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Chapter Text

Marcus of the Volturi, after the unfortunate loss of his wife, felt a rage so deep and bitter that he searched for half a millennia for her killer. He slaughtered hundreds in her name, and dedicated lifetimes searching for retribution. It was all in vain.

The other two leaders of the Volturi came together to discuss the worsening of the situation. They had bore witness the Marcus’s ever weakening hold on his sanity, and decided that something must now be done about it.

“We cannot continue on like this.” Caius had said, face twisted into a scowl. “Something must be done to remedy the situation. Could we find someone to take the blame and be done with this?”

Ayo shook his head, face pensive. “Alas, our Marcus will not be fooled by a mere substitute. I’m afraid the remedy is clear; this situation will not be put to rest until the real killer is brought to justice”

On the 502nd anniversary of her death, her brother had come forward to lay the matter to rest.

In the chambers Marcus had once shared with his beloved, Aro had come and knelt before him. He bore none of his usual finery and had sent away his guard. There had been real sorrow in his visage, and Marcus had felt pity at the sight of his brother in such a state.

“Brother I come before you with great shame and regret. For years I have watched, with great turmoil, as you have sought to avenge my sister”

Marcus had watched as Aro had upturned his palms, bowing his head in deference. It had done nothing to quell the fury building within him.

“I am ashamed to confess her blood stains my hands. I acted in the interest of the Volturi and in turn have betrayed you, however I am no longer able to stand by and allow you to agonise over this. I will bear whatever punishment you deem fit for me, be it death or worse.”

Hearing this, Marcus ripped the head from his brothers body in a fit of rage. Within seconds the guard had arrived at the doors, though out of respect for their master they dared not enter without his verbal permission. He granted them entry into his chambers, and they gasped at the sight of their leader’s headless body laying in the centre of the room.

Though his love for Didyme was unparalleled, Marcus held Aro in great regard - and despite his brother’s betrayal - found himself unable to reconcile with the death of yet another loved one. He ordered the guard to watch Aro’s body for three days and three nights while he deliberated which course of action to proceed with.

On the morning of the fourth day, Marcus returned to his chambers and reunited Aro’s head with its body. He sent out the guard as the light slowly returned to Aro’s eyes. Marcus watched as he heaved long, stuttering breaths. He did not wait for Aro to recover before addressing him, his voice sharper than the point of a needle.

“Brother” he said, contempt still clear in his face “you have caused me great agony, and for that I find I hold a great hatred for you in my heart.”

Aro had said nothing. He had, for the first time in his existence, felt the caresses of death, and it had scared him immensely.

“Despite this pain” Marcus continued. “I admit you are still dear to me, and I could not bear to lose another.”

Aro had then exhaled a sigh of relief, however Marcus held a cool hand in the air, gaze at once hardening.

“This does not mean you have my forgiveness. I will serve our cause by your side with no animosity towards you, and in time my love for you will return, but today I make a vow to you for the future.”

Marcus’s hand came down upon Aro’s shoulder softly, almost comfortingly, and he met his gaze with eyes like stone.

“One day you will find your equal, your mate, and you will grow to understand the love I held for my sweet Didyme. I vow to you that when this comes to pass, I will take her from you as you have taken my love from me. I will show you the misery you have caused me, and this shall me your punishment. I promise this as surely as the sun promises to set.”

Aro left Marcus’s chambers that day with a sense of calm in his soul. He was sure, in his heart, that he would never love anyone as Marcus had loved Didyme, and so he did not fret over the vow Marcus had made. He was quite certain that the only thing he had room for in his heart was the volturi and it’s cause.

He returned to his chambers and bathed, dressing himself up in his finery - fur cloak, golden rings along his hands - before taking his place in the throne room.

“It is done.” He had said, to his brother Caius, who had only nodded before turning his attention to the guard. In the minds of both Caius and Aro, the matter was all but resolved.

But Marcus never forgot the vow he had made that day.

Chapter Text

He sees her first in Edward’s mind, and it’s like the whole world aligns itself.

Isabella Marie Swan. He feels the phantom burn of Edward’s hunger as she walks into his life for the first time, clutching her biology books and standing skittishly at the edge of the class. She looks almost ordinary, except that the whole world seems to shine brighter for her in it. Her quiet mind seems to dull the incessant drone of thoughts that surrounds Edward in every moment. He feels the relief just as he feels the tension, the concentrated power of will it takes not to tear her head from her neck.

Aro’s grip on Edward’s hand tightens slightly, and he pulls it closer to himself, drinking in the memories of her greedily. Isabella in the woods, eyes wide with awe not terror as she sees Edward for what he is. Isabella playing baseball, a mortal among gods, and still somehow at home. Isabella in bed, eyes shut and lips parted. Isabella in pain.

Aro sees her sprawled out on the floor of the dance studio, first convulsions beginning as the venom begins to eat at her veins. He tastes the bitter venom of another vampire as Edward sucks it out of her wounds, and it leaves an unpleasant sensation in his throat.

He understands why Edward runs from her, after the fateful party, but he cannot help but despise him a little for it. Isabella, young and human as she is, bears such potential. To see her left there, alone and miserable sends a spark of resentment down his spine.

A bold move, he thinks, to come before the throne and openly display such little regard for the Law. Edwards selfishness has incriminated the whole family, and Aro finds little sympathy within him as he watches Edward’s suffering over the next few months.

When Alice calls to tell him of Isabella’s death, he feels the devastation, the crumbling of resolve. He supposes then, that the matter of the broken Law has blessedly resolved itself, and will not require punishment, or at least, not on this date. He does feel it’s a great waste, however, as he sees her lithe young body leap into the water below. What a beautiful immortal she would’ve made.

He drops Edwards hand from his own and takes a step back. His mouth is still all but watering from the phantom hunger he’d endured. Such waste.

“Your wish is for me to end your existence?” Aro asks, already aware of the answer. Edward nods, apparently not trusting himself to speak.

His mannerisms remind Aro of Carlisle, polite and very restrained. The jerk of his head is deferential and placating, and Aro can see his Sire’s influence shine through him, though it does not conceal Edward’s dislike fully. The crease in his brow, the corners of his mouth drooping ever so slightly downwards. Aro had read his thoughts of course, knew very well of Edward’s contempt of the Volturi as a whole, but even had he not, he would’ve known from those small details that the politeness was nothing but an expertly cultivated farce.

He’s aware of the futility of asking, but he feels it’s only proper to extend a formal invitation. He has restrained interest in the talent Edward possesses, and feels it wasteful to see such a talent lost to oblivion.  Aro turns to gesture to the guard, lined along the walls of the great hall.

“Would you consider taking a place here, within my guard? We could take this pain from you, give you a purpose. Certainly, with your talent’s, a home could be made here for you.”

“With all due respect” Edward spits, looking very much like he doesn’t believe any respect is due “I’d like to decline. I just want to die.”

Aro clicks his tongue, clasping his hands together. He cannot, despite the suffering he can see clearly in Edward, find pity within himself for the boy.

Kneeling before them, looking wrecked and miserable, Aro can only see the potential he’d had - not just him, but that of Isabella’s also - and the pitiful way in which he squandered it, choosing righteousness. He can all but taste the disdain on his tongue.

“I’m afraid I cannot kill you without cause.”

Edward stands, eyes burning. “Then you leave me no choice but to break a law?”

Aro nods, placating but not submissive. Like that of a father comforting a child in a tantrum. “I will not act unless my hand is forced. No law has been broken and so no punishment shall be administered.”

Edward seethes in his place. Aro almost expects him to rush forward and attack someone, anyone, but he simply turns and stomps out of the hall. Aro turns to his brothers, tutting.

“It’s a shame, really.” He muses, wandering up to his throne. “Dimitri, Felix, follow him please. I’d like to speak with him again, regardless of if he breaks a rule today.”

The guard nod and Aro watches them shoot out the door. His head falls back against his throne and his eyes trace the ceiling. He’s done this thousands of times now, helping him focus while he shuffles through his thoughts.

He organises Edwards memories, sorts them into a neat folder and files it away for later use. But the image of Isabella lingers. He sees her spruce eyes, dark and haunting, sees her ashen face as Edward tells her he’s leaving, and finally, he sees her stepping off of the cliffside. Falling, falling, falling, and then swallowed whole by the sea.

***

Once, some hundred years ago on a droswy summer day, Aro had asked Caius how he knew Athenodora to be his mate. He had presumed Caius, the least affectionate of his two Coven leaders, would be able to give him some semblance of a logical answer.

They had been out hunting- the whole coven- stalking through the woods late afternoon, and Aro had instructed the others to leave them. Only Renata remained of the guard, her soft footsteps barely audible to even their vampiric ears.

Caius moved through the woods, gaps in the trees sending sun lights sparkling across his face.

“It is not something I can describe to you. Simply put, when I saw her for the very first time, I knew, as certain as death and as necessary as air, that she was my mate.”

Aro had scoffed at the time, thinking it couldn’t possibly be as theatrical as all that. Now though, watching Isabella walk through the doors and into the hall before him, he is surprised by the truth in his brother’s words.

Something- surely not his heart, that he had given up long ago- but something in his chest leaps toward her, as if unable to bear the distance between them. She walks with an energy surrounding her, and it washes over him like sea spray and summer warmth, the likes of which he has not experienced since he first turned. He hears her heart beating, too fast, and the impulse to calm her, to remedy the fear wriggles through him. It feels foreign.

He must’ve been staring because when he glances around the room, he catches Edward looking at him, almost bewildered. All at once, Aro realises a number of things.

Marcus will kill her. The second he finds out who she is he will put an end to her life with no hesitation. Aro had always assumed if and when his mate had appeared he would simply resign himself to her death and proceed with his life as if he had never found her. What need did he have for a mate, he’d thought. He realises now that he’d been terribly mistaken.

He turns to glance at Marcus, who remains sat in his seat looking bored and disinterested. His ability had clearly not been able to pick up on the bond, likely due to Isabella’s inaccessible mind. If there was a god in existence , Aro might’ve fallen to his knees right there and thanked him.

He turns back to look at Edward. Aro had, blessedly, been accustomed to thinking in the very old and mostly forgotten language of his birth town, which he is quite certain Edward does not understand.  Alice also looks to be none the wiser to his recent discovery, her face a clear illustration of anxiety.

That just leaves Bella.

Her eyes meet his, and he can see something glimmering in them, some faint awareness that something remarkable has just come to pass. It’s as he expects; her muted human senses are unable to feel, or understand how the energy between them pulls and pushes.

Aro steps forward, willing himself to act like he usually would.

“What a happy surprise” he smiles, arms opening dramatically. “Isabella is alive after all.”

