A/N: So this is in Marcus from the Volturi's POV. And yay! for angst!

Okay, for the general info some may not be aware of – Didyme was Aro's sister, and she carried this aura of joy around her so that people with her always felt happy. The rest of Marcus's history, for those who don't know, is at the end of the story – since there's no spoiler button here.

Forgive me if this is a little shoddy – it's the first thing I wrote since my recent bout of writer's block.

A song that inspired me for this one is Eva by Nightwish.

Hope you like it!

I stood at the tip, the precipice of the tallest turret of our Castle. The Volturi Citadel.

This turret was so tall, the narrowing beams reaching out to the unending expanse of warm gray sky, and, by illusion, seeming to touch it.

I could see Volterra, a wide sea of beautiful civilization surrounding me, but so down below. I could see the little spots of lush green that were the plentiful vegetation, and the dull gleam of the red sandstone of most of our architecture.

The sun was but a pale, mysterious gleam behind the soft mackerel sky.

The wind blew strongly, drifting heavy gray clouds above our town. My black robes whipped around me, and my dark hair was a mane followed by my pale face.

It was beautiful here, but I hardly noticed it. Because all the images that filled my mind, all that I could really see, was the ones of my memories of the one I loved. Didyme.

I chose to linger on the aspects of her gentle face, easily blacking out images of the scenery around me. Her starry ruby eyes in her elfin face, her crimson, rosebud lips.

I lingered on her fair hair, framing her flawless face. My faultless memory provided me the images efficiently, so that I need not believe I was here at all -I could be with my Didyme. I heard her merry laugh, echoing across our castle, making the solemn surroundings more alive, more real.

I remembered how the strength, the overwhelming intensity of our love thrilled my talent for sensing relationships. It flooded me with the glory of its magnitude -it was a feeling I was somewhat addicted to.

I thought of how being with my Didyme made me feel -her own wondrous talent, the aura of happiness that she carried around with her, filling everyone with zest and certainty. How being near her itself was an utter joy for me.

The image of her, brilliantly sparkling in the beams of the sun -it was an image etched permanently to the back of my eyelids so that whenever I shut my eyes, I saw the most glorious picture.

I swam in these memories joyfully, blocking out all other disturbing thoughts.

Didyme. My love -the melodies she played on her viol. The sweet tunes she made, that spoke so many words in its unique notes than many could possibly dream of. I remembered how her flaxen head bowed over the instrument as her lithe little fingers flew over the frets, bow flying, creating wonders. I could hear her joyous laugh at her creation after her eyes had opened, thrilled with the wonder of music.

We -Didyme and I, running across the jade meadows, laughing at the thrill of speed, her soft hand in mine.

We, Didyme and I, her arms around my neck and mine at her waist as I spun her lightly to pleasant waltzes and other tunes.

My vital, zestful, glowing Didyme. She was one that was impossible to overlook, or forget. Truly unique and exquisite. And she loved me.

I shivered lightly at the other inflow of memories. I recalled her sweet, soft lips moving in perfect harmony with mine; breathing in her scent, like soft jasmine and honey. Her small hands caressing my body. Running my hands through her golden hair, tracing the flawless features of her little face with my fingertips, running a finger across her parted lips, feeling the tickle of her soft breath against my skin...

Again, I stopped another thought before it could manifest itself. I pulled my mind back to these blissful images...

In our softly glowing bedroom, our ecstatic sighs, our bodies twined close together to one, an unbelievably powerful synergy. The sheets and pillows would be on the floor, forgotten by us, because we would be very preoccupied...

Ah, true love. It was something powerful for we immortals, for all emotions were magnified beyond the abilities of fragile humans. Everything was more powerful. Passion, joy, love... everything was more powerful.

I heard the voice from behind me suddenly, and I immediately knew it was the voice of a guard, Henry.

"Sir Marcus," he said, his voice tentative.

I wondered why I had not heard his approach -perhaps because I was too lost in my thoughts.

I slowly turned to look a the young immortal. His dark head was bowed in respect, his hand outwards in a humble gesture -as it should be.

