I was sure that I was about to die.

That wasn't exactly uncommon for me. Hanging out with vampires and werewolves had more downsides than perks, prospective death being one of them. It's amazing how abstract that seemed until this particular instant.

My knees knocked. I never knew what that expression meant, much less that it was literal. Here I was, an ocean away from Forks, watching Edward plead his case in front of three ancient vampires.

Edward. The word alone made my heart stop working properly. Arrhythmia, I thought, remembering biology classes that I would probably never attend again. So there was a bright side to dying after all. I'm damn sure that heaven doesn't make its occupants look at stages of mitosis under a microscope.

Gallows humour. I didn't think I was that kind of girl.

Even after all these months of waiting and crying and feeling the worst kind of empty, my Edward still looked like salvation. Defiant and defeated at the same time. I chanced a look at Alice for comfort, but her face was grim. Wide-eyed. She was probably seeing a macabre future, and trying to hide it.

The man in the middle throne spoke, his voice so cheerful that I flinched.

"My, my, Edward," he said, glancing over at me. "Who do we have here?"

He laughed lightly as he approached me, and I found that I couldn't look away from his face. It was like old parchment, or chalky stone, completely different from the pale perfection of the Cullens. He looked old. He felt evil.

I could hear my heart in my ears, pounding erratically. He could probably hear it too.

The vampire in black circled me like a cat.

"Extraordinary," he said, those milky eyes eager and red.

I had been warned about his gift, the ability to read minds with just a touch, but he hadn't even tried to grab my hand. His gaze was all over—looking at my face, my hair, the sorry slouch I called posture—and he seemed fascinated.

Maybe it had been a long time since he looked at a living human up close.

Maybe I looked like an unusually delicious snack.

He stepped away from me, still studying me with that magnetic, bloody stare.

It was only then that I noticed his suit, elegant and modern beneath his robes. I nearly laughed at that observation—the monsters had fashionable taste. Of course they did. Vampires and their good looks. Just one of the factors shaping their stunning arrogance.

That thought surprised me. I liked the Cullens. I always thought nice things about them. I was a Good Girl, and being rude to my boyfriend's family, even in my own head, was not something I could do comfortably.

My attention snapped back to Aro violently when he addressed me.

"My lovely Isabella, I cannot tell you what a strange creature you are," he said, purring.

I could hear Edward growl, but he was smart enough to remain still. That guard beside him—built like a bear, with a smile like Emmett's—was watching him closely.

"I get that a lot," I admitted, and immediately bit my tongue.

That's right, mouth off to a vampire, my brain chastised me. How many death wishes do you have?

"I have no doubt," he grinned. "May I have the honour?"

His hand was extended.

What the hell. I had nothing to lose.

I curled my fingers in his, and waited for a sigh of recognition, some response to the undoubtedly banal contents of my mind. This man was three thousand years old—I'd bet everything I owned that he wouldn't be fascinated with me the same way Edward was.

Aro dropped my hand as though it was made of molten iron.

"Oh, my dear, you are simply a marvel," he said. "I almost feel inclined to forgive Edward his misbehaviour because it gave me the opportunity to meet you."

I didn't quite believe him, this tall, beautiful ancient that loomed over me, but I dared to hope and breathe again.

He returned to his throne, taking the same graceful, floating steps. There was nothing youthful or unpolished about him, and I was struck by the realization that Edward was such a teenager beside this Master Aro, so gawky and unformed. Even his hair, black and flowing, seemed so much more appropriate for a vampire than my former boyfriend's copper spikes.

My musing was interrupted by the white-haired vampire in the throne on the right.

"No matter how compelling this human is," he said, "she is a liability. A breaker of our laws."

This man too was painfully beautiful. I couldn't tell whether he was old or young, but his white hair was a sharp shock and there was something fierce as fire behind his eyes. Nonetheless, he terrified me. That voice was pitiless.

"Peace, Caius," Aro soothed. "I believe that I need Marcus' opinion before we can decide upon a course of action."

I knew that there was a third man beside the other two. Counting to three, even though I was terrified and sort of abysmal at math on the best of days, wasn't beyond me. He had a way of blending in, of fading into shadow. I didn't realize that I hadn't even looked at him properly.

His age was impossible to guess—between twenty-five and fifty definitely, though that was all I could say— but I suddenly noticed that this Marcus looked terribly sad. As though his heart had been torn from his chest, leaving a gaping, unhealing wound, and yet he was ordered to keep on living. For an instant, I forgot that he was a murderer and only wanted to run to him and tell him that I knew. That I understood how awful it was.