His mouth widens into a grin and his hands clap together with glee. The circumstances of their first meeting may not be ideal, but her presence alone excites him. “Isn’t that wonderful. I love a happy ending.”

He clasps Edward’s hand in his own, absorbing the recent developments: Bella running through the fountain, the crushing hug she folds Edward into, their journey through the palazzo. He feels the call of her blood, how it affects Edward, and swallows.

“La tua cantante. The blood appeals to you so much.” His eyes skim her neck. “It makes me thirsty.”

Bella shivers, clearly uncomfortable. Aro can’t help but delight in it, the way the emotion ripples across her face.

“How can you stand to be so close to her?”

Edward stares past him, eyes on the wall behind him. “It’s not without difficulty.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Edwards head tilts toward Bella. “Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with one touch.” Bella’s eyes flick down to the floor once again, deferential.

Edward doesn’t seem to get the message, his face pinching unhappily.

“Now you know everything. So get on with it.”

Aro doesn’t much appreciate his tone. It takes a certain level of restraint not to relieve Edward’s head from his body.

‘Not now’ he reminds himself. ‘Not yet.’

He smiles at Edward, though it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“You are quite a soul reader yourself, no? Though I’m afraid it doesn’t seem to work on dear Isabella here.” His eyes flick between Edward and Bella, appraising them both. “Fascinating.”

“I would be honoured if you would allow me to discover if your mind is equally inaccessible to me, Isabella.”

Bella stares at his outstretched hand like it might bite her. “Just Bella is fine.” She mutters. Aro smiles at her, not unkindly.

“I’m afraid I must insist upon Isabella.”

She huffs a little before placing her hand in his. It’s warm, just like the rest of her, and he can feel the blood coursing through her veins, a steady thrum of life vibrating just beneath her soft skin. He pulls her hand closer to him almost instinctually, feeling as her heart jumps. The thirst in his throat is entirely his own now, scratching along his neck like a rash.

Her mind offers nothing. He feels like he’s trying to wade through hardened cement. No matter how much force he applies he cannot find a way to breach that impenetrable barrier.

He feels the eyes of his brothers on him as he stares up at her. He feels a little surprised, a little off kilter. Powerful Isabella, to ward off someone as old and strong as he.

“I see nothing.” He murmurs, releasing her hand from his. He turns to eye his brothers, each sat on their thrones. The air in the room feels a little thinner now, a little more tense.

He wants to test her. To see how far her mental protection goes. See just how powerful she is.

“Let us see if she is immune to all of our talents.” He turns to sweet Jane, stood obediently at the side of the room, staring straight ahead.

“Shall we, Jane?” he smiles at her, inviting her in. Jane smiles back, before directing her gaze to Bella. Within a matter of seconds Edward has leapt forward, obstructing Jane and making an obstacle of himself. Aro huffs, irritated.

He watches Edward writhe in pain, relishing in it a little. His eyes are wide and his jaw clenches and unclenches rapidly, trying to regulate the agony. Bella gasps, panic clear in his voice as she begs him to stop.

Edward drops to the floor, and Alice rushes over to him. He’s gone stiff now, limp like a wilted flower.

Bella locks eyes with Aro, pleading with him now. He doesn’t like how she’s looking at him now, angry and afraid, but he cannot end Edward’s torment so quickly without raising suspicion. Nor does he particularly want to. He lets it linger for a moment longer before turning to put an end to it.

“Jane.” He murmurs, lifting a hand soothingly. She releases Edward with a smile, watching him sag further into the ground.

“Master.” She states, face stoic. Aro can smell the adrenaline in Bella’s veins, and hear the thundering of her heart. Part of him feels bad for subjecting her to this, but between the need to keep up appearances and a morbid curiosity, he cannot and will not put a stop to it.

“Go ahead my dear.”

Tension lingers in the air as Jane’s eyes settle on Bella. The moment stretches out and still, Bella is not bending, not crying out. Anyone else would be in agony, but Bella simply stands there, scared but determined. Ragazza forte.

His laugh breaks the silence, and Jane jolts from her stupor, eying him warily. He claps his hands together again, grinning at her openly. She meets his gaze but denies him a smile.

“Truly remarkable, my dear. You confound us all.”

Aro steps towards her, surprised and a little delighted when she does not draw back from him, instead staying rooted.

“So, what shall be done about you now?”

Marcus shuffles in his chair, and Aro fights against the urge to face him, try and read his expression.

“You already know what you’re going to do, Aro” he rumbles, and Aro shivers. He’d always thought of Marcus as passive and bored during tribunal’s, but now Aro can hear the edge of something in his voice, bored maybe but present, alert.

‘ He is paying attention, and if I disclose her importance he will see. He will know, and he will not do nothing with that knowledge.’

“She knows too much.” Caius says. “She’s a liability.”

Aro hums deep in his throat. He knows what they think he’ll do, what he would normally.

“That’s true” he says, mouth pursed. The guards are quiet around him. He knows what they expect. What they want.

‘Kill her.’ The silence whispers. ‘Kill her brutally. Drain the life from her. Spill her ruby blood. Kill her.’

He cannot.

“But to end such a promising young woman. It would be such a grievous waste of a life.”

He hears the two behind him lean ever so slightly forward. This is somewhat unusual, he supposes, but hopefully not so unusual that it’s called under a surplus of scrutiny. He has been known in the past to change humans in lieu of killing them, if they appear they may be of some use.

He moves closer to her once more, surveying her features. The silence in her skin is fascinating to him. Unknowable Isabella. What he would give to hear her thoughts now.

He hopes she is thinking of him kindly, more kindly than he deserves.

He hopes he is not imagining the way her eyes linger for a second on his lips as he comes to a stop in front of her. They’re mere inches apart and he can see every minute shift in her expression.

“If only it be his intention to give you immortality. What a breathtaking vampire you could become.”

“She will.” Alice says. Aro’s eyes flick up to meet hers and there Alice is, smiling with the peace of someone telling the truth. Someone with nothing to hide.

“Show me.” He beckons her over with a flick of his fingers and an outstretched hand. Her fingers brush hers and he sees her, running through the forest, eyes red and glowing. She’s divine. She’s perfect. She’s his.

He releases Alice’s hand and faces his brothers.

“She will be one of us, certainly.”

Isabella gasps softly. She sounds relieved. He turns to her, smiling slightly too wide.

“I’d like to see you turned by the next moon, my dear. It is not a simple matter, to disappear with no suspicion. Go home and resolve your affairs, make peace with the life you’ve lived. A new life awaits.”

Are takes a few steps back, addressing both of the Cullens.

“You will bring her here in a months time and I will change her. On these terms I allow you to leave us now.”

Alice nods. Aro imagines her, stood by his throne, prophetic powers in possession of the Volturi. She would make a fantastic addition to the guard. And a perfect friend for sweet Isabella.

Edward on the other hand… He doesn’t respond, face hard and almost pained as he stares longingly towards Isabella. Aro could do without him. His talents fail to make up for his antisocial behaviours, and his possessiveness in regards to Isabella will indeed be a problem.

His eyes follow the three of them as they’re escorted out of the throne room. Her brown hair glistens as she walks out the door, the first human to enter and exit the room alive in at least a century. Marcus’s’ promise weighs down on him, worry clouding his brain briefly. He will need to find a bargaining piece of some sort.

But he knows, surely, that dear Isabella will be by his side on that throne.

Eventually 

Chapter Text

Alice holds Bella’s hand as the plane rumbles into the air. She’s shaking. She had been shaking on the way there, but Alice is fairly certain that Bella doesn’t have a fear of flying. Edward stares out the window, jaw clenched shut. The cabin stewards shuffle down the walkway with their trays. Alice is hungry. She stares at the long open neck of the passenger across from her.

Correction, Alice is starving.

She doesn’t know whether to consider the trip a success. Edward is alive. Good. Bella is alive. Also good. Edward’s worst fear is coming true and Bella will never live a normal life. Bad. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Edward wince. Shit. She needs to think about something else. The cabin steward stops in front of her to ask if she’d like a drink and Alice watches her throat bob as she speaks. Yes, Alice wants a drink.

“No, I’m okay” says Alice. “Bella do you want anything?”

“Um.” There’s a pause. “Yeah. Yeah I’ll take a Coke.” Bella tries to smile, with some success. It comes out wobbly but the steward doesn’t ask questions. Her fingers play with the metal tab, scratching and pinging it.

“I’m going to miss Coke, I think.”

Bella takes a sip.

“Yeah, definitely.”

Vampiric Bella flashes through Alice’s mind once again. She really is something special. Her skin looks like glass, glistening in the sunlight. Her hair shoots out behind her like a silk cape. It seems longer, fuller. It suits her. And her eyes seem so wide and round, irises sparkling like rubies.

Edward stiffens, jaw clenching tightly. Alice reads his expression as easily as she would read a warning sign.

‘Don’t say a word. We’ll talk about this at home.’

***

“It’s probably just due to the initial change. All vampires start with red eyes, you know this.”

Edward paces around the study. Rosalie and Emmet sit on the cushioned bay window and Carlisle and Esme lean against the desk, all four of them looking tense. Alice doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that they don’t believe her. She fiddles with a piece of string, wrapping it tight around her finger. Jasper puts a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. She breathes out, leaning back into him a little.

“I left for this exact reason, she was never meant to be like us. We can’t let this happen.”

“We can’t stop it.” Carlisle gestures towards the portrait.

“But-“

“They know of her existence now.” Rosalie stands up. It hits Alice all at once, how genuinely angry she is. Her eyes glitter dangerously. “They know of her existence because you told them. He’s right, we can’t stop it. Because of you.”

The room is so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Edward looks disgusted, but whether it’s at Rosalie or himself, Alice can’t tell. It’s probably both.

Esme steps forward, her hand finding Rosalie’s. Rosalie stares at her, breathing heavily.

“Fuck this.” She spits, making her way out of the room, Emmet following behind. The doors bang noisily after them. Esme sighs, following the pair. She shuts the door lightly behind them.

“She’s right, you know.” Carlisle says,“The Volturi want her brought to them, changed in their lands. Just because she feeds there, doesn’t mean we’ll never teach her our ways.”

Edward sighs. Vampires don’t get headaches, but Alice imagines if they did, he’d have one.

Carlisle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“We can’t stop this now. They’ll come for her themselves if we don’t comply.”

“Fine.” Edward breathes out, defeated. Alice feels a knot twist in her stomach.

“We bring her back here after the transformation, as soon as she’s controlled enough to travel.”

Carlisle’s eyes linger on the portrait of Aro, expression impossible to read. Alice wonders what it was like for them, united by affection, separated by ideology.

