a/n: no copyright infringement intended, all recognisable characters belong to S. Meyer.

IMPORTANT: I am posting two chapters at the same time, but the Epilogue (chapter 18) is meant to be read BEFORE the EPOV outtake

Of Patience and Virtue
Edward's Point of View

Set after chapter 17, but before the Epilogue.
As the outtake opens, we pick up Edward and Bella's relationship as it is at the end of chapter 17
They are very good friends with potentially undisclosed romantic feelings for one another
They are not outwardly in a romantic relationship

.

Heavens, she is beautiful.

Perhaps Edward should be capable of other thoughts watching the coronation of Queen Isabella, but logic fails him.

Eliza stirs in his arms but thankfully only smacks her lips in her sleep before calming again. He feels full. Unable to fully focus on anyone or anything that is not either Bella or Eliza.

The proceedings have been going on for over an hour, but Edward doesn't much mind. He had to go through his own coronation not two days prior and the day after was spent travelling with the family and several contingencies of security to Mongrovia. Not to mention that sleep is hard to come by with a fussing infant in the apartment. A few hours without anyone speaking to him is a blessing.

Edward is on Mongrovia. Mongrovia. And no one is screaming at him, no one is cowering, no one is attempting to attack him, but all stare in intrigue, wanting to see the babe in his arms. Wanting to see the King of Xepherya holding his daughter, the Princess of Olympia. Because that is her true title – Crown Princess Eliza Renée of Olympia. Of the planet our two moons revolve around.

The faces are different here, warmer skin-tones, hues of olive and ebony rather than peach and alabaster. Edward quite likes it. Less pink. Bella warned him that he would feel a difference in the atmosphere, that the lower humidity might take some getting used to, but other than a scratchy throat he seems to be fairing rather well. Perhaps it is true what they say about men who have had all their dreams realised. The little things fall away. Become easy to shrug off.

Bella stands in the middle of a circular aqueduct, tall stone structures on either side as her as four priests anoint her in salt-water, reciting old texts from the early explorers, calling to Gods that are familiar to Edward also. She is wearing a warrior's uniform, hugging trousers and a synthetic short-sleeved armour reminiscent of the suits the early explorers would have worn when first coming to Mongrovia. With black soot on her face and her hair wet from the saltwater she looks positively frightening, frightening in her beauty, frightening in her strength. He is in awe. There is no other word for it.

Edward stands with the Mongorvian people as they watch, large screens surrounding the crowd all the way back to a square that signifies the middle of the capitol. An open-aired feast is planned, food to feed the masses, a lot of which was brought with them from Xepherya. The tone is so different from his own coronation; this seems more of a people's celebration, whereas his own felt old, stuffy. Done in closed halls and presented to the people as an afterthought. Maybe the sunnier weather make people more open here.

Emmett and Rosalie are with him on one side, Jasper, his sister's husband, on the other. All around him are security, but he doesn't feel singled out. He feels the absence of Amun and Kebi, having spent so much time around them in the past year, but Amun chose to spend time with his family and take some very deserved leave. After what happened to his sister Edward does not blame him. Thankfully it appears Amun can be spared. There had been a few scuffles, but it had always been people wanting to get too close, not from those with evil intent. Although the Mongrovian rebel group is still active, there have been no sign of them. Edward smiles when he remembers the look on his sister Alice's face when she realised she would be unable to come with them to Mongrovia, but as the third in line to the throne it was too big of a security risk to have every member of the royal family present. So Jasper was sent as her representative. Under strict instructions to document everything.

It is with relief that Edward now looks at Lady Hale. Rosalie. His gratitude for that woman knows no limits. He is almost positive that without Rosalie there would have been no pulling Bella out of her depression. And to think, this was the woman who his own father treated so abhorrently. Being told that he would have to produce a royal heir with Bella, his wife who was free to say no, was one thing, but the thought of watching Rosalie carry his child because she was forced? He can hardly bear the thought. It matters little if the pregnancy would have been through medical intervention, Rosalie deserves better. Tanya deserves better. But his father is a fixer. Find a problem, fix it. Considerations for those involved are unnecessary.