"What?" I questioned him warily.

"Master Aro... he had wanted to meet with you, Sir Marcus."

My favorite partner's name -it stirred something in me. An unwanted image flew involuntarily into my mind, another bad memory resounding in my head. It was a painful memory, and I felt myself wince. I could not suppress it now. And I remembered that for us immortals, pain was also a powerful emotion. Too powerful.

I felt the cold muscles of my face move into an expression, a face that had never been familiar to me -until that day. The day that I was now forced to recall.

"Go," I said to him, and surprisingly, I found my voice very rough. "I shall meet with him shortly. Go."

"Alright, Sir Marcus. I take your leave," He quickly bowed out, his expression still shocked at whatever he had seen in my face.

I knew what he had seen in my face. Because, Aro's name... it had brought other memories to my mind, memories, I remembered, I had been trying to suppress, to deny.

Each sentence of this memory came to me slowly, like a story too well told.

I remembered how Didyme and I had wished for an escape, into our own paradise -the one of our love. How the violence and ambition had held no more interest for us.

Aro had blessed us in spite of his great disappointment -and Didyme had felt remorse for hurting her dear brother. But we anticipated this final joy, of togetherness, and planned for it.

I remembered yesterday... I had been seeking Didyme, she had been nowhere. This was unnatural. She was missing.

I knew what would follow in this story, and my hands clutched at my head, trying to stop the inflow of unwanted images. But, of course, it was a vain attempt.

Faintly irritated, I had gone into Aro's hall, wondering if he had knowledge of his sister's whereabouts. Aro's face had been grieved and saddened -aged. And strangely...guilty.

"What is it?" I had demanded.

Of course, now I knew it was simply because he had such a horrendous thing to tell me.

Looking into my eyes, his own faint ruby ones hollow, he had said the words. The fatal words.

"Didyme...

"She lives no more, Marcus."

At first, I could not believe. It was outrageous. I had raged and screamed, nearly going wild with disbelief.

But the evidence was unavoidable. Finally, I had no choice but to accept... accept that he spoke the truth.

As my world began to crumble to bits, he had added the the oil to the fire that burned me:

"I am sorry."

I desperately passed through that scene, not wanting the truth of his words so sink in again, when I had, for a few heavenly moments, managed to forget it. Denial was bliss, I now knew.

Forget that my Didyme, my immortal love, was dead.

But I remembered how it had felt then -after I had but no choice to believe his words. Feeling like there was a shard of the sharpest crystal piercing me.

Feeling it penetrate my marble skin, into my cold, frozen heart -making it warm, making it alive -and making it break into thousands and millions of little bits, and bleed. Bleed relentlessly, soaking me.

Of course my heart shattered.

I remembered wondering bleakly how, when there was an arrow through my chest, penetrating it cruelly and not allowing me to breathe;

When my eyes felt like they would tear to shreds with the tears they could no longer shed -I was still standing, still existing -still feeling? I remembered wondering -was there no bit of kindness that would stop me from feeling?

I remembered those thoughts too well.

But of course, I stood pale and perfect. Nothing had pierced me.

Except this truth. The truth, that Aro's sister, an immortal Volturi, had ceased to exist. The impossible truth.

I had felt the vacuum, the absence of our relationship in my senses, to add more substance to this truth. To add more pain, too.

I remembered feeling like I couldn't breathe, feeling like this large shard was killing me. I remembered how I had clutched my chest, how my knees had crumbled, how I had cringed into the ground, wishing that there would be any different sort of pain -anything that would obliterate the one pulsing through the gaping wound in my chest.

I remembered how something had flashed in Aro's eyes, and he had extended a hand toward me, only to drop it helplessly, and repeat his previous words.

"I am sorry, Marcus."

I remembered how I, unable to bear the sight of his pity, had fled. Something I had never done before in my life -I had fled from the room, from the castle.

But I remembered that that had not been my wish at all -what I had really wished to do was flee from this. This pain, this knowledge.

I groaned quietly at the memories, cursing the crystal clear power of recall that we immortals had. How nice it would be, to live in the bliss of ignorance, or even forgetfulness. How good it would be, to be unaware.