“I loved him.” Carlisle says, as if privy to her thoughts. “As a brother and a friend, I loved him. And I knew him. Which is why I’m telling you three now, be careful. There is a reason I have not introduced you to him, as is customary.”

“Be careful of what?” Alice asks, wrapping the string tighter.

“Aro likes powerful people. He likes to keep them, like pets or toys. And you all have special talents. Talents that make you desirable. You are all strong, powerful and rare. I expect he’ll view at least one of you as a sort of challenge. A rare gem to collect.”

“I’m not working for that monster.” Edward spits. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Do not underestimate the lengths he will go to pursue his desires. Be careful. He will not let you all leave with no underlying motive. Don’t forget that- that what he says isn’t always what he means.”

Carlisle exits with Jasper, leaving Edward and Alice alone together. She lets the string unwind, floating to the floor. Edward watches like a hawk, just looking for something to focus on. 

“Show me again.” He says softly, still staring at the string. Alice doesn’t want to show him anything. He looks like a child in a grocery store without its mother. Lost and nervous. It isn’t something she’s used to seeing on him.

“Show me again, I’m begging you Alice. Let me see her.” His voice is a whisper, a rustle of leaves in the dark. She caves. 

The vision comes almost unprompted, Bella in the forest. Bella in a long black dress, hair like a cape, longer and lusher than before. Eyes like rubies. She’s smiling, turning around to shout to a companion, but the vision ends before Alice can make out who.

“Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” Alice rests her head on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She’s not so sure she believes it herself. 

***

Alice and Bella meet at the nearest shopping mall. Alice’s treat. Holiday shopping, she calls it which Bella finds hilarious. They stroll through the crowds at a leisurely pace, navigating a sea of busy people rushing by them.

They don’t need to rush. They have so much precious time.

“You’re gonna want to pick some comfy clothes at first. Being a vampire means feeling more. It’s weird at first. How everything feels on you. You forget about it eventually, but at first it’s weird. I had a dress I loved as a human. Adored it. I put it on after the change and tore it to shreds an hour later. It’s things like that, things you don’t expect, that’s what makes it so difficult when you’re doing it alone.”

Alice reaches out, hugging tightly to Bella’s arm. “But you’re not alone, you’ve got me. And the rest of us. We’ve all been there.”

Bella smiles, keeping their arms locked.

They stop at a local shop. Bella busies herself searching for clothes fit for a soon to be creature of the night. She shuffles through a rack of sweatpants, stopping and pulling a pair out to feel. Alice nods.

“Soft. That’s what you want.”

“I’ll get this too.” Bella points to a black tank with a lace neckline. Alice giggles. She loves shopping, and makeovers. Girl stuff.

“We just need to get you a cape.” She grins.

They dip in and out of a few shops, buying things here and there. Alice gets a denim skirt, Bella gets a deep blue top and a pair of sliders. Alice thankfully manages to convince her to put back the worst outfit she’s ever seen in her immortal life.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Bella sighs.

“Oh honey, yes it was.”

They’re thinking about finishing up when Bella stops short at the bridal section in one of the thrift stores.

“God, Alice look at this.”

“Hm?” Alice turns to see Bella running her fingers over a long black veil. It’s lace, with thorns and dahlias sprawled across the edges. She gasps.

“Oh it looks wonderful! Wait a second.”

Alice sifts through the dresses until she finds a black one, satin and lace with a big hoop skirt. She draws it up next to the veil.

“It’s like a witches wedding dress.”

Bella nods absentmindedly.

“I’m buying it.”

Alice nearly laughs, but she sees the seriousness on her face and decides against it. 

“What for?”

“I’m going to wear it to meet with the Volturi.”

Alice looks at Bella. She’s staring off in a sort of dazed, dreamlike way. Bella’s hands run along the dress, pulling it up to her chest and holding it to her.

“I didn’t like it. When we went to rescue Edward I didn’t like being there for a hundred reasons. I thought I was going to die, or Edward. I thought they would hurt you, or change me right there and then. But when all the fear had cleared away, when I knew we were fine, at least for the minute, I didn’t like how out of place I looked.”

Alice nods. She understands a little. The Volturi are intimidating, their clothes emphasising that.

“Next time we see them, when I go to be changed or whatever, next time I want to match them. I don’t want their pseudo monarchy bullshit forcing me into the role of a commoner.”

She squeezes the dress. “This is perfect.”

She’ll look breathtaking in it. Alice feels her heart squeeze. She can imagine Bella - not walking - more like floating into the throne room, a butterfly in a spiders web. 

“Yeah, get them. Then let’s go to the food court. I’m sure you must be hungry.”

“Oh yeah, totally. Starving.”

***

Alice debates getting a drink of some kind. On the one hand, it’ll look kinda weird if only Bella has any food. On the other hand, she doesn’t want to spend her evening regurgitating an iced latte. She settles on getting a drink. It’s not like she actually has to drink it or anything.

Bella gets a burger, fries and a Diet Coke. They sit down at a table on the outskirts of the cafeteria. Alice prefers the quieter tables. She can still hear everything in at least a miles radius all at once, but it’s muted a little. 

“Will I have to go to high school for the rest of eternity?” Bella asks suddenly, looking somewhat horrified.

Alice laughs. “Not if you don’t want to. We enjoy it, for the most part. Keeps our minds sharp and gives us something to do during the day.”

Bella smiles sheepishly. “I’ll probably leave it for a little while. Maybe down the line I’ll want to join you but, at least now, my plans for eternity don’t involve calculus.”

Alice snorts. The vision of Bella plays in her head again. Red eyes. Running through the forest. It’s not a forest that she recognises, so not nearby any of the many households under the Cullen name. There’s a figure there, definitely, a figure behind Bella and Alice swears she sees a flash of black hair before the image dissolves. Could it be Jacob? Surely not, not if Bella’s eyes are red. So then…

“Aro.”

Bella looks at her strangely.

“He’s not going to let you leave with us. Not forever at least.”

Bella stares down at her hands. “Why not?”

“I think it’ll be your power. A vampire with immunity to other powers. You’d have an advantage over most vampires, one of the few people alive that wouldn’t crumble against Jane. And who knows how your power might evolve after the transformation. I always thought that you might find it growing into something else.”

“So then I what? Become a part of his guard?”

“I guess.” Alice frowns. It doesn’t feel right. It makes logical sense but… no, something in her gut is telling her that’s not it.

Bella meets her eyes then leans forward, conspiratorially. “What’s he like?” She whispers. “Can you tell me about him?”

Alice thinks. She’s only really heard stories from her father, back when he stayed with them.

“He was…Carlisle‘s friend. Carlisle says he was always very curious. Just wanted to know everything. When he first encountered the ‘Vegetarian’ diet, he was perturbed. Thought it would weaken us over time. He came around though, in the end. Aro’s polite and cheerful. But.”

Alice thinks back to the tribunals, the sentences.

“He’s polite but not docile. He only really cares about power and survival, I think. It’s rare he gives a second chance and never he gives a third. No excuses. You abide by the law or you die by it’s hand.”

Bella’s throat bobs as she sips her drink. Alice can hear the slight elevation of her heart rate.

“When we met him, in Italy, I was terrified. I mean, the whole time walking through the building I was shaking like a leaf. But when we entered into the courtroom. When he touched my hand. I felt calm.”

Alice thinks back to the throne room. She’d been preoccupied, too worried about Edward to think about anything else at the time but now that she has the time to really focus, it had been strange. The way he had looked at Bella when they had walked in. He’d smiled, but not the manic grin Carlisle had described. He’d just smiled. It had looked out of place on his face. 

“Do you feel that too? When he’s around? Is that just one of his traits, that he sets people at ease? Like a false sense of security?”

Alice thinks back to meeting him. She had not felt secure. She had not felt at ease in the slightest.

“No, I don’t think so.”

***

In three days, Bella is going to “Die.”

They have just over a week until they’re expected in Volterra, and there’s preparations to be made. Alice sits on the couch next to Bella, holding her hand.

“I think suicide would be best. It’s easy to fake. You leave a note and your car at the edge of a cliff. No one will question the missing body then.” Edward looks utterly miserable.

“No.” Bella says. “No way, Charlie would never forgive himself. It has to be an accident. Tragic, and unpreventable.”

This must be torture for Edward, Alice thinks, everyone imagining her death. It’s sort of his fault. She tries not to think it but she does. She also tries not to think about the way flinches, hurt. They all know it, that there’s truth in it.

“Car crash.” Jasper says. “Wet roads, late night drive. It happens, and there’s no reason for anyone to suspect foul play.”

“My dad gave me the truck.” Bella says quietly. It’s gonna be crushing no matter what, Alice realises. There’s no right way for your child to die. Nothing that makes it easier.

“I could fake a medical emergency.” Carlisle sighs.

“He’ll want to see the body” Rosalie isn’t wearing her usual irritated expression. Maybe it’s cause Bella doesn’t have a choice now either. Maybe that softens the blow. Or maybe she’s just putting on a face for Edward’s sake.

“The car crash isn’t a bad idea” Emmet mumbles.

“I just said my da-“

“Use Edward’s car.” Carlisle cuts in. Bella holds his gaze. Alice feels her sink deeper into the couch.

“That could work.” Esme runs a hand through her hair. She does that when she’s stressed. Alice can’t remember when she learned that, but she knows it’s true.

“You were driving her home after a date, swerved to miss… say, a fox, and the roads were wet. We could fake both your deaths. We’re gonna need to leave town anyway.”

“It’s…morally dubious… but I could replace your bodies with similar ones from the morgue. They’ll be disfigured by the accident, and I can adjust the details to match yours, such as blood type, time of death.”

Bella rests her head on the back of the couch. It almost looks like it’s swallowing her.

This is the reality of immortality, the one Edward had tried to protect her from. Leaving people behind, hurting people, lying. It’s all par for the course.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” She stands up abruptly. Everyone stares at her. “I’m gonna…um…get some air.”

She shuffles out, Edward following. The tension in the air is palpable.

“Well, that’s decided I guess.” Emmet mumbles.

Rosalie purses her lips.

***

Alice can hear them shouting, although she can’t really hear what about. She catches bits, here and there.

“…what you wanted?!…”

That’s Edward. The low voice tips her off. His voice sounds like thunder when he shouts.

“…doesn’t matter now…wanted it with you…”

Bella sounds almost hysterical. He’s really pissed her off this time, whatever he’s said. Probably blaming her. Probably blaming himself, deep down.

It’s windy outside, trees catching the wind and sending it whistling through the night.”

“We can still…”

“No it’s too late…left me alone to suffer all those months…”

Alice grimaces at the memory. She’d tried to warn them. Told them about the visions she had. Bella crying, for days crying, then not crying. Not doing anything. Bella getting thinner and thinner. It hadn’t been enough to stop them.