Tanya…Tan… Her name causes a twinge in his stomach, not of longing, but of nostalgia. Had life been different, she would have been his wife. He would have been happy to be her husband. Tanya will always remain one of the most intelligent women he has ever had the pleasure of meeting, a woman of strength and joy. Someone who could lighten Edward's ingrained need for duty. Since that fateful day in the apartment, he had only seen her once. Across the room as she sat with the other nobles at his coronation. Part of Edward would always be ashamed for how things had turned out. For how he broke his promises to Tanya and how he was too much of a coward to deal with it as soon as he realised that he could never be unfaithful to Bella. Instead he left her no option but to reach out. If he had only contacted Tanya as soon as she came back…so much could have been avoided. Would the rebels have attempted to kidnap Bella if they didn't have the excuse of the drama with Tanya?

Still, he felt no resentment when he saw her at his coronation. So much of what was said that night was said in anger, in betrayal, and he knows she meant only a fraction. He also didn't mean everything he said. He hopes one day she will find someone that loves her unconditionally. Someone that makes promises and keeps them. Someone who doesn't need a child.

Edward meant what he said. He never once judged Tanya for being unable to have children, but with his station, no matter how much he wished he could tell her that it didn't matter, the royal line had to be continued. Perhaps it was not smart, but his relationship with Tanya had never been about that. It had been about abandon, about joy, about passion and genuine happiness. Letting that go had been difficult. Impossible. And so he made promises…

He cannot regret it. Every little thing, every minute action and fault brought him here. Even if changing the smallest detail endangered his current present…he would not. Eliza. His daughter. The Lords back home can grumble all they like, but Eliza will be the first Queen of Xepherya and she will take after her mother. How can Edward be married to Bella and ever doubt that a woman is fit to rule?

Bella… Queen Isabella. She has forever altered his life, in ways he could not first imagine.

He had always respected her, long before she came to Xepherya. His spies were well familiar with the Mongrovian royal who refused to stay hidden. In almost every update she was mentioned, how she helped a soup kitchen, how she argued for the rights of the poor, how every single time Edward's father released the harshest vitriol Edward could ever imagine there would be an announcement from Bella not a day later proving Edward's father wrong. She was a true Princess of her people, and only Bella could have convinced him to enter an arranged marriage.

So imagine Edward's horror when this strong, passionate woman he had only seen on screens came to Xepherya and within days wilted like a fading flower. Even the day of their wedding Edward knew something was…off. At first he thought perhaps it was judgement on her part of Xepherya, of his people, but it didn't take long to see the fear in her face. The hesitance. He could barely stand it. Desperate to get back the woman he had imagined in his head, but having no idea how to do so. What else could he do but to try to make her as comfortable as possible? He couldn't stand the idea of her living the rest of her days this shell, not after he knew there was so much more to her. In those early weeks…every night she came to his bedroom Edward would have to close his eyes and try to picture the woman he had only seen through spy-reports. Because the woman in front of him? He couldn't help but feel like he was taking advantage of her. He felt sickened with himself. And with Tanya lurking in the back of his mind…he had hated it. Dreaded every night. For weeks he had debated whether artificial insemination would have been the better option, but how could he possibly suggest it without sounding like he was rejecting her? Not to mention that if the media ever got wind of it there would be hell to pay.

The day he found out Bella was pregnant was, up until that point, the most terrifying day of his life. He was consumed by it, hardly able to let her out of his sight from that moment onward. She was not well enough to handle a pregnancy. She didn't get bigger, but thinner, lost colour, hardly spoke above a whisper. She was an excuse of a person, a ghost that could at any moment disappear with a too strong gust of wind. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, one wrong turn and she could lose the baby or lose herself, and despite Carlisle's insistence that he was doing all he could Edward felt frantic with worry. He had never felt so powerless in his life.

And then, salvation came in the form of his ditsy little sister. It had been her hint to push for Edward's long-forgotten idea of getting new royal jewellery made, a task that had fallen to the wayside with everything else going on. But Alice had reminded him, in her usual, overly childish way, that women like gifts. Find your common ground, she had whispered in his ear before she bounced off, once again pretending to be none the wiser.

