1989

Aro Volturi's face was set, expressionless, facing forward for what must have been days then, his arms resting on the lateral cushions of his large, opulent throne. His legs were crossed one over another's knee in what would seem to be a comfortable pose, but it was rather unlikely that it would be of a difference to the vampire what position he would set his bones at. His body was beyond the age to feel discomfort, it was all about the façade.

These days, even that was trembling. If one was to look closely, they might realize not only Aro but both his brothers – Caius and Marcus – had long since given up the pretense of breathing, and just stared ahead, waiting for something that never came while bating their breaths that over a millennium ago stopped being.

Caius, the oldest in appearance of the three – who had been forty three when transformed – looked bored beyond his long years, even more so than Aro, if that was inhumanly possible, and did not even worry keeping a human stance as did Aro; his whole posture was stiff as only a vampire could remain for so long, and he wouldn't blink, interested solely in whatever his mind had to delve.

Marcus, however, the youngest of the three – at 19 in human years - and the furthest one in the right, had this weird, maniac gleam in his eyes that usually would be portrayed in Aro's. Every once in a while his lips would twitch in a half smile and his hands would contract in anticipation, and yet he never spoke a word. The eeriness of the situation scared the guard away, no one willing to stand before their masters when the energy was so abnormal. Aro, whose cheerfulness, albeit creepy and sometimes cruel, always permeated the castle, now was sullen and sour. Marcus, who was withdrawn since Didyme's death, had sudden chuckles rippling through his chest. The whole place could burst into flames out of nowhere, for all the other vampire's cared! There was no way they would disturb the throne's hall without a death wish.

Marcus could barely contain himself anymore. For centuries his brothers and he had been looking for their mates. They had taken wives, for who could bare to live so long alone, even as vampires, but none gave up in their search for their eternal companions. Whether they would be women or men fate would tell, for Marcus better than anyone could understand that such things were chosen before their conscious minds could even wrap themselves around it; there was no such thing as sexuality when it came to mates. No. Whatever they were, they would be worshipped. And they were searched. All over the world, century in, century out.

Faith had evaded their pores by the time a soothsayer crossed their path, a powerful vampire who wanted nothing to do with the nocturnal world, but saw beneath the masks held tightly against their well-built disguises through the men desperate for some relief. To find their destiny. Pitying them, and affected subtly by Chelsea, the seer shared what she saw at first sight: they would not find their mates, because they didn't all have mates. They were the three connected, she revealed, saying that Marcus should have been able to foresee that through their bonds, in a way that prevented them to have different mates, and provided a single one, a very special one, a soul mate, for all the three. She provided one more piece of information before leaving: their soul mate had not been born yet.

They were all left dumbstruck, awed, angered, and inspired. If it left them irate the idea to share, it soon was overpowered by a comforting sense of comradery toward each other that Marcus knew to be a work of the bond they shared. They were soul brothers, they were meant to be together by whatever force there was beyond, nature itself beckoned them to work together and, now, to share the strongest type of bond there was: a soul mate. Few people had one, for there was no greater power and no worst weakness. But who better to wield it than the rulers of the vampire world?

With this new knowledge came immediate hope, and long-lasting agony. It was known that those destined to have a soul mate would feel in their own spirit the binds of their souls connecting together once he or she was born. They would, then, all the three know instantaneously once their mate came to earth! The hope was short-lived, only lasting the first couple of decades, or so, with no results. The next fifty were lived in anxiety, and the world knew a rule of ruthlessness and gore. The following century returned to the normalcy, as the routine presented itself day by day, week by week… Slowly eating away their hearts and their minds, consuming their thoughts and spirits. Their wives had long given up trying to reach them, resigning themselves to enjoying the status of wives an offering emotional support as well as some political support, as slowly they saw their rule crumble and it was left to them and the most trusted guards to upkeep the order.