She’s amazed that Bella had forgiven them, honestly. Edward had seen. Had watched her withering without him. And he had left her anyway. Bella might’ve forgiven them but Alice knows she hasn’t forgotten. Sometimes she can see it on her face. The remnants of her winter alone, waiting like a dog by the door. 

Alice doesn’t like to think about it because thinking about it means thinking about how much more she could’ve done, and all the things she hadn’t been willing to do at the time. She should’ve put her foot down. She should’ve stayed.

“…love you…Bella…”

“…Stop…”

A tree creaks dangerously, branches beginning to snap. The wind is picking up, turning into a gale.

Alice gnaws on her lip. Bella had hugged him like she needed it to breath back when they’d saved him in Italy, yes…but since then, she’d been uncharacteristically reserved. Every time he’d touched her she’d moved out of reach.

“Bella please.” They’re getting closer now, to the house. Alice can hear their footsteps clearly.

Alice tries to imagine things as they were between them, before the party and the winter and the hurt.

“Edward, I need you to give me some space right now.”

He scoffs bitterly, then turns to leave.

She can’t imagine it. 

Her door opens abruptly, ending her train of thought. Bella slips in.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.” Alice pats Jasper’s hand.

“Jasper can you give us a moment?”

He nods, kissing Alice on the forehead before leaving. Her insides flutter a little, like they always do around him.

Bella sits on her couch, hunching over angrily.

“He wants to go back to normal now. Wants to pretend he wouldn’t’ve let me die there in that throne room if it meant he could ‘save’ me from a fate I asked for.”

She huffs.

“I still care about him but… I don’t think I love him anymore. Don’t think I could if I tried.”

Somewhere in the woods, a tree falls. Alice is the only one that hears it.

She stands up to comfort her, but before she can take even two steps she’s thrust into a vision so hard the room spins.

Aro sinks his teeth into her neck. Bella sighs in relief, before the pain starts. She reaches out, grabs his cloak as her legs give out. He sinks to the floor with her, looking panicked. They’re in a bedroom, presumably his. Her shrieks grow hysterical, her hands grabbing the bed frame.

Alice gasps, sitting down quickly. Another vision hits her, so hard she feels nauseous.

Aro brings her before the court. She looks beautiful, a vision of a vampire. They’re smiling, Aro talking about adding her to the guard. Marcus’s eyes grow wide. He rises, furious. Aro starts to look panicked as ge crosses the room, fast strides. He throws Bella behind him but it’s futile, Marcus pushes him aside in a rage, ripping Bella to shreds.

Alice screams, horrified. Bella stands. “Alice, what’s going on, what’s wro-

‘Make it stop’ Aro begs. He’s talking to one of his guard. ‘I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I can’t live like this. Take it from me, I beg you.’

‘Okay’

Alice falls from her seat, breathing heavily. Bella rushes to her side. “What is it, what did you see.”

Alice grabs her arm, gripping hard enough to leave bruises. It doesn’t matter. In fact, it’s the least of their worries.

“It’s Aro…he’s…fuck”

“He’s what?! Alice… please tell me.”

“Your mate.”

Chapter Text

“As far as I’m aware there are no further issues to be raised in court today.” Gianna’s voice trembles like a doe as she talks.

The Human receptionists always look terrified when delivering messages. Aro doesn’t understand why. With the exception of unfortunate Giselle, the Volturi have not killed a single receptionist in their employment. And to be perfectly honest, Giselle’s death could’ve been avoided had she been more careful. They’d taken the requirement for high heels away after she’d fallen and cut up her knee. Tragic.

“ Grazie, cara Gianna. Puoi andartene”

Gianna places her hand on the door handle, but before she can pull it open, the door swings ajar. Heidi enters with Alice and-

Ah, carissima

-Isabella

She glides in and in his surprise escapes a gasp. What a delight, to see her, and two days early. He drinks her in and- goodness - has she dressed up for him? She’s in a black dress that clings to her and a veil, billowing behind her like a cape. She’d be horrendously overdressed in most places, but amongst the court she looks quite at home.

“I understand this was not on the schedule for today but…” Heidi shoots Aro a polite smile “…our guests here insisted upon an audience.”

Alice stands to the side- Aro notices, belatedly, that she’s dressed up too. Not to the same degree, simply more elegant than her last appearance- and let’s Isabella stride into the middle of the room.

She kneels-Christ, kneels- before them, her black veil pooling around her like ink and bows her pretty head. Carlisle must’ve taught her court etiquette.

“I‘ve come to request a private audience with Aro. I’d like to further discuss my transformation.”

Caius sniffs

“Anything you need to discuss can be voiced in front of the court.”

“It is alright, my brother.” Aro smiles placatingly before turning to Isabella. He rises from his throne, crossing the room to meet her. Were it just them, he would offer his hand to her, but here, with Marcus lazily observing, he does not dare.

“Rise cigno , we’ll discuss things in my study. Dear Alice may accompany us, if you wish.”

Isabella rises as gracefully as possible, before nodding shyly. He leads the two through two wooden doors at the side of the room, down the hallway and to the left.  His study. It’s one of the few rooms that has an abundance of natural sunlight.

He grew up on the Greek coast, sun sand and summer. It’s difficult to be sure where one memory ends and another starts there. It all feels like one big long dream, detached from him, but somewhere inside him, that love is nestled into his core.

His study is not what they were expecting, he can tell. Isabella’s eyes are wide, scanning the cream walls, potted plants, books and clutter on every surface. He has paper and novels stacked everywhere. Only his desk is kept clear. His desk and chair, and of course the day couch underneath the big stained window. Isabella runs her hand along the glass. Tracing the waves he’s had built in. The window is centuries old and easily his favourite thing in the whole palazzo. His slice of heaven.

“Here we can speak freely. Now, what would you like to discuss.”

Alice steps forward but Isabella cuts in before she can speak:

“How freely? I understand that vampires have exceptional hearing and, really, I’d like to speak confidentially.”

Aro smiles at her. Clever Isabella, to check such a thing.

“I have taken special precautions to ensure no noise escapes my study. Please, sit.”

Alice and Bella share a look. It unnerves him slightly. Then Alice extends her hand towards him. An offering. He takes it.

Aro sinks his teeth into her neck. Isabella sighs like an angel, before the pain warps her features. She reaches out, grabs his cloak as her legs give out. He sinks to the floor with her, utterly distressed. They’re in a his bedroom. Her shrieks grow hysterical, her hands grabbing the bed frame.

He pulls her hand towards him, squeezing tighter-

He brings her before the court. She looks beautiful, a vision of a vampire. They’re smiling, Aro talking about adding her to the guard. Marcus’s eyes grow wide. He rises, furious. Aro starts to look panicked as he crosses the room, fast strides. He throws Isabella behind him but it’s futile, Marcus pushes him aside in a rage, ripping Bella to-

“ No” he hisses, dropping Alice’s hand.

Make it stop’ He begs. Corin looks utterly disturbed. ‘I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I can’t liv-

“He’ll know.” Aro realises. “If I turn you he’ll know what you are.”

He hears Isabella’s heart rate pick up. It’s hammering in her chest. If he bit into her now, the blood would spray everywhere. She would taste divine.

His head drops into his hands, rubbing his temples. “I guess your power only protects you while you’re human. Perhaps because the bond will strengthen once I’ve sired you.”

“So it’s true.” She says, voice almost steady. “You’re my…mate?”

Aro turns to Alice, smiling. It’s strained, and he’s certain she notices.

“Please give us a moment my dear. Make your way back to the hall.” He hands her a gemstone from one of the many cluttered surfaces. “They’ll know what this is, and that I’ve instructed you to do as such.”

Alice nods before turning to depart. Once the door shuts behind her, Aro meets Bella’s eyes.

“My dear, I have made a terrible mistake. This is not how I would’ve wished to meet you. Under these circumstances.”

“You’re really my mate.” Isabella stares at him, face unreadable. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining the wonder in her eyes. He hopes not.

“Yes. Do you feel it? This connection we have?”

She leans back, lying across the soft velvet cushions.

“I think so. You make me feel…”

He nods. Words could never capture it, truly.

“Why does Marcus want to kill me” she asks, in a small voice.

Aro stares at the desk. He can almost feel Didyme, stood at the corner of the room whispering ‘ go on, tell her what you did to me’

“I would prefer if we could become better  acquainted before discussing the specifics of that affair.” Aro smiles politely.

Isabella sighs.

“What am I going to do?” She murmurs.

“Stay here. In Volterra. I’ll give you chambers in the Palazzo. I can push back the date of your transformation.”

“What if I left? We could send proof of my transformation, I could even meet you and Caius whilst Marcus is occupied.”

Aro shakes his head. “There is no where you could run that he would not find you.”

He stands, coming to sit beside her. She straightens up.

“I will find a way, Isabella, I swear to you.”

She hesitates, then tentatively leans towards him, curling her head into his chest. He runs a hand through her hair before pulling away.

“Come, we must make arrangements with the Court.”

He pushes the door open, and, to his great surprise, sees Alice stood, eyes wide, still in the corridor. The gemstone has slipped to the floor. He picks it up, placing it back in her hand, subsequently gaining access to her latest vision.

Edward, stood in the snow, the entire Cullen clan behind him. He’s shouting, bearing his fangs. “What have you fucking done to her. How could you.” Aro grins. Edward rushes towards him, eyes burning. His head is in Aro’s hand moments later. He zips across the snowy plane, biting and ripping and destroying the clan. All of them. There’s only a millisecond of hesitation before he parts Carlisle’s head from his shoulders.

Alice stares at him like a deer in traffic. He smiles at her politely, pressing his middle finger to his lips in a shushing motion. She whimpers softly and he can feel her hatred leaking from her.

“I’ll take that back now dear, we can walk in together.” Aro lays a hand on her back, gently nudging her towards the courtroom. His other hand wraps around the gemstone, plucking it from her hands effortlessly.

Isabella walks alongside Alice, resting a hand in her shoulder.

“What did you see, Alice?”

Aro let’s his hand flatten back against her back, the pressure serving as a comfort and a warning.

“Uh, nothing. Just Edward moping.”

Isabella’s eyes roll a little. “The consequences of his actions I presume.”

Alice nods absentmindedly.

“Yeah, kinda.”

***

“These are your chambers, Isabella. If you need anything please let any member of the guard know. I’m sure they’ll gladly assist you.”

Aro stands in the doorway, watching her run her fingertips along the silk bedsheets.

“Please don’t hesitate to ask for food or drink of any kind, often we forget the limitations of humanity, having been liberated for so long.”

Her hands stop on the bed frame, grasping the mahogany.

“Is that what humans are to you? Weak?”