For the first time since he had seen Bella in person, there was light in her eyes. The transformation was that of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. For the first time in months, Edward could take breath. And she just grew, became the force Edward knew she could be. The day she suggested to set up the Rosalie Hale foundation…Edward knew he was in love with her. Her potential realised, there was no possibility of turning away.

And yet he had promised Tanya that they would be together, pleaded with her to wait for him, until things calmed down. And with Bella herself, Edward could only dare hope that at one point they could grow to be friends, that Bella would one day look at him and feel reassured.

He has never dared hoped for anything else. And after her depression…Edward can hardly wish for anything else. She has come such a long way.

Edward might always love Bella, but he knows she will most likely never love him back. He is not greedy. Perhaps this is the universe balancing the scales for how he treated Tanya. Even the truth about the Sickness could never change how Edward feels about Bella. He was shocked, in the moment, but Bella is no more responsible for the Sickness than Eliza is. And without Bella's efforts, perhaps the truth would never have come to light. Edward knows this now. That day…he still has nightmares about it, months later. The moment he saw Kebi's dead body and Rosalie unconscious he knew Bella would never have left by her own accord. And then, Bella in the arms of that monster, a gun to her stomach, blood…so much blood.

Perhaps it is a good thing Jacob Black was killed. Edward doubts he would have been able to stop himself from personally torturing him to death after what he did. And despite Bella's assurances that she no longer cared for the boy, at one point she had. Edward slaughtering him would not have been right to Bella. Knowing that he is already dead also helps to curb Edward's internal jealousy, knowing that murderer got more affection from Bella than Edward ever will.

None of it matters now. The two women in his life are healthy. Bella and Edward have a child, they have a royal heir, and they are both the independent rulers of their moons.

"All hail Queen Isabella!" The crowd cheers in response, the noise so loud Edward has to rock Eliza in his arms as she wakes.

"Here, let me take her. I'll take her back to the palace." Emmett's hands are surprisingly gentle as he takes the child from Edward's arms, the goofy smile on his face enough to make Edward laugh. He has come to really appreciate Emmett. Bella's brother. And here Edward thought nothing would surprise him anymore. "You and Bells just get through today, I've had enough of watching people fawn all over the Queen already."

"You know, some people would consider such a statement treason." Edward almost manages to keep the smile off his face. Almost.

"Good thing you're not such people, eh?"

There are few people Edward will trust with the safety of his daughter, but Emmett is one of them. With Rosalie with them and a dozen guards Edward knows logically that he needs to allow it. Still, letting go is hard, but Bella and Edward still have hours to get through before there will be any semblance of calm. Eliza needs her sleep.

Regretfully Edward watches as Emmett and Rosalie disappear through the crowd with Eliza. Edward hopes Bella's prediction about the growing feelings between Emmett and Rosalie is correct. They deserve one another.

Bella walks through the crowd, her head held high as she catches peoples' eye, touching their hands as she passes, smiling and even stopping to hug those she knows.

"They adore her." Jasper's voice is clear against the din of thousands of people shuffling, a statement of fact.

"Yes."

"She has the potential to be a truly extraordinary Queen. Adored by all, loved by some?" Jasper glances at Edward out of the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to Bella, the woman in question who just at that moment looks over and smiles at Edward, her eyes dancing.

"She has many who care for her." Edward can't help but smile back, his heart doing an odd flip when he sees that she is directing her steps in his direction. He is so caught by this warrior woman coming toward him that he does not notice Jasper stepping back, does not notice that the crowd is bowing, leaving only Edward and Bella standing at their full height. When she is only a few feet away she reaches for him, most likely intending to take his arm to walk to the feast, but Edward cannot help himself. This had been planned for later on, just as Bella had to do the same to Edward during his coronation on Xepherya, but Edward cannot think of a better time.

As soon as her hand touches his Edward gets down on one knee, bowing to his Queen, his wife, and kisses the back of her hand. When he looks up Bella is almost crying, but the crinkling around her mouth and eyes tell Edward they are happy tears.

"My Queen."

"Edward." She mouths his name, not able to call him by his first name too loudly to allow for protocol.

As Edward stands, they link arms and are together escorted toward the town square. The feast is already underway, the streets a sea of people with vendors and merchants adding to the bustle.

