Note: I am not Stephenie Meyer nor do I own the characters of Twilight.
This is Heidi's story from her human life. I was always intrigued by her character, because she was so beautiful, and the Volturi is interesting anyways. Stephenie Meyer has said that they will be explored more in Breaking Dawn.
Until then, I hope you enjoy this )
Heidi.
Heidi. Heidi. Heidi. Heidi.
I repeated the words to myself like a mantra, my eyes fixated on the bronze mirror before me. Heidi.
Such a plain name for such a pretty face.
Beauty. Such an odd, perplexing thing, really— and so impossible to define!
This woman's face disagreed. She seemed to be the core of all beauty herself—as if every attractive woman born in generations after her was only a slight echo of the beauty the Earth had seen.
How could such strong desires be evoked by something as insignificant as appearances? Desires so strong, in fact, that men would be willing to die in order to attain it? How could a person's wealth so completely rely on the proportions of their face? The impeccable arch of their eyebrows? The light, golden sheen of their baby-soft skin, perfect and unblemished? The pleasing contours of their nose, eyes, or cheeks?
I looked to history for an answer.
Perhaps my beauty here, in Sicily, had not yet been reached… but who was I in comparison to the most beautiful woman in the world?
Who was I to Helen of Sparta?
Were multitudes of men fawning over me? Did the world's most powerful nations go to war over me, with their strongest men fighting for me? Did people fight to get through crowds so that they could glimpse at me? Was my beauty truly of that level?
Not now, perhaps. But it could be, someday. After all, I was no queen, and my home was far from a castle.
Helen of Sparta had hundreds of maids. They groomed her constantly—bathing her in scented oils, dressing her in the world's finest gowns.
And what had I? Nothing, but the pureness of my face, and the enviable shape of my body? It seemed hardly fair.
Even Helen of Sparta wouldn't have lasted without her maids. How could I compare with wealth and power of that level?
My beauty, however, could compare. Perhaps my face even exceeded that of Helen's.
Because, under the layers of sweat and dirt—results of long, dragging days of work outdoors—the face of a young woman looked back at me.
And she was truly beautiful—a face to die for. Since the dawning of my thirteenth birthday, no man had refused me any favor… which brings me to my next—and most fundamental— point.
Beauty yields power.
And, more than anything, that was what I wanted.
Please leave me feedback—I'm really interested in knowing people's reactions to this. The Volturi always fascinated me, and Heidi especially, because Bella compares her beauty to that of Rosalie's.
Should I continue? Let me know! )
-xxtwilight