Aro can’t see her expression, so it’s difficult to decide what to say. Of course he views humans as weak, with their tissue paper skin and dying bodies. She can’t understand, it’s like the difference between looking and seeing. Humans with their inferior senses and inexorable requirements… he’s almost entirely forgotten what it felt like to be one. Almost forgotten he ever was.

“In some ways yes. In others, no.” He settles on. It’s a non-answer really, but it seems to placate her.

“I’d like to meet you tomorrow, for lunch. Would you like that?”

Isabella twirls round then. Magnifico . She nods, brown waves bobbing, wisps of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Marvellous. In that case, I shall accompany you tomorrow. I’ll let you get some rest now, Miele .”

He’s halfway out the door when her laugh rings out behind him like a quiet bell. He answers, Pavlov’d.

“Before you go, could you…um… get me some clothes sent here. I kinda didn’t bring anything else…”

Aro’s eyes rake up and down her, in her pretty dress. No clothes.

“What a shame.” He murmurs, eyes dark. “I’ll have someone send you a nice selection. Rest up.”

He shuts the door behind him with a resounding click, fights the impulse to listen for the steady beat of her heart the rest of the night.

***

Caius and Marcus are already sat reading when Aro walks in. Marcus doesn’t bother to look up from his book. Caius does, and, catching Aro’s expression, lifts an eyebrow, a silent question.

“As you well know, the Cullen’s have grown over the years. They’ve collected a couple of real talents.”

Aro comes to sit beside the two.

“I just had the most fascinating encounter with Alice. Seems we may be able to make our move sooner rather than later.”

Caius smiles, and it’s mean. Aro has always admired that in him. His propensity for violence. He’s ruthless, King Herod reincarnate. Aro supposes all good leaders must be to a certain extent.

Aro has always secretly wished to know more of Caius’s time as a human. He can’t imagine him, mortal and soft, in the arms of a mother. Had he come out of the womb screaming for blood?

Inversely, Aro dislikes his extensive knowledge on Marcus’s life. He wishes he could imagine the distant, stoic nature of his brother as a natural facet of his personality, as opposed to the truth. That he had been driven and full of life. That this Marcus is an irreversible effect of Aro’s actions.

Didyme materialises in the room, as she always does when Aro lingers on the thought of her, a vision meant to punish him. Aro blinks, once, twice, but still she won’t go. Her gaze lingers on him even as he turns away from her.

“When do we begin, Brother?” Caius asks.

“It is a matter of waiting. Once dear Isabella is a vampire, we needn’t even provoke attack. Senseless Edward will surely give us the opportunity we need.”

Marcus puts his book down, face stoic.

“Does this mean we’ll be travelling, Aro?”

“No, he’ll be coming to us.”

Marcus sighs. He looks tired. He’s looked tired for a long time.

“Lovely. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be retiring to the library.”

“Can I aid you in your research brother?” Aro asks.

“No” Marcus replies, “I’d prefer to study privately in this instance.”

As he sweeps out of the room, Aro feels a wriggle of worry twist in his gut, like a tapeworm, eating away at him. He mistakes it for guilt initially.

“What do you presume he’s studying?” Caius asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

“Surely nothing good.” Aro replies, thinking of Isabella. Alice’s vision rattles it’s way through his head, Isabella’s head ripped from her shoulders. Marcus’s chest heaving. He pushes it from his brain.

“In any case, we must focus on engineering an environment in which Edward loses his self control. This shouldn’t be exceedingly difficult as he has previously shown he lacks foresight.”

Caius nods “Leave it to me, I’m skilled at provoking outburst.”

“No truer words than that.” Aro laughs.

***

Isabella sleeps with her lips parted, hair strewn across the mattress, a vision. Aro doesn’t watch, he’s not a pervert, merely peaks his head around the door. To satisfy his curiosity. He has not seen anyone sleep in such a long time. She exhales softly and he shuts the door behind him, alight with a buzzing sensation.

***

Isabella wakes up at 10:03am. He could hear it in the spike of her heartbeat, which had thumped softly at a constant beat during all hours of the night. He has become accustomed to it, ticking like a clock in any quiet room.

He hears her shuffling about her temporary chambers, opening the door and taking clothes from Heidi, showering, dressing, and finally, waiting. He lets her wait a while, presumes it’s the best path for building anticipation. Court proceedings are slow and of little importance, so he excuses himself at a mere 12:25pm.

His chambers contain multitudes, including clothes more suitable to the streets of Italy than his court robes. He styles his hair, taking care to make it look effortless, pulls on an expensive watch -he has no use of it, can tell the time from the placement of the sun in the sky, but the device is a staple in menswear and it would look odd for him to be without it - and straightens his suit. His crest hangs proudly round his neck, resting on his chest. Perfect.

He knocks on her door gently, and she seems relieved when she opens the door and it’s him. He suppresses a smile at that. Sweet Isabella.

“Would you like to accompany me around Italy.”

She smiles gently, nervously. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” He holds the door, letting her make her way in front of him.

She’s picked an indigo summer dress, which floats gently at her ankles, swaying as she moves. His eyes trace her figure, lingering on her neck. She looks divine. He tells her so.

“Thank you. Heidi told me she picked them out for me?”

Aro leads her down the corridor towards the tourist exit.

“Yes, she has impeccable style. She’s well acquainted with most of the boutiques in Volterra. Perhaps you’d accompany her out one time and pick some clothes of your own.”

The sun hits Isabella’s face as she emerges from the palazzo, and she squints, readjusting. Aro steps out into the street with her. She stares at him, eyes wide.

“You’re glowing.”

Aro huffs a laugh. “Not really. It’s duller than the sparkle of a young vampire certainly.”

Isabella frowns. “Won’t people see you?”

“Not where we’re going. It’s all quiet back streets, and the festivities in the town square draw almost everyone in the area, local or not.”

He walks with her through the empty streets, letting her stop to admire the greenery or the dusty walls. A cat wanders up to her and she lets it run against her leg, bending down to stroke it. It hisses at him, which makes her laugh.

The air is perfumed with citrus and flora, summer heightening the unwavering beauty of Volterra. The sun wraps itself around Bella, and Aro can see that she looks less pale than when she’d first arrived.

She’d moved from Arizona. Maybe she missed the sun.

He wishes, not for the first time, that he could sift through her memories like anyone else, experience Arizona as she had, learn her mind. She remains untouchable, an unknowable force that renders him off kilter at all times.

He leads her to a cafe on the outskirts of Volterra, asks for a table - in the shade, please - and settles into his seat.

Isabella’s face is unreadable as she skims the menu. Aro wants to ask her everything. About her life, beyond Edward’s limited perception. About her desires. Her ambitions. He settles on asking what she’d like to eat.

“I don’t know what any of this is.” She stares at him blankly. He blinks.

Ah yes. She doesn’t speak Italian. How novel.

He narrates the menu to her, pointing at each dish, and she settles on pansotti alla genovese. Aro hums approvingly despite having no understanding of its flavour. He’d been turned a few millennia before it’s conception, and turned in Greece no less.

He asks her about Arizona.

“It was hot, and vast and empty. I knew everyone but didn’t really know anyone, and I spent most weekends keeping the house under control.”

Aro lifts an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. She does, somewhat reluctantly.

“My mom was kinda a wild card? Like, she’d go out to these crazy parties and then come back in a state and I’d help her into bed and get her water and medication and that’s just kind of how we were. I had the house to myself a lot, which I liked. But also sometimes didn’t like.”

Aro considers this.

“You wanted her around more?”

“I wanted anyone around more. And I wanted someone I could rely on. That’s important to me.” She holds his gaze, eyes intense. “Can I rely on you?”

Aro considers this. It’s a very broad statement, but he doesn’t want to appear foolish or flippant by asking in which areas exactly, would she like to be reliant. Worse still, she might ask about protecting the Cullens, or abandoning the Volturi, two areas where her opinion is completely irrelevant to him, and he will be forced to either state:

“Yes, you can rely on me to protect and even nurture the Cullen coven, of which I am increasingly concerned by” telling a clear lie that is likely to be revealed in the near future

Or

“No, Il mio tesoro, il mio cigno, il mio angelo, although it pains me so, I cannot allow you to rely upon me in these matters”

Neither outcome seems to be particularly desirable, and so, in lieu of a real answer, Aro allows his eyes to soften and states:

“Your well-being is of the utmost importance to me.”

Isabella remains still for a couple of extra seconds, eyes searching his face for something. It’s clear she’s not entirely satisfied with his answer but she lets the matter drop, for now, shoulders relaxing slightly.  The waiter brings her food over, setting it down gently and she picks up her fork, mixing the dish before taking a bite.

“I’m sorry.” She says, half a laugh and half a sigh. “This whole mate thing is new to me. I’m still on edge a little.”

Aro supposes that’s fair.

“Do you truly feel the connection between us, or are you relying purely on Alice’s vision?” He asks, once again wishing he could see inside her mind.

Isabella retrieves another mouthful, thinking while she chews.

“When I first walked into the hall I was so scared, for Edward and Alice and most prominently, myself. And then you approached me and I should have been terrified but I wasn’t.  I felt this sense of…almost calm? I didn’t know what it was, or that it was some kind of mating bond, but I could feel something.”

Blood tinged her cheeks briefly, but she continues speaking almost undeterred.

“And then I had this dream about you once I was home. It was weird.”

Aro sits up straight at that.

“What did you dream about, Isabella .” He draws out her name as he says it, like it’s thick and sweet and stuck in his throat. She looks down.

“I’m not going to tell you. Not yet.”

“Why?” He means for it to sound curious, but his tone comes out dangerously like pleading.

She glances to the side. She won’t seem to look him in the eye. He wants to make her. He refrains.

“I want to know more about you, before I tell you everything about me.”

He exhales in a slow hiss.

“Tell me about the Volturi.” She asks, looking him in the eye now.

“We operate with the intent of keeping vampirism under wraps from humans. It allows us to coexist, keeps the vampire population low enough that the human population is not significantly impacted by hunting, and protects vampires and humans alike.”

“What do vampires need protection from?”

Aro smiles. “In the past, very little. Although it was a dreadful inconvenience when vampirism was more of an open secret. Though now, humans have invented nuclear technology that is quite capable of killing a vampire.” He leans in towards her, almost conspiratorially. “They did all that without knowledge of us. Imagine what they could develop if they were trying.”

Isabella contemplates this before nodding. “What are the rules you uphold, then?”

“We prohibit the creation of immortal children, inconspicuous hunting, rebellion against the Volturi, bearing false witness and hunting inside Volterra.” He smooths a hand over the top of his head. This is a safe topic, one he knows all the answers to. The Volturi. His purpose.