But now, I did not feel the pain. I only remembered it. Because, there is a limit to how much one can suffer -once the peak of it is passed, it dulls.

No, it does not dull, but it manifests itself in different ways. Because, when something has to be painful, after there is a way that you might somehow grow immune to it -it evinces itself in different, more effective ways.

Now, I felt something different. Other than the disgust, the regret, for remembering; for having to pore through these hideous images again -I felt dirty.

I tried to gauge this feeling. I felt like there were a million cracks and dents in my being, and they were filled with dirt. Dirt so deep embedded that it could not be reached. I felt absolutely filthy.

The truth -the knowledge of Didyme's non-existance was this dirt, I realized. Those words of Aro's had desecrated me, and now they befouled me. I was utterly besmirched by this truth.

I suddenly felt a vicious need to claw out this filth. But I knew it was impossible -for truth was an all-powering, pure, inescapable thing. It gave one no alternatives but to face it. That was why it was what it was - "The truth".

My fingers itched to tear out my granite skin, rip out this smut. I felt like I were enveloped in a smokey haze that did not allow me to feel free. My fingers clenched and unclenched against the desire to scratch my skin, tear out the filth, desperate for some relief.

A roll of thunder clapped across the sky, and I felt a first drop of cool rain on my clenched fist.

I looked up at the sky, faintly startled. The gray clouds covered the sky now, and immediately another droplet followed in succession.

Quickly and surely, it was raining. First a mild drizzle, then a steady patter, and then -it was pouring, as it could only in Volterra; The thick sheets of rain spattered over the town splendidly.

I was joyous at the water -feeling, now, that my wish had been fulfilled. I had been wishing for some way to cleanse myself, had I not?

I held out my hands against the pouring water.

I found that I could relish every drop of water that fell on me, every splash on my hard skin; I could appreciate individually every single droplet that wetted every pore of my skin.

The water falling on my body seemed to relieve that feeling of impureness, dull it. Maybe even erase it; I could not tell right now.

It was obliterated, because I made sure that all I felt was the water splashing on my hard body, the water that soaked my clothes and hair, the water that hit hard in tiny pin pricks all over my body. I dwelled only on that -the fact that I had felt the filth, and now I was being cleansed.

I wanted it, I wanted the water to penetrate the invisible fissures in me, and clean out the stains. It felt unreal that the knowledge of my loss made me feel this way, but all I could now think of was -that I was being washed; the pain was being washed away.

The water flowed down my dark hair, completely drenched my entire being. I felt every droplet's impact on my skin, and then as it rolled downward or fell to the ground. I relished that tiny moment of impact of every drop.

I opened my eyes against the water, and so the rain cleansed them, too. I wished it to clean out the images, the images of Aro's face as he spoke those words, the image of his pity... The image my mind had conjured, of Didyme's lifeless body. This wish of mine seemed to come true, as well. I could no longer summon those pictures, because all I could feel was the small sting of the water in my eyes.

Moments, minutes, perhaps hours passed this way. I would not know, because I paid little attention to time these last days.

Finally, and unfortunately, the rain slowed, and gradually, stopped. All that was left was the sound of the last settled drops falling from the leaves of the trees. The sound of the birds shaking off their wings, trying to dry them, and the sound as the drops of water on them flew from their little bodies.

I sighed in relief. I felt nothing -no pain, no dirt. I felt no pain that I did not feel pain, which was also expected.

I walked slowly down the spiral strairs, down to Aro's hall.

Aro's sat in his high paneled throne in the middle of the large, high ceilinged hall. Renata, of course, stood by his right hand, and Chelsea at his left.

Chelsea's presence immediately made me wary.

But something about the intuition was off -I could not place it. It was too... normal. It perturbed me slightly.

Even the perturbation was strange. Detached. I ignored it, storing the feeling for future dwelling.

"Aro," I greeted him as I walked closer to him. "You wanted to see me." My voice was unintentionally flat. I did nothing to improve it -it was pointless.

