A/N: This is a brief character study on Jane. I did a bit of research on the wiki in order to write this, and apparently Jane and Alec were born in what is now modern-day England in 800 AD. They were also condemned to be burned at the stake for witchcraft before Aro rescued them. Not what I'd typically associate with Anglo-Saxon England, although it was a time when Christianity was still spreading and there were some people who were accused of witchcraft for clinging to old pagan beliefs. So, I'm going to treat this as more a religious clash between the new Christian superstitions and beliefs replacing the old gods of the time, even though the actual burning of suspected witches was uncommon. There was a Frankish king who actually banned it for being a pagan practice in itself. So...yeah. I'll admit this doesn't quite seem fitting for the time period, albeit not completely outlandish.
Cruciatrix
Pain.
It was that single feeling - that single concept - that dominated every aspect of her existence. Not, as it would be for many, the fear or experience of it, but rather the ability to command and control something that brings to others immeasurable suffering. To her, it was a gift. In her few brief years of life and the many centuries that came after, it was the power to wield pain as a weapon that she treasured. The value lay not in the tools that could be used to incite this sensation, but rather in the pain itself. Whoever held the power to bring agony unto others held sway over them; obedience and reverence were invoked through fear, and this power would be absolute for any person who could inflict the purest form of pain. Jane had always desired to be this. Clumsy instruments of torture were always an obstruction to achieving an absolute agony that could be generated only in the mind. That had been her philosophy in her old life, and it was what she had brought with her into her new one.
There were those who hypothesised that the unique individual abilities of vampires were a result of their most dominant human traits being amplified, the transformation turning what may have once been a mere aspect of personality into a supernatural power. From her own experience, Jane was inclined to agree with this. Her power now seemed to stem from much of what she remembered from her previous life. As a human, she had learned in early childhood that the threat of pain worked far faster to scare and sway others than any threats of deprivation or humiliation. The girl who stole her doll when playing would be far more likely to return it should Jane hit her hard, than should she threaten to tell their parents or refuse to still be her friend.
The Christian church Jane had once known – young in her country as she was young – seemed to have been aware of this too. It was not mere oblivion or lack of reward after death that they threatened sinners with, but rather an eternity of damnation and suffering, and true or not, this seemed to be effective enough in converting the heathen masses to the ways of Christianity. The thought of this was still enough to bring a smile to Jane's lips. Now whatever awaited her after death was something she never had to fear. She could still remember the day, centuries ago, that she and Alec had returned to the abbey near their old village, seeking revenge on those who had condemned them to die. She had found the Christian priests, cowering behind their crosses where they had once pointed an accusatory finger at Jane and her brother, and now begging for a mercy that they had never shown the two siblings. Whatever god they prayed to made no move to help them as Jane unleashed the full might of her fury, the agony she created within them a mirror of that which had been inflicted upon her and amplified tenfold. That had been her first time using her power to its full potential. The priests had screamed and cried, and Jane had laughed at them with a sadistic, sacrilegious joy. They had been the ones who had judged her and condemned her; promised her an eternity of torture after her death, and then sent her to burn. But now her death had passed, and she was not the one suffering.
Instead, she held all the power as she inflicted on them an agony that she knew she could make last for all eternity, should they live that long. Their hollow threats meant nothing now that death was no concern for her. Rather, she felt she wielded a power to rival whatever strength their supposed god had. Pain held no fear for her any longer: it danced at her fingertips and obeyed her commands, carving its way into the minds of others and taking root upon whatever whim she felt. She was its mistress now.
She'd refined her abilities over the years. Her power no longer came as a hammer blow, but as a feather light whisper, blowing over the mind of her victim and igniting the nerve centres in the brain with just the faintest touch. The heavy, exhausting weight of concentration had been shed centuries ago, and now she could wreak agony on a person with just a passing thought. Boredom or curiosity were enough fuel to drive it now rather than the burning anger she had once needed.
It was that power that Aro admired most in her; the perfect counterpoint to Alec's ability to deprive the senses whereas Jane could overstimulate them. But Jane knew that she understood and appreciated her power much more than he ever could. It gave her a sly sense of self-assurance to know that she could turn her power on even him, if she wanted to. Not that she ever should want it, but knowing that her abilities were unlimited in their devastation gave her a kind of confidence that was unmatched even by the knowledge she held a position of power among the vampire elite.
And so when she was confronted with a mere human girl – pathetic thing that ought to have broken and crumbled like fine china – it terrified her that her powers seemed as ineffective as if she were slashing a knife through air. Bella's mind was not so much impenetrable as it was inconceivable. Trying to hurt her felt less like attempting to break through a solid barrier, and more akin to aiming for a target that as soon as Jane thought she could hit it, it slipped away, as if it had never had tangible existence in the first place. She had tried again, concentrating fiercely this time to navigate past whatever strange psychic invulnerability this girl had, and again she had floundered. As she stood in the Volturi throne room, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure, that was the first time in centuries that Jane had truly been shaken.
Aro, of course, had taken an immediate interest in the Swan girl. Especially following that demonstration, she intrigued him more than ever. Her ability seemed to attract him in the same way that he had once been attracted to Jane, fascinated by the abilities she had even as a weak human and that he now wished to cultivate further in order to expand the Volturi guard. That had always been how he worked. Since time immemorial, Aro had liked to collect. The search for others with powers comparable to his had been a source of stimulation and fascination for him for aeons, and through his efforts he had gathered and built a formidable force. Only the finest and strongest were chosen by him to join the revered ranks of the Volturi, and of them all, what power could be more exquisite and terrifying than hers?
Having the most formidable of all their powers had long been what Jane most prided herself on. Over the years, it was how she had come to define herself: the greatest Volturi weapon with the ability to deal out pain like a god. Yet now, just once, she had found herself challenged. In the face of such an ordinary girl she was powerless, reduced to little more than the weak child she herself had once been. Of course that was not true: she was a vampire now, far stronger and greater than the Swan girl who seemed strangely impervious to her psychic attacks, yet this challenge to something she had grown so accustomed to both angered and scared her. The ability that she valued so highly was suddenly rendered worthless. Whatever other supremacy she held over the girl felt meaningless in the face of this insolent invulnerability, which defied everything upon which Jane had built her reputation.
For almost every other being on the planet, the power that Jane held was something to be feared and respected in the highest regard, elevating the girl who wielded it to a status comparable to a god.
But for Jane herself, there was no power in the world more abhorrent and terrifying than that of Bella Swan.