“We also require the training of newborns by their sires. Siring a vampire makes you equally as responsible for their shortcomings during their newborn phase, so it’s expected of all sires to acquaint newborns with these rules.”

The sky has turned somewhat overcast and Aro takes this as a chance to signal the waiter for the bill. He leads Isabella out of the cafe and onto an empty street, which they walk down at a leisurely pace.

“Tell me something about you, Aro.”

“What would you like to know?” He asks

“Something no one else knows.”

He chuckles at this. “And if I do, will you tell me of your dream?”

Isabella looks down. “No. But please answer anyway.”

He hums. “If I answer your queries, what will you give me in return?”

“I’ll answer one of your own. Not about the dream, but ask me about anything else.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. So tell me a secret. Something no one else knows.”

Aro has a multitude of secrets, however most are ones he shares with his brothers. They cannot afford secrecy lest the Volturi fall victim to infighting. He settles on something inane, something human.

“I was a carpenter. When I was alive.” He breathes.

“What did you make?”

“Tables and beds mostly. The odd doorframe. I started when I was still a boy and worked right up until I was turned.”

They round a corner, coming to the ruins of an old crumbling building. Aro wraps an arm around Isabella and she sucks in a gasp. He takes her with him as he climbs the wire fence, and then they’re inside the walls, standing in the dusty building. Aro does not let go of Isabella, drunk on the feeling if her, so close.

“Tell me one of your secrets, Isabella.” He murmurs, lips close to her ear. He swears he feels her shiver under his breath.

“I-“ she steps out of his embrace, breathing out softly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Anything, deliciae mea.”

“ I thought about you kissing me, that first day we met, in the courtroom.”

Aro stands still, listening to heartbeat as it beats erratically. Her lips are plump with blood, and he wants to kiss them, bite them.

“And I thought about it once I was back in Forks too.”

“Would you like me to, now?” He’s speaking in this intense way, doesn’t know what he’ll do if she says no. Prays for sì, per favore, adesso.

Her eyes flicker up to him and a soft sigh of “Yes” escapes her before he’s on her, hand in her hair, lips slotted firmly between hers.

He walks her back into one of the walls, ignoring the dust that floats its way to the ground, and pushes his tongue into her mouth. A moan escapes her before she relaxes into it, her eyes floating shut.

She grabs his back, holding on tightly as she sighs into his mouth. Isabella tilts her head up, her long neck exposed and he breaks away from her mouth to run his lips down the long line of her carotid artery. It pulses under him, and his mouth waters at the feel of it. He lets a fang graze her skin softly, delights in the small whimper that escapes her.

“Are you afraid , Isabella?” He kisses her neck softly, placatingly.

“ Yes .” She whispers, and he notices how stiff she’s gone, how still. He relishes in it.

“You need not be. I will not hurt you.”

He nips her neck, not breaking the skin, and it’s a testament to his self control that he is able to pull away, to return his attention to her lips, even as a soft moan escapes her. His tongue slides over her bottom lip and he pulls back to watch it glisten.

“Not in any way you don’t want.” His voice is almost gravelly.

Isabella bows her head to him and he pulls back, overcome. Cari dei, cari cieli , How will he bear this, to be close to her and yet deprived of any unnecessary touch? Of affection? It appears to him necessary at all times for her to be by his side, touching and sighing so prettily.

The threat of Marcus’s words choke him and he finds himself imagining Didyme again, stood beside Isabella, ghostly arm cradling the girl as she pants. He sees sorrow in her eyes, sorrow for her brother and for this girl, and Aro feels- quite possibly for the first time in his life- undeserving.

Isabella opens her mouth, to speak or to return to kissing him, Aro will never know, because he turns away from her. She looks dazed, a little hurt.

“We should head back to the palazzo. It’s getting late and the others will wonder where we have been.” He grits out, self control hanging on by a thread.

She falters for a second before steadying herself.

“Alright. Alright, let’s go then.”

He carries her back over the fence, keeps on holding her and runs through the streets until they’re a short distance for the palazzo.

“They must not know Isabella, of us. No one can know while Marcus’s wrath still hangs over us.”

“I understand.” She says, and he believes her.

“Do not think I do not wish for your presence at all times, darling, angel .” Aro runs a hand through her hair, and this is dangerous, so close to the palazzo, but he simply cannot resist.

“I’ll find you tomorrow and we can go for lunch once more.”

They walk the rest of the way back to the palazzo in silence, Aro listening to the beat of her heart. They part at the gate, his hand brushing hers in secret goodbye. His chambers feel dull and empty without her there, and he’s frustrated by his need for her company.

Didyme’s apparition, seemingly intent on hounding him today, manifests on his bed. He regards her with a bitter eye.

“Never have I so wished your eyes still held life, my sister.”

She scoffs. “If life in one’s eyes was necessitated for their animation you would be as dead as I, brother.”

“Wrong.” He sneers  “The light in my eyes has returned. It is simply hidden away.”

“Then perhaps it would be my husband, cold and dead as his eyes are. Do you feel the guilt of it?”

“ Every day.” Aro hisses. “Every hour since your passing I have regretted.”

“And yet never so much as now, when it has finally come to affect you.” She spits back. “You celebrated my death, celebrated the success of your plan”

“I mourned you, Didyme. What dark compulsion drew you away from me, I rue it’s existence.”

“I fear it was dark compulsion that kept us near. The greed of it all. You’ll never be satisfied, not with all your power and influence. Such is the nature of your position. It does not seek to comfort, only expand and control.”

“I was happy, with my sister at my side. I was content .”

“You were never content for long, οχιά μου. ”

Aro slumps down into an armchair, cursing softly.

His vision of Didyme softens, features warping into something resembling sympathy.

“She’s sweet, your girl. I would’ve liked her.”

“Indeed. You would’ve been great friends.”

“When will you tell her of me?”

Aro grips the arm of the chair, fingers digging in to the upholstery.

“Once I have found the words.”

Didyme sighs.

“Marcus will not respond to your pleading. Nothing short of our reunion will suffice.”

“I will not kill him. I will not make that mistake again.”

Didyme regards him with light surprise. “You’ve changed. You no longer think of the Volturi as your first reason for the necessitation of his survival. You think of your own heart.”

“You could not know that.” He glowers.

“I know all of you, brother. I am more you than myself, these days.”

***

When he sees Marcus in the hallway later that day, carrying a stack of books in his arm, Aro cannot meet his eye.

Chapter Text

Marcus’s days blend together. He paces. He reads. He attends court. He paces. He reads. He eats. He paces. He paces. He paces.

The Palazzo is home to the constant shuffling of his feet. He is rarely still, only ever during tribunals and court hearings, or when forced to listen in on another of his brothers schemes. Even then, his fingers twitch incessantly, screaming to be used for something.

There is nothing, truly, for them to do.

He thinks, abstractly and frequently, that he has gone mad. He had gone half deranged at Didyme’s death and then further still at the discovery of its perpetrator. He wonders if madness was something you noticed, or something that you slipped into without realising.

He longs for the days when he did not know of Aro’s betrayal. Of Caius’s too, really, insofar as he kept quiet even as he tore himself apart with grief and confusion. At least when he didn’t know of the culprits he had a purpose, something to drive him to action. Something to dedicate his infinite time to.

Now he just skulks around the palazzo. Spends days in the library, researching the occult, the old ways. Sifting the fallacy from the real magic. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, really. Not something to bring her back, no that hope had died a long time ago. Not a way to kill himself, he’d already created a plan for that years ago. Perhaps just something worth reading about.

The library turns into a mess of papers, books piled like skyscrapers around the dusty room. Marcus thinks about picking them up, but he’s just so tired, in a way that’s seeped into his bones and fully claimed him. He really does think about picking them up, but in the end he just shuffles off to go find somewhere to lie down.

***

He comes in one day to find his paper city demolished. At least half of the skyscrapers are missing, the other half smaller, less precariously stacked. He surveys the room with mild curiosity, before his attention is caught by a movement in his peripheral.

The mousy girl with the brown hair is stacking books diligently, unaware of Marcus watching from across the room. He supposes it’s only fair, she has headphones on and her senses are limited even without that. He decides to clear his throat, just so she knows he’s there. She jumps, terrified, and only slightly relaxes after seeing him. He doesn’t take it to heart.

“Can I help you?” He asks, a little awkwardly. It comes out flat and her brow twitches, anxiety flashing across her features before she schools herself.

“I’m… looking for texts. Literature, I mean. Aro said there were some first editions in the library.”

Marcus surveys the pile around her. Macedonian texts that Aro translated into greek some 800 years ago. He lifts an eyebrow, question evident.

The girl sighs.

“I got carried away. I just wanted to clean this place up. I mean It’s a wonder you find anything in here, it’s a state.”

Something strange bubbles up inside Marcus; he’s not sure what until it climbs his throat and bursts out. A laugh. Well not a laugh, Marcus doesn’t really do laughter anymore. But a snort. A breath of amusement.

“My library doesn’t impress you?” He asks her, internally questioning his own curiosity.

“Your library impresses me greatly. It’s the manner in which it is organised that I find…somewhat lacking?” She replies, shoulders still carrying tension but…less now.

He walks over to his chair, sinking down into it before muttering a quiet:

“Carry on.”

The girl doesn’t ask questions, just turns back to the task at hand. Marcus appreciates that. He watches her passively as she files, sorts and organises. The floor seems so much more spacious now, carpet dark in spots where the sun hasn’t been able to fade it. Didyme had liked that rug. Persian. She had bartered for it with a vendor way back during the Achaemenid Empire. Marcus had told her to just kill him and take the damn thing but of course, she hadn’t wanted to.

“Then who will make such beautiful rugs?” She’d said, smiling like the face of the moon, big and bright and captivating. He’d kissed her hand and filled it with gold coin. She’d left the market, one hand carrying the rug and the other wrapped around his arm.

Marcus almost misses the books, covering it. He thinks about rolling it up, tucking it away like a memory, but it feels disrespectful. Not what she would’ve wanted for it, to be relegated to a closet.

“Do you mind if I borrow this?.”

A feminine voice snaps him from his revire.  Yes. He’s in the library. He’s in the library with Aro’s new project. Yes. The girl- he cannot remember her name for the life of him- holds a book out to him, face tilted so he can read the title. Italian;

Intrecciati, cuciti insieme: una recensione delle anime gemelle attraverso una lente vampirica

Soulmates?

“Why would you want a book in Italian.”

She turns slightly red.  Mortal. Marcus hears the blood in her veins rushing, pulsing.

“For practice. I’d like to learn Italian.”

“This book is about soulmates.” He says tiredly. He doesn’t know why he’s telling her this, like it matters to her. “Vampire soulmates. Most spent millennia without finding one.”

