A/N: I often use the Twilight Wiki site for information and inspiration as well as Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga plus my own imagination too. This story will possibly turn into Alternative Universe if and when I decide it will! Obviously no one has told Victoria's story up until she was with James - so if I decide to change anything about SM's stories I will let you know in advance by marking the chapter or paragraph as A/U! So, that's my references covered, I will add more if needs be, Thanks for reading my stories.
LITTLE FLAME
Prologue
The year was 1349. The Black Death had arrived in the town of London. The dirty streets became deserted as people hid themselves away or succumbed to the Grim Reaper. This was medieval life in the 14th century. I was the daughter of a wealthy cloth merchant called Jeremiah Taylor. My name was Victoria. I was named after the Roman Goddess of victory. I was eighteen years old and my darling little sister Elizabeth was my best friend and confidante. She was six years my junior. My Mother and Father had arranged a marriage for me to an equally wealthy young man whose family was in construction. There was unrest and disease in the city. My heart was filled with fear at the thought of leaving my family for a new life with my soon to be husband. Little did I know my life as I knew it was about to change utterly and indescribably. The plague had killed thousands upon thousands of people; my family were spared the horror as we lived in luxury compared to most Londoners. How was I supposed to know what other horrors lurked in the shadows waiting to pounce, waiting to destroy my family and life as I knew it?
PART ONE: THE AWAKENING
CHAPTER ONE
I brushed my tangled fiery red hair vigorously with anger and betrayal running through my veins. My unruly curls would not succumb to my frenzied brushing and my hair made a static red halo around my head. My Father had set up a meeting with my betrothed and his parents today. Yes, Benedict Brickenden was a handsome and intelligent young man, but I didn't want to become his wife and bear his children. I wanted to be someone. I wanted to make a difference in the world. Instead I was to become a dutiful wife and help out in his Father's construction business which would become his and mine one day. I would hopefully have sons who would carry his name and carry on the family business. This was all expected of me. I didn't want to disobey or disappoint my Father, but inside I was dying to just be myself, not what other's expected me to be. In the fourteenth century women did not think for themselves, we were supposed to obey our elders, obey our husband's and carry out our duties in all areas to perfection.
My darling sister Lizzie (as I called her) would be expected to do the same in a few years. For now she was still a child. Lucky Lizzie. I loved my little sister so much. She was a ray of sunshine in these dark times. She called me "little flame" due to my bright red curly hair. She said I would set the world alight one day. I hoped she was right. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror with a petulant scowl. It was time to face Benedict and his overbearing fat Mother. His Father was pencil thin with a drooping moustache which gave him a permanent sad expression. Their son was pleasing to look at and he was clever but he was oh so dull. I had absolutely nothing in common with him. That didn't matter to my Father though; the Brickendens were an upstanding and wealthy family. No one cared what I thought. Why should they?
I made my way downstairs to greet my future husband and in laws. Maybe death by plague would be better than this? I chided myself for having such dark thoughts. The Black Death was an unforgiving terrible disease which had ravaged Europe for a year now. Rumour has it that it originated in China and made its way by ship down the Silk Road. It relentlessly halved London's population in a year. Father had made plans for us to travel soon if things got worse. Of course he wanted me married off first. I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily as I made my way into our parlour. Benedict quickly stood up and bowed with a flourish as I entered the room, his floppy brown hair falling into his blue eyes. I curtsied politely as he brushed his lips chastely against my outstretched hand. My Father and Mother observed my every move, whilst my future in laws smiled politely. I wanted to scream. Lizzie winked cheekily at me from behind our buxom maid Florrie.
We lived on Thread needle Street, obviously. All the cloth merchants and tailors lived here. Our house was luxurious compared to most of the London city dwellers. I believe this was the main reason why the events of that day: October 22nd 1349 happened. I believe that the plague ravaged underclass were jealous and enraged at our superior position in society. We were enjoying afternoon tea, served by our loyal maid Florrie. Benedict was gazing shyly at me through his long fringe, his blue eyes assessing my face and my slim figure which was shown off to perfection in an emerald silk dress. Green complimented my red hair, so my Mother said. Who would have expected three filthy diseased ridden men to burst into the sanctity of our middle class home?
They defiled us with their words; they hurt us with their fists and feet. They killed our men with knives, stabbing into their hearts with deadly surprise and intent. Then they turned their attention to the females in the room. My Mother and Mother in law to be were quickly dispatched with a cold precise blade. Then attentions turned to me and my sister. I finally found my voice and I screamed in protest and horror as their dirty hands grabbed my precious Lizzie. I flailed my useless limbs at their brute strength but strong hands held me down as I watched my sister be defiled by them. I cried and screamed in protest but I could not escape the strong arms which pinned me down. Cruel laughter rang in my ears as I struggled to be free. I screamed in pure unadulterated anguish as the monsters ran their blade into my angelic sister's pure and loving heart. Her deep violet eyes pleaded with me to save her as her sweet life ebbed away before me. Her once lustrous blonde hair lay in a tangled untidy mess around her poor deathly pale face.
My scream echoed painfully around this room of blood and death. One of the men grabbed my hair roughly from behind so I fell backwards against him. I felt his foetid warm breath on my cold cold skin as he licked my face in a lascivious manner. His hands worked their way under my dress; his fingers roughly invaded me in a most improper way. Bitter salty tears of pain and shame tracked down my face. I shut my eyes as I tried to block out the horror of this reality. I took my secret self away into a dark quiet room in my mind to hide away as the men all took turns to abuse me. It was horrific and it was degrading. My family and the Brickendens lay all around me; dead and lifeless, their life blood seeping from their veins onto our parlour floor. My hair was sticky with their spilled blood. My body was torn and ravaged. My mind was broken and bowed.
The last man to leave laughed as he slid the cool metal blade into my chest. He was careless. He missed my heart. I dragged my poor abused body away from the horrors of the parlour. I managed to stagger out onto Thread Needle Street, but I took a wrong turn and I ended up on Poultry. It was dirty and polluted. Prostitutes and criminals rubbed shoulders with the lower class. I blindly ran along the down trodden streets my breathing ragged and my wounded side hurting madly. I did not know where I was going or what I was doing. I just knew I had to escape. My wound slowed me down with its incessant throbbing and bleeding. I stopped in a narrow dark alleyway to catch my breath. I knew I should still the bleeding but I couldn't remember how to. I gasped fearfully as the shadows of the evening closed in. My mind was jumbled and confused from shock and blood loss. The walls seemed to close in on me as I succumbed to the cold wet cobbles.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, fleeting images flowing past my closed eyes. I think I wished for Death. I felt strong hard arms encircle me and carry me away from the narrow street. I briefly came to and opened my eyes. I was in a room, it was lit with candles, it was cold and it was dark. I heard rustling, then I felt a presence close to me, its aura was positively terrifying. I gasped aloud in fear as I felt cold long fingers brush my cheek and trail down my neck to my collarbone. Not again, I prayed. The thing sighed and its cold as the grave lips grazed my hair and cheek as I tensed in fear under its scrutiny. "Interesting scent young one," it whispered against my hair. I felt the presence leave me and suddenly the lamps were lit and I gazed into scarlet red eyes. His face was pale and young, but his eyes betrayed his age. Frighteningly red and very old. I gasped in shock as he pinned me with his intent gaze.
"I am Aro," he rasped.