"Eliza?" Bella asks.

"With Emmett. The cheering woke her."

"How did I do?" Bella murmurs the words as they walk, still outwardly intent on the people around her.

"Beautifully. I do fear you've outdone me." Water is still dripping from her hair, the ceremonial soot on her face creating streaks down her shoulders and collarbones.

Bella's only reply is to stick her tongue out at Edward, causing a bark of a laugh to escape him. It is so rare that she is playful he cherishes every moment of it.

With slow steps they finally reach the front of the square where Bella's father is waiting, a pensive expression on his face. Edward has met King Charles previously, during the peace signing but also earlier that day, but no matter the warm feelings Edward holds for his two children, he still struggles to accept King Charles. Most likely in the same way Bella never quite feels comfortable around Edward's father.

With a straight back, King Charles bows, his eyes intent on his daughter. Bella releases Edward's hand and embraces her father, the two of them speaking in hushed whispers. It warms Edward's heart when Bella retakes Edward's arm once she releases her father.

"King Anthony."

"King Charles." It is the only greeting the two men are capable of. Edward still hasn't gotten used to his new title, a new royal name to differentiate between himself and his father.

Unlike their wedding feast, Bella and Edward spend the next few hours talking. Bella explains every food that passes their plates, a non-stop commentary on who would have made it, why it tastes differently than on Xepherya, occasionally adding in stories on how she would find a particular ingredient when raiding the kitchens as a child. Edward feels a bit like a love-sick puppy, unable to take his eyes off Bella for long. She is back to the weight Edward assumes she was before coming to Xepherya, the only difference a rounding of her hips and a more pronounced curve to her breasts. He tries not to stare. Tries to make sure he isn't caught staring. He should simply be happy that with Carlisle's help Bella is healthy and has no adverse effects from the attack. He should not be lusting after her. That is not what friends should do. All their intimate interactions were forced. Thinking about her in that way makes Edward feel like he's back to forcing her into something she does not want.

Her hair has dried, curlier than normal from the salt. He wants to pull his fingers through it. Wants to wipe away the smudge just under one of her eyebrows that is dangerously close to getting in her eye. He wants to be able to touch her not when she is needing comfort, but just because he can. Because every second is a struggle not to.

More than I could ever have hoped for, he tells himself. I already have more than I could've ever hoped for.

The feast is winding down and a servant eventually signals to Bella that it is time for her speech. She rises, her face appearing on all the large screens around the square as they are live broadcasted across all of Mongrovia as well as Xepherya. Her royal crown, more elaborate than anything else she has ever worn, glitters in the sun.

"It is good to be home." Bella takes a few moments to pause, smiling as she looks out at the people watching her. Some people cheer, a few cat-call. There is a comfort toward the royals here that doesn't exist on Xepherya. Or is it a comfort for Bella?

"Today, of all days, I am indebted to you, the people of Mongrovia. My title as your Queen may have been given to me by birth-right, but it not something I take for granted. As a Queen, I am yours. Yours to defend, yours to fight, yours to advocate. I am honoured to stand here, fervent in my wish to always be as approachable now as I was as your Princess.

"I urge all of you to heed my father's words from his abdication speech. Progress is only possible through forward motion. We can only grow if we accept the past and actively work to curb our inner darkness. King Charles, my father, and King Edward, my husband's father, have abdicated on the urging of myself and my husband. They have abdicated to give way for a truth-commission that intends to address the many injustices and war-crimes committed across the century. We need to move past blame and encourage the sharing of information, so no son is ever lost, no daughter disappeared, no victim's tale untold. There is not a family alive, on Mongrovia or Xepherya, that has not been affected and I pray our sons and daughters will only know our pain through the pages of scripture."

Edward has never fully appreciated it before, but Bella is an incredible public speaker.

There is something, that same thing that drew him to her even across holo-screens far before he met her in person, that transcends. Something about the way she speaks…there's passion there. Restrained. Every word almost threatening to burst through with underlying fervour. Every person in that square getting the impression she is speaking to them personally, because ultimately, she is. Edward knows this.

Her strength amazes him every day. He might be biased, but he cannot find it in him to control it.