She blinks, then nods. “An interesting subject.”

He sighs.

“I permit it.”

She nods, turning away. Then she stops. Spins slowly on her heel.

“Would you possibly help me translate it?”

She can’t meet his eye. Marcus wants to scoff. Or laugh. Or throw something at her. Instead he says;

“Ok.”

***

That night, in his quarters, he talks to her. Well. Her portrait.

“I hope this is what you would’ve wanted. To impart knowledge, exchange culture. I hope it’s what you would’ve desired.”

She just smiles at him, painted lips stretched perfectly, pearly whites almost glinting at him in the moonlight. He swears he can feel her hand on his shoulder.

***

“I’m assuming here that you have little to no experience learning foreign languages.”

The girl- Bella, Felix had told him earlier- looks up to the left, considering.

“I did Latin in middle school.”

“Sed quid didicisti?”

She stares at him blankly. He sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh though, not like his usuals.

“Let’s begin. Verbs have different forms for each “person”, for example in English the verb “to be” conjugates “I am” “You are” “He is” and so on. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“The infinitive in English is written with “to”. ‘To learn’, ‘to study’, ‘to bite’.”

She nods, focusing.

“The infinitive in Italian ends with “-are”, “-ere” or “-ire”,“

He gives her a notebook, his handwriting sprawled across it. Her eyes flash across it, taking in everything. She must be quite smart he thinks, the way she’s devouring this. Only an academic mind looks at a page of work with that hunger.

He explains the rest of the present tense to her. Conjugation. Root verbs. She takes it all in, asking questions along the way. He feels almost fatherly, until he thinks about having a family, and Didyme, and then he just feels sad. Bella must sense it, because just as he’s slipping into misery, she yawns and excuses herself with a soft smile.

“Take care Marcus. Let’s resume study tomorrow.” She says, gentle but with no pity. He appreciates it. Just slightly. She slips out of the room like water down a drain, disappearing in a flash. Marcus stares at the dust particles floating through the air and thinks and thinks and thinks of Didyme. Her hand still rests on his shoulder, constant as a heart.

***

He teaches Bella the 50 most popular Italian words.

Ciao. It means hello and goodbye. She starts saying it to him whenever arriving, whenever departing. It makes the corner of his mouth twitch.

Buongiorno. Good day. Prego. You’re welcome. Mi scusi. Im sorry. Per favore. Please.

She asks him what the word for evil is. He thinks of Aro and whispers scellerato. She asks him what the word for love is. He thinks of Aro once more and whispers amore.

She asks him what his favourite word is and Didyme’s name escapes from his mouth before he can stop it.

“What does it mean.” She asks, eyes alight.

“Everything. It means everything.”

***

Marcus has this dream.

Well not a dream. Vampires can’t sleep, and so vampires can’t dream. But regardless, he has this dream. This fantasy, even.

They’re on the beach where they met. Him and Aro. Didyme is not there yet, still tucked away in their seaside cottage- the one Aro had built for them before the palazzo, before Caius, before any of this.

Aro’s face is unfamiliar. Marcus hasn’t learned the awkward up and down of his voice, the way words seem to bounce around in his throat. He holds out a cold hand for Marcus to take, begins to introduce himself.

Sometimes, in the dream, Marcus walks right by him, and off into the sunset. He never meets Didyme and she lives forever, by her brothers side. He thinks it might be enough, to know she lives, even as she’s kept from him. 

Sometimes he twists Aro’s traitorous head off right there and then. Kills the baby before it can become the monster.  Throws it in the sea and tears the body to shreds. Lights a bonfire and feels phantom warmth as Aro burns before him. Didyme lives forever. Maybe she forgives him, maybe she doesn’t. But she lives. She lives. 

Vampires can’t dream. He learned that a long time ago. And so he doesn’t. 

***

Bella’s progress is fast. She picks the language up like an old coat, slips into it effortlessly. She’s speaking in full, intelligible sentences by the end of the month. Marcus isn’t sure why Aro keeps putting off the date of her changing, but he does. It’s pushed back by a week, and then a month.

He speculates that Bella is his singer. Aro’s self control is rivalled by few. Perhaps he bites her, takes just a little from her each weeks. Like a dessert, special and best enjoyed in small portions.

He asks her upfront one day “Why doesn’t Aro want to change you?”

She replies “Not sure.” But he can tell she’s only half truthful. He doesn’t push it.

Aro starts hanging around the library. The first day he’d walked in on them together, he had looked almost frightened. Marcus had watched the minute stiffening of his whole body as he regarded Bella’s bend head. Then he’d muttered:

“certo, avrei dovuto saperlo”

And wandered out the door.

Marcus hears him lingering in the hallway outside the library, and it bothers him. Why does Aro care so much about this girl. It puzzles Marcus to no end. Sure she’s smart, sure her gift is impressive. But really, this is unlike him. He pushes the thought to the back of his head but it remains there, itching to be vocalised.

***

Marcus’s days blend together. He teaches Bella. He reads. He attends court. He teaches. He reads. He eats. They clean the library. They converse. She learns and, in some ways, he does too.

Didyme haunts him less. He thinks of her, always, always. But she’s not lurking in shadows, not crying, not sad. He sees her in the corner of his eyes still, sure, but she is always smiling. Always alive. Always as she was, when they were as they were.

His anger ebbs and flows like the tide. He sees Aro and, for the first time in centuries his first thought is not of fury. One day he passes him in the halls, and finds himself nodding curtly, addressing him as “Brother.”

But just as fast as the spring comes, so does the winter. He attends court, of course, and when Aro executes a young vampire of only 47, all he can see are Aro’s cruel snake eyes, his venomous mouth. Marcus thinks of his sweet dove Didyme and imagines Aro, jaw unhinged, swallowing her whole.

***

In the end, he’ll never know how she died exactly. He’ll never know what went down, because he’ll never ask and because Aro would never tell him if he did.

Oh god, he hopes it was quick.

In the end he cannot forget, not forgive Aro’s face the day she had died, completely neutral, giving away nothing of his betrayal. He cannot forget how he’d begged his brothers to help him search for the killer and how they’d agreed.

And of course, he cannot forget her as she was, in that last day. Curled hair cascading down her back, red eyes glittering like rubies. He will never forget her songbird voice, murmuring “Just a moment my love, I’ll be back in just a moment. There is a matter I must attend to.”

or how her hand had rested on his shoulder, squeezing gently once before slipping from him for good.

Chapter Text

“How long will you continue with this game, Aro?” Caius asks. They are in their meeting room, deep underground the palazzo.

“May I inquire as to which game?” Aro asks, already knowing the answer. Caius scoffs.

“Whichever game it is that you’re playing with the human. The Guard are on edge. They smell her throughout the palazzo . They hear her incessantly beating heart. It drives them to distraction.”

Aro raises both eyebrows “If the steady rhythm of a solo heart is enough to disturb the men, perhaps we must keep her mortal, as a training exercise.”

Caius groans. “Even I find myself irritable due to her constant and oppressive presence.”

“I like her.” Marcus says. Aro forces himself to look only an appropriate level of interested.

“Oh?”

“I’d like for her to be one of us.”

Aro hides his bitter laugh as well as is possible. Oh, the irony.

“I need her to be freshly turned when we convene with the Cullens. It’s imperative that she be a little unstable, and what better way to be assured than that.”

Caius’s face pinches up.

“Then might I ask why the Cullens have not arrived yet? Surely we are well enough prepared for their slaughter.”

Marcus shuffles somewhat uncomfortably. Aro chooses not to engage with him.

“All in good time my brothers. These things cannot be rushed.”

“We’ll I’m asking you to hurry this along in any way you can. I am sick of her presence throughout our palazzo.”

This is not ideal. He’s backed into a corner in a sense, unable to give a proper explanation of his hesitations. He sighs audibly, conceding. Caius’s thin lips pull into a tight smile, which Aro returns.

“You must excuse me then, for i have a couple of calls to make.”

He turns to exit, not waiting for a response. The palazzo is a sprawling estate, it would take a man around 2 hours to walk through its entirety, but it feels to Aro, almost claustrophobic today. He makes the walk to his study in just half the time it would ordinarily take him.

The door clicks behind him, and he knows that here at least, his thoughts are his own. Here at least he can speak and not be heard.

“ Isabella .” He mutters, like a prayer. “Se è possibile, lascia che questa coppa di sofferenza mi sia portata via.”

He looks at his hands and finds he is all out of options.

He drafts up a letter, careful with his wording. She’ll understand, he knows it.

His sprawling writing takes up the page easily. It’s messier than usual, a sign of his agitation. Should this fail, he is truly out of options.

He seals it with a wax stamp. He trusts no one other than Renata to deliver it and so he asks her personally.

“It’s a long way I know, but you’re among my most trusted men.”

She nods, honoured.

He watches her leave from a window, hands clasped tightly. Time is running out, it seems. Didyme watches from the corner of the room.

“I certainly never thought I’d see you ask her for help.”

Aro forces himself not to roll his eyes.

“We are on better terms than you might imagine. And of course, she is owe me a debt.”

“She was very nearly the ruin of the Volturi.”

“If that were true I would certainly not have allowed her to live. Her uprising was weak and resulted in her expulsion from our ranks.”

“I simply found it unexpected that you would rely on her.”

“Yes.” Aro muses grimly. “Me too.”

***

He clears his schedule for the next day. After court and a brief exchange with his brothers, he is unburdened by duties.

He finds Isabella in the gardens, lounging outside with a glittering Felix. They’re sat together, whispering and pointing out birds. Aro wonders absently when they became so close.

He hasn’t seen as much of her as he would’ve liked over the past month. Between his duties, her time studying and her mortal requirements, he’s salvaged only an hour here, a moment there. A soft kiss behind her ear. The electric brush of fingertips.

“Isabella” he says smoothly. She starts, sitting up as Felix rises to his feet. He gives her a look and she stands next to him.

“Padrone.” His head dips respectfully. Isabella doesn’t follow, just stares at him absentmindedly. Aro hopes Felix does not question her lack of reverence.

“Isabella” he smiles, “Are you enjoying the Italian summertime?”

“Enormously.” She says, corners of her mouth upturned softly.

“Would you accompany me through the gardens?”

She nods, moving to him before giving Felix a small wave. Felix waves back, eye’s questioning. Aro does not deign to answer.

He leads the way, through an archway and into a well organised flower plot.

“Athenodora keeps the garden in shape. It’s her obsession. She’s learned all there is to learn about horticulture.”

Isabella brushes her hands through a patch of pink oleander. “I’d always assumed that vampires would seek out darker pallets, but the palazzo is quite airy.”