Aro rose immediately, taking a step toward me. Renata and Chelsea shadowed him.

"Marcus," he said, with a small smile. "How are you, my friend?" his milky red eyes widened with concern at whatever was on my face. I tried to feel my expression -I could not. I felt numb, as though I could not sense myself.

"I am well, Aro." I replied. "What did you want to see me for?"

Aro reached out, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Oh, nothing, my friend. I was concerned... I knew you felt much agony over -over what happened." His hazy eyes were pitiful.

This reminder did nothing to me. "I did. But I am fine, Aro."

I felt Aro's scrutiny on my face, as his pale eyes narrowed slightly and his mouth hardened. "I am glad for that, my friend." His voice was still kindly.

Expectedly, I felt it. I felt the draw, the attraction in my mind, to stand by Aro and to serve him.

It was an uncanny thing, this attraction. Even though I knew it was Chelsea using her unique gift, I had to succumb to it without the dream of complaint.

As I stood, about a foot and a half from Aro, I felt the mental draw to come closer to him, not physically, but mentally. I felt the need to serve him, to make him happy. I felt as if it was my duty to.

I looked at Chelsea, and she widened her eyes innocently at me. I then looked at Aro, and he smiled knowingly, apologetically.

"So that it what you are going to do," I said. "Well, I do not mind. I will do whatever I can for you. There is nothing else for me, after all." The truth of those words occurred to me suddenly. There was nothing else for me -and I would serve Aro. I was faintly disturbed by this realization.

Aro put his other hand on my shoulder, and he smiled. "Thank you, Marcus, my dear friend." He bowed his head in a gesture of gratefulness. "I remain forever thankful to you."

"I do not have a choice, do I? But, as I said, I do not object."

"Again, Marcus, I am sorry. Sorry that this had to happen to you."

I saw it again, the glint of the strange guilt in his ruby eyes. It invited nothing, this intuition -I felt no curiosity, no anger.

"I take your leave now, Aro. In a few hours, we shall meet again." I turned, and left the hall, walking swiftly to my room.

As I entered my room, feeling somewhat comfortable in the dark light of the large hall, I ignored the large white bed at the corner, cold and empty. It evoked no memories, no pain, no nothing. And I felt unsurprised at this blankness.

There was a full, tall copper framed mirror in the opposite corner of my room. Unthinkingly, I went to it, and stood in front of it.

I examined my reflection apathetically.

My pale face gleamed in the dim light, stoney and hard. My hair flowed down my back, straight, and a dull black, even after it had dried.

My mouth was pressed together in straight, hard line. I tried to curve it, but I could not. It was strange, but again, it didn't seem to concern me.

What frightened me was my eyes -my wide, pale ruby eyes.

I stared into the mirror, my eyes widening.

I could see into my eyes -see all the way into them. They were like deep, endless, dark tunnels. In spite of the pale color of my irises, they were dark. And empty.

It reminded me of a grave. Of staring into a dark grave.

My eyes were empty. They were blank, thoughtless.

Dead. Not the undead, for once, but truly lifeless. Unfeeling.

I realized, that trying to wash out all my pain, all the wretched feelings for Didyme, all the dirt... left me with nothing else. Left me vacant, hollow.

Right now, I was truly a hollow man.

And this realization brought me no emotions -the fright was detached. Knowing that I was damaged beyond repair, I felt faintly regretful, wistful.

But it did not seem of importance.

Nothing seemed of importance. Not any more.

Everything was crystal clear, no haze, no filth -crystal clear, and not worth any importance.

Everything was gone.

A/N: How was it? Please, please review.

As for Marcus – Didyme and Marcus fell in love, and they decided to leave the Volturi. This defied all of Aro's ambitions, so he pretended to bless them, and when he was sure no one would find out, he murdered his own sister, Didyme. He used Chelsea's powers to manipulate ties on Marcus to make sure he wouldn't leave. Marcus didn't, but he became an empty man after Didyme's death, and not even Chelsea could make him feel any enthusiasm for it. All this, is in Stephenie Meyer's official website – www. StephenieMeyer . com

~starlit skyes~

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