"We need to have patience. We need to trust that time uncovers truth and that some wounds are still too fresh to be forgiven. We are allowed to be angry, allowed to cast blame and demand justice. You will get it. I swear this to you. But the only way we will get it in such a way that finally closes this horrific chapter in our people's history is if we work together with the Xepheryans and do so through the channels of cooperation, of peace and diplomacy. To the resistance group Dignity, as your Queen, I invite you to dialogue. I invite you to diplomatically open your hearts and allow me to begin the process of listening. This is a time for unity, not for division.

"Today we celebrate. To the future, my friends, and to the united people of Olympia. May our ancestors finally look down on us with pride, knowing we are fulfilling what they first hoped to accomplish by exploring the skies. I urge you all to enjoy this day and embrace the festivities. Tomorrow the real work begins, but for tonight, let us all be merry."

The applause feels like a warm embrace, and music erupts from all over, some street musicians, other official music from speakers, and the crowd is loud and happy.

When Edward rises, taking Bella's hand, she suddenly leans forward, whispering in his ear.

"Come on, Harry will cover for us. Just follow my lead."

Bella pays no attention to Edward's quizzical look and somehow manages to duck back, her hand warm in his, as she weaves her way through security, giving an older guard a nod that he returns with a smirk.

"Fifteen?"

"Make it half an hour, Harry, I believe in you."

"Your Highness."

Bella takes a sharp turn and drags Edward behind a corner, down a very narrow alleyway that does not appear to be used by pedestrians. There isn't even any pavement, only odd trampled flowerbeds and dirt. It's hardly even the width of a person, yet she is skidding across the rough surface, her steps sure.

"The alleys are built for flood control, so when we get hit with rougher weather the water has somewhere to seep into the earth." She says this casually, as if Edward had asked. "But they also double as excellent escape-routes for bored nobles."

"Where are you taking us?" Bella glances back at Edward's comment, her smile positively mischievous.

"You'll see. You're on my planet now. I call the shots here, did you not hear? I'm Queen, supposedly."

"Is it safe?" It is with growing alarm that Edward realises that none of their security have followed them, and with the rebels still active for the two of them to run off seems foolish.

"I've run through these alleys since I was first able to walk." But then Bella reaches for her belt with her free hand, still propelling Edward forward. "However, I have no intention of making an orphan out of our daughter."

Looking down, Edward sees that concealed at Bella's waist is a laser weapon, which calms Edward more than it should.

Several times, Bella stops abruptly, pressing herself and Edward against walls to hide their faces as people walk past, avoiding the main streets and slinking through the same narrow passages. The city is so mismatched, seemingly random in construction, like there has been no planning at all, and yet, Bella seems perfectly aware of her surroundings. He can't deny her, not when she looks at him with that childlike happiness.

After five minutes and after miraculously not having been spotted, they reach a set of ladders which Bella climbs. Edward has no option but to follow, ignoring how the material stretches over her behind as she does so. Trousers on women are really starting to grow on him.

When he reaches the end of the ladders, Edward is practically winded, having darted across half the city. He has to rest his hands on his knees to collect himself, wondering what has happened to his fitness levels. When he straightens out, he realises that they are on a deserted rooftop, the Mongrovian capital stretching out all around them.

Bella stands with her back to him, looking over her hometown, her hands on her hips as she angles her face to the clear blue sky, her complexion almost drinking in the light.

Magnificent.

If he does not check himself he is dangerously close to saying all the things he has no right to say. Telling her how ardently he is in love with her will simply not do. So he is quiet, ignoring the lump of longing in his throat.

"I wanted to show you this. Show you were I come from." Bella turns, stretching her hand in Edward's direction. Like moth to flame, Edward is powerless to refute her request, closing the distance between them and taking her hand, following her gaze to where she is looking. The bustle from the celebrations is a murmured backdrop against the scenery.

"That over there is the square, and see that big structure there? That's the old palace. It's a memorial now, bombs got it twenty years ago. They thought leaving the ruin would be fitting." Bella's words are soft, and Edward doubts she means to drag up anything truly heavy. But he understands where she comes from. The war is so obvious here, more than it is on Xepherya, it would have been odd not to mention.