The more the guards did the work, the less problems reached their masters, and the gloomier they became. Slowly, but surely, they became stones, frozen in their thrones for years at a time. People would come In, request hearings, and would be heard. But rarely ever a word would be pronounced. And one day, they stopped moving.

They didn't have the energy – the emotional energy – to do anything more than sit there and wait for the years to be consumed by themselves. One day their mate would be born and they would awaken. But why subject themselves to all those years of wondering about without the warmth that only that piece of their soul could bring?

Marcus stared at the threads that shone in front of his eyes, leaving his head and flowing graciously toward his brothers, connecting them in silver and red. The lines danced, moved, sometimes opened and closed and seemed to leave space for something almost recognizable, but not really. He knew that it was their mate, that it meant something but he couldn't say what it did. So he just observed, for years. Observed the changes, how the colors slightly turned brighter, how the space between his brothers and he grew wider between each cycle of the dance of the threads, but not because there was distance between them, but because the new bond that was coming was growing, he knew it!

That was how he knew. That their mate was coming. He couldn't contain the smile, the excitement. He watched the bond sparkle, grow agitated. Stretch and compress. Without realizing, he got wrapped into observing the change for weeks before he mustered the strength to look away toward his brothers.

"Aro" his voice sounded husky, it had been some good two years since he had last spoken, and even then he had never been a man of too many words.

Aro had entered winter mode – a forever winter mode – but he snapped out of it immediately at hearing his brother's voice, knowing what it meant. Marcus was sulking worse than him, than anyone. His hand was stretched from his throne to Aro's left, so the middle brother stood up in a swift movement – a cloud of dust in his wake – and took his hand between both of his, his eyes growing out of their sockets.

"Marvelous… Finally! So it is time… Are you… Sure… This is what we think, Marcus, my dear brother?" Aro's excitement dropped a few notches. He remembered what it felt like to lose all the hope, and he did not want to go through that again. When Marcus only nodded, not in the mood for talking, but clearly back to his old self, Aro took it as a great sign and rotates on his heels, clapping to himself with a manic grin.

Caius's attentions had been drawn by this interaction and he tilted his head slightly, observing his brothers with a sneer, waiting for an explanation. He abhorred to be left outside, especially without any gift to include him into what other people felt as the other two did.

"Do you plan on shedding any light at me, brother? Or am I undeserving?" his voice dripped venom, but really he couldn't help himself. Aro and Marcus seemed overjoyed – in their own way – and he would be left miserable?

"If you would only be patient, Caius, I was getting to that. Marcus here and his most admirable talent have just given us a glimpse at what might be the birth of our mate!" Aro gave a squeak, and Caius sneered again, controlling the urge to roll his eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"Do you doubt your brothers? It seems our bonds have been opening space for the last months for a new one, and are beginning to change colors and shape. They are now rearranging around a new form that seems to be the soul of our mate, we just have to find her, or him, now…"

"Shall I make The Summon, or will you?" Caius asked his younger brothers.

"If you please, Caius. I have matters to attend before the meeting." Aro nodded briefly and turned his back, striding cheerfully out of the hall, even though the business he had to attend was nothing but happy.

The gathering hall was packed with vampires from all over Voltera, and a minor camera crew was set up so that the reunion could be transmitted to additional covens around the world simultaneously over their private TV channel. This was an imperative event, and yet… It was dicey. Aro had thought long and hard about whether this was the right path to follow through, if this was not putting their intended in too much risk. But if they did not take this risk, the world was too big and they might not find their mate in time to save her from the evils of the human species. She might be born as a princess, or in a slum in Africa, and not pass the first year. She might be born in a happy, or in a broken family in America, and be left malnourished. She might die as a teenager in Iraq. She might survive to adulthood there, in Europe, but die then, if they can't find her still. Humans are just too fragile. She could be born anywhere in the world, and could be anyone.

So the decision had been made. What could be done was to be sure to put their masks on, to enforce the brutality of their ways should anyway think to harm her, even THINK it. And to not show weakness during The Summon. This would be a test of will, but also of acting.