Black Keys Chapter 2

(SM) Owns twilight.

(CozItRunsInMyBlood) Owns the plot.

(RobzBeanie) Is a lifesaver and beta this.

(GrandeDame) Is my soul-mate and per-reader.

Chapter 2

Isabella Marie

The things we do for love …

Here I was sitting on a plane, even if it was the thing I most hated to do. It had everything to do with what had happened to my parents. I think I had developed some kind of phobia towards airplanes since the accident. But it was my brother's wedding, so it was impossible not to be there. I wouldn't miss it for the whole world. And if it took me two hundred hours sitting on this thing, I was willing to do it in a heartbeat.

I'd always known that I would do anything for my brother. I'd even take a bullet for him if things came to that, no questions asked.

I took a sip of my warm soda that I'd been holding in my hands for more than an hour, clinging onto it and staring at the fancy cup for distraction. The anxiety I was feeling wasn't a nice feeling at all, but I had to be at the wedding. It was Jasper's.

Jasper's wedding.

The words felt strange even in my mind, not only on my tongue. It seemed that everything was happening so fast and so rushed that it almost made my head spin. He said it was love at first sight, and even though I’d never believed in such a thing, I believed him.

He'd told me all of these nice things about his Alice: how they met – which was so strange I might add – and how they spoke for the first time. He'd told me about her blush and her dark eyes and very pale skin. He's talked of her very long and silky dark-as-the-night hair – his words not mine – and he went on and on about her so much that at some point I thought I'd fallen asleep because I spent so much time only listening and not talking.

I had no idea how he had seen her hair, though. I thought all Muslims covered their hair? Whatever.

Our pilot announced that we were about to land, and I felt my heartbeat going crazy, while my heart itself was going crazy with fear. My hand moved on its own to my chest, clutching the silver cross that was hanging from my necklace for dear life.

"Our father in heaven ..." I started praying in soft whispers, my eyes closed tightly as fear crept into my insides along with my heart and mind. My breaths tangled and I started having a mini-panic attack. If it wasn't for Jasper's hand squeezing my free hand, I don't know how I would've gotten through this landing.

I couldn't wait to get off that plane, but I had to take a few minutes to make sure that after so many long hours sitting there bored and scared at the same time that I looked decent, at least. After all, I was going to meet a princess shortly, and most likely a royal family as well.

Jasper wasn't happy with me forcing him to wait until I dressed before we left the jet. He'd told me to do it as we were still flying, half an hour before landing, but there was no way I was going to move around in that thing as it flew through the air. It was just a no go for me. He had to wait.

I dressed in a long, short-sleeved summer dress with a loose skirt. The V-neck dominating the top of the dress wasn't that low cut. It looked nice; I always felt good wearing navy blue, it was my favorite color in clothes. 

I let my hair fall down on my shoulders and around my back in straight locks, then added a slight blush and a little bit of light, rosy lip gloss.

When I stepped out of the jet's bedroom, Jasper was standing by the door, anxiously waiting for me. I wanted to tease him about how love had turned him into a nervous mess, but decided to take it easy on him. He looked on edge enough.

"Marie," he smiled. "You look beautiful."

"Why, thank you, Big Bro. You don't look so ba-" I was cut off by him offering me a piece of cloth, a baby blue one.

"Would you please wear this?" he asked.

"What it is?" I frowned as I took the cloth from him and looked at it. "A scarf?"

"Well, yeah. Kind of," he replied.

"But I'm sure it's really hot out there. I won't need it," I pointed out.

"Uh, it's not to be put around your neck, it's, uh – it's to cover your hair with."

"What? You mean like Muslims?" I asked in shock. "You’ve got to be kidding me," I almost yelled when he didn't reply.

"Marie, please, just put the thing on," he sighed.

"Did they tell you to force me into wearing this?"

"I'm not forcing you into wearing anything. It's fine if you don't want to, but it's a sign of respect."

The anger and upset I’d been trying to get over since my brother told me about his upcoming wedding started to boil over again as I fisted the stupidly soft material in my hand.

Why should I show respect by covering my hair? Why were women supposed to cover their hair anyway? It was utterly stupid and I refused to look like their laws had anything on me. I refused to be manhandled by anyone like the rest of the women here; it was not going to happen.

