and blaming herself and starts feeling angry. Not just at herself, but at Edward, Jacob and Renée.

Before that it was easier to blame herself- as she always did, before even meeting Edward, for her own shortcomings. It was far more difficult to blame Jacob, due to her own guilt over leading him on only to screw him over, and even more so for Edward, whom she looked up to and put on a pedestal higher than everyone else, seeing him as flawless and 'perfect' (her own words). She is also angry at Renée, not just because of the way she was treated and emotionally neglected, but because she had been so unable to even be angry with her in the past, despite Renée failing her as a mother, because she seemed so sweet, happy, innocent and helpless- like a child. That and, despite treating her like a servant, she genuinely loved Bella.

It's not that she can't hold grudges: she doesn't think she has much of a right to be angry, since she thinks so poorly of herself. So, she keeps things bottled and locked up inside of her and throws away the key. Pity, this earth-shaking chain of events broke the damned safe.

Charlie is the same: that's why he lets her marry whomever and whenever she wishes and return back to his house after treating him like s***- even allowing Edward under his roof. After all, especially knowing Charlie's inability to eloquently communicate and earn his then-semi-estranged daughter's respect due to his own codependency and early marriage issues, he doesn't have much of a moral high ground to lecture her from. Not to mention, he totally allowed his hatred of Edward to blind him to the fact that Jacob assaulted Bella by forcing that kiss. As a cop and a father, Charlie should've clapped him in handcuffs. Bella knows this but she forgives him deep down, because in the end, he did try to warn her, even if he made mistakes. She just chose not to listen. That's why she's not angry at him.