"And that over there is the royal park, it sits just at the sea. See the pier? Mom used to take me there walking when I was really young."

Edward squeezes Bella's hand, in reassurance or in apology he does not know. Maybe both. Edward had not been able to look his father in the eye for two months when he found out, as an adult, that King Edward had personally ordered a hit on King Charles' wife and daughter. It had not been an act of war, it had been a deliberate personal attack in the hopes of throwing King Charles off his game, attacking an innocent woman and child. Edward shudders, wondering what would have happened if the drone-strike had been successful in killing Bella as well.

"My mom's painting…it was your doing, was it not?"

Her words are gentle and Edward feels Bella's eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn't dare look at her.

"Yes. One of my art contacts heard rumours of the painting some years back. When it was decided that you were to arrive on Xepherya…I decided to find it."

"Edward, look at me."

With his heart racing, Edward complies, gazing down at Bella that is looking at him sadly.

"Thank you. You have no idea…I cannot possibly put into words how much that painting means to me." She smiles, turning her body to face him as she places her free hand on his chest, smoothening out a lapel. Her eyes are firmly fixed on his chest, but as the seconds stretch, Edward realises she is waiting for him to say something.

"You are welcome. I wanted to…wanted to show you that you could trust me. That I'm not…my father."

"I know." She smiles, finally catching his eye, letting go of his hand so she can place both hands over his heart. Edward is too terrified for this moment to pass, of Bella touching him so freely, and does not even dare move his hands to touch her, leaving them stiff at his sides.

But then, Bella's round eyes suddenly grow hesitant, a tremble in her lip, and Edward has to hold her.

"What's wrong?" He wraps her small frame in his arms, rubbing what he hopes to be soothing circles on her back.

"I have a confession to make."

He almost tells her not to bother. To let him stay in this bubble a bit longer. Last time she confessed anything they ended up screaming at one another and getting distracted and Bella attacked—

Clenching his jaw together, Edward tells himself this is different.

"What is it?"

"That day, when…Lady Denali came to the apartment? I…I overheard most of the conversation. It was wrong of me, and I am sorry for invading your privacy, but I am not sorry about what I heard. I needed…needed to hear it."

Edward can only blink stupidly, not sure he is hearing her correctly.

She overheard? Overheard Edward in the most cowardly moment of his life breaking things off with his ex-fiancée?

And she needed to hear it?

"You…heard?"

"I eavesdropped." Bella grimaces, turning her gaze down to his chest again. Her next words are awkward, self-conscious. "I was so caught up in my own need to be in control and to not mess anything up, and I was utterly blind. Even Rose saw it months before I did. I'm…sorry, about how things turned out with Lady Denali, but…no, I'm not really. Like I said, I needed to hear it."

Edward's head is spinning. Hope springs in his chest like fireworks, one after another, and he feels his hands tremble on Bella's back.

"Why did you need to hear it?"

Please, he thinks. Please, all mighty, please.

Bella's eyes connect with his, and there is so much unrestrained emotion in her dark eyes, the very same eyes of his daughter, that Edward thinks he will faint.

"When I came to Xepherya, I made a deal with Prince Edward. I made him agree to treat our marriage like a business arrangement, one without romance. If you are open to it, I would like to make a new deal with King Anthony."

"And…and what deal is that?" He doesn't recognise his own voice.

"I would like to propose a marriage." Bella's voice is strong, her fingers curling in on his chest, applying pressure just over his pounding heart. "A true marriage."

"You…you—really?" Normally, Edward prides himself on being rather eloquent. But in this moment, words escape him. His whole body is reacting, every nerve-ending firing, elation that could only be compared to holding his daughter in his arms for the first time filling him to the brim and spilling over.

"Really." Her smile stretches her whole face, joy pouring from her expression like an explosion.

In a daze, Edward feels as Bella drags one hand up his neck, cupping his cheek. His shiver is involuntary, pleasure shooting down his spine at the intimate gesture. Bella's thumb ghosts over his bottom lip and Edward can only stare at Bella's red mouth, completely distracted out of his senses with the need to kiss her. Truly kiss her.

"Be my husband?"