“Nocturnal by nature perhaps, but I have always had a fondness for the sun.”

Isabella lifts a hand up to brush along his cheek. Foolishly, desperately he allows her fingers to connect.

“The sun brings you alive.” She whispers.

“Almost” he retorts, meaning to sound witty. It comes out dry. “Follow me.”

He leads her down a stone path, through another archway, although this one is crumbling slightly, structurally weakened by the thick green moss that wraps around it. The path gets less maintained as they walk, vibes and weeds creeping out of the cracks. They round a corner and  then there it is, just as he left it.

The paint is unaffected by the years of sunlight and rain. Chalky pinks and sky blues splatter across the wall. Even now he’s not sure how she managed it. To capture the Italian summer with such accuracy, the energy of the birds, the warmth of the sun, the crystal glitter of the water.

“My sister painted it, when she was still with us. She told me she missed the sun, so I let her bring it to life.”

Isabella runs a hand along the wall, tracing the rays of sun down onto the lake and over each wave.

“It’s beautiful.”

Aro hums. “You would’ve liked her. She lit up every room.”

“I never had a sister. Always wanted one. I guess Alice was the closest thing to one I ever had.”

He can’t help but scoff. Isabella, perceptive as ever, raises an eyebrow.

“You call her a sister even as she left you to rot in the winter?”

Isabella visibly recoils, like stung. He continues.

“I read her thoughts, I know her mind better than even she. She turned her back on you.She does not deserve such a title.”

Isabella swallows, then speaks, her voice tight.

“She was just being loyal to her family. Don’t get me wrong, I wish she had put me first, but we all have priorities and sometimes we neglect one to serve another. It doesn’t make what she did right, but I won’t hold it against her forever. And neither should you.”

Aro can see the hurt on her face. It bothers him.

“Alright. Let’s not argue. If you say she’s your sister then, alright, she’s your sister.”

Isabella worries her lip between her teeth but says nothing more. He lets the silence hang for a moment then continues.

“You’re welcome to visit this garden whenever you need a moment. I always find it useful for when my mind overwhelms me.”

Her thumb brushes over the paint. “Thank you, Aro, This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so, La mia principessa.”

He leads her to the old wooden bench in the corner of their secret garden. Mossy and overgrown as it is, it remains surprisingly functional. He sits, watching their painted sunrise, trying to imagine the warmth on his face. After 4000 years, it’s barely a memory. Heat. The whisper of a feeling that once lived inside him.

Isabella sits quietly by his side, eyes fluttered shut and breathing a steady rhythm.

“What do you think the worst part of vampirism is.”

Aro thinks. The cold, the constant threat, the intoxicating pull of blood, a permanent burning in the throat. All options but none that have truly been missed.

“I do not sleep and so I cannot dream.”

She hums in agreement. “I think I’ll miss that. The dreaming.”

“You’ll miss a lot of things. Your family. Your friends. The steady beat of your heart.”

Isabella nods. “And Diet Coke.”

He exhales a laugh. “Diet Coke could not compare to the salivating gush of a split vein.”

“I’m still not sure I want to follow the common diet.”

Aro nods. “It will be your choice, bellísima.”

It won’t, of course, she’ll be expected to follow the Volturi diet. It would reflect badly upon the Volturi if their queen was seen to be soft on humans, but there’s no point getting into all that now. He expects that when she feels the tantalising pull of blood, she will not be inclined to resist it and so there’s no point getting involved. The problem will surely solve itself.

“It’s getting a little cold.” Isabella says, and when Aro’s gaze travels along her arms he can see the goosebumps that have formed on her skin. The real sun has set now and there’s a chill in the air that even he can feel.

“You must be tired dear, it’s getting late. Perhaps you should retire and we can reconvene in the morning.”

Isabella nods. He takes her hand and leads her back through the gardens and onto the steps up to the back entrance. The whole time, she’s looking at him with this heavy look that Aro isn’t sure what to make of, until she pulls him in and says:

“I think I left something in your study, will you accompany me to retrieve it?”

And then a grin splits his face and he nods and they’re walking, just slow enough so as not to arouse suspicion.

The door creaks as it opens. He steps in after Isabella, who makes her way to the desk in absolute quiet, half heartedly rummaging. He shuts the door with a click, turns the lock, and makes his way to her.

He takes a slender hand and pulls back her hair, revealing the pale expanse of her neck, and presses his lips to the corner of her ear.

“What have you lost, dear Isabella. Can I help you find it?”

She shudders beneath him, and he kisses her neck just to see how she’ll respond. It earns him a short gasp and then he’s gently turning her so she’s leaning her back against the desk, her lips a whisper away from his.

“It’s been hard these weeks, scarcely seeing you. I’ve been terribly lonely.” She sighs.

Aro coos, hands coming up to stroke at her hair. “ Il mio cigno, è terribile. Let me make it up to you.”

He captures her mouth gently, hands twisting in her hair. Her tongue meets his in an intoxicating dance, the wet heat of it sending electricity down his spine. A noise escapes him, halfway between a sigh and a groan and she presses into him further.

He hoists her onto the desk and her legs wrap around him. They move together, no sound but the wet mash of lips and their breathing. He pulls away and she looks at him through her eyelashes.

“ Fottimi .” She whispers, and he cannot stop the groan that erupts from him.

“Where did you learn such vulgarities.” He whispers, eyes on fire.

“I’ve been busy.” She laughs. His lips meet her neck once again and now she is fearless, now she leans into it. He travels down, further, along her collarbone and then further still, to the low cut neckline of her dress.

“I would not have you here.” He mutters, even as he claws at the fabric covering her, pushing it off her shoulders and then down, so she is uncovered for him. “Not here on this desk, not the first time. I would have you in my chambers, laid bare for me.”

She gasps as he unclasps her bra. His fingers clasp around a nipple, pinching cruelly and she whimpers helplessly. His lips wrap around the other, sucking gently.

“I admit, Il mio fiore , that I cannot bear to deprive myself of you any longer.” He bites softly on her nipple and drinks in the gasp that escapes her.

“But I will not indulge wholly. Perhaps, just a taste.”

He pulls tightly on both breasts, before licking over them softly in apology. Her breasts are hard and pointed, revealing her arousal. He kneels before her, guiding her legs over his shoulder and mouthes at her thigh, nipping and kissing the expanse of skin. Isabella sighs breathily, his name a whisper on her lips. His lips trace a line along her silk underwear, mouthing over her clit. A whimper escapes her and suddenly he’s starving.

His hands hook the straps, pulling them down quickly. His tongue darts out, pushing into her then licking a wet stripe . She mewls like a kitten, head lolling back and thighs tightening around her. His lips wrap around her and suck, drinking in the warmth of her clit. Electric desire runs through him like a current, responding to her voice.

“Aro, Aro don’t stop.”

He’s fully hard, tented against his suit trousers. Every part of him screams to be inside her, feel her tight around him, but he resists.

She tastes like ambrosia. He laps at her relentlessly, sounds vibrating up his throat to crash against her. Her legs twitch uselessly over his shoulders, thighs contracting tightly around his head. One of her hands finds his hair, and her fingers twist through it, holding him in place.

“You taste divine, miele. Ti voglio come nient’altro.”

He can feel her approach. She grinds her hips against his mouth, high keens and quiet sobs escaping her. He wants to eat her whole. He wants to take her apart then put her back together.

Her orgasm has her wrapping her legs around him, spine strung tight like a bow then released. Her cry is guttural. He soothes her through it, sucking gently on her clit, then switching to soft kisses when that’s to much.

She slides off the desk to meet him on the floor and he pulls her to him, stroking her hair gently.

“You were so good for me, so good. Bellissima .”

She breathes with him, chests rhythmically rising and falling,

“I want to be your girl.” She says. He kisses her forehead so gently, more gently than he’s handled anything in millennia.

“And so you shall.”

“Why can’t we be together now?” She whines like a child. He strokes her back. 

“Tis not a story for this night. All I’ll tell you now is, I took something very precious and I cannot give it back. The debt hangs over me- over us now, like a noose.”

He pulls her impossibly closer into him, and then he’s standing, cradling her.

He helps her dress, then kisses her, long and slow. Her arms wrap around him and she exhales before finally parting from him. He stays in his study after she leaves, sorting through the papers on his desk, looking for an answer. An unopened letter catches his eye, and he slices it open quickly.

It’s clearly arrived recently- he can still feel a ghost of warmth where human fingers have held it. It’s handwritten, just four short lines:

Aro,

I know of the flower you seek. I have tended to it in my gardens. I expect it returned to me after use. Let us consider my debt repayed.

Sulpicia.

His eyes widen. He drafts a reply immediately, calls for Renata while the ink is still wet and has her deliver it immediately. Then he takes the letter, folds it, and throws it in the fire.

***

Bella dreams of blue skies and sunshine. She dreams of two white doves nestled together on a branch, chirping happily. The larger of the two doves hops off the branch, flying away. In its place, a black dove appears. This dove has red eyes and sharp, pointed wings. With uncanny ability, it reaches its feather-claws out and snaps the neck of the white dove, before flying away. The white dove falls with a soft thud on the grass below. It’s larger companion returns, sprigs of safflower twisting from its maw. It lets out a curious chirp, then another, more insistent. When it sees her lying dead on the grass, what can only be described as a shriek escapes him. He cries and cries but she’s still dead.

***

All of her dreams have been like this recently. Two flowers in a field. Two mice in a barn. Two children playing by the side of the road. The first always leaves, the second always dies at the hands of a great evil. A lawnmower. A barn owl. A man in all black, face obscured. When the first returns, he cannot save the second. She is already dead and it is already too late.

***

It becomes a Greek tragedy to her. She is relegated to a seat in the audience, aware of what is coming and yet unable to prevent it. She cries out “No, don’t turn your back.” But he always does. He always returns with something for her and she is always dead.

***

Once, she sees behind the curtain. This dream it’s two boys. They are both fighting over a cat, over who it belongs to and who it should obey. The cat belongs to no one, of course, but when placed evenly between them, she pads her way over to the gentler boy. In a fit of rage the first boy snaps it’s neck (She is always killed. Always.) but this time Bella sees him panic.

He tries to wake the cat but she remains limp. He holds her to his chest to keep her frail body warm but the heat escapes her anyway. She hears him babbling “No, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t think.” But just like all the other dreams, there is nothing he can do. The gentle boy comes back and Bella wakes up feeling cold.

***

Three days after their rendezvous in the garden, Isabella finds Aro in his study. The door opens so quickly it bangs against the wall, leaving scuff marks. Aro, who at the time is laying languidly in his chair, sits up straight at her arrival. He surveys her face and is met with ice. He asks her what’s wrong and she replies only:

“I know what you’ve done.”