"Good, because I'm not wearing the stupid thing," I spat and passed him after throwing the thing to rest in his hand again, making my way to the exit.

"Are you coming?" I looked over my shoulder, and the sight of him looking at the stupid thing in sorrow made my insides tighten. He looked so sad. For a moment I wondered why something so insignificant would affect him that much, but I couldn't just go on my way knowing it meant as much to him as it obviously did.

I shook my head and huffed, taking a few steps back to him and taking the cloth from him. "Fine," I said harshly. "But I'm not happy about it." I straightened the stupid thing in my hands and put it loosely over my head and shoulders.

It wasn't until I had it on that a memory flashed in my mind, not exactly a memory but more like something I’d seen on TV years ago. It was when Hillary Clinton was visiting this very same country and putting a similar thing over her own head. Hillary Clinton was one of the most powerful women I've even known, so strong and effective. I couldn't imagine her being manhandled by anyone, and I thought that maybe Jasper was right after all – it could be only a sign of respect.

That very thing lead me to notice just how important the people I was going to meet were, for someone like Hillary Clinton to visit them more than one time to discuss things that were important to both countries.

With a sigh, I put my shades on; I didn't want them to see the rage in my eyes since it wouldn't be 'respectful' or whatever. I had to show my brother's in-laws that I wasn't disrespectful – no matter how much I despised their religion or loathed their race.

Crap! Did I just say 'race'?!

My God!

Down the stairs of the plane, we were greeted by a large number of people. Well, men to be clear. Not even one woman in sight. Most of them were dressed in those weird dresses that Jasper had told me was their official custom, called Gelbab. All of their 'dresses' were really, really, really, REALLY white – it was almost blinding. Above their head was some kind of scarf shaped in a neat way that was either white or white in red. On top of it or in the middle – I wasn't sure – was a thin black circle that I assumed was holding it in place.

 

I couldn't deny that with the tan, bronzed or pale skin they had that they were very handsome, with the dark eyes and dark hair that was on either their chins or above their lips, or both – if not a complete beard.

They shook my hand politely with a nod of their heads and a small smile as I passed one after another in the line they’d made, mesmerized by their tall frames and built forms – there were hardly any of them that weren't fit.

My lips were pressed into a line as I offered a tight smile in greeting to each one of them. My mouth fell slightly agape as I felt like I was shocked by electricity when I shook hands with the last one.

My eyes darted from our joined hands up to his face. The words 'very handsome' wouldn't do him justice. He was a sight to look at, an attractive young man with pale skin. A soft gasp escaped my parted lips when I looked into the bright green garden that was his eyes, eyes that were trapped by thick long lashes that were a beauty in and of themselves. His soft features were toughened by the sharpness of his jaw, a jaw that was growing dark brown hair that was more like scruff than a beard, and a little sign of a mustache where it should be.

                         

His own lips parted slightly when I took off my sunglasses with my free hand to get a better look at his outstanding features. He stared into my eyes for a few moments before his lips formed the most beautiful crooked smile I've ever seen in my whole short life, bright teeth shining like pearls when his smile widened a bit. The very same smile that was so infectious that I couldn't not smile brightly back at him, a smile that widened even more when he offered me a bouquet of red roses that looked more like the kind you’d pick from a garden in heaven.

Bitterly, I released his hand and took the bouquet from him, whispering a small 'thank you' which he returned with another smile, his hand moving to push the white in red material that was above his head with the tips of his fingers.

My own smile fell at the motion, for it made me realize who I was standing in front of, or better yet – what he was.

An Arab.

An Arab, and most likely to be Muslim, as well.

It was then that I noticed that his bright green eyes were darkened by secrets I knew were hidden there somewhere, by the toughness and cruelty I was so sure he was trying his hardest to hide. But I was no fool. I knew he wasn't someone I should have any thought of attraction to or see the beauty in, because I just knew he was anything but on the inside.

I just knew it in my heart, and my heart could always tell.

I went on with my way.

~BK~

It had only been less than a day since I set foot in the country and I already felt like I was going to go crazy.

Traditions, traditions, and then more traditions.

Come the heck on! I was bored stupid.