There is no doubt.

"Yes. Yes, yes!"

And then – she kisses him.

There is no hesitation, no shyness. When their lips touch it is like a bomb that has just been waiting to go off, fire burning through Edward as if it has consumed him. He cannot help it, she needs to be closer, and he wraps his arms tightly around her waist as he lifts her off the ground, their faces level as she finally opens her lips for him. Edward unthinkingly and without reservations engulfs her bottom lip with the fervour of a man who has found water after nearly dying of thirst. Her body pressed against his is heavenly torture, knowing just how she feels without clothes and combining it with this fervent woman clawing at his shoulders.

When they break apart for air, they are both panting, Bella's forehead falling on Edward's. He is refusing to put her down. Will never let her go again.

"Thank you for waiting for me." Her words are breathy, whispered in the small space between their lips.

"You beautiful woman, of course I would wait for you." Edward kisses her again, hating the layers between them, needing to be closer and yet utterly unwilling to pause to stop this moment. "I never thought—never expected—"

"I know." Her smile is blinding, brighter than the Mongrovian sun. "I'm sorry it took me so long to see."

"Never. If it got us here—never. I—I love you, Bella." There is no stopping it. For months the words have been in his head, almost escaping so many times he couldn't wait to say them, the consequences be damned.

Bella buries her hands in Edward's hair, dragging her fingers across his scalp. Tears are brimming in her eyes.

"I love you, too."

Edward has died and gone to heaven. Surely, that is the only way to describe this feeling.

"Yes!" Joy is pouring out of him like water burst from a dam. "You hear that!" He lifts his head upward, screaming to the skies. "My wife loves me!"

Bella's giggle is a balm to his bruised heart, and he spins her around, her laughter disappearing on the wind. He nearly falls, practically taking Bella with him, but when they find their footing they are bumbling like cackling teenagers, falling over themselves in a need to stay close together.

"We better return," Bella finally says, still wrapped around Edward. "Before they realise we're missing."

As Bella takes his hand and drags him toward the ladders, Edward can only think of one thing.

"Thank you." Thank you for giving me a chance.

She smiles back at him, but no other words are necessary. With intertwined hands and stolen kisses in alleyways, they finally make their way back to the palace. Using a hidden entrance way, Bella takes Edward straight to the corridor outside of the royal wing, Harry the security guard giving Bella a nod when they slink inside.

There are very few things that could distract Edward from Bella at the present, but Eliza is one of them. Rosalie is holding her, rocking the babe in her arms as she coos, wandering around the spacious common area.

Bella gravitates toward the two, gently taking Eliza from Rosalie's arms.

"She's refusing to take the bottle."

"That's alright, we have some time before we need to head to the dance." Bella takes a step toward her bedroom, but stops, looking back at Edward with a hesitant look. Out of respect, Edward has usually not been in the room when Bella breastfeeds. "I…I won't be long."

Edward wants to reach for her. Wants to kiss her. As if letting her out of his sight will make the last hour nothing more than a dream. But he can feel Emmett's and Rosalie's gazes on them, along with several guards standing in corners.

"I'll be here."

With a relieved smile, Bella turns and walks to her given bedroom. Edward has another one, to replicate how they sleep back home, but now…will they share a bed? Surely it is too soon. Don't push, he tells himself.

As Bella disappears out of his sight, he drags a hand through his hair, feeling awkward in his own skin.

"So…brother." Edward turns to look at Emmett, sprawled out on one of the couches with a smirk that seems to have taken over his face.

Edward does not like the look on his face. His eyes are sparkling. Glancing at Rosalie, Edward notices that she is staring at him with one eyebrow raised, her sneer – if possible – amused.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing much." Emmett shrugs, shifting on the couch as Rosalie sits down in an armchair. "Any new developments lately? Anything I should know as the Queen's…bodyguard?"

There is no mistaking Emmett's grin, but Edward doesn't really feel like verifying anything. Not without having let things settle with Bella.

"Only her coronation." Edward smiles, trying to shake the sudden need to hide. He is suddenly very aware of this being Bella's brother. And he can himself vividly remember just how much schtick he gave Jasper before he married Alice. "If you will excuse me, I will go change for the ball."

