a/n: Not only does the incomparable Bigblueboat beta this, but without her periodic, gentle reminders that I have left a story hanging these updates wouldn't exist.

Chapter 17: Principles Before Personalities

"In my lowest moments, the only reason I didn't commit suicide was that I knew I wouldn't be able to drink any more if I was dead." -Eric Clapton

I'm waving to Bella from the driveway, after wishing her luck reuniting with long-lost Chief Dad, when Emmett strolls out to meet me.

"You think Aro's gonna shut us down?" Emmett sounds kind of down-in-the-dumps about the possibility. I guess I would too if my girlfriend seemed to need perpetual rehab like Rosalie does. I mean, these Hollywood-types vacation at treatment facilities, right?

"He's gotta," I say. "We changed a famous starlet, kidnapped a guy in witness protection, and now we have to tell the local police? Not to mention, Aro digs my girlfriend so I'm probably about to go up like a Yule log." I shrug and kick a rock on the driveway. Which breaks the taillight of Aro's rental car. "Plus, I just did that."

Emmett snorts. "Yeah, we're probably fucked." He claps a hand on my shoulder. "Let's go do some damage control." We turn back to the house.

"So, do you know why your dad's dressed like Snape?" I ask Emmett as we meander back.

"Weird, right?" Emmett shakes his head. "I had no idea he was a Harry Potter fan."

"Seems weird," I agree.

We walk back into the living room where Rosalie is telling Aro about how we got the press off her case by putting out a press release that she was going to college. There's nothing the viewing public cares about less than what an attractive young woman is thinking of majoring in or her attempts to educate herself. Sad, really, but it serves our purposes.

Sulpicia and Esme are chatting on Esme's "nice" couch (the one Emmett and I are not allowed to sit on) like a couple of blood-sucking soccer moms. I can tell Aro is hyper-alert to what his wife is talking about, and as soon as Esme mentions Seattle, I get why.

"I've an idea, my dove," Aro oozes, interjecting himself in their conversation. "Why don't the two of you take a trip over to Seattle to see the sights?. I hear it's quite...cosmopolitan, for an American city. You could visit the Pike Place Market."

"They throw fish there," I say, looking at Aro doubtfully. Sulpicia arches a polite eyebrow at me.

"It looks like there's some sort of convention going on this weekend," Emmett interjects. He looks up from his phone. "One of those comic book things? You know, where people dress like, oh, superheroes and vampires and wizards and stuff?" He looks at me pointedly.

I have to laugh. Aro looks so guilty. "Have you ever been to one of those, Sulpicia?" I ask.

She shakes her head at me in the most perplexed way possible. "I...I don't understand why they throw fish." Sulpicia is clearly not keeping up. Esme pats her on the hand and shoots me a glare.

"I rather imagine Sulpicia would enjoy the Experience Music Project," Carlisle proposes. Which gets another scowl from Aro. Sulpicia's love of music is the worst-kept secret that drives Aro crazy.

Sulpicia and Aro:

632 B.C.E. Aro looked over the human women in the crowded hall, finding Sulpicia speaking with her sisters, her foot gently tapping in time with the music. He congratulated himself on his choice again. She was perfect. She was from a rich, powerful family. She was beautiful and, according to the thoughts of her handmaiden, compliant and pleasant. He would settle for no less than a perfect mate. That much this newfound power would give him. He waited until the crowd had settled down around her and caught her eye. Her exotic black eyes took him in curiously. Of course they did. That's what this cold, pale, strong body and handsome face did to humans.

It was still a welcome feeling, however. Aro had been the odd, thin, cerebral son of a foot soldier father and had never felt…powerful. Seeing the approval, admiration and lust in the eyes of human men and women still thrilled him.

He beckoned for her with one finger. She blushed delightfully and danced over to him. He was tempted to take her hand, but he had been trying to preserve the suspense. He had seen that absorbing a woman's thoughts could ruin some of the thrill of conquest. He was "saving himself" for their wedding, he supposed. She spoke to him of their impending nuptials. As she chattered, he listened idly while planning how he would capitalize on her family's position. She asked him a question in her musical voice. The music for their celebration? He supposed he could allow her the frivolity of wanting to discuss planning the occasion. Young girls were supposed to enjoy such things.

Aro sat back and pretended to drink the wine at his wedding ceremony. He watched his lively young bride tap her fingers to the music of the four piece band she had wanted. She clearly loved music, he thought. He contemplated gifts he could give her:a performance by a famous singer, perhaps an immortal string of musicians of her own.

