-summary-It was 1543 It was then that the youngest of the noble household spent long hours in a secret meadow. It was there that he saw her – the most terrible and perfect figure of temptation he'd ever laid eyes on. Her name was Isabella. (AU) (BxE)
-note-Yes, the title comes from the song by The Hush Sound- "We Intertwined" – because that song popped into my head when I was trying to come up with a plot in my head. I didn't want to write a one-shot, and I didn't want to try to continue off of New Moon, seeing as Eclipse is coming out in about two weeks, so I wanted to write an alternate universe story. Although… The way my brain is planning this out, it may not turn out to be so alternate universe as I had expected.
-note-THE ONLY CHARACTERS WHO ARE EXACT REPLICAS OF TWILIGHT AND NEW MOON ARE EDWARD AND BELLA. All other characters, for the sake of reality, are simply other characters and are in no way meant to mirror characters from Stephenie Meyer's imagination.It seems weird, I know, but there is a reason for all the insanity involved there and as the story progresses you will see it too.
The head table was heavy laden with the feast. All throughout the main hall, my father's subjects struggled to stuff as much of the available food into their mouths. They did this at every festival when they were invited to dine with my family; as if they were not supplied with plenty of nourishment at other times of the year.
It pleased everyone, though, so I watched, as the people never changed from season to season, and when the dancing began, I slipped off into the shadows to escape the uselessness of the festivities. Sitting behind the musicians I was never seen, and there I could watch them.
There was my sister, as she eagerly accepted the hand of the man that my father had invited for the spring season. He was asking her to dance. They shared a secret smile – they weren't as foreign to each other as my father had believed they would remain.
Seeing their intentions so plainly displayed surprised me. Diana (for that was my sister's name) hadn't told me anything of the two of them – that they'd had secret correspondence or else that my father had made arrangements for the man to court her – but she knew that I would be watching. I always watched during the dances.
And with everyone there I could tell what they had on their mind: if they liked their partner or not; whether this dance suited their enjoyments.
Diana knew this. We two had never been allowed to play with the children in the manor our age, and in turn we spent all of our time together. She knew everything about me, and she would tell me everything. This wouldn't be the first time she had a secret man loping about, but if I was not mistaken, it would most certainly be the first time she had hidden in from me.
Soon I became disinterested and irked, and allowed the dimly lit room and the din of celebration to quiet in my mind, and I listened to the music.
It was not beautiful by any means. It was performed by four peasants with their old, out of tune instruments – two violins, a flute, and a battered, small piano – but listening to them was about as intriguing as my evening was going to become. The only one with any talent was the pianist, and while I personally had never been given the chance to learn any music, I could tell by the way his hands effortlessly moved across the keys, making the noise it was creating somehow blend into music.
I would have loved to learn the piano, but my father didn't find it useful. So, like with everything else, I just watched.
"Edward," the voice was a quiet soprano, and I immediately recognized it as Leo. He was not related to me, but, for intentions completely selfish, my father had taken him in as a servant boy when his parents, loyal workers to his household, had died. He now worked in the kitchen, stirring the fire and the stew or running errands for the kitchen help. Leo could be called about whenever people accused of him being unjust or uncaring.
Do not accuse me of being unjust, he would say, there are many, like young Leo here, who are much more unfortunate than you.
"Yes, Leo," I responded, after a moment of thought, "is there something the matter?"
He made a face at me, knowing that I wasn't paying attention, "I have nothing left to do."
I turned to him, finally, seeing him squatting on the floor next to wear I sat. His eyes told me the whole story, but I feigned ignorance. "Are you tired?"
"No," he said carefully.
"Did you want to dance with everyone else?"
His response was, once again, a confused, "No."
I leaned closer to him, as if I were asking him a secret question, with a little smile, though both of us knew that it was most certainly not a secret. "Was there someone you wanted to go see?"
Relieved, his eyes opened wider than they had been, and he nodded vigorously.
"Then go," I urged, pushing him away from me, "I'll take care of the cooks. They'll listen to me."
He seemed hesitant, even with my promise of saving him from a beating, but it only took one more little nudge before he got up on his feet and ran quietly and swiftly, getting away through one of the back doors.
Somehow this made me quite unhappy. Depression had seized my idle mind eagerly, allowing the actions of a young boy to cause me discontent. Even as a servant who worked nearly all of his waking hours for the bare minimum of food and a place to lie his head, he still found time to befriend and to visit someone outside of the house. And I envied that.
Standing up to go towards the kitchens, my father noticed me immediately. Having not seen me since dinner, he immediately called me over. If he had been a feeble man, I could have blamed not hearing him on the constant noise throughout the hall, but when my father wanted to be heard, he was heard.
"Edward, my boy!" he announced, still at his seat at the head table, a large goblet of wine dangling from his left hand, a chicken leg on his right. His big cheeks held a rosy hue from the excitement and the drink; he always looked more comfortable when he had a party to attend to. If I could have escaped it, I would have walked more quickly, but he knew I had heard him.
I approached him and stood beside his chair.
"What is it, Father?" I asked him cordially. He had interrupted my plans to leave, and thus I was partially angered at him.
"Do you know anything about my daughter and Sir Caliegh?" His question was straight and to the point, attacking me about the romance I, myself, hadn't noticed until earlier this evening.
Grimacing just slightly, I chose my words carefully. My father probably knew nothing - he was drunk anyway – but if he did know something, it would be unwise of me to simulate an unknowing gesture.
"No, sir, I do not," I responded, "I did not even realize they were familiar with each other until just this evening."
He leaned forward, squinting at the many people squished together on the dance floor, including Diana.
Leaning back again, he glanced at me sideways. "Do you know anything about him?"
"No idea, perhaps, as to why I invited him to stay with us this spring season and to celebrate with us tonight?"
I thought for a moment and it all made sense. He had planned this all himself. He had wanted the young man to fall for Diana, and he had succeeded, making them think that their romance was something taboo and exciting, giving them reason to fall for each other even more.
"No sir," was all I could say.
If he knew I had figured it out, he would be furious, even though he had asked. Now he laughed merrily, downing the rest of his cup quickly and throwing away the bone from his chicken to the dogs nearby.
"Go where you're going, boy!" he shouted, still laughing heartily, "Don't let a miserable old fool like myself stop you! Have a little fun tonight!"
With this sudden push from him, I could do nothing but walk away in wonder, anger, confusion, but most of all a sudden existential burst of apathy. I no longer was someone who Diana confided in about everything, and now she and her current lover were walking right into a trap that our father had set for her. Even though she seemed quite fond of him, this disgusted me immensely.
I was walking out of the hall without knowing where I was going. The corridors were dark and before I knew where I had even made it on automatic reflexes, my head was hitting the pillow in my bedchambers and sleep consumed me.