That I had jumped off of a cliff to find some sort of relief for the pain he felt.

Beneath the raw agony, he was breathtaking. Even the bulk of his black robes could not hide that he was tall and slim, graceful as a cat. Though his face was all angles, I thought I saw something kind—or at least less uncaring than his brothers—in those eyes.

I pinned all of my hopes on him.

He raised his head a little, dark hair falling away from his features, and looked at me, as though he had pinned all of his hopes on me as well.

Starved.

Demanding.

Terrible.

I didn't understand.

I could barely breathe.

Marcus touched Aro's hand for a moment, and then withdrew. His gaze did not fall away from me.

"So, it is decided," Aro said, with nothing sweet or happy in his voice. It was iron now, and I could sense his guards stiffening around me, ready to obey their master's orders, and vicious as wolves. "Miss Isabella will remain with us."

Edward moved wildly, as though he couldn't decide where to aim—at the guards surrounding him, at Aro who had issued the condemnation, at Caius who agreed with it, or perhaps at Marcus, who had seemingly done nothing at all. The noise of Felix shoving him onto stone was deafening, and then there was screaming.

That would be Jane's work, though I was sure she hadn't moved from her corner.

The room was so ornate. All granite and sunlight.

That was my last thought before the blackness swallowed me whole.

-oOo-

I wasn't awake, really. Instead, I was caught in that fuzzy dream-state between unconsciousness and getting up, but I felt too warm and stiff to move. Even opening my eyes seemed like an uncomfortable prospect.

I could feel heavy fabric beneath me. Warm and rich, like the upholstery of some priceless antique couch. Covering me was a fur-lined cloak.

Marcus wore it, I thought, and wondered how my sleep-addled brain had come to that conclusion. And then he used it to cover the clumsy, fainting human, my mind added, ever the sarcastic pessimist.

From another room, I could hear echoes of a conversation.

"The resemblance is uncanny," Aro was saying. His voice was grave.

"To your sister? I thought so," Caius said. "But I wouldn't give that too much consideration. The world is full of girls with dark hair."

"No." There was so much uncertainty in Marcus' tone that his words fell like stone. "She is not my Didyme reborn. She cannot be."

I didn't recognize the name he mentioned, but putting the pieces together, even in my current state, wasn't difficult. He had loved her. She had—died? Vanished?

"Perhaps not," Aro agreed. "But surely you are interested."

"I will not mate with some mortal girl who happens to look like my wife. Her memory is worth more to me than that," Marcus snarled.

Something cracked. Maybe he threw something or crushed it with angry hands.

"Who said anything about mates?" Caius demanded. I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Keep the human for a while. She's young, and not entirely unfortunate looking. Her blood is sweet. Surely even you can find the pleasure in that."

The fear returned.

I didn't know what the Volturi did with their humans but Caius' casual description made it sound as though I'd be some kind of pet, a concubine to a vampire driven mad by grief. What else could he be, if he thought that I was some copy of his dead wife?

Maybe, if I was lucky, he wouldn't kill me on purpose.

I could feel bile rising in my stomach. Clenching my teeth, I did my best not to vomit, keeping my face carefully buried in the cushions.

I didn't belong to myself anymore, it seemed, but to him.

Thinking about it without screaming, but I couldn't do that. I'd betray myself, and I didn't think that the Volturi were in a mood for mercy.

Instead, I closed my eyes tightly and waited for sleep, which came blissfully fast.

-oOo-

The next time I opened my eyes, I saw sunlight. It danced through panes of glass onto the pretty floral covers around me, patterned and pale blue. The last time I had seen fabric like this was in movies about Marie Antoinette's France. I was cocooned and cozy, made lazy by enough sleep.

It was only when I stretched that it dawned on me.

I was naked.

Completely undressed beneath the sheets.

I covered my face with my hands, not knowing whom I was hiding from as a vivid blush painted my entire body an embarrassing shade of scarlet. Who had done this? What kind of vampire had the patience to strip me without leaving a single bruise? Why?

I didn't want to know the answers.

Author's Note: I've caught the Marcus/Bella bug. They're interesting together, and I always wondered whether Marcus spared Bella's life in Volterra because he thought that she resembled Didyme.

Let me know what you think about this chapter, pretty please.