They took their leave of their collected guests and made their way by carriage to his home on the outskirts of the city. He was impatient with the drive, but he needed her far enough away from the city that she could undergo the change in peace. He had beckoned her to follow him to their bedchamber, and finally, with great gentleness, he explained to her what would happen next. She was afraid, but she acquiesced to his plan. He leaned into her trembling form and sunk his teeth into her flesh, at the same time grasping her frail shoulders with his hands to keep her steady and secure. He was deluged by the contents of her head, all her memories, all her thoughts and desires, all accompanied by the sound of...drumbeats? He had never encountered such a mind. She had a type of percussion accompanying her every thought and activity, at all times. He delved into her deepest desires, and while she enjoyed a girlish fascination with him—wondering what it would be like to be his wife, contemplating what their lives together would entail—her deepest, most profound passion was to...play the drums?

He had married a drummer. Of all the horrors.

"You know what they call a drummer without a paramour?" Marcus asked him later that evening. He had poured his heart out to his closest friend, his brother in this life.

"What?"

"A man without an abode."

"You're not helping, Marcus."

"I'm sorry, Aro. I do understand how disappointing this must be for you. But perhaps it's not that bad. Did you hear of that drummer who was said to be quite intelligent and learned?"

"No, I hadn't heard." Aro looked to his immortal brother with hope.

"Me neither."

Anyhow, Aro pushes his wife and Esme out the door a while later, after making Esme promise that they wouldn't go to the Project. I decide to make myself scarce, just in case he's mad at me for mentioning it. I get to the porch when he calls me back.

"Edward." He tugs on my sweatshirt, and I follow him into Esme's mudroom. To my considerable dread, I can tell he wants to talk about Bella. I fold my arms and glare at him while leaning against the washing machine.

"I have a...proposal I wish to make to Isabella." He didn't even bother acting embarrassed. Fucker.

"I'm not her social secretary, Aro." I scowl at him. "Ask her yourself."

"Your attitude is unexpected," he says. "Do you imagine she will refuse me?"

"She's not a...prostitute, Aro."

"Her attire would seem to indicate otherwise."

"You can't do that, Aro. You can't assume a woman is sexually available because her clothing is revealing. They have a word for that."

Aro waves a dismissive hand at me. "Regardless, I think I can make a compelling offer to her. Clearly you are in no position to be impartial." He brushes an imaginary thread from his frock coat and sweeps out of the laundry room.

I go hunting, staying away from both the house and from Forks and Bella's reunion with her dad. Well, I wouldn't call it hunting so much as "sulking." "Grudge-running," maybe. I don't eat anything, and I kick some trees.

After a couple hours of this, I get bored and go back to house. I walk by the cabin, expecting Bella to be up at the house canoodling with that greasy-haired dick, but to my surprise, she comes out to intercept me. Wearing...a baggy sweater and a huge pair of cargo pants.

"Are those...Carlisle's?" I ask her. I think I recognize dad-pants when I see them.

"Yeah," she says, pulling them up and re-cinching her belt. I notice she's also scrubbed off all her make-up and washed her hair. She looks totally different without half her face covered in eyeliner. Pretty but different.

"Are you busy?" she asks nervously. She looks upset. I realize that I've never seen her looking scared. Angry? Yes. Indignant? Yes. Irritated? Constantly. But never scared.

"No," I answer, pulling her down to sit on the steps with me. "What happened?"

She shudders and runs her hand through her clean hair. She smells really good when she's bathed.

"That guy, Aro?" She shakes her head incredulously. "I should have listened to you and changed my clothes." She's still staring into space as if recalling a horrific event. "He...propositioned me. It was awful."

"Wow. I'm sorry." I inwardly rejoice but attempt to keep an appropriately sympathetic face.

"Yeah." She shakes her head again in disbelief. "He said he wanted us to form an agreement." She shudders again involuntarily. "I didn't even know I could throw up."

"You threw up on him?" I want to laugh.

"Yeah," she says, looking at me suddenly, wide-eyed. "Just the thought of…" Her face changed, determined. "Can we get married? That would keep him from ever trying to do that, right?"

"He is pretty traditional," I say slowly, as if considering what she said carefully.

"Please?" She's begging me now. "I can't stand the idea of…" She seems to want to vomit again.

"Yeah, sure, Bella. Whatever you need." I shrug my shoulders, willing to undergo the enormous sacrifice.

"I mean, you'll need to sign a prenuptial agreement." She seems to return to her old level-headedness quickly. "And there's no way you're ever going to tell me what to do."

I shake my head emphatically. "Yeah, I wouldn't expect to do that. I wouldn't even really know what to tell you to do, truthfully."

"Ok, good," she sighs with relief. Then she seems to realize that she just agreed to marry me, and she kisses me.

I suggest to her that we avoid the house for the rest of the evening, and she readily agrees. As much as I would love to fuck with Aro, I don't think Bella's stomach could take it.

Plus, there's always the chance that he lights me up like a camp stove.

a/n: Thank you so much for reading and for your patience. We have just the epilogue to go!