When we first arrived we were ushered into some kind of private hotel. It felt as if was almost empty aside from the staff, which were all men I might add. I started to think that there were only men in this country, but then thought it would be stupid of me to think so, because how on earth would men be here if it wasn't for women?

I was on edge the whole frigging time, and again, I was pretty sure I'd lose my sanity if it wasn't for Jasper hardly ever leaving my side.

In our suite, we were offered a huge amount of food constantly – enough to feed the army of two or three countries. It seemed like a never ending story of people entering our suite to drop off more food and take away hardly touched plates. It felt weird to see all of those men looking at the ground, like slaves. I hated it. It made me feel bad, so bad beyond words.

Jasper told me that they'd let us rest. We should be starting our day in the morning; they’d let us know exactly when. I hated that, too. Jasper and I were to be some kind of family to them soon, so why wouldn't any of the royal family meet us now? That was disrespectful.

To be honest, when I put my head on the pillow and slept like a rock almost instantly, I was very grateful for the space they'd offered us. I really needed that rest after the long hours in the plane.

When the sun rose, Jasper woke me up, and I hugged him and wished him the best wishes I could think of. My heart was breaking for the fact that he was going to get married in a few hours without a father or a mother or even a friend, nothing but a sister that loved him more than the whole world.

I respected his wish of not telling any of our friends about the wedding, saying it was a sensitive matter given who his in-laws were.  We would let the world know about it when they were ready. There was no one important to us besides each other anyway, so it wasn't even worth telling.

Out of nowhere, Jasper started crying over my shoulder, whispering so many times that he loved me so much and that he only wanted the best for me, that he would never put me into anything if he thought I'd be in danger for even a moment.

I didn't know what to think about that, and it broke my heart some more to see him like that. I realized that maybe he was sorry for bringing me into a country he knew I hated to be in, where I was thinking I'd be in danger or fear for both of our lives.

I assured him that as long as we had each other, nothing else would matter.

"I'll hold you to that," he told me.

I offered him a smile as my chest tightened with a confusion that was uncalled for, a confusion some of his words had caused, a confusion I hid from him so well. Today was his wedding day, after all.

~BK~

Only a few hours before the wedding and I'd yet to meet the bride. I couldn't wait to meet the girl who’d captured my brother's heart and stole the sleep from his eyes. I had no picture or anything like that of her, only the perfect image Jasper had drawn in my head.

To say I almost danced when I heard a female's voice would be an understatement. It turned out to be a lady that was to assist me to some kind of a spa that was only for women. The lady was covered literally from head to toe with black, only brown-lined-with-thick-kohl eyes and pale hands were showing, and nothing more.

In the spa, the lady took off the dark, er, robe? she was wearing, and underneath it she was wearing jeans and a very stylish blouse; I thought she looked really pretty. I was greeted by the manger, and the lady who gave me her name as Kareen told me with her thick accent that I could get whatever I wanted. It was a nice thing for them to offer, to be honest. I got a massage and my nails done as well as my hair.

I was then brought to a table that I knew very well was for something I didn't like to do. Ever.

"Um, I'm not going to do this," I told Kareen.

"Uh, but it's a tradition, Miss Marie," she replied with her thick accent.

Tradition? What on earth? Why should the soon-to-be-sister-in-law wax?! I wondered.

Weirdoes!

"I'm sorry, but no, I don't do it, and I won't."

Kareen was really shocked by that; I didn't know why. It looked as if she wanted to say something; however, she just smiled and nodded.

When I was done with everything, I thought it was time to put on my dress that I had bought just two days before we left. But when I told Kareen, she told me that my dress was already waiting for me.

I didn't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I also didn't like that someone had bought me something that I might not like. Though, I thought that maybe it had something to do with the way the bride wanted things, so I didn't say anything.

Inside the room I was to get dressed in, I saw a very beautiful wedding dress on a hanger. It was white with shining pearls and diamonds, and I assumed it was my brother's fiancée's. I thought she was really lucky to wear it; it was breathtaking.

"Where is my dress?" I asked.

"This one, Miss Marie." She pointed to the wedding dress.

WHAT?!

Why was I to wear a wedding dress?

~BK~