Edward turns and is about to head to the bedroom he has been given when Rosalie's voice interrupts him.

"Oh, your Highness?" Edward looks back at Rosalie, her pursed lips gleeful. "If I may suggest, perhaps give your face a wash."

Confused but not really willing to stay in the room, Edward heads to his bedroom, relieved when he closes the door behind him. With growing suspicion he walks up to a mirror, groaning out loud when he sees his reflection in the mirror.

The soot.

He had forgotten about the soot. The soot that Bella had all over her face. The soot that is now all over Edward's face.

There will be no living with them now, he thinks miserably. Why didn't Bella tell him? Still, there is very little that can dampen Edward's mood so by the time he's showered and changed into attire that is traditional for Mongrovian royalty – with a Xepheryan sash and the crown from his coronation – he figures it does not matter.

Bella loves him. Loves, him. He will deal with all the pointed looks in the world.

When Edward returns to the common area only the guards remain and Edward sits down to glance over the notifications he has missed during the day. He's struggling to focus, unable to forget just how Bella felt against him, how she felt against him when she wanted to touch him, so he's left re-reading the same paragraph half a dozen times. He is just about to give up when Bella, Emmett and Rosalie return to the room.

It is as if he sees her for the first time. He wonders if she will always have this effect on him. She is in one of the Mongrovian dresses that are open in the front with trousers underneath, a large billowing skirt in the back that makes her waist look miniscule. He wants to wrap his arms around it. She has arranged her hair to sit tousled on her head, the dried salt shimmering in the light. She is still wearing the crown placed on her head during the coronation, a stately, jewelled headpiece that gives no doubt of her station. She has reapplied the soot, looking more put together now that it isn't streaked down her chin.

"Don't worry, Bella, Rosie and I have Eliza. You go paint the town red."

"That's Lady Rosalie to you, McCarthy."

"Sure it is, Rosie."

Bella, smartly, ignores the bickering and walks toward Edward, smiling shyly. Edward, however, is having none of that, taking her hand as soon as she is within reach and placing a kiss on it.

"You look beautiful, wife."

"And you very handsome."

When they leave the apartment to head to the ballroom, Edward feels a pulsating electricity between them.

When they dance, glances are exchanged loaded with meaning.

When they move to a slow waltz, there is not a breath between their bodies.

For hours, they are always connected. Always touching, always reaching for one another, yet barely any words are spoken. Edward feels like they are somehow redoing their wedding, the wedding they were meant to have, and he never wants the night to end.

Yet end it does, Bella thanking her people with warm embraces and words of kindness. Her face is flushed, her smile settled. She is a woman comfortable in her own skin and Edward has never been more attracted to her.

When they return to the royal apartment, Bella does not let go of his hand. Without any words spoken, Bella utterly disregards their security and with a firm grip on Edward's hand leads him to her bedroom.

Edward's heart is beating so wildly he is sure she can hear it, but she just smiles at him serenely.

When they undress, they undress each other.

When they kiss, they face one another.

When Edward rests on Bella's naked body she looks at him.

When he finally enters her dizzying heat, she cries out in delight.

When Bella seizes underneath him at the height of her pleasure, he feels invincible.

And as they lay, returning from their mutual highs exchanging breaths, there is only one thing in Edward's head.

"Please stay?" Night after night he had been forced to watch her leave, robotic in her movements as she dressed, refusing to look at him as she retreated to her own bedroom. The instinctual fear of it happening again nearly chokes him.

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be."

When they fall asleep in each other's arms, Edward is home.

.

.

.

a/n: That is it, the end of Painting Peace.

To all that read, reviewed, raged and laughed, I thank you.

These characters have said all they wanted to say, and I will not be be writing anything else for them. If they live on in your minds, my job is done. It has been a joy to start writing again and it is likely that I will post more fanfiction as time goes on. However, I like having almost completed stories before I start posting anything to save everyone long waiting times and me any anxiety that comes from writing block and falling behind schedule. If you are interested in my writing, put me on author alert and I hope to see you all in my next venture. So far, my ideas include a pinch of the supernatural, a dash of sci-fi and some heavy petting.

Until next time,
Bixie